It was the bright blast of flashing light, followed by a sharp sting of agonising pain shooting through your body.

The battlefield was covered in cracked buildings as a result of thrown weapons and the ricocheting of projectiles, along with allies and foes alike running rampant.

You’d gotten separated from your team a while back, doing a good job of holding your own until you were dragged under and attacked with what felt like a punch of pure fire. It had sliced across your abdomen, blood soaking through your clothes and forcing you to retreat and hide.

With shaky hands, you pressed hard against the injury, wincing and clenching your teeth so hard you worried that they would crack under the pressure.

You could see a figure in your peripheral, followed by a shockwave of red shaking the very floor beneath you. Large, metallic tentacles sprung out from Bucky’s metal arm, whipping around the air in a frenzy before he leaped up and slammed them onto ground, sending his enemies flying into the walls around them. The appendages slithered back and shrunk into the plating, which had clicked back to its normal arm-shape, until he heard a whimper and hiss of pain.

He surveyed his surroundings, until he spotted you, sat hunched in the corner and clutching your bloody stomach.

He raised an eyebrow, and headed over, standing over you and tightening his grip on his handgun a little.

He remained silent, studying you with a hard gaze and most likely considering whether or not he was going to kill you, leave you, or something else. You were on the enemy team, he had no right to feel any kind of empathy for you, but his mind was growing a bit muddled with that devil on one shoulder telling him to finish the job, and the angel on the other telling him to have some humanity.