Shadows of Winter
"Old man!" shouted Nicolás as soon as he crossed the hospital entrance. His hurried steps echoed down the hallway, his eyes full of worry as he searched for his father without stopping to ask for directions. With brusque force, he pushed open the door of the assigned room.
There he found Nathaniel lying on a bed. At his side, a doctor in a white coat held a clipboard, reviewing notes while maintaining a professional posture. The general, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable in the position of a patient: he kept trying to sit up, as if this were nothing more than a mild cold.
"Are you alright?" Nicolás asked, his eyes locked on his father with anxious intensity.
"I'm fine. It's nothing," Nathaniel answered calmly, as if the wound meant little. "The bullet passed through. They just need to check everything as a precaution. It's not something I can't handle." His tone was so serene that it sounded more like he was talking about a scratch than a gunshot.
The doctor did not share his nonchalance. "Sir, with respect… at your age you cannot keep saying that." Her eyes hardened with severity. "You should be more careful. You're not so young anymore, although I admit none of your scars compare to this one." Leaving the remark in the air, she turned to Nicolás with an annoyed look that quickly disappeared behind her professional mask. "In a few minutes a nurse will come to run more tests." With that, she left the room with firm steps.
"Thank you, doctor," said Nathaniel with a relaxed smile, as if he had just been treated at a spa.
"Ah… yes, thank you very much," added Nicolás, bowing his head slightly. The doctor looked even more displeased at his thanks and left without answering. Nicolás frowned, confused by her reaction. Before he could dwell on it, a gust of wind rustled the papers scattered around the room.
Pietro entered, raising a hand in greeting with his usual carefree tone. "Hey, general. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Nathaniel replied immediately, as though talking about his health was a waste of time. "What happened with the Winter Soldier?"
"Well… about that… we lost him." Pietro lowered his voice, tinged with guilt.
"You lost him?" Nicolás arched an eyebrow, anger sparking in his expression. "With Stark's tracking tech and your speed?"
"It's fine." Nathaniel raised a hand to stop his son's fury.
Pietro shrugged. "We don't really know what he looks like. And if he's survived this long, he must have plenty of ways to hide. Stark collected blood samples, but there was too much mixed together. We'll have to wait for the analysis. Cap is interested too, so he'll help."
Nicolás clenched his fists, his voice turning cold. "Let me know when you find him. I'll go with you."
"Sure," Pietro replied, dropping into one of the visitor's chairs.
Nathaniel, in his usual calm, changed the subject. "And you? How are you feeling?"
Pietro looked at him in disbelief. "You're asking me? You're the one in a hospital bed!" he said with a faint smile, though it couldn't quite mask his concern.
The general's steady gaze forced him to sigh. "Aaah… I'm fine. Just uneasy. It's been a week and we still have no trace of my sister. We even asked that idiot Reed Richards and Professor Xavier for help. We've never been apart this long." His voice lost its lightness and grew heavier.
"Don't worry. She's with Owen," Nicolás said firmly. "If she were in danger, he'd handle it."
"That's what worries me too," Pietro replied, forcing a bitter smile. "If only Wanda would realize it…" he murmured, leaving the words to trail off with a sigh.
Nicolás was about to ask what he meant, when suddenly his eyes widened as if he had just remembered something important. "Aaah… that doctor. No wonder she looked familiar." He stood up nervously. "Hey, old man, don't you think it'd be more interesting to move to another hospital?"
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at him. "Why?"
"Well… I don't know, I just think it would be safer," Nicolás answered, swallowing hard.
At that moment the door opened again. The same doctor returned, holding a syringe ready. "General Nathaniel, we need to give you a preventive vaccine against possible infections that could have entered through the gunshot wound."
Nicolás' eyes went wide as he turned to his father, shaking his head in a silent plea for them to get out now.
The general sighed, understanding immediately. Not because of the vaccine, but because of another kind of danger entirely: his son's romantic entanglements. He was certain that sooner or later, Nicolás' conquests and playboy foolishness would kill him with stress long before any battlefield enemy ever did.
…
"What do we have, Banner?" asked Tony as he entered the laboratory, his voice firm and his brow furrowed, barely hiding the tension in his expression. Behind him, Steve crossed the doorway with determined steps. He said nothing, but his eyes revealed the anxiety of someone desperate to confirm or dismiss a thought that had been haunting him. The blurry security camera images kept hammering in his mind: that hooded man looked far too much like someone he had lost a long time ago.
Banner, his arms full of folders and analysis reports, tried to lighten the atmosphere with a faint smile. "Well… we've got the DNA of everyone involved in the attack on the general. And, surprise… care to guess?"
"SHIELD." The word snapped from Tony's lips.
"Exactly." Banner nodded, though he quickly raised a hand. "But it would be absurd to think Fury is behind this. He might hate the general, sure, but not enough to order an attack. This is Hydra. It always was. We found traces of known mercenaries, men who had already carried out clandestine missions for them. The network is bigger than we thought."
Steve leaned closer to the table, his fingers tense against the metal edge. "And what about the Winter Soldier? Can the DNA tell us who he is?"
Banner swallowed hard. "That's the strange part. We've got matches with several identities… but they're all people listed as dead. I have death certificates, official records, even funeral photos. And yet, we saw them move, fight, breathe. Technically, now they're dead for real, thanks to the general and to you, but…"
"Banner." Tony cut him off sharply. "Get to the point."
The scientist exhaled and activated the holographic screen. A series of documents appeared before them, but one stood out above the rest. "This is the one that unsettles me the most. The DNA matches a person who, according to the records, died in 1945."
A black-and-white photo projected in large detail. A young soldier, in perfect uniform, with a faint smile, standing among a battalion. At his side, almost as a cruel irony, was Steve Rogers in the same formation.
"James Buchanan Barnes," Banner said softly.
Steve felt a blow strike his chest. His eyes widened with a shock he hadn't felt since the war. "Bucky…?" he whispered, incredulous. His memory dragged him back instantly to the train, the fall, the moment he saw him disappear into the void.
"Unless someone's been storing his blood in a jar for seventy years, yes," murmured Tony with sarcasm, though his gaze carried no trace of humor. It was cold, calculating. "All the samples we have belong to bodies collected in the morgue or captured prisoners. All except one. The Winter Soldier's."
Steve clenched his jaw. "I saw him die."
Tony stared back at him with severity. "You died too, technically. And here you are. Owen already said it: you weren't the only super soldier created. What he didn't tell us is how many more are still out there."
As he spoke, Tony kept his phone hidden behind his arm, typing quickly. His expression hardened with every second, as if he had already made a decision that went far beyond words.
Steve stepped back, shaking his head. "I have to find him." His voice wavered between anguish and determination. He turned to the door and hurried out.
Tony followed him with his eyes, his expression transformed into a mask of absolute coldness. He was no longer the sarcastic, witty Tony; he was a man consumed by a wound that had burned since childhood. Once Steve was out of sight, Tony finished typing on his phone and locked the screen.
Banner, who had been watching silently, didn't need to ask. He already knew what that name meant to Steve, but also what it represented for Tony: the murderer of his parents.
"You're not the only one who wants to catch him," Stark finally said, his voice like ice.
He turned toward Banner with a look that left no room for hesitation. "Help me with this, Banner. We need it fast."
The scientist swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes… of course. As long as I can be of help, I will."
Tony didn't answer. He just kept staring at the empty screen, as if he were already seeing Barnes' face, seared into his memory in fire.