While the helicopter had been a great escape vehicle, it didn't last long enough to get them anywhere worthwhile. Somewhere over Ukraine, Barnes landed the helicopter and got them both on a flight to Italy, much to Sam's chagrin.

"You ever think maybe I don't want to help you steal a historic artifact?" Sam muttered, attempting to find enough legroom in the cramped seat. "Have you ever―even for a second―thought that maybe you shouldn't bring an FBI agent with you on this little adventure of yours?"

Sam moved his leg into Barnes's space, much to the other man's disgust. He refused to move, however. Barnes had got them stuck on this tiny, junky plane and he would deal with the limited space.

"I figured you were invested by now," Barnes said. He kicked Sam's foot, but he didn't move it. "Would you put your feet in your own space?"

"No."

With a grunt, Barnes shifted some more in his seat before eventually giving up.

"You're telling me," he said, turning to Sam, "you aren't even a little bit interested in earning six million dollars and getting back at the Bishop? After what she did to you?"

"Ah, shut up, man," Sam groaned. "I could get back at her just as easily from my office desk as on your little heist."

"If you had any chance at catching her from your desk, you would have already found it." Barnes chuckled. "You wanna get back? You help me steal that egg before she does."

It was certainly illegal and would definitely get Sam fired, but he didn't have much of a choice, did he? Barnes had already trapped him on a plane to Italy. At this point, he should probably go along with it if only so he could arrest both Barnes and the Bishop at the end. God, wouldn't that be a great feeling?

"Fine," Sam agreed. "So what's the plan?"

As it turned out, the plan was to fake a party invitation and sneak past an ungodly amount of security. If Barnes had had the decency to tell Sam who they were going to rob the second egg from, he would have immediately said no and left Barnes at the airport. Unfortunately for him, Barnes hadn't told him until he had already arranged everything.

"Tony Stark has the heaviest home security system in the world," Barnes told him. Sam already knew that, though. "He's also the current owner of Cleopatra's second egg."

The second egg that would actually be their first, seeing as the Bishop had the actual first egg. With Barnes still heavily denying that he knew anything about the third egg's location, it was still unaccounted for. That meant that―should they actually succeed in pulling this off―they'd be tied with the Bishop and nowhere closer to the six million dollar prize than before.

"I don't see why I need to be involved," Sam told him, tugging at the sleeve of his (stolen) suit.

"You're the distraction," Barnes replied. Sam frowned. "The Bishop knows we'll be there. You keep her busy while I take care of the egg."

"Absolutely not," Sam argued. "I'm not letting you sneak out of here with the egg and leave me behind."

"Relax." Barnes passed him an envelope. "I won't."

A quick glance at the envelope told Sam that it was his invitation. How Barnes knew what the invitations looked like, Sam decided not to ask. Without so much as a raise of his brow, he tucked the envelope in his suit jacket and eyed Barnes's outfit.

"What are you supposed to be?"

"I'll be spending the night as a waiter," Barnes informed him. With a sly grin, he said, "We need Stark's fingerprint, don't we? This is how we're gonna get it."

"I still don't understand the plan," Sam grumbled. He was half worried that was Barnes's intent: leave him clueless and questioning so Barnes could pull off the heist without him. If it wasn't so goddamn annoying, Sam might have applauded him for out-thinking the FBI.

"It's simple."

It wasn't, but Barnes described it as if it were.

Stark had a large collection of precious artifacts. Some were obtained legally―like the egg, surprisingly―and others less so. To keep them all safe, however, he had personally designed a security system that was near impossible to penetrate. The keywords being "near impossible."

There were multiple steps to getting in the vault and Barnes had a plan for every single one of them.

The vault itself was protected by an 18 inch, bulletproof door. According to Barnes, it could only be unlocked via pin code that was updated every six minutes. Where was the new pin code saved? On Stark's personal phone that would only unlock with his thumbprint. Once the code was put in, they would need both a visual render of Stark's face and voice confirmation.

"How the hell are we gonna get that?" Sam demanded.

"I've already shown you." Barnes held up his tablet and turned the screen to face Sam. On the screen, Tony Stark's face stared back at him. As Barnes spoke, Stark's voice sounded. "The only way to beat a tech genius is with his own tech."

Barnes turned off the tablet and tucked it back in his uniform jacket.

"Any more stupid questions?"

"Yes, actually."

Barnes rolled his eyes and for once, Sam didn't find it completely obnoxious. At least this time around, he was the one annoying Barnes and not the other way around.

"What do we do about the Bishop?"

"Distract her."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Won't she expect that?"

"Undoubtedly," Barnes agreed, "so you better be prepared to knock some socks off."

Sam was not, but he didn't have the time to say otherwise before they were on their way to Stark's conveniently timed party.

What Sam expected was not what he got. Unlike some of Stark's previous―more publicly advertised―parties, this one was filled with unrecognizable faces behind masks. He didn't have to ask Barnes to know the reason behind the masks was to hide the identity of some rather unsavory guests. Sam was pretty sure he recognized at least one passerby as a hitman the FBI had been chasing for a while.

He was nearly shoved aside as he stared a little too long at one of the guests. Realizing his fake invitation had worked, he stepped inside and looked around the room in hopes of spotting Barnes.

"Don't look for me," Barnes' voice said through his earpiece. "You'll give us away before we even have a chance."

"What should I do then, huh?" Sam asked. "I wasn't exactly told this would be an international criminal convention."

"What did you think it was?"

Sam frowned at Barnes's tone. So he had known?

"Stark owns hundreds of illegal artifacts," Barnes reminded him. "How did you think he got them? By befriending the police?"

Sam hadn't bothered thinking about it, but Barnes sounded like he was about to start laughing at him. Before he snapped at Barnes, though, a thought crossed his mind.

"Was my invitation real?"

"Of course not," Barnes assured him easily. Sam wasn't convinced, but Barnes steered the conversation away from the topic quickly. "Do you have eyes on the Bishop yet?"

Across the room, there was a flash of red, but it was just someone's dress. Turning slowly, Sam scanned the room for the Bishop. He'd only ever seen her that one time in the Siberian prison and there was a high chance that she'd be wearing a disguise, but he was at least a little hopeful that she would―

There.

"Found her."

She was wearing a mask just like everyone else, but her red hair was curled exactly how she'd had it in the prison. She hadn't even bothered to hide it, either there or here. It could be a coincidence, but Sam had long since stopped believing in those when it came to people like her. It was a test―a game, to her―and he was about to willingly fall for it.

"I'm going in," Sam murmured, starting across the room towards the Bishop.

"What do you―she'll recognize you."

"She will," Sam agreed. He was counting on it, actually. "Get the print and get to the vault."

"Do you even have the phone yet?" Barnes retorted. "At least do your job before you―"

As Sam came to a stop in front of the Bishop, he tuned out Barnes's voice entirely and pulled her onto the dancefloor before she could protest.

"Wilson." She grinned. "Fancy seeing you here. Is James around somewhere?"

James? Who the fuck was James?

"You know," Sam said, "when you said you'd help me catch the Winter Soldier, I didn't expect to end up in the same prison cell as him."

The Bishop's grin widened. "You must not have realized who you were playing with."

"What the fuck kind of distraction is this?" Barnes demanded in his earpiece. "You're supposed to distract her, not dance with her."

Across the dancefloor, Stark stepped into view and Sam caught sight of the back of Barnes's head. The Bishop's eyes followed his and although the reaction was small, Sam saw the way her eyes locked on Barnes and she moved lighter on her feet through the dance.

"So he is here," she murmured. She turned her attention back to Sam. "You're a wonderful distraction, but you're not quite good enough, I'm afraid."

"I've been doing pretty well," Sam argued. He held back a huff at the realization that she had figured out his reason for dancing with her so early on, but she made no move to step back and chase after Barnes.

"You're working together now." It wasn't a question and Sam didn't respond. "Has James told you where the third egg is yet?"

Okay, Sam figured, so James is Barnes, then? Hadn't Steve called him Bucky?

"Says he doesn't know," Sam told her, temporarily pushing all thoughts of Barnes out of his mind. "I'm starting to believe him."

"I'm sure you are," the Bishop hummed.

Her eyes flickered behind Sam and a second later, someone tapped on his shoulder. As he turned around, he came face to face with Tony Stark.

"Mind if I step in?" he asked.

"Of course. Be my guest."

Sam placed the Bishop's hand in Stark's, though he doubted she'd protest. Stark was the host and the last person either of them wanted to upset before robbing him.

With a nod at the Bishop, Sam ducked off the dancefloor, slipping his hand into Stark's jacket as he bumped into the man and scurried off.

"Got it," Sam muttered into his earpiece, hurrying out of the room. "Now what―"

Barnes crashed into him with a tray of red wine and Sam cursed loudly.

"What the hell, man?" he exclaimed. That wasn't part of the plan and now his (stolen) suit was ruined.

"I am so sorry, sir," Barnes said. The glint in his eyes said otherwise. "Here, let me help you get cleaned up."

Waving for Sam to follow him, Barnes led him out of the main room and down a servant's passage, easily getting them both past security with a mere wave at Sam's ruined shirt.

"What the hell, man?" Sam hissed as Barnes shoved him into the bathroom. "That was not―"

A single look from Barnes made him fall silent. He watched as Barnes pulled out his tablet and opened what looked like live security footage.

"Already tapped in," Barnes murmured when Sam looked at him. "Saves time."

Sam rolled his eyes, but a second later, Barnes announced it was clear for them to leave the bathroom and they were off towards the vault.