Pietro Maximoff.
Steve slammed on the brakes, and the car stopped less than two meters away from the young man, leaving two black tracks on the ground.
Steve pushed open the car door and got out.
"Who are you?"
Pietro tilted his head and looked at him: "You are Captain America?"
Steve did not answer.
Pietro smiled: "Someone asked me to pass along a message — — You can't go anywhere."
Before his voice faded, his body moved.
The speed was unimaginably fast. Steve's eyes didn't even catch his movements; he only felt a gust of wind blow past, and then his chest was heavily struck.
He flew backward, crashing into the car behind him, denting the door, and slid down to kneel on one knee.
Bucky rushed out from the passenger seat, his gun already raised.
But Pietro's speed was too fast. He moved like a silver-white flash of lightning, weaving around Bucky, and Bucky's muzzle couldn't keep up with his speed at all.
"Too slow!" Pietro's laughter echoed in the night sky.
Bucky gritted his teeth, threw away his gun, clenched his fists, and waited for Pietro's next attack.
Pietro indeed rushed forward.
Bucky threw a punch, but it missed.
Pietro appeared behind him and kicked him in the back of the knee.
Bucky knelt on one knee, and just as he was about to stand up, Pietro appeared in front of him again and punched him hard in the face.
Steve climbed up from the ground, raised his shield, and stood in front of Bucky.
Then he saw the second person.
A woman wearing a red jacket, her dark brown long hair gently fluttering in the night breeze.
Her hands were slightly raised, her fingertips lingering with dark red light — — that was a kind of energy Steve had never seen before.
Wanda Maximoff.
She looked at Steve, a flash of ruthlessness passing through her eyes.
"I'm sorry." She said softly, "You cannot leave here tonight."
She raised her hand.
Dark red light surged from her palms like a viper, wrapping around Steve's body.
Steve felt his consciousness begin to blur, not into unconsciousness, but rather those sealed memories, those images he was unwilling to recall, surging out like a tide.
The smoke of war, the blood of comrades, the figure of Bucky falling from the train...
Steve gritted his teeth, trying to resist that power, but his shield slipped from his hand, and his knees bent.
Wanda's gaze turned to Bucky.
The dark red light surged into Bucky's brain, like a key opening the door he was desperately trying to lock.
Those memories implanted by HYDRA, those instincts to obey orders, those cold, ruthless, mechanical instructions — —
All came back.
Bucky's eyes changed, turning from clear to hollow, and from hollow to icy.
He stood there like a soulless puppet.
Steve saw it. He struggled desperately to stand up.
"Bucky — —!"
Bucky raised his head and looked at Steve.
In those eyes, there was no familiar warmth, only unfamiliarity, indifference, and... murderous intent.
He moved.
A punch smashed into Steve's face, sending Steve flying backward, his shield dropping to the ground with a crisp sound.
Wanda looked at this scene, somewhat satisfied with her results.
Pietro walked to her side and lowered his voice, saying: "Almost done, let's go."
Wanda nodded. She raised her hand, the dark red light gathering in her palm, and then suddenly expanding outward.
In the darkness, dozens of dark figures emerged from both sides of the street.
They were HYDRA soldiers, fully armed and well-trained, pouncing on their prey like a pack of starving wolves.
They surrounded Steve.
Steve climbed up from the ground, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, looked at those soldiers, and then looked at Bucky standing in the distance, his eyes filled with both pain and anger.
He picked up his shield and clenched his fists.
"Come on." He said.
...
S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was in chaos.
Natasha crouched behind a pillar, the gun in her hand still smoking.
Three HYDRA soldiers lay fallen before her, but more were rushing up from the stairwell.
Her bullets were running low.
Clint crouched beside her, his bow fully drawn, the arrowhead aimed in the direction of the stairwell.
His expression was very calm, but there was a scratch on his forehead, blood flowing down his brow bone, which he didn't wipe.
"How many people do you still have on your side?" Clint asked.
Natasha quickly changed a magazine. "At least twenty."
Footsteps came from the stairwell, and Natasha and Clint raised their weapons simultaneously.
Then, a silver-white flash of lightning rushed out from the stairwell.
Pietro.
His speed was so fast that Natasha's eyes simply couldn't keep up.
She only felt a gust of wind blow past, and then the gun in her hand was gone. Not only was it snatched away, but it had been disassembled into parts, scattered all over the ground.
Clint's bow was also taken apart, the bowstring snapped, and the arrows scattered everywhere.
The two stood there with nothing in their hands.
Pietro stood in front of them, holding the last arrow in his hand. He looked at it and casually tossed it on the ground.
"Is that all the skills you have?" he asked.
Natasha looked at him, the corners of her mouth curling slightly upward. "You guess."
Pietro's brow furrowed, and then he heard a sound coming from behind — — the roar of a helicopter.
He turned his head and saw two Quinjets diving down from the night sky. The onboard machine guns began strafing, and HYDRA soldiers scrambled to dodge.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, Natasha and Clint rushed into the nearby hallway.
Pietro wanted to pursue, but Wanda's voice came through the communicator: "Don't chase them. Our mission is to pin them down, not kill them. The helicarrier is already ready for launch."
Pietro stopped, looked at the two figures disappearing into the hallway, and let out a soft "Tch."
"Let's go." He said.
In Washington's night sky, three massive helicarriers were slowly ascending.
They looked like three giant black birds, blocking out the starlight.
The lights on the hulls flickered in the night, and the gun barrels were rotating, aiming at targets on the ground.
Those targets were names on HYDRA's formulated "threat list."
Politicians, soldiers, scientists, reporters... Twenty million people were about to be eliminated within minutes.
Fury stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the command center, watching those three carriers, his fists clenched tightly.
"Director, Natasha and Clint's side has been suppressed." Coulson's voice came through the communicator, carrying gasps.
"There are too many HYDRA people; they've almost turned out in full force, and there are even two superpower users — — we can't hold them off."
Fury gritted his teeth: "Damn it! We cannot let those three mother ships reach airborne altitude!"
There was no other choice; he had to request backup.
Fury picked up his phone and dialed Tony Stark's number.
The phone rang, once, twice, three times — —
No one answered.
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