Bucky had screwed up. Totally, and utterly screwed up.

He just needed to get in and out of this base, scope out the intel, maybe take down a few guards if they got in his way.

But clearly he underestimated just how many guards roamed this building, and just how stacked this place was with its weaponry.

Taking down one guard had alerted one, who alerted two, and they then alerted four, and so on… So now Bucky now had a whole platoon’s worth of armed officers hunting him down.

The only thing he could do now was sneak between the cameras, and just pray to the high heavens that he had found himself in a blind spot.

He could hear rushed footsteps all around him, and the urgent commands shouted between the guards as they scoped out each room and each little crevice of the building to track Bucky down and take him in… Or take him out. Bucky wasn’t too fond of the latter.

He was just about to slip behind a storage box in one of the lower levels of the building to take a breather, before he felt the harsh slam of what was clearly the butt of a rifle against the back of his head.

He groaned out in pain, tumbling to the floor as he turned around and yanked a knife from his belt, ready to fight back and deal with his attacker.

However, he didn’t have the chance to dish out any blows when he heard the sounds of rushed taps against the cold floor. In a flash, he watched as a large dog leaped from the shadows, its jaw latching onto the guards arm and clamping down tightly, to which the guard yelped out, unable to break free of its grip.

Bucky got to his feet and could only stand and watch in both disbelief and awe as the dog effectively incapacitated the officer, finally releasing his arm once his thrashing had ceased.

It was only then that Bucky noticed the dog’s vest - ‘K-9’. Where’d a military dog come from?

But Bucky couldn’t ponder for too long, tensing when he felt another presence behind him, tightening his grip on his knife, though his brows furrowed as the dog immediately leapt up and hurried back to the person Bucky turned to face.

He watched as you entered, wearing similar military gear, matching your dog’s vest, scanning the room for any more threats, though clearly your dog had already done the work for you.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Clearly you weren’t after him, or he might’ve lost his other arm had he been the target of those deadly jaws on your dog.

“Uh… Thanks.” He muttered after a pause, slowly tucking his knife back into his belt. He had no clue who you were, nor did he know your intentions, but he was willing to trust you for the time being - He didn’t exactly want to get on the bad side of a person with a K-9.