It was a man's face, about thirty years old, with sharp features and well-defined contours; his dark hair was slightly messy.
But what shocked Howard the most was that this face... Howard recognized it.
No, it was more than just recognition.
"Sergeant Barnes?" Howard's voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief.
Bucky Barnes.
Howard certainly knew him; he was a comrade from World War II, a close friend of Captain America, and a core member of the Howling Commandos.
In 1944, during a mission to pursue Red Skull, Bucky fell from a high-speed train into a cliff, and his body was never found.
Everyone thought he had died heroically, and Steve Rogers had grieved for a long time because of it.
Howard had also attended Bucky's memorial service and had felt heartbroken over the sacrifice of this young hero.
In the historical archives of S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky Barnes's name was permanently engraved on the list of fallen soldiers, and his photo hung on the wall of honor.
But unexpectedly, decades later, Howard was seeing him again.
Moreover, Bucky looked exactly the same as he did during World War II, without even a sign of aging.
Time seemed to have stood still for him; except for that metal arm, he was no different from the cheerful and lively Bucky in his memories.
But why?
Why would Bucky attack him? Hadn't he sacrificed himself? Hadn't he fallen off the cliff and died? How could he be here? How could he have become like this? How could...
Countless questions surged in Howard's mind, but he couldn't find any answers.
And reality didn't offer him any more time to think.
The Bucky before him had already raised his metal left arm, forming a fist, aimed at Howard's head.
Under the moonlight, the metal fist reflected a cold luster.
Howard could see every scratch on the surface of the fist and could feel the cold breath of approaching death.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow.
Maria's scream came from inside the car: "No—"
Just at the moment the iron fist was about to descend, a golden-red light descended from the sky, like a meteor hitting the ground, illuminating the entire forest.
From within the light, a slender and delicate palm reached out, resting on the metal wrist.
The hand looked weak and delicate, with fair skin and slender fingers, just like a pianist's or a painter's hand.
Yet, just such a hand, resting lightly on Bucky's metal wrist, prevented the arm—which was strong enough to tear through a car door—from moving even an inch.
Bucky was stunned; he tried to move his arm, but the metal wrist seemed welded in mid-air, unmoving.
The light gradually faded, revealing a person's figure.
Golden-red long hair fluttered in the night wind, and amber eyes shone like a Burning Sun in the darkness.
Mavuika stood between Howard and Bucky, one hand resting on the metal wrist, the other supporting the swaying Howard.
"It seems I arrived just in time." Mavuika's voice was calm.
Howard finally let out a heavy sigh of relief.
As he relaxed, all his strength seemed to be drained away instantly; he went limp, and all the pain and exhaustion surged up at once, his consciousness beginning to blur.
After being grabbed by the metal wrist by Mavuika, Bucky Barnes did not give up resisting.
A trace of programmed reaction flashed in those hollow eyes; his right hand instantly clenched into a fist, creating a whistling sound as it smashed fiercely towards Mavuika's face.
The power contained in that fist was enough to shatter concrete, and its speed would only leave an afterimage in the eyes of an ordinary person.
Bucky's body had been modified and enhanced; every muscle contained explosive power far exceeding that of an ordinary person, and every nerve had been optimized to support combat reactions.
But Mavuika just tilted her head slightly; Bucky's fist brushed past her hair, the resulting gust of wind blowing her golden-red hair, several strands of which fluttered in the air.
At the same time, the hand Mavuika was holding Bucky's left metal wrist with gave a gentle twist.
A series of mechanical overload whines emanated from the joint where the metal arm connected to the shoulder; the complex connecting mechanism failed one by one under irresistible force, and the fastening bolts rotated and flew off as if twisted by invisible pliers, bouncing and rolling away on the road.
Hearing only a few harsh mechanical snapping sounds of "click," that cold-glowing metal arm was forcibly removed by her from Bucky's shoulder armor.
The action was crisp and neat, as if she were not dismantling a precision mechanical arm, but just an insignificant toy.
Mavuika let go, and that heavy, precise, and expensive mechanical arm dropped to the ground with a "clang," kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Bucky was stunned.
He looked down at his empty left shoulder interface, where precise mechanical structures and a few wires still sparking were exposed, and then looked at the metal arm that had been casually discarded a few meters away.
This warrior, trained to be a perfect killing machine, now had a brief blankness on his face, a look of near-confusion appearing on that stiff face.
His brain... or rather, the program controlling his brain, seemed unable to process this situation.
He stood there, his whole being stalled like a jammed machine.
Mavuika ignored his bewilderment. She turned and walked quickly towards the car, leaning over to check on Howard and Maria's condition.
Inside the car, Howard and Maria's condition was relatively stable; although the damage caused by the impact was not light, it was only external injuries and internal injuries from the collision, which had not damaged any vital organs.
"Don't move," Mavuika said softly, placing her hands on their respective injuries.
Golden-red light poured from her palms, warm and not dazzling, as gentle as spring sunlight.
The light seeped into Howard and Maria's bodies; wherever it passed, the pain quickly subsided, and the wounds began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Bones were automatically reset under the guidance of divine power, bleeding was stopped, and torn tissues began initial repairs.
Mavuika stabilized their injuries and alleviated their pain, saving a lot of trouble for subsequent medical treatment.
Howard felt a warm current flowing through his body, as if soaking in warm water; all the pain and discomfort were rapidly disappearing.
"Thank you..." Howard said hoarsely, his voice a bit stronger than before.
Then Mavuika stood up, her gaze turning to Bucky, who was still standing there, looking bewildered.
Now it was time to deal with this attacker.
But Howard grabbed the hem of her clothes.
"Wait a moment, Mavuika."
Mavuika stopped, looking back at him: "Hmm?"
Howard struggled to stand up, and Maria also followed him out of the car.
Although both were still a bit weak, they were able to stand and walk.
Howard's gaze fell on Bucky; that young yet hollow face appeared particularly jarring under the moonlight.
"He..." Howard's voice trembled slightly, filled with complex emotions: "is my old friend."