It was March 2013; Washington D.C.'s sky hung heavy with gray clouds, streets cold and grim. A day after Hydra's Winter Soldier tried to assassinate Nick Fury—Fury, badly wounded, had warned Steve, "Trust no one," and gone into hiding. This was Captain America: The Winter Soldier's highway clash; Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff faced the Winter Soldier for the first time, caught in Hydra's trap. As Diabolic, I prowled the shadows—my Queens cart still entrusted to neighbor Maria Teyze, I was in D.C., ever vigilant for Natasha and Steve. HYDRA, rattled by Diabolic's relentless strikes these past weeks, had panicked, deploying their 50-year-old deadly ghost, the Winter Soldier, in desperation. "Scared 'em that bad?" I thought, chuckling under my mask—Tailoring (Expert) crafted my black tactical suit, matte leather jacket, and kevlar panels turning me into a shadow warrior; but the grin didn't last. A Ding! flashed the system screen, red alert blinking:
"Emergency System Quest: Protect Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff from the Winter Soldier and Survive - Reward: ???"
"Emergency quest? What's this?" I muttered, brows furrowing, "Winter Soldier? Already?" I recalled—metal-armed Bucky Barnes, Hydra's brainwashed killer since 1945; cold, lethal, unstoppable.
The highway was pure chaos; morning traffic stalled, black SUVs smashed, glass shattered, asphalt smoked. Steve, shield raised, deflected a rocket launcher blast—Hydra's STRIKE team used heavy artillery—but the explosion threw him into a van, a graze bleeding on his shoulder, staining his blue suit. Natasha, crouched behind a taxi, fired her Widow's Bite, dropping two agents with electric shocks—they crumpled, limp—but the Winter Soldier's arrival changed everything. Black mask, long dark hair, gleaming titanium left arm, and icy, blank eyes… He aimed an M4 Carbine at Steve; bullets pinged off the shield, then he lobbed a grenade—its blast hurled Natasha, shrapnel slicing her arm. She hit the ground, gasping, red hair splayed on dusty asphalt. "He… hurt my Natasha?" I thought, blood freezing—perched on a roof's edge, shadows hiding me, my eyes burned with rage; Mortal Divine Body (Epic) pulsed, heart racing, the joking, grinning Ali gone under my mask. In Diabolic's black suit, I leaped forward, fury unleashed—Espionage & Assassination Mastery (Epic) tore me from the dark, mask off, face bare, anger raw. "You… how dare you touch my red-haired angel, you bastard?" I roared, voice trembling, fists clenched—"Who do you think you're hitting?" Acrobatics & Parkour Mastery (Unique) launched me onto the highway, asphalt quaking under me.
Natasha, grounded, lifted her head, "Red-haired angel?" she whispered, shocked—green eyes locked on me, "But… Ali?" her voice faint, stunned; her Red Room training sharpened her at unmasking, and my furious tone betrayed everything. The Winter Soldier turned, cold eyes on me—I charged; Mimicry & Adaptation Mastery (Epic) mimicked Steve's shield strikes, my fist slamming his metal arm, Mortal Divine Body's force ringing the alloy like a bell. Hammer-like punches cracked his mask—Bucky Barnes' face emerged; pale skin, long black hair, bloodied nose and mouth, yet expressionless, robotic. "I'll beat you senseless!" I shouted, rage unbound—another punch; he blocked with his metal arm, but Knife Mastery (Unique) sent a thrown blade into his shoulder; blood sprayed, yet he retreated blankly as sirens neared, vanishing in the highway's smoke. "Don't run, coward!" I yelled, itching to chase, but Natasha's groan stopped me—her wound trumped all.
Steve knelt, shield aside, face frozen—he'd seen Bucky's unmasked face, reeling in shock. "Bucky?" he murmured, voice shaky, eyes wide—Bucky Barnes, Steve's best friend, presumed dead in 1945's Alps, was his WWII 107th Infantry brother, captured and brainwashed by Hydra into the Winter Soldier. Steve's face mixed shock, pain, and a flicker of hope—his lost friend lived, but as someone else; blue eyes stared into the smoke where Bucky fled. I ran to Natasha—my masked guardian act over, exposed. "Ali… it's really you?" she said, clutching her arm, struggling up—I hugged her tight, "You okay, love?" I said, voice thick with worry, hands trembling, "Why'd I hesitate?" Her red hair fell across her face, arm bleeding—but her eyes, fixed on me, softened from shock to calm; a faint smile formed. "Diabolic… it's you," she said, breathless, "Why hide it?" Natasha rarely bared emotion, but this was different—my touch, my reveal, warmed her despite the pain. "To protect you," I said, kissing her forehead—rage faded, love took over.
I turned to Steve, "Cap, my darling… we sure screwed their plans," I said, catching my breath, "We should split. Got anyone trustworthy?" Smoke and sirens swelled—Hydra agents or cops could swarm any second; the highway lay strewn with wrecked cars, burst tires, bullet casings, a battlefield. Steve looked up, grabbing his shield, "Someone… Sam. Sam Wilson," he said firmly, "You know him. Right now, trust no one—not S.H.I.E.L.D., not the government. Fury's orders." "HYDRA's inside S.H.I.E.L.D.," I thought, "Got it, Cap." I recalled Sam—our Central Park runs, my "On your right, bro!" jabs… Sam Wilson, ex-Air Force paratrooper, VA counselor, would shelter Steve and Natasha, later soaring as Falcon. I slipped an arm under Natasha, "Come on, up," I said gently—her arm bled, but like my Mortal Divine Body's resilience, she was tough. Steve rose, Bucky's shadow still on his face, but resolute—shield on shoulder, "Sam's place," he said, leading through the haze.
We left the highway, Natasha in my arm, Steve ahead—Hydra's betrayal backfired, Diabolic spooked them, but the Winter Soldier's reveal changed it all; Steve's past, Natasha's wound, my fury… "Attack me, but never my woman," I thought, holding Natasha—my covert role done, I stood open by my love; but this war was just starting. Heading to Sam's, a Ding! flashed the system screen:
"Emergency Quest Update: Winter Soldier Repelled - Reward: +75 CST (Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff)."
I looked at Natasha, smiling—as long as she was safe, it was worth it. In D.C.'s smoky, chaotic streets, a vendor turned shadow warrior, I stood tall—and with Natasha and Steve beside me, I feared nothing.