[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/7rzp20d.jpg?1[/img][/center]
[right][sup]Washington D.C.[/sup][/right][hr]Steve could feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the pressure of the situation getting to him, no matter how unflappable his public persona seemed to be. He studied the table in front of him, knowing that his next move could very well be his last. All the while, the timer ticked down to the moment where all this thinking would be for naught. He was running out of time.

Holding his breath, Steve winced, reached down, and made his move.

He barely had his eyes open, waiting for the sign that he hadn't just made a huge mistake. 

After a few seconds which felt like eternity, a small clink and a chuckle told him it was all over, "Checkmate."

"Are you kidding me?" Rogers groaned and inspected the chess board as the bright, late-summer sun shone across DuPont Circle. He searched for any possible move he could make to escape his predicament, but there was none to be had. There never was. His opponent was far too good at this.

"You know, for someone who supposedly had their brain juiced by a magic serum, you really suck at chess," the old man across from Rogers smiled, the lines in his face getting deeper and more plentiful as he did. It was moments like these that Steve could hardly believe that this was Bucky Barnes, his oldest friend. Back in the day, when they were both just boys, Bucky had been the handsome one, the one full of life and boundless energy. Now he was nearly a century old, and though he still had all his mental faculties, physically he was a shell of his former self. Still, Steve was more than happy he had his friend for as long as he had after coming out of the ice.

"Hey, it didn't implant chess in my head," Rogers shrugged.

"It made you a strategic genius," Bucky's deadpan response drew a laugh from Steve. "You just never pay attention when we're playing. You'd stomp me if you weren't thinking about one terrorist or another."

Rogers narrowed his eyes at his old friend, who hit the nail right on the head as always. AIM had been quiet lately, to the point where Steve was worried about what they were up to. On and off for five years they had been causing trouble across the globe, but for the last three months SHIELD hadn't heard a peep. Some were sleeping better at night because of it, but Steve Rogers just assumed they were in the calm before the storm. And the longer the calm, the worse the storm.

"You're worried something's coming, huh?" Bucky roused Steve from his own thoughts.

"Call it a hunch," Captain America shrugged, and looked over the park. It was packed, as it should have been on a beautiful day. Steve saw a pair of joggers, possibly a couple, laughing as they exercised. A mother pushed her child in a stroller, smiling as the baby cooed. In the distance he could see a group of teens playing football. It was like a postcard, the kind of day a cynical man would find stereotypical and trite. But not Steve, he saw everything he had fought for in WWII, and what he continued to fight for.

He caught Bucky smiling at him slyly out of the corner of his eye. He turned to his old friend and raised and eyebrow, "What?"

"See a life you'd like to be living out there? One you could have if you gave all this up?"

Steve rolled his eyes, "No. The chance at that ended when Peggy fell and I went into the ice."

The words sting Buck as much as they do him. He still thinks of Peggy Carter often, and it's never easy. She was his one true love, the one chance he had at true happiness. But that was gone now, and duty was all there was.

"There's too much craziness in this world for me to even try, Buck," Steve added with an apologetic tone. He realized the last answer was far too harsh. "I'd never be able to sleep if I gave it all up and something happened I could have stopped."

"Steve...there's a guy flying around now who can lift ever HYDRA tank we ever trashed over his head with one hand. I'm not saying you're not needed...but there are people who could pick up the slack," Bucky smiled, but with a sadness. He knew no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't live to see his friend settled down and happy. Really happy.

"And not even he can do everything," Steve winked, but the playfulness he hoped would be in the gesture was absent. It was nothing but a reflex to try and assure his friend that he'd be alright.

Before either of them could say another word, a gust of air slapped them in the face. Steve gathered up Bucky's chess set before it blew away and handed it to him. 

"Speak of the devil," Buck muttered.

From above, the whir of an engine could be heard, and a black shape like a giant bird blotted out the sunshine. In a clearing, a Quinjet set down an out stepped a man whose skin radiated back the light. Piotr Rasputin, the mutant known as Colossus, approached the two men, "Captain Rogers. Lieutenant Barnes."

"Pete, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Steve?" Rogers sighed with good humor.

"At least once more, sir. We have an issue."

"AIM?"

"AIM," he confirmed.

"Duty calls," Bucky shrugged at Steve. "Guess we'll have to wait a little longer for you to get your butt kicked again."

Steve smiled and gave his friend a parting hug, "Next time I'm gonna get you, old man."

"Who you callin' old?" Bucky shot back with fake indignation. "You're a whole month and a half older than I am. You're the old one."

"And sometimes I feel that way, buddy," Steve smiled.