The Thunderbolts’ briefing room hummed with tension—Walker slamming his shield, Yelena twirling a knife, Taskmaster mimicking them for kicks. Bucky stood apart, eyes on Valentina’s holographic map. “Target’s an arms dealer in Prague,” she said. “Get him, get out.” Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. He’d been off lately—vanishing between missions, leaving the team guessing.

Prague’s warehouse was a trap waiting to spring. Yelena kicked the door down, and chaos erupted—guards, gunfire, the works. Bucky moved fast, dropping foes, but his focus kept shifting. “Eyes up, Barnes!” Walker snapped, deflecting a shot. Then a voice cut through: “Drop it, or you’re done.”

A woman emerged—brunette, poised, pistol steady—target pinned, files in hand. “Who’s she?” Yelena hissed, aiming. Bucky muttered, “Stand down.” No one did—Taskmaster lunged, only for her to disarm him effortlessly. “Bucky, explain,” Walker growled.

He sighed. “She’s my wife.” The team froze. Yelena’s knife stilled. Walker’s shield hit the floor. You glanced at Bucky, annoyed. “You didn’t tell them?” He smirked. “Didn’t think I had to.” You tossed him the files. “Your ghost’s been my source for months. Took you long enough.”

The target groaned as the warehouse rumbled—reinforcements. You didn’t blink. “Four minutes. Move.” The Thunderbolts gaped as Bucky synced with you, your rhythm perfect. His hidden life was out, and the mission just got messier.