Fury's secret hideaway was underwhelming. It could be anyone's place. Everything was so very normal, it was disturbing, not at all what he had been expecting. Where was all the leather and weapons and black. There was a definite lack of black. The overall creme colour theme did nothing to convince him Fury actually lived here on his time off.

Natasha was throwing him amused looks as if she had known all along, but Steve could see her fingers twitching and eyes lingering too long on shelves and closed doors. She was itching to discover more about the seemingly bland home, to uncover its secrets. She knew nothing.

"Sofa?" Steve asked as he held the puppet-Fury bridal style.

Hermione hadn't managed to make it walk despite her best efforts. The creepy dummy only breathed, blinked and jerked awkwardly on occasion. Steve couldn't wait to be rid of it.

"No. That armchair there. It will hold him up better and he'll be easier to kill," Natasha said as she pointed from the chair to the window.

Steve nodded, wishing she would stop calling "it" a "he", but knowing all the while she was doing it on purpose.

"He can't just sit there doing nothing," Steve said when he had taken a step back.

"I got it," Natasha said as she put an old magazine in its hands, arranging the fingers with care and even giving the dummy a believable tilt of its head, making it seem deep in concentration. It still looked weird, but it was a sight better. Here's to hoping the assassin was a bit of an idiot and wouldn't question the director's reading choices.

"Isn't there a magazine on guns, or… hunting? I don't know. Something more…"

"Cooking is a perfectly fine activity."

Steve cringed. He knew not to argue with that particular tone of voice and eyebrow rise. Then, as planned, Natasha melted into the curtains next to the window facing the target while Steve hid next to the armchair, behind the large sofa. The two of them probably wouldn't be of any use in catching the assassin, unless he wanted to make it personal by stabbing the director, or literally take his head off, but they had to be prepared for that eventuality too. Clint and Hermione were in ambush outside on the rooftops because that was the most likely place where the assassin would strike from, if he even found this unlikely hideaway. Fury thought he would, because whoever had discovered he was actively sabotaging Hydra was in deep, and in the top ranks of SHIELD.

Tony, for his part, was serving as bodyguard for the real Fury. Just in case. It would be really stupid of them not to consider that possibility as well, and Ironman was the best equipped to both protect him and get him out of any situation. Tony and Hermione actually, but in the end, it had been deemed she would be more useful in catching their assassin than protecting Fury.

"The target is ready," Steve said through the new, magic tolerant coms Tony had been working on. "We're in place."

"So are we," Clint answered, the sound so clear he could have believed Clint was right next to him. "Hit those lights."

Steve reached for the lamp next to the armchair, lighting up the poor dummy like a Christmas tree so it was impossible to miss, even by the world's worse marksman. Hell, Morita could probably hit it with his grease gun. Fake Fury was just begging to be shot. Steve hoped they had not made it too obvious.

"All good," Clint said. "And now we wait."

They waited until the night had settled around them, darkness falling over the city like a thick blanket, but no one complained. Steve was thinking of Hermione, hoping she was not too cold outside, when her voice broke their radio silence.

"Incoming," she whispered. "Clint, he's on the rooftop right next to yours. No, the other one, lower down."

"Got him," Clint replied, but his shot must have missed its mark because the next moment, a bullet buried itself right in the middle of fake-Fury's bald forehead. Just the one. A perfect headshot.

They weren't fucking around. They really wanted him dead this time, and were not taking any chances. The fake blood Natasha had given Hermione to add to the dummy splattered outwards, giving it a nice, convincing touch.

"Fuck!" Clint exclaimed. "Hermione?"

"I can't… He's too fast," Hermione replied, sounding frazzled.

Steve had been about to step out to help them, but a volley of bullets blew the window inwards, hitting furniture and the bleeding dummy indiscriminately.

"Nat!" Clint called.

"I'm fine," she replied sharply.

"He's making a run for it!" Hermione warned. "Steve?"

"Be right there, love."

He jumped through the window, ignored the scrape of broken glass, knowing he could tuck and roll onto the adjoining rooftop. He immediately spotted the dark silhouette of a man running away with ease, a metal glint giving his position away even as he made it to the next building. Steve had a hard time catching up, so he took the first opportunity he got to throw his shield at their target in the hopes of slowing him down. His shield flew true, leaving his side in a whoosh. Steve held his breath and heard another whoosh, no doubt one of Clint's arrows, which was quickly followed by a vivid red flash of magic. Their three-thronged attack was perfectly timed, but despite the odds, they all missed the mark. him worse of all because the assassin caught his shield, stopped it one-handed mid-air as if it was nothing, a mild annoyance to be swatted away. Then the shield was thrown back at him, with just as much strength behind it, and just as true as if he had thrown it himself. Their target was enhanced. Had to be.

Steve warned the others and their momentary standoff came to an end. He hadn't even gotten a good look at the other man. He was too far away, standing in the shadows. Then he was off again, and the chase resumed. Hermione was the first one to get the upper hand on the assassin when one of her spells tripped him up, but she was slower than him, too far away, so it was Steve who lunged for the assassin, tackling him then landing with all his weight on his back. But the Hydra agent was strong, fast and agile. No sooner had Steve pinned one arm behind his back that he managed to push the both of them up. Then he used his momentum and Steve's surprise to slam him against a wall. Steve crumpled on the floor, and the other man used the opportunity to kick him right in the chest, slamming him in the wall once more. All the air forcibly left Steve's lungs, making him wheeze for the first time since the serum. He would be feeling nostalgic if it wasn't so darned inconvenient. Thank God for backup. The assassin had to give up whatever he has planned for him next when he was forced to step back to avoid an arrow, then another. Clint was backing the guy into a corner, not giving him a chance to escape this time whilst giving Steve a chance to get back on his feet and catch his breath. Hermione floated down next to him, landing a bit ungracefully, but he caught her and held her steady.

"Ready?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded, wand already aimed at their target, and she cast the strongest restraining spell she knew, just as they had planned, but, like all plans, it unexpectedly went pear-shaped. For no apparent reason, Hermione's spell glanced off her target the way it did on his shield and it came right back at them. Out of reflex, Steve pushed Hermione out of the way but he was caught in the light and found himself bound tightly from neck to ankles in thick chains. His muscles bulged in protest, but the more he moved, the more the chains constrained him. Hermione picked herself up, looking dazed, but she soon had her wand on him.

"No," Steve ground out, jerking his head towards the assassin. He didn't know how long it would take to free him and they had more pressing matters right now. "Get him."

Because the Hydra agent had seen his ticket out of the corner he had been pushed into, and he turned on Hermione in her moment of distraction. Eyes wide, she realized the mistake she had made,and her free hand shot up between her and the Hydra agent without conscious effort, incantation or wand waving needed, giving her precious seconds to send the threat flying several feet up in the air before he could reach her. With the grace of a cat, the assassin flipped mi-air to land back on his feet some distance away.

"Clint!" Steve called out, forgetting about his com entirely.

"Sorry. Out of arrows, Cap."

"I'll get him," Hermione seethed, leaving his side before he could reason with her.

"Don't worry, Cap. I'm right on her heels," Clint said, seeing his predicament.

Except Steve did worry, because what good was an archer without arrows? A couple of minutes later, Natasha appeared at his side.

"Problem?" she asked kneeling down next to him.

"What does it look like?" Steve muttered.

The redhead tugged at the chains binding him here and there, but finally admitted she could find no beginning or end to them, nor a lock to pick. He either had to wait for the magic to wear off or for Hermione to return and undo the spell.

"What happened to you?" he asked Natasha because she had not caught up to them until now.

She gave him a crooked smile then showed off a bloody hand before placing it back over her thigh. Steve cursed. He should have noticed sooner.

"How bad is it?"

"Just a graze."

"Really?"

She laughed and said something in Russian he didn't understand, but which sounded fond enough. Thankfully, Hermione and Clint returned at that point. Steve was so relieved, he didn't even care they were empty handed. Or almost empty handed. Clint was showing off his trophy: goggles of some sort with dark lenses. Apparently, one of his shots had been a near miss for the assassin and he had left the cracked lenses behind. Meanwhile, Hermione freed him from her spell and they made their way back to the tower, the worse for wear, Clint nagging Natasha in the ride home to check her wound himself, not trusting her notion of "fine".

"So that's that," they later told Fury when they made it back to the tower.

"Am dead at least?"

"Very convincingly so, sir," Natasha replied with a smirk.

"Creep even lingered and shot a whole clip at your corpse to make sure."

"You should have brought me along," Stark replied, still sulking about being on babysitting duty.

The director glared at them, his disappointment tangible.

"We underestimated him," Steve agreed. "I thought the four of us would be more than enough to capture one man, but he was enhanced, much like I am if I had to wager a guess. Is it possible Hydra created their own version of a super-soldier?"

"Jesus, let's hope not," Clint exclaimed.

"And they would be using him as an assassin?" Tony asked as he stroked his goatee.

"Well, they're hardly going to use him as a poster boy," Steve snarked. "This is Hydra we're talking about. An assassin is exactly how they would use someone like me."

"There's a rumour…" Natasha started with a glance at Fury. The director nodded and she continued. "Most intelligence agencies don't believe in it, but I do, I've seen him in action, up close and personal."

Her hand hovered towards her flank for a brief moment before she relaxed and continued.

"They call him the Winter Soldier," she explained in hushed tones as if she was afraid saying his name, or codename, would summon the man in their midst.

Steve was hanging on her every word. The only other time he had seen Natasha show any amount of fear was when she had witnessed Hermione's blood ritual to summon the past.

"I didn't get a good look, but I think it's him. That mask Clint took off of him is very similar to what I saw him wear before. His ruthlessness too. I don't know how it's possible, but it's got to be him."

"Why wouldn't it be possible?" Steve asked.

"Stories about this Winter Soldier cropped up decades ago. Too similar not to be the same man, but that means he would be a nonagenarian by now."

"Must be one of your friends, gramps," Tony joked, but his laugh petered out soon after. "Wait a sec. That can't be a coincidence. Are you sure about these rumours, gossip girl?"

"Yes," Natasha said flatly. "He was most active during the Cold War, but I came across him a few years ago myself. Shot right through me to get to his target. Like I said, ruthless. He also has a high tech arm, metal, adorned with a red star. You can't miss it. Did any of you see something like that?"

"Too dark," Steve said uncertainly, but there had been that metal glint that had given the man's position away.

"Too far away," Hermione added.

"He did," Clint said easily, as they gaped at him. "What? You didn't notice? Hell, it even bounced your spell right off. That was kind of funny, except it almost got us killed."

Fury was pinching the bridge of his nose, but Tony was typing furiously on his tablet, tossing it on the nearest table in frustration, hands carding through his hair.

"Come on. Don't tell me I'm the only one to see it. Connect the dots, kids! This guy is old like Cap and is missing an arm. And how many one-armed old men are we currently searching for? Two. What are the odds? Terrible. They're the same guy. Have to be."

Steve's jaw had gone slack. He glanced at Hermione, but she looked just as shocked.

"Impossible," Steve said. "It can't be. How? Bucky didn't get the serum. Everything was destroyed after I was injected."

"The KGB files," Natasha said. "Your friend was sold to Hydra. They probably never stopped looking to replicate the serum."

"And used him as a guinea pig?" he asked, aghast.

"And succeeded," Fury said darkly. "I agree with Stark." Tony made a gagging sound. "It can't be a coincidence."

"I can't believe it. He wouldn't… Bucky wouldn't try to kill us."

"No, he wouldn't," Hermione agreed then bit her bottom lip.

"What is it?" Natasha urged, sensing her hesitation.

Hermione glanced at him, guilt evident in her eyes.

"Bucky never told us what Dr Zola did to him. Even when I told him what happened to me when I was in his hands, he never opened up. I brushed it off, because he seemed fine or as fine as one can be fighting a war on the front…"

"What did he do to you?" Steve growled, picking up on the parallel she wa trying to draw.

"Tried to. It would not have worked on me. I know how to protect my mind, even without a wand. Spells could have broken through, but not what that doctor was trying to do… I'm not sure, but I think he was trying to break me down, my personality, what makes me who I am."

"Reprogram you, you mean?" Tony asked. "That can't be done," he scoffed.

"It can," Natasha disagreed. "Over time. A lot of time, pain, punishment. It can be done."

Tony shuddered and after an uncomfortable silence, Hermione continued.

"Zola used a machine with a sort of helmet attached to the head. Projected images, sounds. He kept talking about brain waves and got anxious when he couldn't influence mine. That's when they started using the usual methods to wear down a prisoner."

Steve tucked her under his arm, wishing not for the first time he had gotten there sooner to save both his sargents so much pain instead of being paraded like a dancing monkey. Steve remembered seeing Bucky hooked to that machine. He had been completely out of it, delirious, repeating his name, rank and number which was what soldiers did under duress when captured. He had been fighting whatever Zola was trying to do to him. But if they had gotten their hands on him again and resumed the torture until they wore him down completely.

"Brainwashed?" Steve asked.

"It's a possibility you'll have to take into account, Captain. You won't know until you capture him."

Steve didn't know how to feel about the idea. On the one hand, they might have located Bucky, but on the other he was a brainwashed assassin working for Hydra, intent on killing them. It was so far away from any scenario he had considered to explain Bucky's absence. He knew he had to think on it for some time, so he merely nodded at Fury.

Later, he asked Hermione if she could repair Bucky's mind since she knew how to protect her own.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's not my area of expertise. I was lucky what little I know of occlumency was enough to protect me. But I'll try. First, we have to get him out of their clutches, whether he wants to or not."

"Bring him back kicking and screaming, eh?"

He gave her a sad smile. If it was all they could do, they would.

Meanwhile, they had to pretend to be model SHIELD agents. Fury had gone underground to find out whose alarm he had triggered exactly to have warranted such a lethal and immediate response. Because that person obviously controlled the Winter Soldier, and in his mind, whoever controlled the Winter Soldier controlled Hydra. Count on Fury to go straight for the head. He had promised to keep them in the loop however, but Steve just read that as whenever he needed canon fodder. Not that he minded if that canon was pointed at Hydra.

A/N: Because I can't believe no one in that group of highly intelligent people would not have put two and two together. So sorry, no ripping off the mask and *gasp* that is Bucky! OMG! For that you can either watch the movie or I'm sure there's plenty of good fics with that trope :)