At 6:12 a. m., the infrasound hum abruptly stopped.
The street seemed to be paused, even the wind was stuck between the broken walls. Ye Mo leaned against the broken lamppost, his chest still tight, and the low-frequency vibrations in his ears still lingering. He took a breath and was about to raise his hand to wipe the dust off his face when he saw the dark figure in the middle move.
It was neither a charge nor a surprise attack.
The other person raised their right hand, their fingers clenching and then opening again, the movement slow as if they were getting used to some long-lost touch. Then, that hand grabbed the edge of the hood and yanked it off sharply.
The hood fell down, revealing a pale face.
His short hair clung to his forehead, his brow bones were prominent, and his eyes were so empty they seemed lifeless. His left arm was metal, gleaming with a cold gray light, and a Vibranium plate was embedded in the shoulder armor— Ye Mo had seen that thing before, in a burned-down laboratory a few months ago, the file photo labeled " Winter Project · Type B Enhanced Prosthetic Limb".
A notification popped up in his mind, like a system notification.
"No wonder his movements sounded programmed..." he muttered, "So it's the Winter Soldier."
Before he finished speaking, the man stomped forward with his right foot, and a crack appeared in the ground. An alloy longsword popped out from behind him and was held in his metal hand. The Blade sliced through the morning light, making a soft sound, like ice being cracked.
Ye Mo's pupils contracted, and his Steel Bone State was instantly activated. He had just propped himself up with his arms when his opponent was already upon him.
He raised his arm to block.
"Bang--"
A tremendous force slammed down, sending him flying five meters backward, his back breaking a lamppost before he crashed heavily to the ground. A faint "crack" came from his Steel Bone arm, and a crack crept up two inches from his elbow joint.
"Damn!" He exhaled a breath of stale air, remaining motionless on the ground, his mind racing. "Is this thing even more ferocious than the Hulk?"
Emma Frost suddenly looked up from behind the bench, her fingertips trembling. Her mental energy instantly compressed into a thin thread, heading straight for Bucky's central nervous system. She didn't dare to go too deep, only intending to disrupt his coordination.
But the instant his consciousness touched the other's brain, a red light flashed in Bucky's eyes—not the light of a device starting up, but some kind of biological countermeasure mechanism, like a firewall automatically blocking intrusion.
Emma Frost groaned, her fingers twitched, and she bit her lip until it bled, blood dripping from her chin onto the concrete floor.
"Don't even try!" Ye Mo roared, "With that level of lockdown, you'd be walking into a sitting duck!"
Before he could finish speaking, Bucky had already turned to Captain America.
Steve was kneeling on one knee, his left hand supporting his shield, blood seeping from the bandage on his right shoulder. He kept his head down until he heard the familiar footsteps.
He slowly raised his head.
The moment he saw Bucky's face, he froze.
Breathing stopped, fingers loosened, and even the shield drooped slightly.
" Bucky...?" His voice trembled, as if squeezed from deep in his throat, "Is that you?"
Bucky didn't answer.
He stood still, his metal arm hanging slightly, his gaze sweeping across Steve's face before settling on the shield in his hand. For a moment, Ye Mo even thought he was going to stop.
But he didn't.
The metal arm swept out, the long blade slicing through the ground like tofu, sending debris flying. Steve reacted quickly, rolling towards the pile of wrecked cars and barely managing to raise his shield to block.
"When--!"
The deafening blow dented the shield, sending Steve flying. His back slammed into the wrecked SUV, and he slid to the ground. The shield slipped from his grasp, spun twice, and came to rest two meters away beside a puddle.
Ye Mo pushed himself up from the ground, his Steel Bone arm still numb. He glanced at Emma Frost, who was crouching behind the bench, her hands covering her head, her face deathly pale; clearly, the backlash from just now had been quite severe.
"Are you still okay?" he asked.
Emma Frost raised her hand and made a "three" gesture, meaning she could hold out for another three minutes.
"That's enough." Ye Mo gritted his teeth. "I'll hold the front."
He took two steps forward, standing about two meters in front of Captain America, his right leg slightly Steel Bone State was activated again, but this time he only dared to go up to 70%—if he forced it up again, his bones would really fall apart.
Bucky stood three meters away, his metal arm slowly rising, the armor on his right shoulder sliding open to reveal the bullet hole of a hidden blade. He didn't rush to attack, but stared at Ye Mo, his eyes still empty, but his movements conveyed a strange sense of assessment, as if he were testing the target's reaction threshold.
"You're not here to kill anyone," Ye Mo suddenly said. "You're here to give scores."
Bucky did not respond.
But with a flick of his right arm, the blade shot out, increasing in length by thirty centimeters, its tip aimed directly at Ye Mo's throat.
Ye Mo swallowed hard, thinking to himself that this guy's equipment was even more complete than the data map; no wonder it was Hydra's favorite project.
He stepped half a step to the side, assuming a defensive stance, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Captain America struggling to get up. Steve reached for his shield with his left hand and braced himself with his right, his movements agonizingly slow. The wound on his left shoulder had reopened, and blood was dripping down his arm.
"Don't move!" Ye Mo hissed, "If you tear that shoulder again, you'll have to change your name to 'One-Armed Captain' tomorrow!"
Steve ignored him, his fingers slowly approaching the shield.
Bucky's gaze finally shifted from Ye Mo to the shield. He paused for a second, his metal arm drooping slightly, as if recalling something.
But in the next instant, he slammed his right foot into the ground, raised the alloy blade high, and cleaved it down.
Ye Mo didn't have time to think, and crossed Steel Bone arms to block.
"Boom!"
The shockwave exploded, the ground collapsed half a foot, and debris flew everywhere. Ye Mo felt excruciating pain in both arms, cracks spreading to his shoulder blades, and he collapsed to his knees, his knees sinking into the cement cracks.
Bucky's attack failed, so he immediately changed tactics, throwing out a horizontal metal fist from his left arm, aiming straight for Ye Mo's head.
At the critical moment, Captain America suddenly leaped up, lunging to block Ye Mo and shoving him aside with his body. The two rolled twice together, Steve landing on his back with a muffled groan and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Are you crazy?!" Ye Mo roared.
Steve lay on the ground, panting heavily, but still managed to reach the shield.
He slowly stood up, his left arm trembling and blood streaming from his right shoulder, yet the shield remained firmly held in front of his chest.
He stared at Bucky, his voice hoarse. "You're not him... you're not him at all."
Bucky stood rooted to the spot, his metal arm hanging down, blade retracted. He looked at Steve, his gaze shifting between the shield and Steve's face, as if confirming some long-forgotten coordinate.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then, he slowly raised his hand, palm facing the three of them. The Vibranium guard on his shoulder rotated half a turn, revealing the locking device at the bottom—a remote signal receiver, the same model as the one Ye Mo had seen in the lab files.
"He's waiting for instructions." Ye Mo suddenly realized, "He's just a terminal receiving commands right now."
Steve didn't say anything.
He stood there, shield raised, his body taut like a fully drawn bow. His eyes had changed; they were no longer filled with shock or pain, but with a near-desperate clarity—he understood that the person before him could never go back.
Bucky slowly lifted his leg and took a step forward.
The metal boots made a dull thud as they stepped on the gravel.
Ye Mo pushed himself up from the ground, his Steel Bone arms cracked and almost unable to exert any strength. He glanced at Emma Frost, who was still behind the bench, her hands covering her head, the signs of her mental energy being exhausted becoming increasingly obvious.
"Can you hold on?" he asked.
Emma Frost looked up, her eyes weak, but she still nodded.
"Okay." Ye Mo stretched his neck. "I'll draw fire, and you find a chance to cut off his connection to the signal source."
"No," Emma Frost's voice trembled. "That level of encryption protocol, I'd be attacked even if I got close."
"Then we'll just have to tough it out." Ye Mo smiled wryly. "I should have known better than to wear these shoes; they're making running a real struggle."
Bucky took another step forward.
The distance has been reduced to two meters.
Ye Mo took a deep breath, his Steel Bone State undergoing a final preload, preparing for a desperate gamble. He knew he couldn't hold out for long, but as long as he could stall until reinforcements arrived—
But just then, Bucky suddenly stopped.
His gaze fell on Captain America, and his metal arm trembled slightly, as if there had been a brief glitch in the internal programming.
Steve stood still, shield up, his eyes fixed on him.
" Bucky Barnes," he said, emphasizing each word, "Enlisted in 1917, 107th Infantry Division, born in Brooklyn, his mother's name was Sarah, you always said her apple pie was the best in the world."
Bucky didn't move.
But his metal fingers twitched very slightly.
Ye Mo was stunned.
He didn't expect Steve to read the family tree at this moment.
To his even greater surprise, Bucky's right arm armor began to retract, the blade slowly retracted, and the shoulder signal receiver also closed.
He stood there, as if caught in some kind of systemic conflict.
Three seconds.
Then, he suddenly looked up, his eyes turning cold again, and he resumed his full fighting stance.
"He doesn't understand," Ye Mo said softly. "The program overwrote his memory."
Steve didn't quit.
He took a step forward, shield still raised, blood dripping from his left shoulder down his arm to the ground.
"I don't believe it," he said. "As long as you're still standing here, it means he's still alive."
Bucky did not respond.
He pushed off with his right foot, and the alloy longsword was drawn again, rushing straight at him.
Just as Ye Mo was about to rush forward, Steve pushed him away.
"You can't stop him," Steve said. "That's my problem."
He charged at Bucky, his shield swung horizontally, colliding violently with the longsword.
"When--!"
Mars flew everywhere.
After three rounds of fighting, Steve retreated step by step, and two more deep marks appeared on his shield. But he didn't retreat; instead, he fought even more fiercely, as if he wanted to unleash all the frustration he had felt over the years of not being able to find anyone or get any information into this battle.
Ye Mo stood behind, his Steel Bone arm almost completely destroyed, and could only watch helplessly.
Emma Frost leaned against the bench, her mental energy completely depleted; she didn't even have the strength to lift her head.
The streets returned to silence, with only the clanging of metal echoing in the morning light.
Bucky swung his sword down, and Steve raised his shield to take the blow, but was forced to his knees by the force of the blow.
He looked up into Bucky's eyes, his voice hoarse. "Come back, Bucky. Please."
The Bucky stood before him, its metal arm raised high, a long blade hovering above Steve's head, hesitant to fall.