Another day, in another situation, it might make me pause. Consider what it would be like if the situation was reversed; if I was up here, trying to get down to Dakin. I know what it's like, to have a son -- if that's really what Bucky's protegee is to him -- who would run, fight, rather than have anything to do with me. Who'd rather burn everything I am to the ground than have me for a father.

It's almost enough to make me feel sympathetic.

Almost.

"Nope," I say, and rush him. The edge on that gauntlet's going to hurt, but I don't intend to get fully impaled, and a little pain never did me any harm. I don't heal so fast as I used to, but nothing gets the adrenalin pumping the same way. Nothing makes a fight feel like a fight.

I don't aim to hit him head on, but off-center, to spin and throw us further from the bathysphere. To keep him from getting a sense of how much I weigh, too; with the metal covering my bones, that's more than it looks. Another surprise I'll save for later.