*This story starts off a few weeks before Steve goes to Austria and saves Bucky along with the other 400 men after his show in Italy. I will be using most of the movie plot, but much of it will be original. Also Marty's Face Claim is Emilia Clarke. Marty and Steve's P.O.V's will be first person and anyone else's will be in third. I really you hope you like this :) Leave a review and tell me what you think! -Noor xx*

In a HYDRA base in Germany

Two guards led the man down a narrow hall. These guards belonged to HYDRA, the Nazi — or former Nazi science division. The man they were holding was a Nazi spy, he was sent to retrieve something form an experiment done in New York, an experiment that changed a measly weak man that could barely throw a punch into a super human. They held the spy tightly by the arms as they made their way down to a lab. You see the spy had something that HYDRA needed, this man had a little test tube, and in that test tube was a serum; The Super Soldier Serum. The guards and the man reached double doors, one of the guards swiped a card into a slot on the wall and the doors opened automatically. They walked into the lab.

The lab was large and spacious. Equipment were scattered all around the room, lethal looking equipment. The spy looked around nervously; there were two men in the room. One was short, nearly bald; he wore large glasses on his eyes and a bright white lab coat. Then his eyes landed on the other man, standing in the corner of the lab. He was dressed in all black, looking out of a big window with his leather glove covered hands behind his back.

"Sir," one of the guards said in a deep respectful tone.

"Have you brought me what I need?" The man at the window spoke in a thick German accent. Then it hit the spy, the man standing at the window was none other than HYDRA's leader himself; Johann Schmidt.

"Yes sir," The same guard spoke, "he's right here."

"You two may leave," Johann Schmidt spoke. The two guards released the spy and left the room, the double doors closing shut behind him. Schmidt turned around, and the spy felt a sudden shock of paralyzing fear shoot through him. Schmidt's skin was bleached red, pure bright red. "Do I frighten you?" He asked the spy, walking slowly over to him.

"N-no," the spy said, shaking his head crazily, thinking that would spare his life. Schmidt released an eerie cackle.

"Wrong answer," Schmidt said, grinning. The spy's eyes went wide; he had made a very big mistake. "Give me the serum." The spy quickly searched through his pockets and grabbed a hold of the test tube. He held it in his trembling hands and passed it to Schmidt.

Schmidt turned it around in his hands, examining the blue liquid inside, a sinister grin plastered on his fiery face. "Yes…" he muttered. "Zola," He called out, the short man in the lab coat quickly rushed over to Schmidt. "Begin working on this immediately. I need the ingredients, get to work," he said handing the short man the test tube. The short man took it in his hands, and looked at the serum with fascination.

"Yes sir," he said, and hurried back over to a microscope.

"Well," said Schmidt, walking away from the spy and over to a table. On it laid a strange looking gun that was glowing blue from the inside. The spy had never seen anything like it before, and it frightened him beyond compare. "You've been a very big help…" Schmidt spoke, picking up the gun, "But, I'm afraid HYDRA no longer works with the Nazis." He pointed the gun right at the spy's heart.

"Wait no!" The spy pleaded, scrambling to the door, but Schmidt's finger pulled back the trigger. The man saw a flash of bright blue light, and his body burst into a million tiny blue particles.


Brooklyn 1940's`

One foot in front of the other, left right left. My feet barely grazed the cobblestone road as I ran. You see, when I ran it was if I was flying. When I ran I was weightless. I let my feet guide me home as I zigzagged through the maze of cars. I ignored the loud, angry honks from the drivers as I squeezed between the bumpers, until I finally reached the sidewalk. I didn't stop running, though. I made my way through the crowd of Brooklyn's walkers, throwing out an "excuse me," there and a, "Pardon me," here.

As I was running, I passed the post office, and the colors red, white, and blue flashed across my vision. I stopped abruptly in my tracks, causing a couple of people to bump into me. I took their annoyed looks and apologized under my breath before making my way back to the post office. Just as I thought, right on the front window of the post office was yet another Captain America poster. On it was a man, he bared a skin tight star spangled costume, his right hand raised high at his forehead in a salute, and in big white letters the words 'CAP SALUTES YOU FOR BUYING WAR BONDS!' were written.

I shook my head, annoyed. These were the kind of things that ticked me off. In this time of war America had invested so much time in this Captain America campaign. He would march up on stage with his shiny red boots, along with an entourage of dancing monkeys with their lips reds and short skirts, and they would sing about how buying war bonds is going to help win the war. It angered me so much, and it was no mystery why. I didn't want to stay home and buy war bonds, I didn't want to stay home and just root for my country; I wanted to fight for it.

I hadn't always thought like this. It all started after my brother, Bucky, enlisted. At first I was scared for him. Being orphans, Bucky was the only family I had, but I learned soon after why Bucky did what he did. It was his duty, his obligation to be a soldier. As soon as I figured that out my state of mind changed. I had a duty too, and it wasn't staying home and buying war bonds. It was going out to the front lines of the battle, to be in the midst of the chaos and fight beside my brother against the bullies in the world. Society disagreed with this of course. It was known, women weren't allowed to join the army.

This made I feel so weak and defenseless. I wanted to get my hands dirty, really contribute to something, to serve a purpose. That's why Captain America bothered me so much. The lyrics to his song claim he fights and protects America, but it's all a load of garbage. Captain America, to me, is a walking waste of money. He's probably never shot a gun in his life.

With those thoughts, I felt a burning wave of anger cast over me. The more I stared at the poster the more I wanted to punch Captain America right in the kisser. In the heat of the moment, I seized the poster and ripped it off the front window of the post office. A few people in the street stared at me strangely; a woman in the street grabbed her child's hand and led him away. I could've sworn I heard her say, "Come Johnny, get away from the crazy woman." I released a deep breath, letting my temper simmer down. I crumpled the poster in my hand, turned away from the post office, and walked the rest of the way home.

I spent the next 15 minutes clenching the Captain America poster tightly in a fist and walked home daydreaming. I pictured myself finally baring an army uniform. I pictured my brother, Bucky, beside me as we charged towards enemy lines. The more I thought about it, the more my mood dropped. Knowing I could never get to that place brought me down as if I had 100 pound weights tied to my feet.

I arrived at the door step of my home. I unlocked the door and let myself in. As soon as I took a step into the house, I nearly slipped. I looked down to the ground; under my foot was an envelope. The mailman must've slipped it through the mail slot earlier that day. I bent down and picked it up. I turned it to the front side and read who the mailer was; my eyes went wide.

In my hand was a letter from the army. Speak of the devil. I quickly shut the door behind me and threw the crumpled up Captain America poster, that had left my hand sweaty from holding it the whole way home, in the trash. I rushed over to the living room, sunk down on the sofa, and tore the envelope open. I unfolded the letter and began reading.

Dear Ms. Martha Barnes,

I, as well as everyone else at the base am sorry to inform you that your brother, James Buchanan Barnes, has been killed in action. He was sent on a mission to one of the enemy bases in Austria and was killed. Bucky was a great solider and the braveness he showed will not be forgotten. Please know that we have shared in your pain and sorrow and pay our final respects to him.



Unsteady breaths escaped my trembling lips. I must've read it wrong. No it couldn't be. I re-read the letter, again, and again, and again. I re-read the letter seven times and by the sixth I still didn't believe it. I stared at the letter, my tear brimmed eyes glued to three words; 'killed in action'. The walls of the room came crashing down on my head. The house was always empty, but not once in my life had I ever felt so alone in a vacant house. I cussed under my breath and hurled the letter across the room. I buried my face in my hands and broke down completely.

My only family left was gone. He was gone and he was never coming back. Never again would I see his smile or hear his voice. What was I supposed to do now? I felt lost, I was scared. I was literally alone. I got off the couch, pacing as I sobbed. This was such a surprise and the last thing on my mind. Where was I going to go from here, live the rest of my life without any bit of hope? My mental list of worries went on and on…

Suddenly I stopped pacing, my sobs subsided. My face went blank, the house was silent and still. A light bulb went off in my head. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I wasn't going to be alone; I wasn't going to live the rest of my life like this. I bent down, picked up the letter, and threw in the trash can along with Captain America. I, Marty Barnes, was going to be the first woman ever to join the army.