MADRIPOOR | 9:47AM

          The morning light nearly blinds me as we head off to the shipping yard. As the party was in full swing last night, Sharon found Nagel's whereabouts. I feel a slight indifference and bitterness at the mention of the serum. The same serum that created me, turning me into something I never wanted to be. I was forced into this life, into becoming a weapon. Those who seek it willingly have no idea what they're getting into. They're irresponsible, playing with fire they can't understand. They're in for a rude awakening if they think this serum is some kind of miracle.

It's a curse. A plague. I've had the serum coursing through my veins for decades now. Sure, it's given me strength and abilities beyond any normal human being. But at what cost? It destroyed who I was, who I could've been, and erased the doctor I was becoming from existence. The perks–enhanced strength, agility, longevity–are mere chains that bind me to a past I never asked for. The serum isolates you, makes you different in ways that go beyond the physical. It changes how people see you, how they interact with you. I've often thought it was all worth it. The sacrifices, the losses–but those seem pointless as I wasn't in control of my own body.

For decades, I've watched the world change, while I remained the same. The serum–and the chamber–preserved my body, but shattered every piece of my soul. Each year that passed, every electromagnetic pulse, I lost a little more of myself. I was replaced by the weapon Hydra molded. They turned me into something monstrous, something to be feared. And I thought it was normal.

The answer is always the same: no. The serum has done more to destroy me than build me up. It's taken pieces of my soul, left me with nothing but the fight. Because the fight is all I ever knew, and one I will always fall back on. I was forced into this life, my fate decided well before I even knew how I wanted to live.

And now, people are willingly seeking this? They're blind to reality, seduced by the promise of power. Of harnessing the fear to create order. But they don't see the long term effects; they don't see the nightmare lurking beneath the surface, waiting for its next victim. The serum is a seductive poison, offering strength while corroding the spirit. Those who crave it, who think it's a shortcut to greatness, are in for a rude awakening. They have no idea of the internal battles, the constant fight to retain a semblance of humanity.

It feels like a betrayal. They're embracing the very thing that ruined my life. It's infuriating and heartbreaking. They're playing with a fire they don't understand, one that will consume them whole. And those who seek it, like moths to a flame, are clueless to the true nature of what they're pursuing. That's where our paths differ.

And now, I'm faced with the task of stopping it from ruining more lives, from creating more ghosts like me. 

          We arrive at the shipping yard a maze of rusting containers stacked high, each one hiding its own secrets. Sharon directs us to a specific cargo container, labeled 4261. Bucky, Sam, Zemo, and I approach it cautiously. Sharon hands us earbuds, so she can stay in contact while keeping watch of the area.

We open the container but find it empty. Suspicion prickles at the back of my mind. We step inside to further investigate, the dim light barely piercing the shadows. Zemo, ever observant, finds a hidden stairway in the back. We descend quietly, each step echoing in the confused space. At the bottom, we find Nagel's laboratory. The sterile, clinical environment is a stark contrast to the grimy shipping yard above. Nagel himself is hunched over a workstation, oblivious to our presence. 

"Dr. Nagel?" Sam questions, prompting the man to turn around as he shuts off the music.

He looks confused, almost timid as he looks at Sam. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Sam sticks to the point, keeping the gun aimed in Nagel's direction. "We know you recreated the super soldier serum."

He pushes past Sam, trying to avoid his interrogation. "Get out of my lab," he says, obviously annoyed.

But as soon as he tries to get away, Sam grabs his upper arm, and Nagel stops in his tracks as he makes eye contact with Bucky and I. Recognition dawns on his face, his expression shifting from annoyance to fear.

"I'm sure you know who they are," Sam says as he makes the doctor look at us, and Nagel becomes uncomfortable as she turns him towards Zemo. "And this is Baron Zemo. I'm sure you've heard of him, right?"

Nagel's eyes dart between us, searching for a way out. Sam cuts in, his tone sharp. "You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you better become conversational real quick." Sam is quick to push him into a metal gate, trying to intimidate him into giving us answers.

Nagel hesitates, then tries to bargain. "How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I'll talk"

Bucky stares at him with an intensity that knows no bounds. The room feels charged with tension as Bucky's grip on his gun tights, his gaze piercing through Nagel. "You're not in a position to negotiate," Bucky says coldly.

Before Nagel can respond, Sharon's voice crackles in our earpieces. "Guys, we have company. Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!"

Bucky reacts swiftly, pressing his gun to the disgraced doctor's temple. "Start talking, now."

Nagel breaks, his composure shattering. He tells us he was brought in to continue Hydra's work on the serum after the Siberia test failed. The CIA recruited him, using blood samples from Isaiah Bradley, an American test subject with semi-stable elements of the serum in his system. Nagel isolated the compounds and replicated them. But then, The Blip eradicated him. After he returned five years later, the project had ended, so he came to Madripoor and the Power Broker funded his work.

Nagel confirms the worst–he created twenty vials of the serum, which Karli Morgenthau stole. Now, the Power Broker wants revenge. Karli had recently called Nagel, asking for help for Donya Madani, who has tuberculosis. The details are unsettling; it's a reminder of how far-reaching and twisted this web of power and control truly is.

Meanwhile, Zemo is rummaging around the lab. I see him pocket a gun he finds beneath a workbench, his eyes always scanning for an opportunity. Always thinking three steps ahead. Hearing Sharon through the earpiece, I start making sure my gun is loaded, the metallic clicks echoing ominous in the tense atmosphere. Nagel's eyes widen in fear as he watches my movements, knowing all too well the reputation that precedes me. We could shoot him, you know? 

The sound of fighting outside grows louder. Sharon runs in, informing us of the attackers closing in, but we're running out of time. Suddenly, Zemo does the unthinkable. He shoots Nagel dead. Avalon, I wanted to do that. The shot rings out, sharp and final, before anyone can react. An explosion rocks the lab, knocking us to the ground. Chemicals ignite, filling the air with a toxic smoke.

The explosion is deafening. The shockwave sends equipment flying, and a massive shelf topples over, pinning me beneath its weight. Pain shoots through my body as I struggle to free myself, my ears ringing from the blast. The heat and chaos are overwhelming. I use every ounce of strength to push the shelf off me, wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs. The chemicals continue to burn, filling the air with acrid smoke that stings my eyes, throat, and lungs.

Through the haze of smoke and flames, I spot Sam, Sharon, and Bucky making their way outside. Zemo is nowhere to be found, but I have a suspicion that he will make his appearance at the right time. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I stagger to my feet and follow them, the sound of gunfire and shouting growing louder as we reach the outside.

As we emerge from the depths of the burning container, we take cover behind different pieces of the shipping container. The mental provides scant protect against the barrage of bullets from the bounty hunters closing in from all around us. 

"Alright, wait for my signal!" Bucy shouts over the chaos.

Sam begins to fire back at the bounty hunters, his shots precise and controlled.

"Damn it," Bucky mutters under his breath. He is frustrated with Sam–which is typical–at his inability to follow orders. I have to admit it, Sam's growing on me.

We move in different directions within the wreckage, trying to outflank the attackers. I feel a surge of adrenaline, the familiar rush of being in combat. I spot a gap in the enemy line and take a calculated risk, switching from my gun to the crossbow I forgot I had. Drawing an explosive-tipped arrow, I take aim and fire. I definitely forgot we had those in our arsenal. Impressive. The arrow files through the air and lands squarely in a nearby container, detonating in a fiery explosion. Even I'm surprised by the result, the blast sending bounty hunters flying and creating a temporary barrier between us and them. 

Sam and Bucky start arguing about which direction we should've gone. Their bickering only causes more of a delay in what we need to do. Get the hell out of here. "This way!" Sam shouts, pointing to the left.

"No, that way is a dead end!" Bucky retorts, gesturing to the right.

"Will you two stop arguing and focus?" Sharon snaps, firing her last few bullets. "I'm all out!"

I look at them and then at my crossbow, still loaded with a few more explosive bullets. "But I'm not," I say, a hint of determination in my voice. In a fluid motion, I fire another bolt, hitting a stack of crates that explode and take out a group of bounty hunters. The shockwave sends debris flying, creating a temporary distraction.

"Nice shot!" Sam exclaims, ducking behind a partially destroyed container for cover.

Sharon takes a deep breath, eyes scanning our surroundings to determine our next move. "We need to keep pushing forward. There's too many of them to hold this position."

The situation at hand is dire. We're outnumbered and outgunned, pinned down by the relentless wave of bounty hunters that seem to be appearing out of nowhere. The sharp crack of gunfire and the clanging of bullets hitting metal create a chaotic symphony around us.

With a renewed sense of purpose, we push forward, using the chaos I've created by the explosion to our advantage. Sam and Bucky keep bickering, but it's clear they're back in sync, back on the same page, their movements coordinated as we try to make it out alive. We move with a practiced ease, moving from one piece of cover to the next. But we soon find ourselves cornered with nowhere to run.

And that's exactly when I see Zemo, masked and preparing to create yet another perfect diversion. He shoots at a gas pipe, causing another explosion that rocks the yard and sends the attackers scrambling for cover. Seizing the opportunity that Zemo has graced us with, we sprint towards the exit, firing back to keep the bounty hunters at bay. The ground shakes beneath our feet as another delayed explosion of the gas pipe, adding to the pandemonium. 

We dash forward, weaving through the maze of cargo containers. There is nothing but pure adrenaline causing us to move with elegant simplicity. Just as another swarm of bounty hunters close in on us, Bucky spots a metal pipe attached to one of the containers. With a grunt, he yanks it free, the metal groaning as it gives way. He swings it with a brutal efficiency, hitting one of the hunters square in the chest. Without missing a beat, he throws the pipe like a spear, and it impales another hunter in the shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground.

Bucky spots an open container and gestures to us to get inside. "In here!"

We dive into the container, the metal walls offering little respite from the onslaught outside. Our breaths come heavy, the adrenaline pumping through our veins. The container provides a momentary shield, but it won't hold for long. By staying in here much longer, we're all asking for our final moments to be simple: fighting with no purpose.

When the commotion outside seems to move farther away, Bucky opens the door, scanning the area for anyone that dares to encounter us. Immediately, we are on edge, hoping to find a moment of peace through the commotion. That's when we suddenly hear the roar of an engine. An antique car comes screeching around the corner, heading straight for us.

Just when it feels like we're about to be made, Zemo drives up in a sleek black car, skidding to a stop in front of us. "Get in!" he shouts. 

We sprint towards the car, knowing it's our only shot out of this cargo yard. But Sharon lingers behind, an unreadable expression on her face. 

"Sharon, come on!" Sam yells.

She shakes her head, looking in both directions to make sure there is no other threat coming our way. "I can't. I have outstanding warrants in the States. Get me that pardon you promised, Sam."

Same gives a resolute nod. "I will. Stay safe."

As we speed away, Sharon locked eyes with me, a silent promise passing between us. She'll get the information I requested. Her look says it all. I nod in acknowledgment, trusting her to follow through. Trust, huh? That's a new one from you. You've only trusted two things: Bucky and your instincts. 

We're finally out of the fight, breathless and battered but alive. As Zemo floors it, speeding away from the chaos, I glance back at the burning wreckage. We know that this fight is far from over, but for now, we've made it through. And perhaps, that's just enough. However, there will always be a next time. Another fight. Another battle to win.

As the car races through the streets of Madripoor, back towards the direction of Zemo's jet, I allow myself a moment of grim satisfaction. The battle for control and survival continues, but with each victory, no matter how imminent it may seem, we inch closer to our goals.

But I finally got the taste of chaos again. And I sure as hell know I can't keep myself away from it. 

LATVIA | 10:37AM

          The next morning, we move through the crowded streets, navigating our way to an abandoned building where Karli Morganthau and her followers have gathered to mourn Donya Madani, a beloved figure among the displaced communities. With the help of Sharon–and her tactic use of satellites–we were able to determine the exact location of the funeral without Zemo's help. This funeral is our chance to talk to Karli, to try and reach her before things escalate any further.

Sam and I push through the throng of mourners, keeping our heads low to avoid attracting too much attention. The solemn atmosphere is palpable, the grief of the attendees a stark remainder of the human cost of all this chaos. We finally spot Karli, standing near the front, her eyes red from the tears but her posture defiant. Sam and I were the ones elected to go talk to Karli while Bucky keeps John and Battlestar from escalating things further with their impulsive decisions. Sam used to talk to veterans, to get through to them after their time in battle. And I, being a former soldier, understand fighting a cause that never had good intentions.

And that's the best reason for us to be here.

After the service concludes, we approach her cautiously. She looks up, noticing us, and tension, but doesn't immediately bolt. She's curious, reasonably so, and her body language shows that she wants to implore on our reasoning for the interruption. However, I let Sam approach her, not trying to give her every reason to run. I'd be afraid of me, wouldn't you?

"Karli," Sam says, almost sternly but also carrying a blend of empathy and urgency. " We need to talk."

"That's bold of you," she responds quickly. But her eyes linger on me, silently questioning the strange woman that lingers behind Sam. I stare back at him, attempting to not pose a threat to her, giving her a slight nod to listen to the man.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sam sympathizes, knowing that this death hasn't come easy to her. Or anyone in the community for that matter.

She immediately begins to get defensive. "Don't condescend to me. I'm not a child," she states, firmly.

"I know what it's like to lose someone, believe me," Sam tries to reason with her, speaking on his own losses that he's been through over the years. Especially losing Steve Rogers.

"No, you don't. Not like this," she snaps back.

Sam remains calm, his voice gentle but insistent. "You're right. I don't know your exact pain, but I do understand loss. But this doesn't have to be a war, Karli."

"But they did, as soon as they kicked us out of our new homes and onto the street," she begins to try and justify the actions that have been left behind in her wake. "People around the world need me. Millions of them."

I step forward, catching her attention. "You're right, Karli. People do need you. But not like this,"

She eyes me warily, unsure of my intentions. I take a deep breath, trying to convey the weight of my own experiences. "I understand that kind of anger. There was a time when I wanted to cause world wars over minor inconveniences, driven by rage and the belief that my actions would bring justice. But that kind of power, that kind of thinking, all it does is leave behind a trail of pain and suffering."

Karli's expression falters, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. "What choice do I have? They don't listen. They don't care."

"There's always a choice," I continue, my voice steady but my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. It surprises me how Hydra still has a chokehold on you. "Look at me. I'm living proof of what happens when power falls into the wrong hands. But I know what it's like to fight for something you believe in, to feel like the world is against you. Hell, I spent decades in hiding, taking out those who posed a threat in the eyes of my maker. I've been where you are, thinking that force is the only way to make a change. It never ends well."

She narrows her eyes at me, sensing something that evenI would never say aloud. "You don't sound convinced."

I pause, the internal battle between the human and the soldier raging within. Hydra had molded me for war, had trained me to be a weapon. To stand here, advocating for peace and diplomacy, goes against everything ingrained in me. I meet her eyes, unflinching, "It doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is the truth. And the truth is, using violence to achieve your goals will only destroy you and everything you care about." 

Sam steps in, sensing the rising tension. "Karli, we know you want to help. We're not your enemy. But there has to be another way."

She looks between us, clearly torn. "You think words are enough. That's not how the world works."

"No," I admit, my voice firm. "But actions do matter. You can inspire change without spilling more blood. You can be the hero these people need without becoming the villain."

Just as the tension in the room peaks, we hear footsteps approaching rapidly. The door bursts open, and John Walker strides in, 'his' shield in hand. "Karli Morgenthau, you're under arrest," his voice echoing off the walls.

Karli's eyes widen in panic, and she bolts for the exit. Bucky immediately gives chase, his movements swift and determined. As Sam rushes to follow, and Walker and Lamar appear to be doing the same, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. With no one in sight, I pull it out, glancing at the screen to see Sharon's name. Checking my surroundings once more, I answered it, knowing this call could be important. At least, for me.

"Sharon, what is it?" I question her immediately.

The line crackles for a moment before her voice comes through the line. "I got some information you wanted on Blake Fitzgerald," she says, her voice urgent. "He's been following your every move since you got to Boston for your pardon."

A chill runs down my spine. I knew it wasn't just a coincidence that those men came after me. There was always a reason, especially given my circumstances. "How close is he?"

"Close enough. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything else," she says, promising more information as she gets it. "Be careful, Avalon. You, of all people, know what he's capable of." 

I hang up, my mind racing. The implications are clear: Blake has been shadowing me, waiting for the right moment to strike. Maybe this would be different if I remembered my life with him in it, but I don't. However, I know better than to let my conflicting emotions cloud my judgment. In the distance, I hear Bucky and Sam talking, but the weight of the new threat settles heavily on my shoulders.

I rejoin the fray, my focus sharpened by the knowledge of Blake's presence. The internal battle between the human and the soldier rages on, but I know one thing for certain: I cannot afford to let my guard down. Not now, not ever. 

I'm ready whenever you are, soldier. 

a/n - back with another update for ya! i have another chapter in the works, so im hoping to get the next one out soon. lots of ideas I have for these next upcoming chapters, and I'm excited to share those with you! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :) -k