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"That wasn't you, Bucky!" Steve shot to his feet, voice trembling. "That was HYDRA! You were brainwashed—you're not the killer!"
"But the finger on the trigger was mine." Bucky stared at his metal arm, voice cold.
The air froze.
Steve's face twisted in pain and helplessness; he'd just found his best friend again and couldn't bear to lose him to the wind.
Homelander watched the two of them, calculations spinning behind his eyes.
Bucky's mental state was too unstable; leave him in VGD and one day a flashback might make him slaughter a cadet—PR nightmare.
"All right."
Homelander suddenly shrugged, giving the resigned grin that said he'd lost the argument.
"If you're this set on chasing redemption, I can't stand in your way."
He turned to Steve.
"Captain."
"Sir!" Steve snapped upright out of reflex.
"I'm giving you a long-term field assignment."
"Stick with him." Homelander pointed at Bucky. "He's our asset; we don't let him wander like some hobo."
"Go help him hunt those damned memories and dig up every last HYDRA skeleton."
Steve froze—he'd been agonizing over how to request leave, but as VGD's head instructor he was swamped.
"Anthony…" Steve was moved. "This… this breaks protocol."
"My protocol is the protocol."
Homelander stood and walked up to Bucky.
"Listen up, Sergeant Barnes."
"You can drift, atone, do whatever you need."
"But remember one thing."
Homelander raised a finger toward the dim ceiling lamp.
"…a light will always stay on for you here."
Bucky met his gaze; for the first time a ripple disturbed the wariness in his eyes.
He stayed silent a long moment, then nodded.
"Thanks."
Homelander faced Steve again, tone now pure commanding Officer.
"As for you, Steve—Bucky's my pre-approved employee."
"You'll bring him back exactly the way you take him out."
"Understood?"
Steve snapped a crisp salute.
"Yes, sir!"
He knew Homelander was preserving his dignity while indulging his private wish.
In a World that worshipped profit, such grace was priceless.
"Ding! Special popularity +5,000! (from Steve Rogers)"
"Ding! Special popularity +5,000! (from James Barnes)"
Homelander listened to the voice in his head, satisfied, and turned to leave.
"Don't get too sappy—I'll be in my office waiting for your expense reports."
He waved without looking back and vanished past the canteen door… Somewhere in an unnamed mountain range.
It was one of Nick Fury's many "safe houses."
Calling it a safe house was modest; it was a luxury Villa retrofitted onto a Cold-War bunker.
Thick lead plating blocked every scan and ray, the closed-loop eco-system could run for years, and the cellar hoarded hundreds of choice reds.
"Click."
The air-lock opened; the smart-home woke—soft lights, a crackling fireplace, mellow jazz drifting through the air.
Clint Barton stepped in, bow slung across his back, two bulging tactical packs in hand.
He glanced around at the open kitchen—bigger than his living room—and whistled.
"Wow."
Barton dropped the packs and tested the plush sofa with a bounce.
"Seriously, boss," he called to Fury brewing coffee, "you've got this place and we were still gnawing ration bars in that rat-hole?"
"A wily hare has three burrows, Barton."
Fury carried over two mugs. "That bunker was for dodging regular tails. This one…"
He pointed upward.
"…is for hiding from the Eye of God."
Barton straightened. "You mean the Insight satellites?"
"Exactly." Fury's face darkened, worry churning in his single eye. "Our names are top-ten on the kill list."
He sipped; bitterness coated his tongue.
"So we settle in for the long haul."
"Long?" Barton caught the word like a sniper.
"Yep."
Fury set the mug down, brows locked.
"Our names are first on Insight's termination roster."
"While those satellites spin and that algorithm runs…"
He jabbed a finger skyward.
"…step outside and it can read the hands on your watch. Show your face, and inside a minute kinetic rounds turn you to pulp."
"So, Clint…"
Fury turned, dead serious.
"Brace yourself—we could be here months, maybe years, until we find a way to burn Insight to the ground."
Barton's coffee cup froze halfway to his lips.
His face drained of color.
"Years? How long exactly?"
"Months? Years?"
He jumped up and paced the living-room like a caged wolf.
"Chief, you know I've got a family—Laura, the kids. Cooper's math was finally improving, Lila's ballet recital's next month…"
"And the tractor's still busted; if I don't plant, that corn crop's finished."
"It's for their safety!" Fury barked. "Go home now and you lead HYDRA straight to them! You want Laura and the kids watching your head explode?"
Barton shut up, slumped back, and downed the coffee in one.
"Damn Pierce… damn HYDRA…"
In the suffocating hush…
"Beep—beep—beep—"
The encrypted comm on the table screamed for attention.
Fury snatched it and plugged in the decrypt key.
"Talk."
Static crackled, then a voice scrambled by a vocoder.
"Fury…"
"Spit it out."
"The Security Council just voted emergency takeover."
"Control of all three helicarriers and the entire Insight command chain… transferred to Vought International."
"The ships no longer answer to Pierce. Their caretaker now is… the Homelander."
"What?!"
Fury nearly dropped the comm.
"Vought? The Homelander?!"
"What's wrong?" Barton sensed the shift. "HYDRA kicking in the door?"
"No…"
Fury lifted his gaze, voice hollow.
"This is even crazier."
"Inside intel—the Council just passed the motion."
Fury paused, digesting the bomb.
"Insight… has been handed off."
"Handed off?" Barton blinked. "To the Military?"
"To Vought." Fury tossed him the comm. "Full transfer. Those carriers now belong to someone named Starr."
"Hold on—if the ships are Vought's, does that mean no one's coming to kill us?"
"In theory." Fury paced, uneasy. "The Homelander's a bastard, but he won't use WMDs for a purge."
"So we're safe?" Barton sprang up. "I can go home?"
"Temporarily safe," Fury corrected. "The sword's just in a different hand."
Barton was already stuffing his pack.
"I'm calling Laura—tell her someone's finally fixing that damn tractor!"
Fury watched the relieved Hawkeye, half glad, half grim.
Glad millions would live; grim because…
Without Insight's guns firing, HYDRA's fangs stayed hidden.
Fury sighed inwardly.
"I'll still have no proof to clear my name."
"To the World I remain the S.H.I.E.L.D. rat who embezzled funds and teamed with Terrorists."
Fury raised the mug and gulped the rest.
Bitter as hell.