Mavuika looked at Howard, then at Bucky, his brow furrowing slightly: "An old friend?"
"Then why did he attack you?"
His gaze carefully scrutinized Bucky; the attacker's eyes were cold and vacant, with a hint of confusion after his mission was obstructed.
Those were not the eyes of a normal human; there was no anger, no fear, no emotional fluctuation, and not even a sign of thought.
It was more like a machine executing commands, a programmed tool.
Howard gave a bitter smile, his expression full of bitterness and confusion: "I don't know either; I even once thought he had long since sacrificed himself in that war."
"In 1944, during the mission to hunt down Red Skull... he fell from the train into a cliff; everyone thought he was dead, and we didn't even find a body."
He paused, his voice dropping lower: "Steve... and we suffered for a long time because of this; we all thought Bucky was a hero who died for his country... I never expected..."
Howard looked up, his eyes becoming a bit more determined, though that determination was laced with pain: "Ms. Marvica, please help me."
"Bucky... he must have been brainwashed and controlled. The Bucky Barnes I knew was someone who would block bullets for his comrades on the battlefield, someone who would disregard his own safety to protect civilians, someone who would... would laugh and drink with us, talking about our dreams after the war."
He stared intently at Bucky: "This isn't him; at least, it's not the real him. I want to save him; please help me take him back."
"Take him back home?" Mavuika asked.
Howard nodded, his expression serious: "Yes. Very few people should have known my route today, but the way Bucky was controlled to attack me was so precise—the time, the location, the method... it all seems meticulously planned."
He took a deep breath and continued: "There must be a problem within the agency, or perhaps it's the work of the Skrulls, who we still have no leads on. If they can infiltrate to this extent..."
Mavuika nodded in understanding.
"No problem," he said.
He turned and walked towards Bucky, his pace calm and steady.
Bucky had been standing in place like a statue, but when Mavuika approached, his vacant eyes suddenly focused, and his body instinctively entered a combat state.
Despite losing an arm, and despite his reason telling him there was no chance of winning, the training and programming were already etched into his marrow.
He took a half-step back, crouched slightly, and held his right fist in front of him in a standard frontline combat stance.
His vigilant gaze locked onto Mavuika, like a cheetah staring at a powerful predator.
But in the next instant, Mavuika's figure blurred in the moonlight.
Then, he was already behind Bucky, moving so fast that only an afterimage remained.
Bucky couldn't react in time. His combat nerves had been pushed to the limit, with a reaction speed more than three times that of a normal soldier, but in front of Mavuika, such enhancement was as laughable as a toddler's stumbling.
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