The day Howard and Maria left, the weather was beautiful.
The sky was a clear blue, and a few white clouds floated leisurely.
Tony drove them to the airport, and Mavuika went along.
In the terminal, Howard and Maria dragged their simple suitcases; they had decided to travel light, and if they needed anything, they would buy it when they arrived.
"The first stop is Greece," Maria said with some anticipation, holding a travel guide in her hand.
"The Acropolis in Athens, the blue-domed churches of Santorini, the ancient palaces of Crete... we plan to stay there for three months."
"And then maybe Italy," Howard added with a relaxed smile on his face.
"Or the south of France; we don't have a specific plan, we'll just go wherever we feel like."
Tony looked at his parents and suddenly had a strange feeling.
Growing up, the Howard he saw was always serious, busy, and overwhelmed by responsibility.
But now, this old man about to embark on a journey looked so... free, so happy.
"Remember to call," Tony said, his voice softer than usual. "Let me know you're still alive, and haven't gotten lost on some island or been knocked out by local wine."
Howard laughed and patted his son's shoulder. "We'll be careful. You too, Tony. Managing the company isn't easy; don't work yourself to death."
"Me?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'm Tony Stark. I can manage the company, design new weapons, fix Mavuika's motorcycle, and attend three parties a week all at the same time. This is nothing."
The boarding announcement sounded over the loudspeaker. Howard and Maria hugged Tony, then hugged Mavuika, and then dragged their suitcases toward the boarding gate.
At the corner, Howard looked back, waving at Tony and Mavuika.
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Afterward, Mavuika and Tony also turned around. The two walked out of the airport with the sunlight spilling onto them; Tony got into his sports car, and Mavuika got on the motorcycle.
The sound of engines starting rang out almost simultaneously, and then the two vehicles drove off in different directions.
After this, Tony, who had inherited Stark Industries, and Fury, who had learned of the explosion information, both became busy.
Tony's life was filled with meetings, negotiations, and decision-making.
He reorganized the company structure, pushed forward new projects, handled media interviews, and had to deal with those trying to profit from him or cause him trouble from time to time.
Fury was even more secretly busy. On the surface, he remained that reliable senior Agent, handling routine internal investigations and security assessments.
But in reality, he was fighting a silent war every day: analyzing data, tracking leads, screening personnel, and trying to identify those latent cancer cells within the massive S.H.I.E.L.D. organization.
Only Mavuika was free.
She had a place to stay; the Villa Howard gave her became her home on Earth. She rearranged the rooms and planted new plants in the garden.
She had a Flamestrider, and if she ran out of money, she could just enter a few races.
She entered competitions irregularly, but every time she appeared, she caused a sensation. Racing teams wanted to sign her, sponsors wanted to find her for endorsements, and even Hollywood wanted to invite her to film movies.
Mavuika declined them one by one, only accepting the prize money, which was enough for her to live very well.
If the vehicle broke, she would find Tony during his free time to fix it. Life was very comfortable.
...
Bucky Barnes stood in front of the window of an old apartment in Brooklyn, watching the pedestrians hurrying by on the street below.
This apartment was not big, two bedrooms and a living room, simply decorated but clean.
The furniture was all new, but he had deliberately chosen less flashy styles.
Outside the window, one could see a corner of the East River. When the weather was good, the sunlight would scatter fragments of gold on the water.
Eight months had passed since the night that changed everything.
Eight months ago, he was still the weapon of HYDRA, the Winter Soldier, with no memory, no self, only missions and killing.
Now, eight months later, he was Bucky Barnes, an ordinary tenant living in Brooklyn, at least on the surface.
Howard and Tony had arranged this identity for him: James Buchanan, a retired soldier who worked as a part-time technician at a car repair shop after being medically discharged.
The file was flawless, with service records, medical certificates, and even a few blurry "old photos," all carefully forged by the technical department of Stark Industries.
"You need time, Bucky," Howard said to him before leaving, his eyes full of understanding and apology.
"For decades, you've been controlled and used. Now it's time to get your own life back. Although you have to live under an assumed name for now, at least you are free."
freedom.
Bucky looked down at his left hand; that silver-grey metal arm reflected a cold luster in the morning light.
This arm was still proof of those dark years, a brand he could not get rid of.
Every morning when he woke up, Bucky had to spend a few minutes confirming who he was, where he was, and what year it was.
Those memories of being brainwashed, frozen, and awakened to carry out missions were like a broken mirror, the fragments sharp and chaotic.
Sometimes he would dream of those missions, the people he killed, the destruction he caused.
Then he would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, until he confirmed that the metal arm was still there, confirming that he was really in the apartment in Brooklyn, and not in a cryogenic chamber of HYDRA.
To help him stabilize his condition, Tony and Mavuika would occasionally come to see him, nominally to "check the operation of the mechanical arm," but in reality, it was more like a visit between friends.
Howard and Tony had indeed considered using Bucky as bait to draw out HYDRA.
This plan was very tempting. Bucky was one of the most important assets of HYDRA, and his disappearance must have made the high-level officials of HYDRA uneasy.
If Bucky suddenly appeared in public, HYDRA would surely spare no cost to retrieve or eliminate him.
Tony even drew up a detailed plan during a late-night discussion: "We can arrange for Bucky to 'accidentally' appear in a public place, let the HYDRA informants inside S.H.I.E.L.D. discover him, then set a trap and wait for them to take the bait. Fury can mobilize the Agents he trusts, I can set up monitoring and defense systems in the surrounding area, and Mavuika can be the final insurance..."
But Howard vetoed the plan.
"This isn't fair, Tony," Howard said, his voice low.
"Bucky has been through too much—brainwashed, controlled, and used as a weapon for decades. Now that he's finally escaped, we're going to push him into danger again? Let him become bait again, become a target again?"
"But he has a responsibility—" Tony tried to argue.
"His responsibility has been fulfilled," Howard interrupted him.
"During World War II, he risked his life for his country and ultimately paid the price of falling off a cliff. For the decades that followed, although he was in a controlled state, his body and hands still bore the trauma of those missions. Enough, Tony. What he needs now is peace, time, and to relearn how to live as an ordinary person."