#all is fair in...

The kid was turning out to be a miniature version of Steve, but somehow better. Queens was merciful and soft, unless it dealt with the men, he gave orders that didn’t leave room for rebuttals. Was a bit of a hard-ass, especially with him and Sam, but he valued what they had to say. Taking their expertise into consideration, he respected them, they were family, but business was business and he was very no nonsense about it.

The knock at the office door shook him from his thoughts. Wanda stepped into the room, auburn hair gathered over one shoulder, long and unbound. A resigned look in her eyes, they were all exhausted, they missed their boss; their brother.

A small smile reluctantly pulled at her lips, “The desk job doesn't suit you…”

The glimmer of playfulness giving the smallest amount of light to her eyes, “Someone’s gotta do it.”

She nods slowly, walking closer as she places the daily mail in front of him on the desk, she sighs. “I can think of a good replacement,” her brows raise in emphasis, eyes shifting to the open door.

Bucky shakes his head, “When Steve gets back he can promote the kid,” sifting through the envelopes, one with his name scrawled across the front without any addresses catches his eye.

“It’s been a year Bucky…”

He holds up his metal hand, face hardening, “Who delivered the mail?”

Wanda shrugs, “I’m not sure it was on the front desk when I arrived. Why?”

His name is elegantly scrawled on the front, his heart thundered in his chest, he isn't familiar with the penmanship. Inside, is a postcard, the picture on the front is of a couple, the angle off kilter, a little blurry, like the camera is being swatted away. A delicate female hand blocks most of the view of their faces. His stomach folds, he can make out two sets of very familiar eyes. The glint of a silver band is seen on the inside of her hand, circling her ring finger. Flipping the postcard he is met with familiar handwriting that he’s known for most of his life: 

Buck,  I don’t know what to say. I could tell you ‘I am sorry’ but that would be a lie. What I can say is, I’m fine. More than that actually, I’m happy. If it wasn’t clear, I won't be coming back, the business is all yours pal. I trust you to do the right thing. Don’t bother looking for me, as far as the world knows, Steve Rogers is dead. I hope all is well with the family.  Love you Buck, Punk. P.s Angel says ‘Hello, Boinky’ and to ‘quit wallowing in self hatred and regret.’ 

“Sonofabitch,” Bucky breathes. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips or the near hysterical laugh that bursts from his chest. Wanda’s eyes widen as she pulls the card from his grasp, fresh tears prick at her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.

“He found her?” She whispers.

Bucky quiets himself, pulling the wild card from his pocket. “I had my suspicions… She left this for me, knowing I’d understand what it meant.”

Wanda slaps at his arm, “You didn’t think you should tell us?!”

He chuckles, “I had to be sure. Now, I am sure.”

She huffs, a smile breaking across her face, “You’re a bastard Barnes.” Her tone is everything but serious as she rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back to the postcard.

She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Sam knocking on the open office door, “You got a visitor Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not now.”

Sam raises his brows, pursing his lips, “Yeah good luck with that.”

A blonde enters the room, he had run into her many times in the past, but didn’t consider her a friend.

“Detective Carter.” He greeted her coolly, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She smiled deviously, “I thought I would stop by and offer a bit of information…” she pauses sucking her teeth, badge glistening on her hip as she sways, “let’s just say, if something happened to Steve’s business and his family, I’d make an enemy out of a very good friend.”

Bucky raised a brow, but remained silent.

“So Barnes, I’m here to tell you to keep a keen eye on yourself and your men, and if you need anything, just give me a call.”

The detective and right hand to the dealer blinked at him in boredom, she was deadly, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder why she worked for Zemo, what had caused her to become a dirty cop. For now he would play nice, he knew he should be thanking you for ensuring no more blood was shed, but he didn’t trust any of them for a second.

He nodded, rising from his seat, offering the detective his hand. She took it, “I look forward to working with you Detective Carter.” 

Her smile again split her lips, it surprised something deep within him that her teeth weren’t filed into dagger-like points, “Likewise Mr. Barnes.”

She turned from him and began leaving, but stopped abruptly, “Oh, and by the way, Fury told me the FBI is sending in a team from Boston: Nicknamed Bull and White, also known as The Sharks. They specialize in putting your kind behind bars.”

Turning she blew him a kiss, “Goodluck.”

Sam and Wanda share a look, but Sam clears his throat, “No better time to test the kid’s resolve than now…”

“We’d be throwing him into the lion’s den!” Bucky snapped, running his hand through his hair.

“He’ll do fine Buck, he’s got us.” Sam pushes.

As if on cue, Peter walks into the room, “was that Detective Carter?”

His voice falters, taking in the group now staring at him.

Bucky takes a deep breath, “So Boss, what’s our next move?”

Peter only hesitates for a second before a smile curves his lips, “I think we need to speak with our new friends Pepper, Zemo, and Yelena before we move forward.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile on his face, “You heard him, call a meeting. No one steps foot in this city without us knowing about it.”

Sam and Wanda move to leave the room, “And for fucks sake, find out who these jokers Bull and White are!”

As Bucky leaves, Peter stops him, “You think I can handle it?”

Bucky shakes his head, “better than anyone I know kid…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. Though Peter and his relationship has mended little by little, it would never be what it was before Ace crashed into their lives. “They’d be proud of you kid. Hell, I’m proud of you and with you every step of the way.”

A smile curved Peter’s lips, “be my Right Hand?”

“For you? Anything. You want this public?”

Peter shook his head, “no, not yet. Let them think you took over in Steve’s absence. But when the time is right…”

Bucky nodded in understanding, Yelena may have taken over Thor’s territory, Pepper may have taken Tony’s place, they may all be getting along now, but people would still come from all over to stake their claim.

There were always bigger fish, and now there was blood in the water.

Sitting up on your bike, you took in the serene landscape, after months of looking, you had finally tracked him down, the man who took everything from you. Thor was hiding. Hiding in Loki’s mansion far outside the city limits. 

It would do him no good, you had taken out all his avenues of support, what little security he had would be easy for you to sift through, even on high alert. 

The mansion was oddly quiet, as you made your way through the courtyard and into the foyer, Thor had little security for a man who was being hunted. It wasn’t entirely his fault, you had taken down Valkyrie and Heimdall, his security and men along with them. It’s not that he didn’t want good security, he didn’t have any left, and even the ones he scraped up were no match for you. 

You hadn’t been yourself since your brother died, there was no separation between yourself and your assassin personas anymore. There weren’t any edges of yourself to grasp onto, the lines between yourself and the assassin you were molded into no longer existed; you were left with this monstrosity. Your old life was a distant memory, you didn’t have a tether to the woman you had been before, she was a stranger when you looked in the mirror. 

Nothing but rage filled your entire being. Carbonell no longer existed, the Ace of Spades long gone, as for Wraith, she too had abandoned you. The nicknames your friends and victims had given you long ago seemed a little more fitting now. You were no longer a reaper doing someone else’s bidding, no, you were death incarnate, and you took who you pleased.

One of the guards tried in vain to surprise you behind an open doorway, your reflexes were too fast now, what once could have caught you off guard now stood no chance. He crawled backward, begging, blubbering for you to show him mercy as you advanced on him. You stopped raising your gun, gesturing to the door, “Run,” you sneered, watching him scramble to his feet and sprint out the door, “take the others with you. Anyone left won’t live to tell the tale.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors, your hair had grown out, the roots were showing, fading into the bone white they had given you with your Wraith identity. You weren't coming after Thor as an assassin, no, you wanted him to see your face, to know who he had wronged. You had forgotten the contacts, and your mask. You had no need for your tactical uniform, you doubted you would make it out alive anyway.

You made your way upstairs, at this point you were going through the motions, the men who were left didn’t even try. The moment they saw you, they would turncoat and run, their tails tucked between their legs. 

Smart.

Anyone who tried otherwise didn’t make it five feet from you. Sweeping each room, you ensured Thor wasn’t hiding, but something told you he wouldn’t cower in a corner. No he would face you head on and he would fight till his final breath.

This room was one of the master bedrooms, decorated in deep tones of green. The balcony doors framed a picturesque view of the lake on the grounds. A golden frame sat atop the dresser, a beautiful golden haired woman stood next to Loki. Freya, you recognized her, Odin’s wife and Loki and Thor’s mother. Loki is smiling in the picture, frozen happily in time forever, it's the same smile he gave you the first time you'd ever met. Your gut twisted, the memory of him laying lifeless in Stark Tower clouded your mind, you had been too late.

Squeezing the blade in your hand, the memory only strengthened your resolve, Thor wouldn’t survive the evening. Clattering behind the doors pulled you from your thoughts, you stepped closer to the door as it burst open and one of Thor’s men jumped out, knife swinging, slicing your cheek as he shoved past you. He sprinted down the hall, throwing himself into the main door on this level, Loki’s office. Sighing you pulled a pistol from one of the dead man's hands and pursued him. He looked back, eyes wide as he yanked open the door, flinging himself inside, slamming it shut.

—

He saw you on the cameras, before he could hear his men’s screams. There was no escaping you, he had already heard what you’d done. Hell he had to kill one of his own men just to keep you off his trail; their deaths were merely warnings of what was to come for him. 

Would he try to kill you? Absolutely, but then what? Would he run for the rest of his life from Steve and his men, or would Zemo come searching for him with the rest of the Aces? Thor knew he dug his own grave and knew he would lay in it, but not without a fight.

He flicked the camera’s off, standing to take in the serene landscape of his property, he engrained the beautiful rolling hills and summer blooms into his mind. What had started as a game of chess soon turned into a dangerous game of sharks and minnows, but even Sharks have predators. And he was no longer at the top of the food chain. 

The gunshots, clattering and screaming of men in the hall pulled his attention to the office door, just as it was ripped open, one of his own men flung himself inside. The man slammed the door shut, throwing himself against it. The man’s eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling frantically, Thor could see the tremor in the man's hands traveling through the rest of his body. Outside the door silence settled through the mansion; only for a moment. A single gunshot split the air, the man jerked before slumping to the floor, the smear of blood on the door was the only evidence the bullet had killed him. 

Thor watched as the doorknob slowly turned, the door creaking open on its hinges. His blood ran cold, his heart thundering in his ears as you stepped through the doorway, ignoring the body at your feet. You looked like something out of legend, your hair wild, your eyes, the ones he had always heard were hidden behind black or white contacts, were not. But they were not the familiar welcoming eyes he was used to, no, they were full of hellfire and brimstone; they scorched him, pinning him in place, his feet nailed to the floor.

A shiver ran down his spine, your familiar face not covered by a blood smeared mask, you were calm, your chest rising and falling at an abnormally slow rate for what activities he knew you had done mere seconds ago.

You approach him slowly, the embodiment of lethal grace, your head tilted slightly, a predator assessing its prey, he swore you could hear his heartbeat roaring in his chest.

Never had he had the bubbling urge to apologize, to beg for mercy, before, but with you standing in front of him, the urge surfaced. He quashed it, he would not cower to you, or anyone. He would stare death in the eye and smile saccharinely, and greet them like an old friend, but he wasn’t smiling now and you were no friend. You stared at him for a moment, your eyes not missing anything he waited on bated breath—

Next to him the cameras flicked back on, there was movement at the front gate, a familiar blonde head followed by several others passed through the gates in a hurry. A smirk lifted Thor’s lips as his eyes flicked back to you, “Seems you’ve run out of time little Stark. Better luck next time.”

There was a malicious sparkle in your eye as you drew your knives from their sheathes, stepping closer, “They won't save you Odinson whether it's days, hours, even seconds, it makes little difference.” you pause, a sinister smile curves your lips, “Hell awaits you, Odinson.”

Make it worth it, he thought, he rushed forward, yanking his blades from under his desk. “If I'm going to hell, I’m taking you with me!” Thor growls as he lunges at you in a flash of teeth and metal.

—

Steve and his men clear the grounds and first floor swiftly, but he feels they are already too late. The mansion is eerily silent the farther upstairs they clear, the more horrified he becomes. The inside of the mansion is chaos and carnage, he prays you hadn’t done all this on your own. Above them, sounds of struggles and broken glass thundered through the floor, he motioned to his men, moving quickly up the stairs.

In the final hall the sound had finally stopped, Bucky motioned to the last room, the door was barely cracked. Bucky had gone ahead of him, toeing the door open the rest of the way, gun raised. But as the door opened fully, Bucky froze in his tracks, Steve nearly slammed into him.

He looked over Bucky’s shoulder and nearly dropped his weapon at the carnage in front of him. He could barely stomach looking at the scene, his eyes locked on Thor’s chest, a bright white playing card sat pinned there by a blade, the embossed skull at its center now enhanced by the red blood casting shadows across it.

Bucky’s exasperated voice sounded next to him, “Steve, who the fuck—”

Bucky broke off, they both knew who had done this, you.

No, not you. Never you. You had been lost long ago, there was only one being that could have done this level of violence—

Death.

—

Freedom felt heavy, the ocean air whispering across your skin. Your heart is stranded in a city you could never go back to. 

Mourning a life you never had the chance to live. You had hope, hope that he would find someone to take your place, to make him happy in a way you only dreamed you could. Without a goodbye, you knew he wouldn’t let you leave, but couldn’t ask him to abandon his home and family.

With an empty heart and a million opportunities ahead, you couldn’t help but be filled with sickening dread.

—

His bed remained empty, no one would fill the hole in his heart that you had called your own. 

He had hope that he would see you again, maybe in another life, happy with someone you trusted enough to keep by your side.

With a million people around him, so many chances to move on, yet he remained completely alone with you gone.

Heart thundering in his chest he slowly steps toward her until his chest brushes her back. One hand settles on her waist, the other grasps her hand, his head falling to her neck, running his nose along her pulse and up to her ear. Her breathing is quick, eyes fluttering closed at his touch. He places a kiss at the base of her neck, slowly making his way down her shoulder. His hand made its way up her back to the zipper, ever so slowly pulling it all the way down. A wholly sweet and utterly broken sound left her lips as his knuckles whispered up her spine and his lips and tongue grazed her neck again. He felt her knees buckle.

Hope.

Bright, burning, dangerous, hope raged in his heart. He knew this woman, knew this body, knew every sound it would make as he familiarized himself with it again. Her hand not in his grasp tangled in his hair, touseling the strands pulling him closer still. His nose brushed behind her ear, where he knew if he opened his eyes he would see a black spade. Softly nipping at her skin as his right hand began removing her dress, pulling her right arm from the sleeve. 

Her head lolled back against his right shoulder, hair cascading in a golden curtain, but the Jackal mask still covered her features. He could remove it, but a piece of him was terrified to know the truth, would his heart be right? Would your beautiful face greet him, or has he been blinded? 

He mirrored the movements with her left arm, freeing it from the black silken sleeve, but intertwined their fingers again as the dress fell from her body in a shimmering pool on the floor. If his heart was wrong, god damn him, but he hoped against all odds he wasn’t. 

He twirled her in the near darkness, the glow from the lights in the main room barely illuminated the doorway, the bedroom shrouded in moonlit shadow. She stood before him in her lace scraps of a bra and underwear, he struggled to breathe as he tightened his grasp on her hand. She watched him through the mask, he could see her uneven breaths causing her chest to rise and fall, his eyes falling to her breasts. 

A jagged circular scar right above her left breast caught his eye, his fingers danced across it. The memory slammed into him, the gunshot, the blood, his panic… 

“Tell me a lie…” His voice shook as it clawed from his throat in a rasped whisper.

“I hate you.” Her voice, familiar and smooth, sent his heart crashing into his rib cage.

His lips met a breast, slipping the fabric from her body, her free hand fisted in his hair as he sucked and kissed one breast then the other. Her moans fill his mind. “Another,” he begged.

“I didn’t think of you.” 

He walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed, sending her onto the soft mattress. Only then did he release her left hand, trailing both hands down her body, memorizing each curve and scar, pulling her to the edge of the bed. With one hand he rid her of the underwear, her breathy whine only spurred him further.

In the moonlight he could make out the silver outline of her body, the points and curves of the mask. He kissed up each leg, hands caressing her warm skin, “Another.”

“I don’t need you.” Her words hitching into a whine.

At that he buried his face in her core, licking, sucking. Her familiar taste on his tongue, her moans spilling from her lips more frequently now as he feasted on her like his life depended on it. Exchanging his mouth for his fingers at her entrance, she cried out, both hands fisting in his hair as his tongue swirled then sucked her clit, fingers plunging deep inside her. She writhed, panting and moaning, her body tensing until she cried out once more as she came undone for him.

He wasted no time ridding himself of his clothes, she pulled him down to her, her fingers tracing over his chest, black eyes watching his face. He leaned into her neck trailing open mouthed kisses along her skin. His hand gently grasped the edge of the mask, “One more.”

“I can live without you.” 

He froze, the unmistakable wetness of her tears meeting his lips as they grazed her lower jaw. He was shaking now, with fear, anticipation, hope, restraint, he didn’t know, but he was right here…

“Tell me one truth.” His voice was soft, the whisper almost silent, but she replied as she placed her hand over his and lifted the mask, “I love you.”

In the moonlight he could barely make out the details of your face. He didn’t know if he was dead or dreaming, but prayed it was the latter. 

“Angel.” He breathed before sealing his lips to yours.

The world fell away. All that remained were the two of you wrapped in each other in the darkness.

—

He woke to the sun streaming in the balcony doors, the curtains blowing gently in the breeze. Your back turned to him, chest rising and falling in soft even breaths. In the light he could see you now, see every curve of you; every scar. He traced them, fingers ghosting over each one, some long and jagged, some he had recognized from before. He hadn’t known then what they were from, he had wondered, but never asked. How many were there now because of work? Because of his men, your brother and his men? His blood heated now, how many were from Thor? From saving him, from his own hands?

He’d make it up to you, if you’d let him. He would spend every day of the rest of his life trying to. Pulling you close he nuzzled your neck, breathing you in, grounding himself. You were here.

The incessant buzz of his phone reached his ears. Slowly he rose from bed, retrieving his phone from his pants pocket, Bucky’s name and face flashed across the screen. Walking to the balcony he let his voicemail pickup the call, the screen was littered with notifications, missed calls, and messages. 

He glanced back into the room, you were still asleep, your hair spread on the pillow behind you, the golden wig lost from last night. Your natural hair had grown out since he last saw you; only the tips remained the bone white. His phone buzzed again in his grasp, before he could think better of it he threw it from the balcony, into the heart of London. 

Returning to the room he knelt beside the bed, brushing stray strands from your face, he had almost thought he’d dreamt the whole thing, but here you were; warm, alive and sharing a bed. Your eyes flutter open, locking with his. They are more beautiful than he remembered, the harshness and fire he had grown used to long gone. They are soft like they were that night at the lake, when you were truly yourself with him. 

A sleepy smile curved your lips as you reached out to caress his face. He closed his eyes, brushed his lips to your temple, resting his head against yours, he didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want you to disappear again, “You're here.”

“I promised.”

Scanning the lobby again, his eyes caught a familiar head of white hair dashing out the side door, it had to have been you. He bolted after you, if he could just talk to you, maybe he could convince you to let them handle it; at the very least allow them to help you.

Shoving his way through the crowd and onto the busy sidewalk, he caught another glimpse of your hair in the sea of people, keeping it in his sights, he pushed farther, a paramedic shoved into him, spinning off track, but Steve shoved forward. When he made it to the spot you had been in, you were gone. He cursed, not a single trace of you was left behind. The crowd of people jostled him as he tore his hand through his hair, stepping forward— a scraping crunch met his ears, he jumped back, looking down.

On the ground, covered in blood spatter, a familiar skeletal mask lay broken. He knelt to pick up the pieces, fingers brushing lightly over the white surface, the curves and edges that mimicked bones.

He had to stop you, at least try to reason with you. Reaching for his phone, he dialed you, silently praying you’d pick up on the other end, then, just maybe he could save you.

But as the line rang… 

And rang…

And rang, the hope he held onto disintegrated.

Finally the line died, a deafening silence settled in his heart.

A bone deep chill shuddered through him.

—

Steve leaned back in the hospital recliner, his eyes heavy as he watched over Bucky in the hospital bed, he lay sleeping, his shoulder wrapped in bandages. He had almost lost his best friend, all because he couldn’t see the damn answer staring him in the face. Too much bloodshed, too much death.

The door squeaked open as Steve scrubbed his hands over his face, looking up. Queens hobbled through the door, a bandage wrapped around his thigh, he propped himself against the wall taking a deep breath. He looked like hell, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” 

Queens shrugged, screwing his lips to the side, “Got restless, besides Wade finally left my side.” He smiles softly, “It wasn’t by choice though, his boss pulled him away, otherwise I think he’d still be attached to my hip.”

Steve huffs a laugh, “How’d he find you?”

Queens gave him a sad smile, “Ace, she had found me before…”

Steve nods knowingly. Of course, you cared for Queens like he was your own blood, it only made sense for you to send someone you trusted to take care of him.

“She’s something else…” Queens pauses as Steve meets his gaze, “I mean… Have you ever seen her in action? I don’t even know how to explain it, it's…”

“Mesmerizing?” Steve offers. “Yeah, I’ve sparred with her, she’s… something else.”

Queens nods, a silence settles, after a moment, he breaks the silence again “Have you heard anything?” He asks tentatively.

Steve drops his gaze shaking his head, “No. She’s disappeared, without a trace.”

Queens sighs limping towards Steve, pulling something out of his pocket, he reaches out, placing the small box into Steve’s hand. The black velvet soft in his rough hands, he already knows what it is. Steve inhales deeply, “Thought I lost it…”

Queens gives him a sad smile, “I found it in your penthouse office, buried in rubble… Were you really gonna ask her?”

Steve works his jaw, his chest constricting uncomfortably as he stares at the tiny box, he doesn’t have the heart to open it and look at the ring; what he could have had.

What he will never have.

Bucky coughs, moving to sit-up in the bed, his face screwed up, “Ya never asked her, Punk?”

Steve turns to him, shaking his head, “Never had the chance…”

Bucky reaches for it, plucking it from Steve’s grip, “Don’t worry pal, you’ll get to ask her.”

“I doubt that, she’s gone Buck, even Zemo can’t find her—”

“Steve.” Bucky cuts him off. He turns again, Bucky is staring into the box wide-eyed.

“What is it, Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes flicker between him and Queens, turning the box so he and Queens can see it. Bucky’s voice shakes, “It’s gone.”

—

Your breaths were sharp and ragged as you stumbled through the safe house door, your hand holding your side, desperate to keep your blood inside your body. Thor’s men had been waiting for you, they weren’t his usual help, these men were trained, lethal. Heimdal, the only commander he had left, knew you were coming, they put up a valiant fight, in the end it didn’t matter only one survived. But you had let your guard down, let your anger and emotions get in your head, now you suffered the consequences. 

Settling on the couch, you began the dirty work of patching yourself, the vodka next to you only dulled the pain, clouding your mind. Groaning, you poured the little amount left onto your side. You hissed, teeth clenched from the sting of the alcohol.

A throat cleared in the darkness of your ramshackle safe house, slowly you reach for your pistol, aiming into the darkness, your hand slightly shaking. A chuckle floated in the air,

“Come now Peladora, we both know you’re a shitty shot after you drink.”

Jake.

“I still coulda hit ya, wouldn’t kill ya, but it’d hurt like ’ell.” You relax, placing the gun back where you’d retrieved it. You continue patching yourself as Jake makes his way toward you, kneeling by your side.

A small smile curves his lips, “We have to stop meeting like this Peladora.” Batting your hands away, he takes over patching your wound. 

Wincing you lean back so he can assist you better, “How’d you find me?”

He sighs deeply, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’m always there when you need me.”

“You won't stop me.”

He can see the determination in your eyes, the wildfire burning bright, “I don’t intend to try. Didn’t try to stop you when we began this journey, why would I now?”

You shrug, breaking eye contact, “Do you regret it?”

His brows raise, “Saving you?”

If he didn’t have a needle in your side you would’ve punched him, you roll your eyes, “No…”

He nods knowingly, “But, I think about it sometimes… What you would have become if I refused to train you.” He cuts the stitching, pulling your shirt down to cover you, “I don’t think it would have prevented anything. I think though you have become something you despise, it was necessary.” His hand brushes your hair from your face, “Do I regret what you have lost? Yes, but the losses would have been far greater without you. Sometimes we must become the villain to do the things that are against the heroes’ code”

“One good deed is not enough to forgive my lifetime of bloodshed. Have you seen the paper? They’ve pinned the blame for everything on the Ace of Spades.”

“Did you expect anything different? Is it not better to have blood spilt from those who desire to harm the innocent than for the innocent to bleed for nothing? Thor would have slaughtered everyone, without you. Zemo’s family, your family, Steve and his men… and anyone else who tried to stand in his way. Besides, did you really think Thor would take the blame?”

It hurts, the truth, the undeniability of the monster you’ve become. You knew deep down a normal life was no longer in the cards for you, but it cut deep nonetheless. You’d known someone would have to be the scapegoat, you figured it would have been Loki, but it only made sense to blame the one who no longer exists. You purse your lips, “Tony’s Death was my own fault, and my family is still dead. Loki didn’t deserve his fate, neither did Peggy, or Tony, or my parents.”

Jake sighs, sitting next to you on the couch, situating you to where your feet are propped on his legs, he nods slowly, “Power can be dangerous, it turns even the best people into rabid dogs. Many lost their lives, most of them didn’t deserve it, but you know better than I, no one's hands are clean in this business. But your niece and sister-in-law will live full lives, without fear of Thor and his men.” he pauses to take a deep breath, his hand patting your ankle, “Peladora, you cannot blame yourself for what happened, you didn’t know how it would end. Even if you did, would you change it? If you could trade Steve’s life for your brother’s, would you?”

You snort, burying his questions. Truth be told, you don’t know if you could make that decision. To choose your brother over Steve, or Steve over your brother. It wasn’t a choice that day, but instinct. You sigh, now wasn’t the time to wallow in self pity or mourn, there was work to be done. “Thor is still alive.”

He turns to you, eyes hard, jaw muscles working, “For now. I have a feeling that will change…” he merely lifts a brow at you, “After all he has no one else to hide behind, his commanders are dead, Heimdall was his last defense.”

You hum and slowly rise to your feet, heading into your makeshift room, Jake follows, watching as you repack your bag, pulling out your clothes and weapons.

He turns to leave, but stops, snapping his fingers, “Oh, I almost forgot” —he pulls a small pouch from his pocket— “Wade wanted me to give this to you, says not to open it until you're done.”

He tosses the pouch to you, catching it, you scowl, “What is it?”

He merely shrugs, “Probably some weird ass good luck charm, you know how Wade is.”

You nod, putting it into your pocket. 

“Was it worth it?” –Jake gives a pointed look to your side- “Did he give Thor up?”

You shake your head, “No, but I have my own ways of finding him.” You pull paperwork from your bag, a list of property and other holdings under Loki’s name. Thor wasn’t dumb enough to use his own property as a hiding place.

He frowns, raising his brow, “I don’t have to tell you he’s dangerous, Peladora.”

“I know.”

“This could be our final goodbye.”

You stop packing, swallow thickly and drop your gaze, “It could be, it could not be… but when I get pulled into the depths of hell, I’m taking him with me.”

—

It had been over a week since Ace had gone missing, the underground uncharacteristically quiet on the topic, Bucky felt bad for Steve.

It was almost like you had died again, but Steve was better at hiding his feelings this time, but Bucky knew better. He stared at Steve from the passenger’s seat, “How you doin pal?”

Steve side-eyed him from the driver’s seat, “Fine, Buck. Why?”

He pursed his lips, glancing back at Peter in the back seat, raising a brow. Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Riiighhhtt… how are you really?”

Bucky watches Steve’s jaw work as he chews his lip, “It sucks. It’s almost worse than when I thought she was dead…” his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, “At least dead, I knew for sure. But now I don’t know if she’s alive or bleeding out somewhere…”

Bucky swallows, twisting his mouth to the side, “You know, I never did apologize to you, Punk…” he sighs as Steve eyes him, “I’m sure she told you her side, how awful I was… But—“

Steve shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it Buck, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But you see, it matters to me. I know everyone thinks I just had a hard-on to kill her, like I was just set on not letting her get away…” he pauses, clenching his shaking fist, “Look, it may have started out like that, it hurt, she betrayed all of us that night we caught her, more so you, but it hurt nonetheless.”

Steve slows the car, parking it at one of their warehouses. Shutting off the ignition, he turns in his seat towards Bucky, he can feel the weight of his stare going in the side of his head. Behind them, he can feel Peter waiting to rebuttal. Bucky didn’t hate you, he hated what you stood for. What you had done. What you were willing to do.

Taking a deep breath he continued, “That night I followed her, picked her up at some gas station… I didn’t intend to kill her.” His heart is roaring in his ears, his palms are slick with sweat, he isn’t sure Steve believes him, but it's the truth. “I had every intention to scare her off, get her to leave, not only you, but the city. Then she opened her damn mouth and I… I—”

He closed his eyes, shoving at the memory as it surfaced in his mind; you sitting bloody and broken in front of him. He could lie and say there was no fear in your eyes, but if he was honest with himself, he saw it. He saw the lie in your eyes, the false bravado you paraded in front of him. When you realized you had pushed him too far, “She threatened you again… Promised to make you beg for her to kill you. Swore she would make me watch…” he looked to Steve, expecting him to be angry, but he wasn’t. Steve was staring at him in understanding, sorrow swimming in his eyes. Bucky clenched his jaw again, “I promise, never, not even once did she lead me to believe she loved you… if… if she had, I wouldn’t have—“

He breaks off as the memory of you clawing at the dock skitters across his mind. He knew he had gone too far when he had gotten home, he could feel the guilt and remorse eating away at him. But he had to tell himself it was to keep Steve safe, for his own sanity.

Steve’s hand grasped his shoulder, “I understand, Buck. I know her tactics, the way her brain works… That's how I know I’ll never see her again. The look in her eye when she left to chase Thor, it was a goodbye.” Steve sighs deeply, “Whatever was simmering in her veins beneath the surface, whatever was caged and locked away, held at bay by those four little words. It’s out now, and it's after Thor. She’s not the woman we knew, she’s something else entirely. Something dark and dangerous and it's out for blood.”

—

Peter walked with Steve and Bucky deep in the warehouse, where they were keeping Fandrel or Conquest is what the underground calls him. Ronin had his turn, so did Sam, trying to get Thor’s location and allies from him. So far nothing has worked, and their list of possible leads keeps getting shorter. 

Ace has been cutting through the list of Thor’s people too fast for them to keep up, they have been three steps behind her this entire time. They had found Heimdal and all his security dead last night, and then today multiple buildings on the outskirts of the city were burned down. They need to find Thor or you quick, if they didn’t, Peter feared they would lose you for good.

They came to a stop, whimpers and cursing could be heard on the other side of the door, muffled by the thick metal. Steve took a deep breath, nodding towards the door for Bucky, “Do what you do best Buck, we need that information, now.”

Bucky nods, Peter moves to join him, but Bucky stops him, “Queens. Sit this one out, let me handle this.”

Peter scowls, “What? I can do this Bucky, let me help, I wanna find Ace too.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not for this kid. I need you out here. This fucker and his friends were the ones who attacked you, I wasn’t able to protect you then, lemme make it up to you now.” Bucky’s eyes met his, his blue eyes so full of pain and anger, he was doing this for him. 

Peter nodded slowly, he understood, he said a silent prayer when the door closed, please, just let us find her…

—

Weeks of recon, months. 

You finally had the bastard, there was nowhere else for him to go.

As you stared into the mirror, the eyes that stared back weren’t ones you recognized. A fire burned so deep and hot within them, you thought they would scorch you with a single glance. You knew it was yourself staring back at you, but you couldn’t recognize yourself and what you had become. 

No mask or contacts this time to hide behind. You wanted Thor to look you in the eye when he took his final breath, to understand and feel what you felt. 

You could almost taste the freedom on your tongue, only hours away.

Only two things left to do.

Kill Thor.

Lose yourself.

—

Finally, finally, they found you, if they beat you they could accomplish two things–

Kill Thor.

Save you.

Steve didn’t have it in him to smile or bite back, his brows only rose as he took a seat in the plush red chair in front of Zemo’s desk. His eyes were heavy, it had been months since he’d had a good night's rest. Blinking slowly as Zemo turned to finally look at him, the man's face full of empathy, he’d understood what it was like to have his whole world taken from him. To know his family was alive somewhere he couldn't reach and now Steve knew his pain, not a single whisper from you, for all he knew you could be dead somewhere. When they’d found Thor in Loki’s mansion, the blood had been yours too, there was no telling if you'd bled out somewhere or if you'd made it to freedom.

Steve guessed his thoughts could be read on his face because Zemo sighed, his face becoming solemn, “Get out of New York Steve. Go see the world…”

Steve only shook his head, everyone seemed to think it was you not being in New York that bothered him, but it didn’t matter, nowhere would be enough if you weren't by his side. He could be miserable here or in a palace in France, miserable was miserable.

Zemo had walked closer to stand between Steve and his desk, a small envelope in his hands, “Fine if you won't do it for your own well being, do it as a favor to me.”

He dropped the envelope onto Steve’s lap, “I need you to attend an event in my stead, obviously I am too indisposed here to leave. Yelena still requires my assistance taking over Thor’s territories, Pepper will need an ally trying to keep the streets clean…” he trailed off as Steve’s hand closed around the envelope.

“Where?” The only words that Steve could muster from his soul. If he could throw himself into work, maybe he could relax.

Zemo’s brows rose, “London. A contact with a few friends in the southern hemisphere will be there.”

Steve opened the envelope slowly, pulling out two tickets to a Gala. “Who is the second ticket for?” Steve grimmaced when he realized he would need to be dressed to the nines for the event, but the sooner he could go there and get it over with the sooner he could come home and be left the hell alone.

“Take a friend with you. I’m sure there are plenty of women out on the casino floor willing—”

Steve nearly retched at the thought, nearly snarled as he looked back to the man before him, “Barnes is plenty of company.” The words were clipped, harsh, Steve didn’t care if the man noted the disrespect and venom laced in his words.

If the man cared, he didn’t react, Zemo only shrugged, “Better than going alone…” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I’ll see you in a few days Steve.”

Rising from his seat, Steve nodded, but his thoughts were already far from here, the walk back to his vehicle where Bucky waited was merely a dream.

—

The glittering lights and chaos of too many conversations happening at once mingling with the classical music, stroked his impending headache. 

It had been a long while since he made an appearance at a gala, well, the last one had been at your museum. The second time you had met, memories of that night flooded his vision. The way you’d fallen apart on your desk for him, that was the beginning, he’d realized too late; the first step into the dangerous game.

Beside him Bucky nudged his arm with his elbow, motioning to a man on the second floor balcony. His falcon mask glittering in the lights, Zemo’s contact for the evening that he and Bucky were to meet with.

—

Bucky was still trying to understand how Zemo had convinced Steve to leave New York, let alone coming to a high profile event in London. He watched Steve’s every move, the man hadn’t been himself for a very long time and his trust in Bucky hadn’t exactly been healed. Bucky thought it must have meant something since he had chosen him to join Steve at this event, but the man hardly spoke a word to Bucky. 

He had to remind himself that Steve had hardly said anything to anyone since you disappeared, but every day that passed caused Bucky more worry. He couldn’t fathom losing Steve, even if the man had forgiven him, Bucky hadn’t forgiven himself, and Steve thought that was punishment enough. He thought about you all the time, how despite what he’d done to you, you still risked your neck to save them, to save him. He didn’t flatter himself with the thought, you hadn’t done it because you liked him, no, you had saved him and spared him for Steve. 

He thought about the poker game that day in the mansion, the genuineness of your smile. He knew all that time deep down, when he hated you, tortured you, attempted to kill you, something inside him tried to shake him from his darkness. If you had genuinely wanted them dead, they would have been, long before they ever realized who and what you were. It was too little too late now, he wished he could tell you though, apologize, even if the apology would mean nothing, you deserved to hear it.

As they neared the contact he turned to meet them, his curly brown hair caressing the edges of his mask, “Mr. Rogers? Mr. Barnes?”

The english accent pulled at the string of familiarity in Bucky’s mind, but he needn’t rack his brain, the man removed his mask, a wide smile splitting his lips; Steven Grant?

Both Steve and Bucky had decided not to wear masks, they hadn’t thought they would be recognized so far from home, and didn't expect to see a familiar face.

Steven shook both men’s hands, his gaze falling behind them, smile faltering, “Where is Ms. Carbonell?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t get the chance to reply, Steven’s body went rigid, eyes glazing over, before blinking furiously, like he was trying to see clearly. The voice that followed was one Bucky had heard plenty of times, it wasn’t directed to him, but to Steve.

“Rogers. Excuse Steven, he doesn’t know…” 

His voice sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. Jake Lockely was a force to be reckoned with, one Bucky had hoped he wouldn’t hear in a dark alley, but he spoke to Steve in a soft hushed tone, one full of…understanding?

Steve didn’t reply so Jake continued, “I knew he had sent the invitation, but I never thought anyone would attend, since…” A shadow passed over Jake’s eyes, but was gone in the next blink, “Zemo does have a contact here, you should meet with her at the bar, she knows to look for you now. She would be a helpful ally to have,” Jake grimaced, fighting something internally. “She will be the only other person dressed as an Egyptian deity, but be careful, she is as dangerous as she is beautiful.” he grunted again, “Now go before Steven returns, best not to raise questions you can not answer.”

Steve shuddered next to Bucky, he hadn’t noticed the man’s breathing quicken, “Jake?”

The two mens’ gazes locked, but Lockley shook his head solemnly, before turning from them and stalking away, his phone in hand, then back in his pocket before going ridgid again.

—

Steve hadn’t been prepared to see Steven here and wasn't expecting to speak to Jake. No matter that he knew the man had the identity disorder, but it didn’t get easier each time he watched him switch. He hated the bubble of hope that swelled in his chest when he heard Jake's voice, didn’t like the way his insides soured when he admitted he hadn’t seen or spoken to you either. Hope was a dangerous thing, no amount of torture or pain would ever amount to what hope could do.

“I’ll never get used to that, pal.” 

On the barstool beside him, Bucky shuddered, taking a swig of the beer he had ordered. Steve only shook his head in reply, signaling for the bartender to bring him a drink. 

“What I don’t understand is why Zemo had that invitation and tickets, if they were meant for Ace–”

“Is this seat taken?” 

Both men turn their gazes to the female now on the other side of Bucky, a beautiful redhead with a black lace mask. Bucky shook his head, sparing a glance at Steve. Steve chuckled, “We’ll wait for the contact, maybe she’ll have answers. In the meantime,” he nodded to the redhead, “Have fun, Buck.”

A wide smile curved his friend’s lips before he turned away, chatting with the girl. Their laughter squeezed something in his chest, but a sense of relief washed over him. 

Steve had started on his second drink when a second redheaded female sauntered over to Bucky joining in their conversation, she stole glances at Steve, but he ignored her. His attention ripped from the trio behind him when a female wearing the mask of a jackal split the crowd. Hair like molten gold, her black silk dress hugged every curve, but covered her completely. The black and gold mask hiding all but her eyes, the gold and black contacts keeping her identity hidden. 

Steve wasn’t big on Egyptian culture, but he knew the god Anubis when he saw him, well in this case her. She didn’t speak to him, but turned toward the exit, he rose from his seat to follow. He didn’t speak to Bucky, Zemo wouldn’t send him here to die and if he had, at this point Steve would welcome it.

—

Bucky had been chatting with the two women for some time, Dot and Gail were a much needed reprieve from the past year. His fun with them was cut short when a powerful woman approached him through the crowd, the gold detailing of her mask standing out against her umber skin. Her rich accent cutting off the giggles of both the women beside him, 

“Mr. Barnes, I am ‘Bast’. I believe we have a mutual friend.” She motioned upstairs towards Jake, now Steven who was chatting with a group of investors and philanthropists. 

Bucky straightened, her words sobering him almost immediately. With a wave of her hand Dot and Gail melted back into the crowd. She lifted her head in Steve’s direction, “Seems he won't be joining us…”

Bucky whirled around to see the seat where Steve once sat, completely empty, the ice in his drink melted, leaving the napkin beneath drenched. Panic gripped him as he scanned the crowd, the woman code named Bast, stepped around him plucking a small piece of paper from Steve’s stool.

Not paper.

The familiar matte black rectangle was a playing card.

He couldn’t stop the laugh that shoved its way from his throat as he took the card from Bast. Relief and… joy bloomed in his chest, a smile splitting his lips as he looked back at her, “No. I guess he won't be.”

The message was for him, one only he would understand, still smiling he followed Bast to their meeting, pocketing the card. 

The matte card didn't have the ace he had expected in its center, but a golden jester, the words James Barnes in gold foil written in two diagonal corners. 

The wild card.

Wade boxes him into an alley, approaching him cautiously, “Oh pale horseman, I have a question for you…”

The male-only stares at him, his head tilting.

“If you kill death, where do they go?” Though his face is covered, he can’t help but smile to himself, this was going to be too easy—

Another voice booms down the alley, “Little Ace, you flatter yourself,” a shadow emerges from one of the alcoves, “Did you really believe one horseman would travel without the other?”

Wade’s smile fades, but quickly grows wider, “You know, I was really hoping for a challenge.”

The other shadow grows closer, the dim lighting of the alley lamp casting shadows across the large man’s face, a full beard adorned his jaw, and he carries himself with the confidence of a god. 

Good. Wade would be thrilled to knock him down from his mighty throne.

“I knew you Aces were good, but I didn’t think you were dumb enough to take on two horsemen alone.” The pale one retorts.

Wade unsheathes his weapon, the thrill and adrenaline roaring in his veins, he almost bounces in excitement. 

Your velvet voice drifts down the alley, causing a shiver to lick down his spine, “What makes you think he’s alone?”                                                                                                                                       

—

The feminine voice is smoother than silk when it reaches his ears, he spins to face its owner at the other end of the alley. Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. You stalk towards him with lethal grace, your blades already drawn.

Though his partner had been bestowed the moniker of Death, he looked as though he were a cheap imposter compared to you. Your hair and mask were so pale they glowed an eerie shade of blue in the moonlight.

In all his battles, he never once believed there was a chance he wouldn’t make it out alive, but now as your eyes locked on his, he knew his fate.

—

It's almost laughable how quickly you take the two of them down, Death and Famine were not as formidable as they would have liked to think. Famine was of no use to you, he was left in the alley as a message to the rest, as for Death, you and Wade captured the pale rider.

Now he sits strapped tightly to the metal chair in the warehouse, the moonlight filtering in, bathing him in white light. His lips were stained crimson, his head tilted back against the chair, and a whine left his lips. You grasp the back of his head, yanking it backward, “Name.” you hiss.

“Hogun.”

A wicked smile splits your lips under your mask, “Very good Hogun. You know who we are?”

He eyes your uniform, the blank white cards sparkling on your waist, then looks to Wade, “You are the dead Ace that walks amongst the living, the underground has been whispering about you, Wraith” he takes a moment to collect himself, trying to open both of his eyes, to no avail, one is already swollen shut.

You raise a brow, “Very good–”

“And he,” Hogun nods towards Wade, “is another of the Aces, by the look of him and the description the underground has, he is the Ace of hearts.” he breathes deeply, his breath shaky at best, “You know I won't talk.”

You give him a look of mock pity, “Oh, we have ways of making you talk, don't worry.” you nod to Wade giving him the go-ahead.

“With pleasure Death.”

—

Hours have passed, and Hogun has spilled little tidbits of information, but you and Wade can both tell he doesn't have much fight left in him. The two of you are surprised he has lasted even this long.

“Come now Hogun, your friends can’t help you, one of them is already fish food, and your employer will be dead soon as well. You might as well just give it up.” Wade's voice sings-songs through the warehouse. You lean back in your chair, watching as he circles Hogun like a hungry shark.

“Wade, you might as well just finish him, he no longer has any useful information for us. We can just find one of the others and make them squeal.”

“What’s the rush? I didn’t get to take my time with your parents, the least I can do is enjoy toying with you… Ms. Carbonell.”

Your eyes narrow on him, your vision turning red, “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I mean I can’t take all the credit, it was a group effort really. Our boss really is the mastermind behind it all.” he laughs again. “But he didn’t account for you being the Ace of Spades.”

The realization felt like a punch to the gut, the dark hair, the stature, all he would need is a face covering and a bike. With the shitty city cameras, he could pass as Barnes easily. Your vision floods red, and you feel the impact against your knuckles, the crunch of the bones, then Wade pulls you off of him. 

He flashes you a broken grin, tossing his head trying to remove his dark hair from his face. “You know, I had my suspicions about you. None of the others believed me, not even the boss. We couldn’t understand why Rogers was still alive,” he chuckles again, “It all makes sense now, it’s sad though you know, you just had to fall in love with your target.”

You rip out of Wade's grip, yanking Hogun by his throat, “You listen very carefully, I am giving you one chance. You tell us everything and we will make it quick, otherwise…” you glance at Wade, “well, I guess we can show you…”

“Fuck you.” he snarls.

A wicked laugh falls from your lips, “God, I was hoping you’d say that.”

—

Dawn marks the end for Hogun. You and Wade no longer have the patience it requires to rip the information from him. You and Wade had taken shifts trying to extract information from Hogun, but in the end, he hadn’t given you too much, to your dismay. 

By the end of it, Hogun is breathing his last breaths, they’re shallow and ragged, and you can hear the rattling in his lungs. You kneel in front of him, “Your death will mean nothing. Even without your help, we will find your friends, and your employer too. You died for nothing—” 

You are cut off by your phone ringing in your pocket, pulling it out you check the screen, a picture of you and Steve lights up the screen with his name. You hold up your finger to Wade as you answer it. 

“Steve?”

‘Hey, Angel. Any luck?’

You sigh heavily, behind you, Wade and Hogun are exchanging words, but you can hardly make out what is being said. “None yet, but don’t worry, I’ll get the information.”

‘You might not need to, I'm about to head to your brother’s tower.’

You can hear Hogun begin laughing behind you, it starts throwing him into coughing fits. Steve continues talking, but you are only half listening as you draw closer to Hogun and Wade.

“What the fuck is so funny?!” Wade snaps, gripping Hogun by his collar, “You might want to save those breaths, you will need them.”

A malicious smile splits Hogun’s face his lips and teeth are a bright crimson, “I was never meant to survive, they knew you’d come for me.”

Your head snaps towards Wade, but something Steve says pulls your attention back, ‘Yeah, they called a meeting. All the family heads are gonna be there.’

“What?! Who called the meeting?!” You are torn, trying to listen to Steve, and Hogun simultaneously.

“Loki always was a squealer.”

Panic starts to ripple through you, “Steve?! Where are you?! Stay where you are! Do not go anywhere!”

‘Calm down Angel, Thor called it, says he caught Loki in the act.’

“No, Steve, do not go—”

‘Don’t worry— got Bucky–me. Even got — admit he —’

“Steve, wait!”  

‘–behind everything, even —your parents. —bringing him— for judgment—’ 

You strain your ears, trying to understand Steve, but the connection keeps interrupting, then the line finally dies.

You turn to look at Wade and on Hogun’s final breath, his eyes meet yours, “You can’t save them now.”