I left the roof and took the stairs down to the launch bays. The Triskelion was evacuating. Sirens echoed through the empty corridors. I walked past the panicked agents rushing for the surface and went deeper underground.
The docks were heavily flooded. The crushed hull of the lead Helicarrier sat half-submerged in the river water. Small fires burned across the collapsed flight deck. The massive steel frame groaned as it slowly took on more water.
I stepped onto a twisted gangway and entered the wreckage. Smoke filled the shattered corridors. The smell of aviation fuel and burnt wiring hung in the air. I followed the sound of shifting metal.
The targeting bay was completely ruined. The catwalks had given way, leaving a mess of shattered glass and structural steel.
Steve was down there. His uniform was torn apart. His face was covered in deep cuts and ash. He had his hands locked around a massive support girder, pulling upward with his all strength. His arms were shaking.
Trapped under the beam was James Barnes.
Barnes was pinned at the waist and the left shoulder. His mechanical arm was trapped under the crushing weight. His eyes kept shifting between Steve and the floor, unfocused one moment and sharp the next. His breathing was uneven.
"Get out," Barnes grunted, his breathing shallow. "Let it go."
"I'm not leaving you," Steve said. He adjusted his grip, his boots slipping on the wet floor. "I'm with you to the end of the line, Bucky."
Barnes flinched at the name. He thrashed, trying to tear his pinned arm free. The metal shrieked against the girder. The entire ship lurched, settling deeper into the flooded dock. River water began pooling around their boots.
Steve dropped to one knee, losing his leverage. He had taken too much damage fighting his way through the ship.
I walked through the smoke and stepped into the bay.
Steve looked over his shoulder. He let out a harsh breath, his grip slipping on the beam.
"Adrian," Steve choked out.
I walked up to the collapsed girder. I placed one hand on the cold steel. The metal groaned as I used my aura. The massive beam lifted off the deck, floating upward before I tossed it aside. It crashed into the flooded lower bay with a heavy splash.
Barnes gasped, dragging himself backward across the wet floor. He looked up at me. His eyes were wild. He tried to raise his flesh hand to defend himself, his body running purely on survival instincts.
I stepped closer to him.
Barnes tried to scramble away. His metal arm dragged against the grated floor, sparking as the servos whined. He threw a clumsy punch with his good hand. I caught his wrist.
The strength left him instantly. His arm went slack in my grip.
I held his wrist and stepped closer, pressing my free hand flat against his forehead.
He stiffened. His eyes went wide.
Fragments rushed past my senses, his terrible memories. Harsh lights. Russian voices repeating the same commands again and again. Years of it, layered over each other until the man beneath was almost buried.
I didn't untangle it carefully.
I tore through it.
The pressure of my will forced into the walls they had built inside his mind. The commands fractured. The trigger words broke apart.
Barnes screamed.
It was a raw, tearing sound that echoed through the flooded bay. His back arched, the metal arm scraping violently against the deck.
Steve took a step forward.
"Adrian…?"
"Stay back," I said.
The red glow from my eyes spilled into the smoke between us. I pushed deeper, past the broken commands and the fragments of orders, until I found him.
Brooklyn.
A narrow street. A younger Steve Rogers standing beside him.
I pulled that forward.
The screaming stopped.
Barnes collapsed against me, gasping for air. His whole body shook.
I removed my hand.
"The war ended seventy years ago," I said. "Wake up."
Barnes blinked slowly. The empty stare of the Winter Soldier was gone. Confusion remained, and fear, but his eyes were finally focused.
He looked at his metal hand.
Then he looked at Steve.
"Steve?" Barnes whispered. His voice was cracked and dry.
Steve let out a long breath.
He stepped forward and the deck gave way.
The Helicarrier groaned violently. The bay tilted. River water surged in through the shattered glass, rising fast. The ship was finally sinking.
Steve stumbled, sliding toward the open drop.
I grabbed Barnes by his tactical vest and caught Steve by the shoulder. The water surged toward us. I bent the gravity around us and pulled us upward through the jagged hole in the ceiling.
We cleared the wreckage just as the river swallowed the targeting bay.
We landed hard on the concrete edge of the launch docks. The morning sun cut through the smoke drifting across the water.
Steve rolled onto his back, coughing up water. He pushed himself onto his elbows, immediately searching the ground.
Barnes lay a few feet away, curled on his side. He held his head with his flesh hand, breathing hard.
But he was breathing.
Steve crawled over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
I turned toward the river.
The Potomac carried pieces of twisted metal downstream while sirens grew louder in the distance.