The black van at the end of the alley was gone.
Steve still stood where he was.
He clutched the bloodstained metal button, his knuckles slowly turning white.
"Who did you say?"
Fury leaned against the burning SUV and wiped the blood from his temple.
"Barnes."
Wind swept between two abandoned buildings, stirring up slush and the smell of scorched rubber.
Steve spun around.
"Are you sure?"
Fury did not answer.
Steve stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper, yet louder than the explosion moments earlier.
"Are you sure that man was Bucky?"
"I said the Winter Soldier." Fury stared at him. "Whether he's James Buchanan Barnes requires evidence."
"Then give me evidence!"
Steve seized Fury by the collar.
Fury did not resist. He simply took a thumb-sized black memory chip from his inner pocket and inserted it into his wrist-mounted terminal.
The screen lit up.
Blurry street-corner surveillance footage was enlarged.
In the first shot, the man leaped off the SUV's roof, his mechanical left arm blocking gunfire at close range.
In the second, he avoided the explosion by angling off the shield's rebound, his right foot shifting half an inch outward.
In the third, he raised a hand to adjust his mask before charging into the mall.
The tactical suit over his left shoulder had burned open.
A red star showed through.
Steve's breathing stopped for a moment.
Fury switched to another recording.
The man on the screen stood on a training ground, his bare torso covered in old scars.
An instructor swung a knife from the side. Without turning his head, he evaded the attack with tiny shifts of his feet and shoulders, then crushed the man's Adam's apple with his elbow.
That was a move Bucky had taught Steve during World War II.
Steve let