Lagos, Nigeria [Thursday afternoon, NFB]

Another day, another exotic location. This time Steve was racing through a crowded market in Lagos, Nigeria, on the heels of Brock Rumlow and his goons who'd decided breaking into the Institute for Infectious Diseases and stealing biological weapons made for a fun Thursday. Steve knelt down to find helmets and gear on the ground and warned Sam, Natasha, and Wanda--they'd kept the team small out of deference to how things had gone in Macau with a bigger group--that the folks they were chasing were ditching their gear. "I got four," Sam said from the air. "They're splitting up."

"I got the two on the left," Natasha said.

"It's a shell game now," Steve said. "One of them has the payload."

Something clanked against his shield and he glanced down to see a bomb attached to it. Without thought, he threw it high and away from the crowd and it exploded just as something heavy and metal punched him straight through a fruit stand. And Steve had already been shot at and blown from a third story window today. Well. Sam wasn't wrong in saying Rumlow kind of hated them.

"There you are, you son of a bitch," Rumlow rasped, standing above him as Steve shook his head to clear it. "I've been waiting for it."

Over the comms, Sam was saying that his mercenaries didn't have the weapon. Steve half listened as Rumlow tried his best to punch Steve to death. "Payload secure," came Natasha'a reassuring voice. "Thanks, Sam."

Steve tuned out the patter about Sam's drone as Rumlow pinned him to a building and extended a knife from one of his gauntlets. "This is for dropping a building on my face," Rumlow growled, in too close.

Steve grabbed Rumlow's arm and pulled the gauntlet off but of course it wouldn't be that easy. Rumlow had another knife. Kicking Rumlow in the face and sending him flying into a clear area of the market felt more cathartic than it should've. Steve stalked towards him as Rumlow pulled the mask off, revealing, well, a face of someone who'd been squashed by the Triskelion collapsing. Steve refused to feel guilty about it. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Join HYDRA, get squashed by a collapsing building.

"I think I look pretty good, all things considered," Rumlow snarked.

"Who's your buyer?" Steve demanded.

Rumlow wasn't going to make it that easy. "You know, he knew you," he said instead, meeting Steve's eyes. "Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky."

Steve's grip on Rumlow's jacket tightened. "What did you say?"

"He remembered you," Brock said, eyes going soft and sincere. "I was there. He got all weepy about it. 'Til they put his brain back in a blender."

Steve couldn't move, just stood there, listening, heart beating loudly in his ears.

"He wanted you to know something," Brock said. "He said to me, 'Please tell Rogers…when you gotta go, you gotta go.'" His eyes turned tight and mean. "And you're coming with me."

Rumlow pressed the button attached to the suicide vest Steve hadn't even noticed because he'd been so caught up in Rumlow's words. The vest exploded and Steve flinched back, already knowing it was too late to do anything to protect himself.

The heat of the blast hit him squarely in the face, but the explosion was contained by a very familiar, very welcome, red mist. Steve glanced behind him to see Wanda with her hands outstretched and her face screwed up in concentration and no little pain as she lifted Rumlow--very definitely not surviving this--up and away from the marketplace.

The explosion, when she couldn't contain it any longer, ripped open the entire side of the office building in front of them.

"Oh, my--" Steve's voice trailed off as he tried to wrap his mind around the devastation. "Sam." He swallowed hard. "We need--" he blinked hard. "--we need fire and rescue on the south side of the building."

He looked over at Wanda, who had her hand clapped over her mouth in horror. "We gotta get up there."

[OOC: And here we go. Hold onto your butts.]