#the missing title

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Five: Tumultuous Teachings

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

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Summary: Circling in on Karli's position, she's in your sights. With unexpected guests and differing morals, surely the plan will go accordingly... right? All it takes is a little Super Soldier Serum and a phone for the world to blow up.

Words: 15.5k

Warnings: Dark Humor, Sexual Content, Violence, Guns, Manipulation

Mentions of: Politics, Death, Extremist Beliefs, Lying,

A/N: Ahhh, idk why I've fallen back in love with this, but I'm just... so invested in trying to get more of the story out right now! I missed all of their banter and can't wait to actually get to my continuation of the story past the actual plot of the episodes.

Following Zemo down the cobblestone streets, you can't help but take in your surroundings. Truthfully, you're not well traveled, and while it's always been something you'd been interested in, you'd never gotten the chance. Not until now, you suppose. Two continents down in a matter of seventy-two hours certainly is something to be said.

Lips parted in awe, the colorful buildings and their accompanying trim captivate you. There's so much intricacy in the sculptures and patterns adorning the architecture; it's clear that this city is old, its buildings and roads give a glimpse into the past, hints of another time seeping through. It could, in part, be due to the fact that Riga is the capital of Latvia, upon the search you did before arriving, however it's possible the theme also extends beyond the city. That part you're unsure of.

"I heard what became of Sokovia," Zemo breaks the silence. "Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was even cleared of rubble, erased from the map. I don't suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial?" Just as you open your mouth to speak, he's continuing, not having given anyone a chance to answer. "Of course not. Why would you?"

"I saw it," you add quietly, "well- the one in New York. I haven't ever been here before... never even been to Europe," you decidedly ramble, the last part quiet as you talk more to yourself than them, seeing as they aren't really listening. "Well, not until now, I guess."

"We are here," Zemo announces, effectively icing you out. It's clear he doesn't wish to continue on the topic he'd brought up. Though, the look that'd crossed his features for a split second upon your confession was one that seemed to give him pause. Heading for the ornately designed metal gate, it isn't until someone else speaks up that your group slows to a stop.

"I'm gonna go on a walk," Bucky states. Turning to look at him, your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.

"You good?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Bucky assures you all. You're tempted to ask if he wants company, but, knowing how quiet he can be, he seems more like the introspective type. Probably would prefer solitude, you jecture. "I'll see you guys in a bit."

"Okay," you acknowledge, "Be safe," you call out after him as he's already a few paces away.

"Yep!" Is all the Soldier responds with before you follow the men up the stairs. Met with an elaborate metal gate artistically crafted with points and spirals, you admire the stained glass windows on the apartment's door while Zemo unlocks it.

"Welcome," the Baron states as he opens the door and follows you in. Stunned by the foyer, you take a few steps inside, gogging at your surroundings. There's a bowl of apples on the table. You begin to slip off your shoes as the men continue settling in. "I am going to freshen up if you'll excuse me. Please, make yourselves at home."

The colorfully tiled floor captures your eyes as the stone's cool temperature seeps through your socks. "Thanks," you respond halfheartedly, still taking in all the tiny details hidden in every surface of the apartment. Opting for the expansive multi-colored couch, you plop down onto it as you let yourself relax for five minutes.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Sam suggests from where he stands in the kitchen, hand atop the counter he currently rounds.

"I'm thinking about it," you respond. Though, there might be something to the Avenger's predictive skills considering as soon as you'd sat down the tired weight of your body and mind started to drag you under.

"I meant, like, in a bed somewhere," Sam explains with a chuckle.

------------

The sound of a door shutting causes your body to suddenly lurch upright as you look for its source. Quickly finding the Bionic Staring Machine--as Sharon so lovingly put it--striding into the living space of the apartment, the slam of the door must've been him getting back.

"Well, the Wakandans are here," Bucky states casually as he walks into the room. "They want Zemo."

"What?! When? You just saw them now?" Interrupting Bucky, you feel like this is a lot bigger of a deal then he's letting on. After all, if they're here- where are they? Because they're not with him.

"-Bought us some more time." The man stops in the middle of the room and turns to you, giving you a pointed stare. "Yes, just now." You're left wondering if he got that look from Sam, or Sam picked that up from Bucky.

"Were you followed?" Sam questions, turning toward Bucky in his seat at the counter.

"No," Bucky answers.

"How do you know for sure?" You prod.

"How can you be so sure?" Zemo asks at the same time, emerging from the bathroom. This elicits a look from him as the two of you try and gauge the other, unsure if you're shocked that you had the same line of thinking, or whether you're more alike than you'd previously thought. Perhaps it's just a coincidence! After all, it's a pretty logical question, right?

"Because I know when I'm being followed. Alright?" Bucky retorts without hesitation, an annoyance obvious in his tone. At least you're almost certain that's what it is... even if the soldier sounds vexed half the time, in your opinion.

"It was sweet of you to defend me at least," Zemo comments. It's only then that you notice he's only clad in a bathrobe as he pats his face.

An aroma of something sweet like citrus, yet spicy like a mint or menthol emanates from his direction, and you can only assume it's aftershave considering his hair is also wet. Hadn't he said something about freshening up? Since when does that include actually bathing? Sleep still has it claws curled around the edges of your mind as you scoot to the edge of the couch.

"Hey, you shut it-" Sam barks, "No one's defending you. You killed Nagel." There's something uncouth about the way a quiet giggle tumbles past your lips.

"Do we really have to-" Zemo pauses, his attention turning to you with a skeptic look.

"Why are you laughing? How, exactly, is this funny?" Sam turns his frustration on you. Hands immediately coming up in defense, you attempt to hold back the smile tugging at your lips.

"It's not," you assure him, "it's not, I just... why would you say that?" You laugh again, looking toward Zemo with furrowed brows. This man is... puzzling, to say the least.

"Because it was nice of him to advocate on my behalf," the Baron shrugs, seemingly nonplussed. Yet, the faint smirk tugging at his lip tells you otherwise. "Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?" Zemo finishes his original thought.

"You're clearly in need of some good sleep. Why don't you head to bed?" Sam urges, before turning on the redhead. "There's nothing to litigate! You straight shot the man."

"I mean... kind of hard to say you didn't when we all witnessed it," you point out with a shrug of your own. Standing, you approach the kitchen counter in an attempt to see what's so interesting on Bucky's phone. The man hasn't contributed once since leaving you all with that bombshell, distracted by the piece of technology in his gloved hands.

"Sam," Bucky calls. Of course, just when you think to engage him, he's refocused on your friend, ultimately ignoring you. Well, and Zemo, if that means anything.

"What?" The Avenger prods, his undivided attention turning toward the soldier as you all gather around the counter.

"Karli bombed a GRC Supply Depot," Bucky states monotonously.

"What?" Sam asks surprised, "What's the damage?"

"Eleven injured, three dead," the Soldier reads off his phone. "They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren't met in full."

"She's getting worse," Zemo states as if it were fact.

"What're the demands?" You inquire, leaning onto your forearms that rest atop the chilly black granite countertop. Sam's sigh fills the silence as Bucky's eyes scan over the webpage, presumably looking for the information you'd asked for.

"I have the will to complete this mission," Zemo speaks up. "Do the three of you?" Everyone's attention shifts upon this question. All eyes on the Baron. You're left speechless as your minds churn through the question and possible different answers and outcomes.

"She's just a kid," Sam points out.

"You're seeing something in her that isn't there," Zemo rebuttals, "You're clouded by it. She's a Supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It's that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers."

You can see where he's coming from. Not just because of his family, but because of the articles that'd come out time and time again. The posts people would write from foreign countries detailing the way that the Avengers coming in to stop whatever malevolent threat they'd been sent in to defeat only seemed to cause more damage. The fights might've caused more destruction than if they hadn't shown up at all. Now, whether that was true or not was up for debate, but the fact that many people suffered due to collateral damage is entirely real.

It'd been swept under the rug for as long as it could, but things certainly changed after Zemo took action, and after the Blip. People don't have the same politically dutiful leashes they'd once had on their opinions.

"Hey, those are our friends you're talking about," Sam argues.

"The Avengers, not the Nazis," Bucky corrects.

"Thanks for clarifying," you joke. It wasn't really necessary, as you'd figured who they were inferring, but nevertheless, Bucky's need to clarify was amusing. "But how can you be sure? That she's not still a child?" You play devil's advocate.

"So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her," Sam thinks aloud.

"And if there's not?" You question him, "I'm not saying we don't try it first, but, if worse comes to worst?"

"The desire to become a Superhuman cannot be separated from Supremacist ideals," Zemo answers your question. "Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her," he pauses, "or she kills you."

"Maybe you're wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve," Bucky contends, arms crossed as he now leans against the wall directly across the counter from the Baron.

"That's a good point," you mutter under your breath as you're intent to hear what the Baron comes up with in response.

"Touché," Zemo agrees, "but there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?" Wagging his fingers for emphasis, you can't help but be distracted by the fact that it's poked through the hole in a shortbread-looking cookie. Or, as you'd guess they're called here: biscuits. The two circle each other, Zemo rounding the counter until he's across from you opening the cabinets while Bucky rounded the other way, now somewhere behind you.

"Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now," Bucky posits.

"And you'll give up your tour guide?" Oof, Zemo was quick with the comeback on that one, you'll give it to him.

"Yes," Bucky answers with zero hesitation.

"So you're planning on killing her then?" You question Zemo, who has his back turned to you as he rifles through the cabinet he's just opened.

"From my understanding-" Sam begins to speak.

"It's the only way to stop her. You'd let her kill you first?" He tosses the hypothetical situation back on you. Without so much as a glance in your direction, clearly unphased by the content of your conversation.

"Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?" Sam continues his line of thought, unbothered by your little dissection of ideology with Zemo.

An uncomfortable chuckle escapes you. "No? I mean..." Unable to truly come up with a satisfactory response, you switch gears and turn, listening to Sam instead.

"Exactly," Zemo responds with an air of triumph, a quiet and amused scoff leaving his lips.

"So when I was a kid, my TT passed away," Sam explains.

"Your TT?" Bucky questions, head lolled back as he listens from the couch now. A pained expression crosses his features as he finally rights his head and looks back at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam delights, "my TT, yeah."

"Who is your TT?" Bucky specifies.

"Yeah, who is...?" You quietly probe, a little lost despite not having missed anything.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Fine," he concedes. You know he's not really annoyed, but it'd be easier if he didn't have to explain. "When I was a kid, my Aunt passed away. And, the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long," he explains, a far off look overtaking his features as he remembers. "Maybe they're doing the same thing for Donya."

"Worth a shot," Bucky encourages.

"Your TT would be proud of you," Zemo comments, though the way he'd said it definitely sounded more akin to something vulgar than what he'd intended. This elicits another smile you try to contain as you shake your head. Maybe he's just trying to get a reaction out of them, you ponder.

Finally taking a moment to let your eyes wander, you can't help but ogle the Baron a bit. From where you're standing you can only barely see that beneath the navy robe he's got on a pair of white silken pants, which... wow. You don't think you've ever even seen silk pants before, but, they certainly bring out the color of his hair. As he turns, the glimmer of a square pendant sits in the middle of his exposed chest. It's a pretty silver necklace, you'll admit, though the sight of his auburn chest hairs only elicits flashes of memory from the night before.

An earnest gasp leaves your parted lips at the particularly hard thrust he gives you. Nails slightly digging into his shoulders, you're breathing hard, sweat covering your chest, sweat running down his temple. While he isn't toned in the same way Bucky or any body builder is, he's still muscular. The strength with which he holds himself up over you, and grips your hip with his free hand is enough of an indicator.

While moans pour past your lips, groans and grunts slipping out of his, you can't help but admire him. Is it so wrong that you're doing this? It doesn't feel wrong. In fact, it feels like everything you've been missing the past few years. The way he touches you, looks at you, fills you... it's ecstatic. And, sure, maybe your judgment is clouded by the tangled knot that's already building in your lower stomach. Yet, you can't help it. Was evil, as they call him, always so beautiful?

Leg hooking itself around his hip, you open yourself up just enough for him to be able to hit that spot. "Helmut, I-" your voice comes out far more desperate than you'd like. You'd both fully lost your composure some time ago during the first round. Now, your fingers run through his chest hair while you gaze up at him, taking in the way his hair is mussed, his skin sheens with sweat, and beauty marks litter his face. "Блят!" He curses under his breath, and you know he's getting close too. "Cum for me, Schatz."

"Turkish Delight," Zemo announces, wiggling a wrapped piece between his fingers before tossing one to Sam. Blinking a few times, you do your best to return to the present. The Avenger catches it swiftly, inspecting it in his hand while you turn your attention back to Zemo. He pours a bunch of the--What are they? Candies?--out from a rusty silver tin onto the counter, the ornate symbol on it catching your eye. "Irresistible," he describes, winking in your direction.

With a smile on your lips all you can do is shake your head at his discreet teasing as you grab a pink piece from the pile on the counter. "These are the things from Narnia, right? Turkish Delight," you question, unwrapping the crinkly clear plastic to hold the plush candy between your fingers.

"Oh my God," Sam enunciates each word before he exclaims with a laugh, slapping the counter gently. "I haven't thought about that in ages!"

"Narnia?" Bucky questions, a quirked brow of confusion on his face. He looks between you and Sam for clarification.

"It's a children's book, though I do not remember the reference," Zemo explains, obviously intrigued.

"In the movie-" you begin.

"-Based off the book," Sam interrupts to add, popping the treat into his mouth.

"-one of the kids gets, sort of... manipulated?" You question what word is best a descriptor considering it's been awhile since you've seen it. "By the witch, because she offers him whatever he wants for his loyalty, and to rat out his sibling's location or something, basically their lives, and out of everything in the whole world, he picks Turkish Delight!" You explain with a chuckle at the thought.

"Though I think it's because it was during the war and they didn't really have food like that, but yeah- it doesn't come across in the movie at all!" Sam offers more insight.

"Makes sense," Bucky comments lamely with a shrug as he opens his own candy.

"Well, we can go once this one's dressed," Sam remarks somewhat passive-aggressively with a left-turn comment.

"Well, if you give me a moment, I'll be happy to meet you at the door," Zemo retaliates somewhat sarcastically, leaving a somewhat soured and tense vibe between everyone in the room. Back to business, you guess.

-------

You try not to ogle him when he comes back in a fuchsia turtleneck sweater that fits a little too snug, and a long black trench coat with a fur-lined collar. The entire ensemble is all too reminiscent of the night two days ago when you'd landed in Madripoor.

While you weren't exactly sure where you all were going, Zemo seemed to have a good idea once Bucky had shared the location of the Supply Depot. It might've been somewhat of a trust exercise on all your behalves to blindly follow the socialite down the winding, peeling streets of Riga, yet nevertheless somewhat of an adrenaline inducing adventure in your mind.

Having just come through a set of steel double doors, you try not to feel anxious as the gate shuts behind you. Trailing along the Baron's side, you read the posters on the walls.

"Shame what's become of this place," he states, making conversation. As you open your mouth to ask what he means, Zemo expands. "When I was young we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful."

While part of you is curious to ask the Baron questions, there's a more pressing matter at hand.

'RESET.

RESTORE.

REBUILD.

Global Repatriation Council.'

Reading the poster pasted along the white walls of the courtyard, you can only imagine what you're going to be up against.

"I'm gonna take a look upstairs," Sam announces, "See what you can find out here." Tearing your gaze from the poster you finally meet the man's gaze. "And keep an eye on him." There's no need to extrapolate, it's obvious he means the Baron. You assume dual responsibility, even if he might've been directing it toward Bucky and not necessarily you.

A nod in your friend's direction, Sam parts from the group stepping through a set of glass-paned double doors, allowing you three reign of the courtyard. "I'll stay out of your way," Zemo announces, lifting his gloved hands in a defensive gesture as he takes a step further into the area. You don't miss, however, the glare Bucky gives the Baron, and the devilish smile the man displays behind the Soldier's back.

All around you people seem busy with their activities, some hanging wet laundry up on lines to dry, some washing and cutting vegetables at tables, while others huddle in a corner and whisper to your right. Out of your periphery you can spot Bucky approaching the people laundering on your left. "Donya?" He posits, to no response. "No?"

With your more friendly demeanor, and being a woman, you decide to take a stab at it. Cautiously approaching the people on your right, many disperse from their conversation in search of something to do, no doubt. The woman and man that remain, you sidle up against. "Excuse me," you speak softly, "do you know where Donya Madani's reception is going to be?"

The woman appears meek, her stringy hair held back by a ribbon, hands coming up to her chest. She simply shakes her head while the man at least offers you an answer. "No," he responds, "We don't trust outsiders." Turning his back on you, he returns to conversation with the woman, ultimately shutting you out. Your lips purse in retaliation, and while you might attempt to argue and question why he thinks you're an outsider any other time, you know they'd seen who you'd come in with.

Mind churning through different tactics, it isn't until you spot Zemo halfway across the courtyard that you know he's most likely up to no good. He won't get a chance to escape, not on your watch. With bigger strides than you're used to, you stalk after him as discreetly as you can without straight up chasing him.

"Yes, sir~ yes, sir, three bags full~" the Baron is reciting some sort of rhyme you're not familiar with in a tone that's far too ominous for your taste. "One for my master, one for the dame~" He's certainly garnered the attention of the children, and while they've stopped playing, he's pulled out a small wooden stool from their accompanied small table. "One for the little girl who lives down the lane~"

Attempting to appear busied, you kick at the cobblestone beneath your feet, keeping a short distance between yourself and the man before you who crouches in front of the stool, spilling the contents of a paper bag he'd produced onto it. Ah.... The sly bastard. An assortment of the temptingly colorful candies plop onto the stool. It's something you're sure the children haven't seen in a long time, judging by the looks of this place. And as a child, who can resist something like that? If anything, he'd taken your comment about Narnia a little too seriously.

"Turkish Delight," you hear Zemo state, though your eyes are fixated on the statue of Poseidon behind the group of children. It's intriguing to you that he'd thought to bring the candy in the first place. How did he know there were going to be children here? "It was always my son's favorite." For some reason the admission pings at your heart. Why? You aren't too sure. Maybe it's the way it was easy to forget he had a family. At least... you hadn't remembered reading about him being a father. Yet, the revelation leaves a sorrowful feeling in your stomach. You know you never would've spent that night together if they were alive.

Motion draws your attention back to the scene at hand, and you can't help but shove your hands in your pockets. The blonde haired girl grabs one of the candies, unafraid as she'd been the only one of them to approach. "My old friend, Donya, passed away," Zemo lies, "Did you know her?" Biting your lip, you can't help but watch, impressed, by his tactic. Of course the children will know. They hear everything, and considering the taboo subject, and their naivety, will most likely respond to his white lie.

The girl tentatively nods. "Yes," she answers, fingers anxiously twirling the candy back and forth in her little fingers by either end of the plastic wrapping.

"I would like to pay my last respects," he continues, "Do you know where her funeral will be?" Wow, you mentally laugh to yourself. He's using the exact same tactic you were going to use! You might not have went with 'old friend', but rather, someone you knew. Mentor, perhaps? Contact? Regardless, the 'paying your last respects' bait is exactly what you would've claimed if only the adults had indulged your conversation a bit longer.

Moment of truth. The little girl nods again, though this time he simply points to his ear before she's skipping to his side and whispering. Unfortunately, he's too far away for you to make out what she's saying. Eyes drifting back to the statue, you can't help but wonder why such a beautiful piece of art is sitting here, in a secluded cobblestone courtyard, of all places. As far as you'd known, Latvia wasn't partial to Greece's Polytheistic beliefs.

Suddenly, Zemo's standing, towering over the children as he tells them something in a hushed voice. Tempted to get closer, you're about to make a move when his actions bring you to a halt. Fingers twisting in front of their lips, they tacitly make a bond you're familiar with. Secrets; sealing your mouth with the key and throwing it away. With a handover of the Turkish Delight, the Baron turns on his heels and strides back the way you'd come. It's then that you rejoin him.

"You just got it, didn't you?" You question, Sam and Bucky appearing in your periphery up ahead.

The Baron says nothing as he tucks his hands into his coat's pockets and shrugs. "Cute kids," he finally states. That's all the answer you know you're going to get, begrudgingly.

"Head back?" Sam suggests, hands shoved in his pockets as the breeze begins to pick up in the alley.

"We should be seen as little as possible," Bucky states. Though, you know he must mean it in agreement, it'd simply come across awkward and unrelated if you hadn't picked up on his communication style awhile back.

--------

Entering the apartment once again, Zemo heads for the kitchen with a determination that makes you think twice about where his motives lie and what he could possibly be planning, while Bucky stomps into the living room, Sam close behind.

"Well, I got nothing," Bucky admits defeat. "No one's talking about Donya."

As you follow Bucky and Sam to the couch, you remain standing while they each take a seat. You cross your arms over your chest.

"They don't trust outsiders. Know better than to confide in people speaking English," you comment. Eyes drifting over to spot Zemo rifling through the cabinets and rooting around the kitchen, preoccupied with God knows what. He knows something, yet isn't saying anything. Nevertheless, as Sam's voice fills the living space your attention falls back to the conversation at hand.

"Yeah, it's because Karli is the only one fighting for them," Sam points out. Bucky sighs at the information. "And she's not wrong."

"What do you mean?" Bucky questions, eyes landing on your friend.

"For five years people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs," he explains.

"Yeah, it was actually pretty nice," you agree. "You don't know?" Settling on Bucky's features for a moment, you're only met with a tense look upon his face and cold eyes. That gives you enough of an answer. He was a victim of the Snap, too? You never would have guessed.

"Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild," Sam continues, "It wasn't just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together... and then, boom," he snaps his fingers together, "Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli's doin' somethin'."

"Which is better than anything the government's doing," you add.

"You really think her ends justify her means?" Bucky posits.

"Mm-mm," Sam shakes his head in response to your comment, clearly not wanting to get into that can of worms. And you aren't entirely sure how to answer the heavy hitting question.

"Then she's no different than him or anybody else we've fought," Bucky points out.

Eyes shifting between Bucky and Zemo, you're unsure why that's necessarily a bad thing. While you've known how Sam sees Zemo's actions, and you'd thought Bucky's alignment fell somewhere in-between... you're starting to think he and Sam are more alike than you'd previously thought. As you open your mouth to debate Bucky's question, your friend beats you to it.

"She's different," Sam retorts without hesitation. "She's not motivated by the same things."

As Zemo approaches from your right, you can't help but notice he's got a tray in his hands. Some kind of pink tea sits within a see-through teapot, a couple of teacups atop their tiny plates joined by spoons lie around it.

"That little girl," Bucky states, "What'd she tell you?" The question elicits a suspicious look between the Baron and the three of you. It's obvious he's weighing his options. Setting the tray down upon the round table, he finally meets the Soldier's eyes again.

"The funeral is this afternoon," Zemo reveals. A hint of a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lip as you'd just known that tactic would work. While you may be a little jealous you hadn't thought of it first, you can't deny it was smart, and you'd known it'd pay off as soon as you saw him talking to her and realized what he was doing.

However, you can't help but notice the way he answers calmly. Cool, and collected, it's obvious he's trying to bide time. Think of a way out of this.

"You know the Dora's coming for you any minute," Bucky threatens, not having taken his eyes off the Baron since the man approached. "In fact, they're probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking." This little tidbit of information causes you to unintentionally whip your head around to stare out the thin windows lining the apartment's front door. Like you'd realistically see someone standing right there.

Even if you don't know who the Dora are, the imminent threat looms over all of your heads, not just Zemo's.

"Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli," Zemo hums in thought, "I prefer to keep my leverage." Fingers running over the smooth ceramic cup he holds within his hands, you don't question things as Bucky gets up and rounds the table before you. In an instant the Soldier's throwing it, the ceramic smashing against the wall behind the Baron. You both flinch, albeit subtly, as your eyes widen.

"You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?" Bucky taunts, taking a step closer to the Baron and eliciting you and Sam's action. While you're reaching toward Bucky, Sam's standing across from him, looming over the table like he's ready to intervene if need be.

"Take it easy," Sam warns.

"It's fine," you add on. If there's anything you've picked up on from Zemo, it's that he's just as intent on getting to Karli as the two of your guys' are.

"Don't engage him," Sam advises, "He's just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing,"

Funnily enough, Zemo straightens his posture having realized he was, in fact, tilting his head. Something, you have to pride Sam for having recognized. You certainly hadn't noticed. "Let me make a call," Sam excuses himself. Rounding the table, he pats Bucky on the back on his way out. Despite this, the men continue to stare one another down like some sort of fight for male dominance.

"You want some Cherry Blossom tea?" Zemo offers. A lame attempt at deescalating the heightened tension in the room.

A sneer displays itself across the Soldier's face. "No, you go ahead," he refutes, turning and storming off. While you deliberate on following, having even taken so much as a step or two, you give up. Considering you don't know the man that well, there's no way he'd ever care to listen to what you have to say.

You don't miss the way Zemo audibly, albeit faintly, releases an exhale. A sigh slips past your own lips and your eyes finally fall down to the tea in question. "Cherry Blossom?" You ask, amusement unhidden in your tone.

"It's a delicacy," Zemo quips without so much as a beat. The man shrugs before walking back over to the kitchen, to which, you follow.

"Sure," you respond, "I mean, I don't know, but, it sounds good." Now for your lame attempt at reducing the tension.

"Would you like some?" He asks, though his tone sounds somewhat rhetorical as he grabs a kitchen towel off the counter and turns on his heels to look at you, no apparent expression on his face besides indifference.

This takes you aback, and you try to contain the surprised look on your face when you mentally and verbally flail. "I- I mean-" you shake your head as you try to gather your rationale, "-if you're having some, then sure? Yeah, I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Your reaction elicits a faint chuckle from the man as he flings the towel over his shoulder, walking back your way toward the spill. It feels oddly both exhilarating somehow and ominous the way your shoulders brush against one another unintentionally when he passes. He doesn't stop or turn to look back at you, but simply kneels before the mess and begins to clean it up, which gives you pause.

In the silence your mind reels, yet you can't seem to stop yourself from voicing the thoughts bouncing around up there. "What do you think you're going to get?" Your voice is calm, cool, and collected. Everything he'd been only moments before Bucky had burst. It's simply a question that's been churning over and over in your mind for the past few hours.

Even if he's turned from you, the brief pause of his movement gives way to how you've rattled him. "The same thing as you," he answers, the sound of glass gently scraping against the tiled floors is all the sound you need to know he's regained his assuredness.

Only, this time you're the one stumped for an answer. Mouth opening and closing for a split-second as you search for a grasp on his meaning, you know there's no way he's serious. "What do you mean?" Fingers playing with the hem of your borrowed sweater, you hope your deciphering of his words is wrong, for many reasons.

The man before you slowly rises to a stand, his figure towering over yours as he turns, green eyes peering down at you with something cynical beneath the surface. "You're in the same boat as Sharon. Hoping for a pardon," he answers confidently, eye contact unwavering as that mischievous glint in his eye makes you feel vulnerable under his gaze. "Assuming I've picked up on your situation correctly, of course."

In this silent stare down you're the first to break, again, as your eyes shift aside the both of you in search of a decent response. When nothing comes to mind, a sigh escapes you. That's when he walks off, leaving you standing there alone. Whatever heat had been emitting from him in droves simply fades like he was never that close to begin with. "You're... not wrong," you reply, watching him dispose of the glass in the trash as you still stand between the living room and kitchen.

"So you're not the good girl you portray yourself as," Zemo diverts, the topic evolving into something you weren't prepared for. When his eyes raise to meet yours from behind the island, you can't help but search within his gaze for what prompted this, his innuendo quite overt.

"I never pretended to be someone I'm not," you bite back. This time there's no hesitancy or submissiveness in your voice. Turning on your heels, you head for the couch. Bucky still isn't back from the bathroom yet. Who knows? Maybe he went off to find Sam and relay plans without you in whatever room the man went off to for his phone call.

"I cannot say I did not doubt you," Zemo comments as he approaches once more, another cup in hand this time. "However, your tenacity was admirable in the ship yard." The man lifts his teapot up, pouring the pink liquid into their respective cups.

An eyebrow quirks in response. You're not sure how to take his words, or what his intent is, however you decide to take him at his word. "Tell me what you really think," you joke, ultimately deciding to let go of whatever indignation his comment had brewed internally. Because, why would you care about his opinion? Would it be because he'd almost gotten away with one crime? With an assassination? Or for creating a divide amongst friends? I don't think so.

It certainly wasn't because you'd slept with him. If you'd been fishing for compliments or praise, you wouldn't do half the things you do. The way you acted with him, you never pretended. At least that was honest. You're not so sure you can think the same of him anymore.

Silence settles between you for a moment. Only the sound of liquid pouring into the china resounds through the open room. "May I ask," he speaks, pausing in his actions as you can see him mentally gauging how to word whatever's on his mind. Placing the teapot back in its spot on the tray, his eyes give you a once over. "Why is it that you're not as angry with me? I cannot say that their ire has ever been subtle in the least."

The glance he'd spared in the direction Bucky had taken off leaves you with an exact understanding of what he's asking: 'Everyone else is against me. Why aren't you?' There's one thing in admitting that you don't trust him; something that wouldn't surprise him, you're sure. However, angry? No. You're not angry with him.

"Besides the fact that you haven't personally wronged me, for one," you begin, eyes shifting toward the block of couch between you. "Not everyone holds the same sentiment for our country as they do." Looking off in the direction your friends had gone, you know it's a hard truth.

Sharon may joke about them being poster boys for the United States government, and Bucky may not always agree with, or support, their endeavors. But, ultimately, isn't that exactly what they are? Even if only to some degree? After everything you'd endured on its behalf, it'd be hard to say that it didn't at least open your eyes a little toward what values the country truly stands on its feet for.

"They're just extra loud about their beliefs," you attempt to joke, diluting the reality beneath your conversation, and deescalate the tension. With a soft chuckle, you finally meet the Baron's eye again. He isn't smiling or frowning, however the look within his eyes is the only solace that there's an understanding between the two of you.

At least there's that. Someone who isn't afraid to actually weigh the reality of the circumstances.

"You are not wrong about that," Zemo 'tsks', a faint smile finally spreading across his lips as he lifts the china glass to his lips. You follow suit, having let it cool down for a moment. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind had you also potentially worried about poison. However, if he's drinking it then it should be fine... right? "It is unfortunate, however, how many people do not realize the seemingly mundane is the dogma they're being blindly fed," he says between sips. "What do you think?"

Blinking, you're met with his intent expression, unsure how to respond. He hadn't given you any time to mentally piece together a response or comment! "I... don't-"

Zemo laughs wholeheartedly; wrinkles form beside his eyes and he's bent over his lap, careful not to spill his tea. You're befuddled. You don't know how to react or what to do, or even what was so funny? Yet, you'd be lying if you said if his laughter wasn't contagious, or that you chuckle a little in confusion over the whole situation. It'd be a downright depressing question if you were left wondering if and when the last time he'd laughed like that was. That thought doesn't cross your mind in the moment, fortunately.

"I meant about the tea," he finally explains, clueing you in on the amusement of the situation. Your expression of realization must be funny considering the way it starts up his laughter again. And, the fact that it's the type of laughter that makes your stomach hurt from the muscles working overtime, to the way your cheeks also ache in conjunction after unconsciously smiling for so long is something you can only be jealous of. For, when's the last time you'd experienced that?

"Oh!" You facepalm with your empty hand, slightly embarrassed, hoping your cheeks aren't flushing with it. "I-it's good! Yeah, I like it," you reply, unable to help yourself from smiling down at the pink liquid still filling a little less than half of your cup. "It's really..." you try to think of the best word to describe it.

"Refreshing?" He posits.

You find yourself unconsciously smiling in his direction upon his response. "That's a good word for it! Sweet, and somehow, like... a little crisp? But, refreshing, yeah!"

"Is he doing his standup routine for you?" Sam questions as he strolls into the living room with purpose in his stride.

"Had plenty of time to practice in prison," Bucky grumbles in Sam's pursuit, loud enough for everyone to hear, yet quiet enough for it to be considered an intrusive thought.

As you look in their direction, you can't help but smile a little wider at their joke. Even if they don't realize it, Bucky and Sam definitely have a similar humor. One only amplifying the other. "Uh, no? He just said something I misunderstood and it was funny," you correct and inform them. Though you're sure they couldn't care less.

"Not everyone aspires to become a comedian," Zemo retorts, "even if most people of your--well, one of your--generations seem to wish to be." The man crosses his legs, body squared off toward theirs on the couch.

"Wow, what an original one," Bucky says snarkily. The solider crosses his arms, his routine stoicism having returned.

"You had some?" Sam asks, eyes flitting between you and the cherry blossom tea.

"Yeah! It's actually really nice," you perk up, glad someone else isn't brooding or feuding in this room. It's truly been enough of a testosterone-fest the past few days to last you years!

"I'll have to get some later then," Sam comments with a seemingly genuine excitement to try something from another culture.

"Yeah, just jot it down on the bucket list," Bucky remarks sarcastically.

"Okay, well, I just heard from Sharon," Sam relays, hands gesticulating as he starts to explain the plan, effectively ignoring Bucky's attitude. "She's got an eye on our back so we're not going in blind, but we still need to be hypervigilant going in there."

"Prepared for anything," Bucky reinforces the idea. You're still not entirely convinced they're not set on killing the girl. At least, you're confident that Sam isn't.

As Sam pans over the basic plan, you can't help but worry about how everything's going to realistically play out. It's all good and easy to pretend everyone has a conscience and that Karli will simply hand over the rest of the Super Solider serum she has, but you doubt that's the case. She won't go quietly.

"Your job is to secure the vials and safely escort them out of the hot zone. You're the only one who can decipher how Nagel was pulling this stunt off and if the Power Broker's planning on doling out this stuff on a mass scale, then we sure as shit need this in the right hands." Sam explains to you. It's the first time you truly realize the gravity of your job in this mission. "With that outta the way-"

"Where is this thing?" Bucky asks pointedly as he stares down Zemo, no amusement to be found on his face. Straight to business, as always. Can't say you'd expect less from the man, unfortunately.

--------

Sidling up against Sam, you do your best to keep up with the men's speedy walk. Your legs aren't as long, and you make up for it by attempting to take bigger strides.

"Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit." The vaguely familiar voice garners all your group's attention as you follow Zemo to the leveraged meeting spot. It's that guy- the new Captain America. What was his name again?

He and his friend scamper down the stairs a few yards directly in front of your group.

"Ah!" Bucky exclaims with arms wide open. "How'd you find us now?" For some reason, he doesn't actually sound upset this time? At least, not truly.

"Come on," the Captain's friend answers. "You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?" Well, he's got you there. Word spreads fast in towns like these.

"No more keeping us in the dark," the Captain demands, "You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison." The blonde-haired man turns his frustration on the Baron.

While you're not entirely sure what the Captain is referring to, it's obvious there's history between the men. What's more bothersome, is the way you notice someone just over their shoulder--a teenager--begin to record on his phone. It's obvious, the kid isn't even trying to hide it, granted... if you saw a celebrity out in public, would you do the same?

"He did that himself, technically," Bucky responds.

It's clear that's not what the Captain wanted to hear. The anger in his face is exacerbated by the pinch between his brows and the way he hasn't stopped encroaching on you all despite the rather close proximity he's gaining. "Ah, this better be an unbelievable explanati-"

"Hey, take it easy before it gets weird," Sam warns. With the way the Captain was gesticulating wildly, you'd say it already has, though you're not sure how best to contribute and deescalate the quickly escalating situation.

"I know where Karli is," Zemo explains. A quick look around shows you that multiple groups of people have stopped walking and are beginning to stare. This isn't good. You were supposed to be as discreet as possible, and that's already hard when you're in the company of three well-known people.

"Guys, people are watching," you whisper, gaze shifting over to the two staring each other down. The Baron grimaces for only a moment before attempting to slink around the Captain, who stops him with a hand placed on his chest.

"Well, where?" the Captain demands.

"All we know is, it's a memorial," Sam informs. Yet, despite the initial focus on Zemo, the man in question is looking past him for something. What's he looking for? Following his gaze, you don't spot anything. "So we're gonna intercept her there." Granted, your attention is quickly back on the men as they continue to plan.

"That means civilians. High risk of casualties," the Captain's friend announces. As Zemo manages to slip around the Captain, you follow, the rest of the group's footsteps behind you as they do the same.

"Good, that means we move fast, take her by surprise," the Captain comments.

"That's not the plan," you argue, not bothering to look over your shoulder.

"No, I wanna talk to her alone," Sam quips as well, the two of you unwilling to let things slide into a frenzy. No doubt something more than likely with the new poster-boys of the US Government on your tail.

"I'm not losing her again," the Captain states definitively.

"Look, the person closest to her died," Sam points out, "She's vulnerable. Now if there's any time to reason with her, it's now."

"What? No!" All of the sudden the Captain is jogging beside you until he's almost in front of you. "Wait, no! No! Stop," he holds his hands out as he steps directly in front of your group's path. "Hold on. Stop, okay? I think we're way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people in it."

"Of course you'd say that," you bite. From the past you've always known soldiers to be the quickest to anger, and the quickest to escalate. Nothing can ever end peacefully with them.

"Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you," his buddy is pointing out.

"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?" The Captain hones in on you this time.

"And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die," Sam argues.

"Exactly- there's no room for error here," you add.

"Are you gonna let him do this?" The Captain turns his attention to Bucky, now. "Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?" Silence fills the street for only a moment.

"He's dealt with worse. And he's not my partner," Bucky answers. Out of your periphery you can spot Zemo looking around again, and this time you're irritated. It was one thing having the US Government's ponyboy delaying your prime opportunity at ending things civilly, but now the Baron's looking for an escape route? Frowning in his direction, you can't help but follow his gaze again out of precaution. Only this time you see what he's been looking for.

"I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?" Sam informs, "This is right in my wheelhouse." As your friend rounds Bucky to get closer to the Captain, you can only be grateful someone's intervening.

"Yeah, I know," the Captain responds. "And I know those soldiers which is why I know this is a bad idea."

"Aren't you supposed to be the image of diplomacy? Don't you think that's a bad strategy and a bad look?" You prod. If no one'll say it, someone has to. It's worth a thought, at least.

"Wait, John," the Captain's friend speaks. So that's his name! Definitely American, and an eerily perfect name for someone who'd represent America. Not that you're a fan. "She's not wrong. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try."

John, as you now know, seems to consider this as he scoffs under his breath. With a shake of his head, he finally looks to Zemo. "We'll deal with you later," he warns.

"I'm sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion," the Baron replies, palms outward in a placative gesticulation. "my associate is just up ahead," he informs, gesturing up the path. It's the girl. The same one from the GRC encampment you'd visited earlier. The only child brave enough to speak to him, to earn the Turkish Delight for the rest of them.

This time it's you who can't keep it together as an amused breath leaves your lips. "Associate?" You question quietly, peering up at him.

Zemo meets your gaze for a moment, a sort of twinkle in his eye as he offers a half-hearted shrug. "Associate," he doubles down. The Baron rounds John's friend and takes the lead. Following suit, you know Bucky and Sam aren't far behind, while John and his friend dawdle after.

While the girl has a trepid look on her face, she doesn't back away. "Hello, my friend," Zemo greets, "this is for your family." You don't see what it is at first, only that he takes something out of his coat pocket and gives it to her. It's only as she tucks it away that you can make out the note. Euro? Pound? You're not sure what currency Latvia uses, but you did spot the five hundred mark on it. "Can you show us the way?"

The girl waves him over, and a quick look over your shoulder lets you know everyone's now on board with the mission.

"What the hell," you hear John murmur from the back. Truthfully, you'd questioned Zemo's method at first too. Even if you'd had a similar line of thought, there wasn't any guarantee it'd work out. The girl could've easily taken the Turkish Delight and had been done with the whole thing. Money, though? Definitely something people could use right now; especially if that place you'd been to was where she lived.

Luckily, the trip isn't long. The building just up ahead had been the right destination, but the girl takes you around the side and through a back door that leads to what you can only assume is a bakery. Or maybe it was an electrical station? A laundry house? Crematorium? You're unsure, really. Within the room there's another set of tiled stairs that leads to somewhere else. The girl opens the metal door and turns back to all of you, pointing up the extra set of stairs within.

"Karli's in there," Zemo states, as if a translator was needed.

"All right," Sam comments, heading after the girl up the stairs. Contemplating quickly rediscussing the plan with Sam, you take a few steps before a groan brings your attention back. John has Zemo pushed up against one of the ovens.

"Hey," John calls out to Sam, "you got ten minutes-"

"Really?" Zemo asks, evidently annoyed. The sound of handcuffs fills the silent room, and you can't say you're unsurprised by John's actions.

"-then we're doing things my way," John threatens.

"Aggressive," the Baron comments, eyeing John with a dangerous look in his eye, "but I get it." When he smirks, you can't help but look away. Whether it's the reminder that this man is conniving, or that you'd given yourself up to him in the most intimate of ways, you're uncertain. Really, that night he'd been the complete opposite of everything everyone who'd warned you about Zemo claimed him to be.

You're not unlike any other girl. Everyone likes it rough from time to time, and the thought that perhaps maybe he does too might stir something within you. It's... something you're unwilling to give thought to at the moment. Nevertheless, it'd been a one night stand; you're well aware of the man that he is, the man you've witnessed incapacitate multiple men. How you feel about that, on the other hand, is something you've yet to give yourself time to determine.

Sitting on the stairs, you've given up noticing all the small details within both the room you're in, and what you can see of the adjoining one. Bucky leans against the railing beside you, while John and his friend lean against the wall across from where Zemo stands, still handcuffed to the oven.

It's been quiet, though you'd tried to make small talk here and there to no fruitful discussion. From time to time you could feel Zemo's eyes on you, or Bucky spare a glance, but it was only natural considering sitting still in silence for ten minutes gives you limited options. Besides, it's not like you hadn't gazed over them once or twice either.

Now John's pacing, and you know that can't be good considering soldier's, as you know, are notorious for their impatience. Meeting Bucky's gaze, you offer a nervous look, to which he imperceptibly shakes his head. 'It's nothing to be worried about' is what his eyes say. Even if you both know that's a lie.

While Zemo's fingers bend and shift subconsciously clueing you into the fact that he's deep in thought, you find yourself too, starting to really ponder. And even if you can't pinpoint his thoughts, yours drift to the past seventy two hours.

The more time passes, the more John starts to pace, no longer taking breaks as he continuously walks back and forth the length of the floor. "Uh-uh," he says to himself, "no- no, no, this is a bad idea."

As he approaches Bucky again, the Soldier raises his eyes to meet John's figure, only for the Captain to back away again. You almost miss it, the way Zemo glances at his handcuffs. If you didn't know better you'd think he was only trying to eye John in his periphery, but no. No, can't be, can it? He's smarter than that. Ten minutes? Ten minutes and you're not thinking about how to get out of those cuffs? You'd be stupid to think otherwise.

As soon as the Baron's eyes shift, your eyes flick over to John. They're close enough, surely he didn't notice. Hopefully, you think.

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John," Bucky breaks the silence, "just sit tight," he advises.

"Don't do that," John argues, "don't patronize me." The agitation is evident in his tone. It's only a matter of time before a fight breaks out, you just know it. A palpable feeling in the air, a sense, or maybe just anxiety. Either way, dread starts to seep into your chest.

"He knows what he's doing," Bucky assures him. Opting to stand, your butt having started to hurt, your arms cross over your own chest. Whether it's a subconscious closing off toward the raging testosterone in the room, or an imitation of Bucky's intimidation is unknown.

"Yeah," you agree, hoping to voice some sense of calm and reassurance.

John doesn't pay any of you mind though. Standing at the end of the aisle he stares at the wall, a hardened look on his face, and it feels impossible to tell what he's thinking. All you know is it can't be good.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, John's striding back over to the two of you with determination. "I'm goin' in," he declares. Taking a step backward up onto the next step on the stairs, Bucky doesn't hesitate to throw a hand onto the man's chest, effectively blocking him.

You feel like your breath is stuck in your chest as the Captain's friend sidles up to him, both of them apparently on the same page. John's eyes slowly rise up to meet Bucky's face, having been glaring down at the impediment. "This is all really easy for you, isn't it?" The man asks.

A look of confusion crosses your face as your brows pinch together slightly. Does he mean this entire situation, or does he mean...? Bucky has been through war, you know that. He was an Avenger, too, wasn't he?

"All that serum runnin' through your veins," John continues, unknowingly answering your question. Part of you knew. You just knew what he meant, but... what did it matter? The hatred in John's eyes only further elicit more questions. Mainly, is he trying to convince Bucky to join him, or suggest that he's a part of the problem? As he looks toward the room behind you, you figure the former. "Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

The whole room goes silent. You know Bucky's contemplating it; you'd be lying if you said you weren't. Yet, ultimately it's another half minute before Bucky asserts that if John's going, they're all going together. One look at Zemo from both men leaves you torn. A sigh escapes your lips before you assure them you'll watch the Baron. Of course the man needs a babysitter, right? Regardless, if there's about to be a brawl then you certainly would hope, at best, to stay uninvolved.

The momentary deliberation is enough time for the men to distract Bucky as John and his friend shove their way past, the two of them taking off. Bucky follows suit. Jaw dropped, you take a few steps after them, uncertain in whether you should help Bucky stop them and let Sam handle this alone, or make sure Zemo doesn't get free.

With that, there's a metallic clinking behind you that leaves you whipping your head around. Face to face with the spoken Devil himself, he's free. "What do you think you're doing?!" It comes out louder than you'd intended, but with the way the tension's exploded in the room, you can't hold back the nerves that've been eating away at you inside.

"We have to stop Karli," Zemo asserts. As he attempts to sidestep you, you sidestep in time with him, blocking his path. "We cannot waste anymore time! If she gets away, we are all dead." There's a moment of eye contact; the determination on both of your faces surely rival one another, and while there's an unbridled anger beneath the surface of his irises, yours shifts into one of understanding upon consideration of his words.

Yet, you're not quick enough. Even if you might foolishly decide to trust him on this, which you don't, he takes advantage of your hesitancy. Hand on your shoulder, he's pushing you aside more roughly than you'd like, but not hard enough to tip you over, just enough to get you out of his way. Stumbling, you quickly regain balance before running after him.

In the span of minutes, you're running from room to room after a man who navigates the maze of a building with an uncanny sense of certainty. There's no time to question it, no time to wonder where he's going or if he's even leading you in the right direction. How would he even know? Regardless, it's only as you come to a stop in a darkened room lit only by the rays of sun streaming through the little windows atop the walls that Zemo stops.

It looks like a cellar, almost, racks with medical instruments, a table with scientific equipment laid strewn across it. You know what this is, and yet you also can't mentally process that it is what's right in front of you. Super Soldier Serum. Right here, in the flesh, sitting in a vacutainer. "How did you know-?" You question, only to be interrupted.

"Shh!" Zemo demands, pulling you into the shadows by your sleeve. The hurried sound of footsteps bounding closer and closer rings out in the cavernous room. Anxiety wells up again in your belly as there's no telling who it is. Friend, or foe? With only so many days in the boys' company, you've wound up in this situation far too often for your liking.

Both of you breathing hard, still trying to catch your breath after sprinting through the building, it's much harder to keep quiet than you would've thought. It takes the mental task of counting your breath in and out to ease the blood running through your veins.

Hidden behind a series of big pipes, his focus isn't on you as he pulls something from within his jacket. The shiny silver color of what can only be a gun reflects in the spots of sunlight streaming this far into the room. He ejects the chamber and counts the rounds. "It's not fair you get a gun," you state annoyedly. Apparently everyone else is seemingly always prepared for this, except you. Granted, this wasn't a part of the plan!

"Well, next gun you find, be my guest, Schatz," Zemo whispers, eyeing you with a look you can't place. It only lasts a moment, however, as he reloads the gun and peers around the pillar. Suddenly, there's the loud creak of a metal door opening before it slams shut, footsteps bounding down the stairs you'd seen at the front of the room when you'd been snooping.

Whoever's approaching is doing so fast, and you know you're going to have to face them. Zemo takes charge; turning the corner, he pops up, shots fired! A frustrated groan leaves the person's lips and you're quick to follow suit, popping up to see who you're up against. It's her. Shit, it's Karli! A super soldier. Shot after shot is fired and instinct drives into action.

"Stop!" You yell, beelining after him. There's a loud bang as you see the metal table topple over, everything crashing to the floor and scattering everywhere. "You can't kill her! She's just a girl!"

Just as she pokes her head out, another shot is fired. He comes to a stop just before the table, giving you more than enough time to catch up. You attempt to tackle him, jumping onto him, trying to reach around for the gun. A groan leaves him, and you struggle. The man shifts his body with enough force to toss you off and onto the ground. "Really?" He says with an obvious tone of disappointment. "You are either part of the solution, or part of the problem, Liebling! Make your choice."

"This wasn't the plan," you remind him, breathing heavy on the floor.

"Maybe not yours, but it was always the final outcome," he responds. Just as movement's heard from behind the table another shot rings out and you flinch. Springing to your feet, you grab ahold of his wrist, long enough to stall him from any further damage. "Guess you're part of the problem." Kneeing him in the thigh, you yank his arm downward with enough force for the gun to fall from his grasp. In a swift movement, Zemo turns on you, his elbow right behind.

Next thing you know, you're on the floor. Things are blurry, and your head is spinning, but you can make out the blue vials on the concrete.

"Is this what I-" you hear him say, yet it feels like you're hearing him from underwater. It feels like having to force yourself to see what's before you. The heaviness of your body and your eyelids, is far too much. It feels as though things are unfolding before you like a foreign movie, no way for you to take part, change the outcome, or even understand what's going on.

Another ringing shot resounds throughout the room and there's a series of smashing that follows. "No! No!" You hear someone cry.

--------

You'd woken with a raging headache and a barrage of questions directed your way. The room still felt like it was swaying, and while your mind raced with thoughts and answers, it was as if there was a lump in your throat. That made it hard to speak at first, and while you'd held your head, the boys moved you over to the table. Sam seemed busy on his computer while Bucky had taken over checking you out.

A few tablets later and an encouraged full glass of water downed, you feel a lot more alert. "Ow!" You exclaim, immediately turning your head to the side. "What the hell, Bucky?"

He turns off his phone's flashlight before setting the device down on the table. "At least we know it's not a concussion," he says, as if the explanation is an apology. "Really, you should be lying down."

"Was it Karli?" Sam asks, momentarily pausing his typing to tap into the conversation. His gaze is intent and serious, he wants to know whether or not she was the one who hurt you. A shake of your head leaves their expressions souring. "Then who?"

Lips pursing, you avert their gaze, considering what'll happen if you tell them the truth. Yet, you also couldn't care less what happens to Zemo. "He knocked me out," you answer quietly, eyes shifting over to the unconscious man on the couch.

"What?" Bucky practically growls, eyes darting toward the Baron.

"He was shooting at her, and I-" a breath forces itself from your lungs as you recall the recent memory, "-I tried to stop him. We got into it, and he hit me... that's all I remember before, you know." Gesturing to yourself, it's upon that realization that a thoughtful expression overtakes your features. "What happened after that?"

"Jesus," Sam curses, and you swear you can read his thoughts. The guilt is all over his face. He thinks it's his fault that this happened. "Should've known he'd try something. Why'd you-" Sam turns his anger on Bucky as the Soldier gets up.

"He was Special Forces. Makes sense," Bucky states. As he heads over to the bathroom, you figure he's exiting the conversation. It'd already been enough of a mess when John had decided that seven minutes surely equated the ten he'd promised Sam. You can't blame Bucky for distancing himself from the aftermath.

"That doesn't mean tha-" Sam argues, hand balling up into a fist on the table. "You shouldn't have had t-" he turns to you now, a much more gentle tone. Though for whatever reason, he stops himself short. Shaking his head, he looks over his shoulder at Zemo's unconscious figure with a frown before refocusing on you. "At least you did the right thing."

"We're pretty sure that John took care of Zemo considering we'd found him over both of you when we got there," Bucky explains upon returning.

"It's why we didn't immediately assume Zemo, even if I would've bet money on it," Sam adds.

You sip at the second glass of water you'd been given, not too enthused by Bucky's stoicism. Yet, when he plops back down in the chair he'd dragged before yours, both facing each other, he's folding a wet wash cloth. "Here," he offers. Despite whatever feelings are brewing within, you take the generosity.

When Zemo finally wakes, you've already caught up on everything that'd happened between Sam and Karli. The Baron's gasp elicits everyone's attention. It only takes a minute to get out of him that he'd been in the process of destroying all the Super Soldier Serum when John had apparently thrown his shield straight into the Baron's skull.

"Karma," you mutter, too out of it to fully smile, even if something more akin to a smirk displays itself on your lips.

Zemo doesn't respond for once, simple utterances of pained noises and groans escaping the man as he questions why you've been attended to, but he isn't. "After you knocked her out? I don't think so," Sam says, voice laced with incredulity.

"Even before that, yeah, it'd be a 'No'." Bucky adds, and you're not sure you entirely love that sentiment. "Guess you made it your mission to get everyone on your bad list, huh?" It's obviously a joke, you know that... yet there's something in you that contemplates his words.

Eyes shifting over toward the Baron for the second time since he'd regained consciousness, your eyes meet. There's an unspoken conversation between you; even in complete silence, telltale feelings are exchanged there. Within his hazel eyes is what you can only chalk up to a tacit question of: Is he right? There's a hint of something akin to sadness... what you'd hope is possibly regret, guilt, or an inkling of something apologetic.

Realistically, on the other hand, you know it's probably just your imagination filling in the absence of reasoning. On your end, you know there's similar feelings in yourself. The key difference is you know there's disappointment, betrayal, and hurt there, too.

It was only a fleeting moment, the eye contact, but you force yourself to close that door. Turning away, Bucky offers to get you something to eat while you attempt to relax and recuperate, lying on the window seat across the open floorplan. With that, he's off. In the tension of the room, with unspoken resentments, and disagreeing morals, another silence overtakes the apartment. Only this time, it's uncomfortable.

It's Zemo who breaks this silence. Even after he'd gotten up and poured himself a drink, along with grabbing his own wet washcloth, things hadn't lessened in their intensity. "Were you offered it?" The Baron prods. This captures your attention, though it's impossible to tell who he's asking. To make matters worse, the subject is still up in the air.

"What?" Sam responds, assuming it was for him.

"The serum," Zemo clarifies, before tacking your name onto it. "-the question extends to you as well." And you can feel his heedy stare on you.

"No," Sam answers definitively, and you can see a hint of amusement on his face from where you're lying. Understandably, it was an odd question. When you don't respond in tandem, Zemo seems to move on.

"If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you haven taken it?" The Baron takes it a step further.

"No." Sam's quick to say. There's a moment of silence, and you find your friend's gaze flicking up to you from his computer.

"No," you iterate, not having thought your response would be unobvious.

"No hesitation. That's impressive," Zemo compliments before you spot the washcloth move from his forehead, the Baron now alert. "You, however, hesitated," he points out.

"I'm tired of your questions," you bite, "that's why."

"Yet, you would consider taking it?" The Baron furthers, gaze intent on you across the room.

"Look, st-" Sam starts, attempting to pacify the friction. You'd already been drug into this because of Zemo's righteousness, and you're ready to pounce. "-op antagonizing her. You've already done enough."

"No. Being a hero is overrated," you admit, "I just wasn't expecting the question."

"I am not antagonizing," Zemo defends, something shifting in his eyes. A darkness you've begun to see more and more today, it seems.

"You knocked her out! I think you've done enough. She's on our side, and you had to go an-" Sam's interrupted.

"Karli was getting away! I could not let that happen," Zemo argues.

"Yet, you had to go and make things weird," Sam retorts, swiveling in his chair to fully face the Baron. "Fine." Hands up, it's clear he's unwilling to fight any longer. You also don't need him to fight on your behalf, but at this point you don't really want to entice more conversation from the Baron.

Zemo finally seems to accept your answers, as he sighs heavily. There's a 'tsk' followed by a shake of his head. "You two cannot hold out hope for Karli," he begins, "No matter what you saw in her. She's gone."

There's a big part of you that doesn't want to give him the floor to speak, the air to talk and spread his extremist ideals. Yet, there's another part that can understand what he's saying, and where he's coming from. Eyes flicking between the two men, it's clear Sam isn't going to interrupt, and if he isn't, you'd be damned to do so either.

"And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist." Zemo states it all with a confidence and pride that draws a heaviness to the air in the room. It's definitive, radical, and more than anything... dangerous.

All you can do is sit there, your mind drifting back to Bucky, to Steve. How easy is it to say such a thing when the one person in your group who this tirade revolves around is no longer present?

"Isn't that how gods talk?" Sam rebuttles. "And if that's how you feel, what about Bucky?" He'd taken the words right out of your mouth. Great minds think alike, you suppose. Yet, surprisingly, Zemo hasn't refuted anything so far. "Blood isn't always the solution."

The sound of a latch clicking signals the said Soldier's return. How funny, or coincidental... you're not sure which one. The man strides into the room stripping off his jacket. "Something's not right about Walker," he states. Always straight to business with this one, you think.

"You don't say," Sam quips sarcastically.

"He was a soldier," you point out with an amused breath.

"Hey," Sam says in a warning tone, eyeing you with his own mirth.

"Well, I know a crazy when I see one," Bucky comments, pouring himself a glass of something amber in nature. You can only assume it's whiskey. "Because I am crazy." Glancing toward you, it's unclear whether this joke--which you're not entirely sure it is--was due to your comment, or he's being sincere.

"Can't argue with that," Sam replies.

"Shouldn't have given him the shield," Bucky changes topics. You know what he means. John Walker is probably the antithesis of what America stands for, in your opinion. Or at least from what you'd seen of him, which, admittedly, was enough.

"I didn't give him the shield," Sam retorts, frustration ebbing into his tone as he stands from the table and heads over to confront the Soldier.

"Well, Steve definitely didn't," Bucky adds, sipping at his drink.

The sound of wood splitting and doors slamming resound loudly throughout the apartment. "All right," you know that voice, "That's it. Let's go!" It's John Walker. Speak of the Devil. "I'm now ordering you to turn him over," the Captain commands, pointing toward Zemo.

"Great, here we go again," you state annoyedly, no longer willing to hold back your judgmental thoughts. Though, the headache might have something to do with it, too. Sam immediately turns from his position at the counter, meeting the Captain and his friend halfway.

"Hey, slow your roll, Man," Sam encourages. "Let's be clear, shield or no shield the only thing you're runnin' in here is your mouth." He's never been one to sugarcoat things, that's for sure. While you'd sat up, you haven't moved from your spot on the couch at the back of the apartment.

While the men talk, you're completely aware of Zemo's movements. Carrying the decanter and his half-full glass toward you, the mental eye roll is threatening to present itself physically.

"Now, I had Karli and you overstepped," Sam continues, now pointing toward Zemo. "Now, he's actually proven himself useful today. We'll need all hands on deck for whatever's comin' next."

"How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?" John questions, an ominous tone in his voice that you don't like. And while it's hard to take your eyes off the sight before you, worried about how this'll all unfold, you glance over at Bucky. The Soldier is leaning against the counter, drink in hand. He must feel your stare as he meets your eye for a split second, and you know you're both curious and frustrated at how you're more than sure the conversation will play out.

John scoffs. "Yeah, should I put down the shield? Make it fair?" The amusement bleeding into his demeanor only irks you. While cockiness can be admirable on a man, there's also a fine line between prideful and egotistical. As Sam scoffs in response, John does exactly as he'd offered and puts his shield down against the pillar by the table.

"Holy shit!" You yell much louder than you'd intended. Jumping up out of instinct, there's now a spear embedded in the pillar where John's head had just been. Everyone's eyes fall to the woman who'd thrown it.

Yet, in the second you'd spotted her, there's two more similarly dressed women striding in through the apartment's open doors with spears in hand. You might not know much about the place or their customs, but you can guess they're the Wakandans. No one else speaks as the women stop just behind John and his friend, caging them in between your opposing groups.

One of them speaks up in a language you do not recognize. While you're unsure what they're saying, it's only when you look around at everyone that they say something in English. And that, you understand: "Release him to us now." It's a command, not a request. Their eyes fall onto Zemo who stands a few feet in front of you. Of course, you realize, he'd killed their leader... hadn't he?

"Hi," John says as he turns to greet them. "John Walker. Captain America," he introduces himself. "Well, let's uh, put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?" Oh no... what'd he just say?!

"Hey John," Sam warns, "take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje." And while there's a hint of amusement seeped in his tone, you know he's not joking. A glance over at the Soldier tells you that he's mentally preoccupied. For whatever reason, he won't meet their gazes. What's there? Because there's clearly some history you're unaware of.

"The Dora Milaje don't have jurisdiction here," John voices in a tone that you can only attribute to the condescension of when someone manplains something to women. So, this is the Dora that Bucky had talked about earlier, then.

"And you do?" The words fall past your lips before you can stop them. You're not sure where your sudden bravery came from, but you're unwilling to go back now. Sam and the women gaze at you momentarily, though while John doesn't divert his attention, you can see the way his hand balls up into a fist at his side.

"The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be," the woman replies in a cold and menacing tone. The clock is ticking again, and you know the countdown to a fight is fastly approaching. You can just feel it.

Regardless of whether or not what the women are describing sounds awfully similar to hitmen and vigilante justice, you don't question it. If even Sam thinks they're more of a threat than Bucky, you're concerned. Certainly not people to be trifled with. Even when the Soldier had mentioned them earlier himself, he'd sounded worried in his own way.

"Okay," John responds with a wry laugh, "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot." It's as if things happen in slow motion. You see John going in for a pat to her shoulder when she skirts out of his grasp and knocks his hand back with her spear in hand. Next she's hitting his forehead with it before kicking him backward into the spear already embedded into the pillar, effectively clotheslining him from behind.

That's when things flip. Suddenly, things are happening fast. John's on his stomach one second, then he has his shield. The woman does a flip over him, stabbing the shield before throwing her spear toward his friend. It almost hits his head, but another woman across the room catches it swiftly, swinging it around. The third woman is leaping over the couch and targeted on the Captain's friend.

Your heart is racing, adrenaline starting to kick in as you watch in trepidation. Zemo is standing there drinking, and Sam backs up to Bucky's side. "We should do something," Sam proposes. Yet, Bucky's still standing by the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Looking strong, John," he jokes.

Wordless, you watch as the Captain's friend is being strangled by one of the woman's spears, trapped in a chokehold, while the other approaches him with her own spear at the ready. Simultaneously, John is still fighting the other woman, until he's not. On his knee, John's faced with a spear aimed right at him. Both men are teetering on the edge.

"Bucky," you hear Sam shout warningly.

It's only then as the spear's coming down on John that Bucky steps in. He says something, but you're distracted by the way the Captain's friend is in a losing fight.

"Let's talk about this," Bucky offers. As Sam steps in to protect the other man, you spot the subtle shift of Zemo's head and the way he puts down his drink. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Taking off in the direction he'd looked, you run toward the bathroom, Zemo hot on your trail.

You both knock shoulders as you make it to the door. Slipping in, he bumps you out of the way as he turns and locks the doors. "What're you doing?" He questions, a frantic look in his eye.

"I don't know!" You admit, eyes quickly searching his own for something, anything.

"If you're not here to help me, you're in my way," he warns. There's something foreboding in his tone, yet you're also highly aware that he is giving you an opportunity. "Please do not make this harder than it needs to be."

"You gonna knock me out again?" You question, a stern look on your face. No longer will you play nice.

Zemo scoffs, shaking his head as he rounds the bathtub. "I did not mean to do that. I was trying to stall you," he explains. "Help me." As he places his hands on the tub and begins to push, you might curiously question what his aim is, even if somehow you subconsciously know.

And maybe it's the fool in you, the hopeless romantic, or the little girl that could only dream of romance, passion, even simply an adventure beyond the confines of a book... but you help him. Breath held tight in your chest, it burns as you both push the tub aside, only to uncover a manhole. It'd been easier than you'd thought, but it weighed a ton.

"Honest?" You finally ask, wanting to know if any of it was real, or all a manipulation. His one chance at something good before his ultimate reprisal in prison.

"Honest," he responds, tone much gentler and sincere. Reminiscent of that night. A softness overtakes his features as he stares down at you, and you can feel the vulnerability of everything shining through your irises back at him. "Even if we disagree on the method, I believe there is more in common between us than you'd ever care to admit to them."

"I know," you whisper, taking a step closer toward him. He doesn't retreat, but stays put, his hazel eyes searching yours for something, even if you're not quite sure what.

"Unfortunately, there was never going to be another outcome," he admits, "Otherwise, I would've liked to explore," he seems to struggle for the appropriate word, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, "this."

"Me too," you reply, a sadness building within your chest and making your face feel hot for some reason.

"I'm afraid this is goodbye, Liebling." With that, he stoops, angling your face upward to meet his lips. It's a firm, chaste press of your lips against one another. Your hands find his biceps, only for him to part from you. The hand that'd been on your cheek swiftly pushes your hair backward over your ear, fingers trailing through your hair.

"Goodbye, Helmut," you whisper, watching him retreat down the ladder of metal bars into the tunnel. There's one last look shared between the two of you before he takes off. His boots thud against the concrete, splashes echoing only for a moment before a loud crash elicits a gasp from you.

Turning toward the door, you brace for it to be knocked down, landing on your knees. There's a rush of wind, and you cover your face with your arm. "Where is he?!" Lowering your arm again, your stomach sinks with dread. It's her. The leader of the Dora Milaje.

"I- I don't-" you stutter, kneeling on the ground above the opened manhole.

"You let him-" she begins to accuse, twirling her spear in hand.

"I tried to stop him!" You yell in response. "He went that way." Pointing down the hole, you can only pray she doesn't kill you here and now.

"She's on our side," Bucky calls out, causing the woman to stop. Turning, she walks back out, expression unreadable. It sits somewhere between stoicism and anger, a look eerily similar to ones you've seen on Bucky. Maybe that's where he'd gotten it from. Just a thought.

"He is gone. Leave it," the Dora commands, striding toward where you know the apartment's front door is. The other Dora throws down the shield before following suit. A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you stare down the manhole, unsure what to think. You'd just helped an international terrorist escape custody. And he kissed you!

"Did you know they could do that?" You hear Sam ask. Finally turning your attention away from what'd just happened, you stand, dusting off your pants. While many thoughts and emotions run through your body, there'll be time to process what'd just happened later.

Watching Bucky reattach his arm to his body, your lips part in shock. It'd never crossed your mind, you hadn't even thought... "No," Bucky responds, a faint groan slipping past his lips as he moves his fingers, testing his arm, you suspect.

"You alright, man?" The Captain's friend asks as he comes to stand over John's shoulder, the man still kneeling where you assume he'd been beaten down. Slowly moving to the doorway of the bathroom, you try not to let your thoughts continue to cloud your mind.

"They weren't even Super Soldiers," John points out in a defeated tone. The man's practically despondent, and you can't necessarily blame him. For someone who's supposed to be Captain America, he got his ass whooped.

"That was my question, yeah," you add, quietly. It'd crossed your mind when you'd seen that woman flip so effortlessly into the air. Considering your mission and everything that's been going on, it only made sense.

"Come on," John's friend encourages him, helping the man up off the floor.

As both Bucky and Sam approach you, you turn sideways to allow them a view of the bathroom. "I can't believe he really had an escape hatch," you state. It's earnest, even if you might've aided in permitting the escape to take place.

"I can't believe he pulled an El Chapo," Sam comments, staring at the scene.

"I can," Bucky states in his usual stoicism. "Come on," he demands.

Out on the streets of Latvia, you have no clue where Bucky's leading you all, yet you aimlessly follow anyway. A sudden ringing elicits your attention, Sam has a phone call. While you can't hear what's being said, you try to piece together what's happening based off his response to it.

"She said what?! Right. Hold on, hold on, I know," he states firmly, "I know. Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys. I'll text you directions later."

"What happened?" Bucky asks, and while you both stare at Sam with concern, distress evident in his voice, you hadn't had the balls to ask.

"Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews," Sam responds before lifting the phone back up again. "Okay. Go somewhere safe, only pay cash. Alright? Let me know when you get there." There's a pause, Sarah obviously having concerns. "I know. Look, I love you. I'll never let anything happen to you or the boys, you know that. Okay. Bye."

As his phone call ends, Sam comes to a halt, the three of you stepping to the side of the sidewalk. "Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number," Sam states, lifting his phone again. This time you're able to see what's on his screen. It's a text exchange with an unknown number.

'This is Sam. Sarah told me you want to talk.' reads the sent text. A ping rings out as a reply comes through. 'The rooftop above North Plaza. Now. Come alone.'

"Crap," Sam curses under his breath. With a click of his phone the screen darkens and he tucks it back into his pocket. Finally raising his head again he turns his attention to you. "Look," he states your name, "I know things didn't exactly go as planned here, but I need a favor. Go to the airport, get on a plane, and head to Louisiana." He shakes his head slightly before putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I need Buck here, and I don't know exactly how this is all gonna go down, so, if you wouldn't mind checking on Sarah for me, I'll owe you one."

It's a request. Albeit, no true upward inflection to indicate so, but... a question nonetheless. One you can't really, nor would, decline. "Yeah, I'll go, make sure they're okay." Offering him a small smile, he mirrors it back.

"Just... stay with them, if you can, till I get back. I don't think it'll be more than a few days, and, please, God, don't tell Sarah I sent you. She'd have my head! Woman can take care of herself, Lord knows," Sam chuckles at the thought.

"Got it," you respond, smile widening at the thought. Sam had mentioned her a few times, so you'd heard a few great and funny stories. Meeting her in person though? That might be another thing. Regardless, if Sam is as good of a person as he is, then she'll probably be the same.

"I'll tell her you're coming, she'll be at the airport waiting," he assures you. With that, you hug the man before eyeing Bucky. The Soldier doesn't seem like the hugging type, but you offer him a smile and nod.

"Just... talk to her. End this, and... be safe, okay?" You beg, starting to walk backward away from them.

"We'll do our best," Bucky responds, a knowing smile on his lips. With that, it seems like your time in Latvia has come to an end. Onto the next thing. Louisiana, here you come!

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @penelopepine , @moonlightsolo

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove , @ashy-kit , @the-light-of-earendil

[bamsara]

do you mind? we're trying to have a pivotal moment of our relationship

[redrat-cheesy]

Well, for no actual reason, tf2 × Alice in Wonderland AU!!

also this ans this🤏

[mipexch]

just another part of the cycle

textless version <3

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

"He's behind you!"

This festive season, Archibald Haddock has partnered with Narwhal Theatre to bring over a beloved British holiday tradition - the pantomime! Expect ridiculous antics, magic, high camp and of course, live musical numbers. This year, Cinderella, played by Martine Vanderzande, will be rushing off to the hottest event of the decade - the Royal Ball! The Fairy Godmother shall be played by the stunning Bianca Castafiore. Book your tickets now, and hurry before the strike of midnight!

After returning from a disastrous stay in China, Tintin wonders if he has finally bitten off more than he can chew. In an effort to save a struggling theatre, Haddock and Ramo Nash have produced a panto of Cinderella to raise funds. Tintin accepts the offer to be stage manager, hoping that staying busy during the holiday would keep his mind off the heartbreak from Chang's family drama back in Shanghai.

Not only has he underestimated how difficult stage management is, he has to deal with friction between the cast members, his own relationship issues with Chang, and a mounting pile of violent threats from far right groups who are deeply offended with the production...

The show must go on!

Haddock wrote the script, and Ramo Nash is overseeing set, prop and costume designs. Casting Chang as Prince Charming and Martine as Cinderella was an easy choice for Haddock - as Chang and Martine used to go dancing all the time, they've become excellent dance partners. Martine could also really do with the extra income, as the museum is closed for a part of the holiday.

Filling the other roles was more challenging. Haddock reluctantly casts Castafiore as he hopes her star power will draw crowds. Nobody auditioned for the role of the evil stepmother, other than irritating insurance salesman Jolyon Wagg. Surprisingly to Haddock, Wagg is a powerful presence on stage, being very capable of camping it up for the audience. Ignorant to Haddock's seething hatred of him, Wagg wants to do this to entertain his large family!

After receiving death threats from local fascists, the actors playing the ugly stepsisters drop out, fearing for their own safety. The Thompsons are sent in to monitor the situation, deciding the best course of action is to play a part in the pantomime themselves.

Calculus and a couple of trainees are brought on as stage technicians, joining Tintin backstage. Tintin finds it difficult watching Chang dance with Martine, as it constantly reminds him of how his relationship with Chang must remain secret.

also yes, this poster is a reference to the poster for Tintin and the Blue Oranges

[lighthouse-guardian]

no one is safe we're sending the fucking cat to the battlefield

[lurukifennecfox]

aliens are planning an attack,

Amity park for whatever reason is in line of fire, She, Saint Amity the Little miss, City spirit on Amity park felt danger and made the wise decision to skedaddle. protect her citizens like the good city spirit she is.

the Amity parkers are confused but rolling with an impromptu field trip to the Zone.

the Aliens are confused.

the Justice league is confused.

a whole midwestern town just up and disappeared leaving behind nothing but a crater. what is odd is the former Amity parkers don't seem concerned, neither do families of the current residents that are missing with the town. they are acting as if nothing happened even seemingly able to communicate despite all Legues attempts to contact the town failing but they don't have time to investigate further because Aliens

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton let his FNAF trauma slip again…

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Four: The Morning After

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After yesterday's events, it's time to face a ghost from your past. The only problem is, you'd forgotten the Power Broker has a hit out on all of you. When things go sideways, what can you do?

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: Sexual Inferences, Traumatic Flashbacks, Gunfire, Raids, Death, Gory Descriptions, Violence, Existentialism, Guilt, Harsh Self-Judgment,

Mentions of: Talk of Morals, Life,

A/N: It's been awhile, but I love changing up what I'm writing on from time to time and whatever inspires me and doesn't leave me stuck is what I'm working on. I missed Zemo❤️

Slippers shuffling across the polished wooden floor, you revel in the--far too big--terry cloth bathrobe sleeves brushing the backs of your hands. Blasé as you flick on the electric kettle in the kitchen, the simple task of retrieving a mug from one of the cabinets and an accompanying teabag preoccupy your mind.

"Looks like you had fun last night." Sharon's voice elicits a jump as you startle. "Can't say I would've taken you for the type if I'm honest."

While you'd normally be offended any other time, the relaxed nature you'd acquired after sleeping in a warm plush bed luckily isn't as easily swayed. "What do you mean?" You ask, turning to her to in an attempt to gauge her meaning through her eyes.

Sharon gives you a once over, lips opening for a moment before they close. Having gotten out a tub of strawberries from the fancy bottom drawer of her refrigerator, she plucks one from the container. "All I'm saying is... I'd be careful if I were you." Her eyes shift to the table a few feet away before resettling on your figure. Strawberry lingering against her lips, you notice the faint smirk she dawns before she bites into the fruit.

"So... what's the plan?" Sam's groggy voice asks. With a clap of his hands together, he rubs them for a moment before taking a seat at the table just a few feet from the counter. It's only then that you notice you're not alone anymore. Sam sits at the table while Zemo browses the couple of magazines lying there. It's then that her comment dawns on you. Hiding your embarrassed blush behind your cup of tea, you can only hope and pray neither of them heard.

"I was thinking breakfast, then we can devise a plan for Nagel." Sharon posits with a confident air about her. "Please, help yourselves." Rummaging through her kitchen with ease, you tentatively work around her to find something for yourself.

"We cannot afford to delay too long," the Baron says. All the while he's not torn his gaze from the magazine he's picked up and is now flicking through. Part of you can't keep from ogling him; adorned in a matching white bathrobe, he must've found another. Surely that's why Sharon said something, no? Jumping to conclusions? There was no other plausible reason, right?

"Can't say no to that," Sam teases. Closing the laptop he'd only opened moments before, he slides it aside and stands to get himself something to eat. "A cup o' joe never hurt anyone."

"Best way to start off the day right," Bucky's sarcastic tone emanates from the hallway. As he turns the corner you can only hope he's joking. Seems like something he'd find funny. At least from the lack of acquaintance, that's what you'd guess.

"Most important meal of the day and all," Sam digs at him. With a hand gently encompassing your waist, he skirts past you in search of a mug. "You make coffee?" He asks no one in particular.

"No," Sharon responds. As she spreads cream cheese on her bagel, you debate having one yourself. When was the last time you had one? It's not something you'd typically have in your house, not to mention that these look to be high quality.

"Mm-mm," you reply. With your tea, you hadn't thought to make a pot of coffee. Even if you knew they might've wanted one, you wouldn't know where to start.

Halfway through breakfast, you can't help but feel your blissful demeanor start to slip as nerves begin to crawl toward the forefront of your mind. Surely with the fleeting time at hand, you'll be facing a ghost from your past sooner than you'd like.

"What else do we need? I managed to exhaust a connection last night. I found him; Nagel," Sharon informs you all. Running your fingers over the smooth surface of the grape you'd picked up from your plate, you simply listen to them discuss.

"Where is he?" Bucky asks. Dominant hand encapsulating his coffee mug, he doesn't take his eyes off the steam rising from the cup.

"You got earpieces? I can reroute them through my equipment and link us to a private channel for communication." Sam responds before taking a big bite of the bagel he'd gotten himself. It seems finishing off Sharon's bagels is something you'd all inadvertently tacitly decided.

"He's hiding out in the shipyard. I've got a container number here," Sharon answers as she fishes her phone out of her pocket. Placing it down on the table for all to see, she then tosses her crumpled up napkin onto her plate and stands to discard of her dishes. Zemo follows after her with his own.

Attention drawn to your heart thumping in your chest, you can't help yourself as the words slip from your mouth before you've settled on a way to phrase your thoughts. "Sam- I... I need to know what's expected of me before I go in there. Because I'm..." you hesitate, eyes drifting away from his face as you unconsciously bite your lip.

"Did you hear about the wrap party on Friday evening at Brian's place? I heard Janice is bringing her fiancé! We're finally going to meet him." Partially interrupted from the forms you're manually copying from the computer's formulas as security, the older woman leans on your desk, looming over you. "And for the record, everyone's allowed a plus one," she mentions in a sing-song voice. "Are you bringing someone?"

BOOM! It's the aftershock that jolts your writing hand, the calculations jagged. Screams sound throughout the dark lab as you're met with light shining from the direction of the crash. Looking to Denise you're met with her fearful expression. Eyes widened, lips parted in shock, there's blood running down the side of her temple as you stand from your chair. Gunfire echoes and pings off nearby surfaces as her body slumps on top of you, weighing you down. Pinned beneath her motionless body you try to push her off as black and white passes your vision over and over. It's them, the black regulatory shoes, the white lab coats. Your fellow coworkers, the people that've grown akin to family in the past eight months you've been working on this project, all scatter before your eyes.

"-I'm not doing that again. Okay?" Shoving the memories from your mind, your jaw tenses slightly as you try and figure out the plan.

"Doing what, exactly? You know the plan, we've just discussed the plan. You're either in or you're out, and quite frankly, we need you in," Sam argues. Staring you down across the table, he's got a stern look on his face.

"We don't. Still don't even know why she's here," Bucky mutters from beside him. Taking a sip of his coffee, he looks nonplussed about the entire situation at hand.

"Fine. I need you in. Got it?" Sam corrects himself. "You know more about this entire situation than any of us, and that's saying a hell of a lot with Cyborg over here."

A halfhearted chuckle escapes you, your lips twisting in thought. "So we go in there, we interrogate him? Because this is more of a question of build-up. I mean, there's not really the question of how, since we know he's capable, it was just a matter of time." You point out the real problem. "This is tracking back. Who's funding him? Where did he get the supplies and essentials for this? Because this isn't just some seventh grade science project shit! It requires equipment that costs thousands and thousands of dollars," you retort, unable to help yourself from getting louder as your fear and anger start to surface.

"He's working for the Power Broker, Sharon said," Sam reiterates. Placing your closed fist to your lips, your eyes flit around the table, lingering with each person for a moment. "Okay, so... what's the plan?"

"Arrest him. Get him out of the shop so he can't help anymore," Bucky butts in. Knowing him, however, the lie, or sarcasm--whichever it is--is easily detectable.

Lips curling inward, this is exactly what you were scared of. Head lowering for a moment, you can't help but look anywhere aside the table since no one seems to disagree. "Wow," you say, finally raising your gaze again. "Okay, this is exactly why I can't do this. I'm not going to jail."

"No one said-"

"He's sick! Alright? He's sick, but he's not- it's not like we're some evil scientists running around doing shit for... well, maybe he's doing it for the pleasure of it. Not really though since clearly he just wants namesake, but still-"

"Look, if you help us, you'll get pardoned. You won't have to keep hiding. Isn't that why you flew all the way to Germany?" Sam points out.

As silence overtakes the table and you find yourself lost in thought, it's the sudden movement before your face that tears you from your mind. Gloved hand finally dropping back to his side, you question the man with an acknowledging hum. "Hm?"

"I asked if you were done." Eyes wandering up to meet his face, you're met with a strange look from Bucky. With a subtle shake of your head to ground yourself, you reply with a simple nod and smile. The soldier takes your almost empty plate and heads toward the counter.

"You good?" Sam questions from across the table, his eyes on you. "You know I can't afford to lose you now. Not on this," he reminds.

Met with silence, this time it's Sam who breaks the eye contact as he sighs. He quietly says your name. "I can't promise you it won't end the same. I just can't... but you know what's at stake right now, and we can't lose this chance."

"But you get that this isn't just an infiltrate and demolish kind of deal, right? That's the mistake they made last time." You point out. Despite the worry etched across your face, Sam meets you with a look that can only, really, say one thing:

'Really?' A huff of breath leaves him as he tilts his head back a bit and sits up straighter. "You don't need to tell me twice. This is an infiltration and extraction," he assures you.

With that conversation over and your burden lifted from your shoulders, you feel able to continue with the plan. "Good."

"Here we go, then," Sam announces. Standing, he pats your shoulder as he, too, heads off to dispose of his dishes.

Dressed, ready to go, and thirty minutes later your boots stamp against the damp concrete as you follow Sharon through the stacked containers in the shipyard.

"Madripoor could give New York a run for its money," you hear Sam comment behind you.

"They know how to party," Zemo indulges his conversation. An amused smile threatens an appearance as it tugs at the corners of your lips. It seems Zemo's traveled a lot. You'd ask him about his experiences if only it were another time and place. Travelling is something you never had the luxury of doing, but always dreamed of.

Leading the pack, Sharon guides you as she references some tracker or map on her phone. "With that bounty on your head, the longer you're in Madripoor the less likely you're ever leaving." Her words loom ominously over your heads. While last night had managed to temporarily eradicate the reality of being hunted by the Power Broker, the reminder was needed. As she comes to a stop in the junction of four containers, she turns to face you all.

"All right, he's in there: Container 4261," she points out, "I'll keep an eye out while you talk to Nagel, but hurry, we're on borrowed time." Withdrawn from her pocket, she extends a handful of earpieces. As the men grab theirs, you take a deep breath and follow suit. You can do this, you remind yourself. Facing parts of your past may be dreadful, but in this case, there's no way to set things right without having to dive head first into it. There's no use running from it any longer.

Earpiece in place, you follow Sam as he marches right up to the container. He opens it without much trouble. When he doesn't go in, you step out from behind Bucky to see what's up. The container is dark and empty; there's no way that's right. With a look around, it doesn't seem like anyone's followed you, and Sharon said this was the right one. Either someone lied to her, or... there has to be something more.

"Hey, Sharon," Sam calls, testing the communication line. "You sure this is the right one? It's completely empty." As he stands in the doorway, you slink around him and enter the metal box.

"Positive," she confirms, "It has to be."

While it's dark, you can still make out the blank walls of the container. That is, until your light is blocked. You look back to see Sam and Zemo follow after you, yet the light is lacking now. With a faint click Zemo shines a flashlight, something you should've thought to bring. As he steps around you to delve further into the container, you search the side walls for any sort of clue or sign.

All of the sudden there's a loud creak. Stopped in your tracks, you whip your head around to find Zemo's eyes slightly widened and the back wall pushed in. It's a door! As everyone gauges each other upon this revelation, Zemo decides to push it open and see what's inside. With quick feet, you follow him. Before you can follow the set of stairs up and into the light, however, Sam stops the both of you.

Your friend takes the lead as he has his gun held up in a readied stance. A glance behind you shows that Bucky's done the same, his gaze behind himself to make sure you all aren't followed. With quiet and cautious steps, Sam's halfway up the stairs before Bucky pushes past you in pursuit. At the bottom of the stairs, Zemo simply lifts a gloved hand in a tacit gesture. 'Ladies first' you can only hope, gut twisting and turning at the terrifying alternative.

Fluorescent light illuminates your group as you make your way into the laboratory. 'You know I'm waitin' here for you~' Music plays loudly throughout the container and you can't help but wonder how this man possibly thought it was a good idea. Wouldn't he be ready for something like this? It's that thought that instantly has you recoiling into yourself mentally. You weren't expecting it. None of you were when the SWAT raided that lab. 'Comin' home, baby, now. You don't know what I'm goin' through~'

As you all spread out, you find yourself lagging behind as you're more interested on the setup rather than the man. After all, this... is some authentic tech. An actual laboratory, an expensive one at that. Eyes running over the grow lights, the centrifuges, melting point actuator, it's clear there's more than meets the eye.

Suddenly the music stops. "Doctor Nagel?" Sam's voice calls out.

"Who are you? What do you want?" That familiar nasally voice responds. The creeps run up your spine and elicit a shiver from you.

"We know you created the super-soldier serum," Sam states.

"Get out of my lab," Nagel responds. As you contemplate approaching and interfering, the sound of footsteps makes you halt.

"Hey!" You hear Sam call out. He's trying to flee, your anxious mind worries. He doesn't really think you'll just let him go... does he? As the footsteps cease, you gauge Bucky, the closest person to you. "You know who he is, right?" The soldier's gaze is focused on something, and you realize Nagel has to be right behind the corner, a machine blocking your view of one another. There's no response. "This is Baron Zemo. I know you've heard of him, too, right?"

Someone stumbles a couple feet before you; it only takes a split-second to recognize it's Nagel. "You seem like a pretty smart guy," Sam compliments, "So you better become conversational real quick." It's then you notice how your friend has a hand wrapped around Nagel's bicep. With a shove of him into the metallic wall, the scientist turns.

Unfortunately for you, Zemo had taken it upon himself to insert himself between you and Sam. He clearly wants a piece of Nagel. You're still blocked from view though, unable to determine what exactly is going on. "How about a counter proposal?" Nagel barters. As you step out from Zemo's shadow and get closer to Sam is when it happens. He sees you; there's a faint look of recognition in his eyes, a parting of his lips, and a slight furrow of his brow. "Make me a better offer and I'll talk."

Despite your past, your presence doesn't deter him. He's far gone. The creepy and nihilistic man you once knew is now completely devoid of any self-preserving instinct. "Guys, we have company," Sharon's voice warns through the earpiece.

All the sudden it seems like Bucky's had enough. With a sturdy hand he grabs Nagel by the shirt before tugging him closer. Shifting his hand onto his collar he guides the weak man toward an empty chair before forcing him into it. Never straying the gun from its target--his head--Bucky intimidates him. "You're with these guys?" He questions, spitting in your direction as his eyes draw in on you, narrowing with contempt. "Who's to say you weren't the little rat all those years ago?" A vile laugh emanates from the man as he throws his head back.

Jaw clenching, hands balling up into fists, you internally writhe in the anger he's stirring up. Someone might have spilled the project's secret contents to the Government, but it certainly wasn't you. That information would cost most of your coworkers their lives, and leave the rest scarred, scared, and forever fleeing from the fed's eyes in search of security and home. You'd never betray your family like that. Never, not even for reward.

"Every bounty hunter in the city is here-" Sharon's voice comes through again. "We gotta go!"

The metallic echo of a round piercing the wall somewhere behind Nagel elicits a gasp from both you and said weasel of a man. Bucky doesn't even need say anything to intimidate him. "Okay! Okay, I was brought into HYDRA's Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia." Despite his clear fear shown in not meeting any of your eyes, Nagel starts to gain confidence as he takes his time. "When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA, as you know." Eerie blue eyes settle on you as he speaks.

"They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I recreated it on my own. Without any of you. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do."

The monotonous tone of his voice starts to wear on you, and despite knowing what he's talking about, you don't dare interrupt him when he's on a roll and bound to spill something. Anything. And it doesn't just seem to be you, either, as Zemo turns his back on him, beginning to walk around the lab analyzing the environment.

"But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect," Nagel brags.

"How have we never heard about this?" Sam's voice is quiet in comparison as everyone's eyes turn to him momentarily.

"You haven't?" Nagel's questioning look toward Sam turns into a glare as he hones back in on you. "You haven't," he repeats, a slight shake of his head. One that almost reminisces of disapproval. "Because..." He begins to answer Sam's query. "Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fun the recreation of my work."

Just like any other day in your office--a laboratory--nothing was unordinary. Of course, you knew of the tensions in the East, and while things had been on and off going for years now, the presence of aliens that day would have made things known earlier, if only you all hadn't been shut inside work with your faces buried in the business you were hired to do. Regardless... even if you knew what was coming, was there anything you could do to change the way things would inevitably unfold? No.

While the Avengers might have been off fighting on your worlds' behalf somewhere in the East, you were busy doing what you could too. Had you realized your employer's intentions from the beginning, would it have changed things? Perhaps. But you can't go back and change time.

It happened in an instant; the gasps and crashes of different equipment dropping all around you had the group of you in panic. Looks around only left the lot of you puzzled and in distress as your coworkers and friends began crumbling before your vision into what could only be described as a powdery dust.

Wilfred Nagel was one of them. It was probably the only time you'd seen any notion of some tell in emotion on his face.

Eyes widened in fear as the beaker fell through his disintegrated hand, both of your attention shifted from the broken glass up to one another's faces. Despite being across the room from one another, the utter look of despair, distraught, and utter horror behind his irises had him seeking out help. You were frozen in place, stock still, as whatever it was continued to consume his body rapidly in an eerie, silent, and fast pace. His lips parted as he tried to say something... but by then it was too late. The last of it eviscerated his face and dissolved the man right before your very eyes. It was the last time you'd ever see him.

Or so you thought.

"How many vials did you make?" Sam prods, attempting to get the facts.

"Twenty," Nagel answers. The lack of emotion or concern on his face only causes dread to further sink in the pit of your stomach. He'd already been frighteningly stoic when you'd first met the man upon hire, but this... this feels as though he came back vile, with any sort of remorse he'd held out for humanity wiped clean. Revenge consumed him whole, and now he was nothing but a shell of the man he used to be.

"You didn't!" You exclaim, brows furrowed in shock.

"Karli Morgenthau stole those, so... I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl." The lack of remorse, the apathetic speak of logical contemplation leaves you angered.

"Where's Karli now?" Sam interrogates.

"I don't know where she is, but a couple days ago she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis," Nagel explains.

"And you didn't. Did you?" You poke at him, no longer able to hide your equal contempt for the man.

"-Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that," he continues.

"Well, what happened to her?" Sam asks, clearly unamused by the need to continue prodding for information that's clearly relevant.

"Not my pig, not my farm," Nagel answers. A sneer displays itself across your face and you can't keep yourself from turning on him. It's one thing to be a scientist, to understand many of the mechanics that make up life... but it's another to be heartless and cruel. To not help those in need? Those without the capabilities, knowledge, or necessities? And after the Snap? When so many suffered. You'd seen how people rallied together, how humanity actually felt like it meant something again, and now? Now it's like none of that ever mattered anymore.

"Is there any serum in this lab?" Bucky questions, finally putting his hat in the ring. It only takes a moment of silence for the soldier to press the barrel of his pistol into Nagel's temple. Whatever apathy had been there before is now replaced with fear again. Clearly, he has the ability to feel something.

"No," Nagel answers.

"Now what?" Bucky asks. Both of you look toward Sam as he'd been the one leading this plan originally.

Just then you spot someone run in. "Guys, we're seriously outta time here-" Sharon exclaims. A gunshot rings out. You jump, body going rigid. "No!" You hear Sam yell, motion on either side of you as you hear the shuffle and bang of someone shoved into the container's wall. Eyes settled on Nagel's body lying on the floor, blood pooling from his chest out onto the pristine floor. It stains his shirt, the dark red bleeding into the blue fabric and turning it a dark sort of maroon. You can't bring yourself to look away.

"What did you do?" Sharon urges.

Boom! You're thrown to the floor, heat burning your backside as a weight lies heavy across your side. An alarm blares throughout the lab and groans emanate from across the aisle. You don't know when you closed your eyes, but upon opening them you're met with Bucky's stoic expression. Eyes searching one another's momentarily his blue eyes scan you before he's pushing himself up and off you.

"You okay?" The soldier asks. All you can do is nod.

It'd all happened so fast.

He'd saved you; having pushed you out of the way he must've landed on you partially. It all happened so fast. As the soldier pushes himself back up onto his feet you can see the fire roaring behind him. What the fuck happened? There was nothing that should've caused an explosion like that. At least... nothing you saw.

The alarm is loud, yet the clinking of vials and test tubes rattling in their sets are ominous in a way that immediately sets you into flight mode. There are chemicals and compounds here that will cause a secondary explosion any second now. Reality set in, you immediately follow Bucky's lead as you push yourself up, uncaring of the glass shards that may imbed themself in your palms. Glass crunches beneath your boots as you stumble, and there's a faint hissing that reminds you of the kettle this morning. Only you know this is far more dangerous.

"Anybody see Zemo?" Sam's voice calls out. You hardly make it out as the alarm drowns him out, yet you heard him just barely. You'd seen it. In your peripheral you'd seen something fly by in the corridor. It had to be Zemo. That's the only explanation that makes sense. With Sam's concern in your mind, you can only think of one thing to do.

You take off after Zemo.

"Let's go!" It's Bucky's voice. He's got them, Sharon and Bucky; he'd never leave them behind, from everything you know about him, and even if he did- they're more than capable of taking care of themselves.

You've barely caught up. The tail of his expensive coat is all you're chasing. Rounding one corner and then the next, you follow him blindly through the shipyard. Boot-clad feet stomp against the pavement in matching strides as you chase after him. "Stop!" You yell. "Stop running!" You refuse to let him get away.

Surprisingly, it works. Zemo comes to a halt and lingers for a moment as you close the distance between you. Finally a matter of an arm's length away, you don't know what you'll do to subdue him and stop him from running off again, but you're not thinking straight. He's suddenly turning toward you. "I'm not letting you-" the rest of your sentence is muffled under his glove. Pressed up against the closest container, Zemo stares down at you with ferocity in his eyes and his leather glove covering your mouth. Surprise quickly turns to understanding in your eyes as his tacit request is met. Be quiet.

The sound of thudding footfall approaching comes to a stop and you realize that your yelling might've drawn unwanted attention. Metallic pings resound in the distance from ricocheted fire and you know that the fight is going on back where you'd come from. It's a matter of moments before the thudding returns and you both listen to the bounty hunters run on the other side of the container toward the commotion.

Pushing his gloved hand off your mouth, you glare up at him. "I'm not letting you get away," you scold him in a whisper.

"I'm not running away," Zemo bites back at the same volume. With a look around he slowly steps back before returning his gaze down to you. "Follow me. Stay close."

The Baron takes off again, this time with you close behind. You round a container only to be met with two men wielding guns; where you halt, Zemo has no hesitation and charges into one of them. He knocks the shoulder of one, his hands going to the gun and trying to disarm him. It's then that you notice the other raising the gun at you. Jumping aside, you feel something graze your bicep as a whiz resounds beside you. Heart accelerating rapidly, you're left scrambling to your feet when you find yourself towered over. Who it is? You can't tell fast enough as you're being kicked back onto your butt, pain spreading through your stomach. As you look up at your attacker, you find he's being pulled backward by Zemo, effectively taking the man by surprise as the gun drops.

The other bounty hunter is slumped against the nearest container with blood dripping from his temple. "Ack!" The pained noise elicited from Zemo captures you're attention and you're reaching for the gun that'd clattered onto the pavement. Luckily it didn't go off- not that you have time to think on it now. In a tangle of bodies, the two men are still wrestling one another. With a slow lift of the gun, you're aiming it, finger hovering over the trigger.

Eyes drawn to the movement of the man's hands into his pockets retrieving a switchblade, you can't breathe as the juxtaposition of Zemo finally trapping him in a headlock does nothing. He's going to get stabbed. Bang! Smoke trickles from the chamber as you stand there, watching as the man's body falls limp, the dot of red on his shirt beginning to pool. "Good," Zemo praises, shrugging the body out of his hands and onto the pavement. "I doubted you had it in you for a moment there," he chuckles to himself as he dusts off his gloves.

Stepping over the body, he approaches, lifting your hands into his own as he presses the gun back into them upon spotting you attempting to dispose of it. "Take this." Pistol shoved back into your hands, you quickly right it and do as you've seen in your limited exposure and on tv. "You will need it."

There's no words coming out. Nothing you can say to stop the pit in your stomach from deepening. You might not have time to think on the precarious thoughts tempting to take center stage, yet you know you can't let yourself do so. "We need higher ground," he mutters. With a final look around he sets off. Vaulting himself onto the stack of barrels and pallets at the other end of the container, he gains leverage to climb atop. You follow suit.

"You're supposed to follow me!" Sam yells.

"And where are we now?" Bucky counters.

You can hear them arguing even from here. Wherever here is. While the Baron might take big strides resulting in the obvious clank, clank, clank of his boots against the metal, you take quieter more cautious steps. He retrieves something from his pockets, and it's only as he tugs it over his head you realize it's a mask. Why though? You're unsure. As you rear closer you can see he was right: you have a better vantage point from here. Worry washes over you as you spot your friends trapped under a shipping container with people approaching on either side.

Without warning, Zemo aims and shoots a pipe a few meters away. Boom! In a fiery explosion you watch as a group of bounty hunters going after your friends burn. They're down. The Baron takes the lead as he jumps down onto the adjacent container and launches himself off that one down onto the concrete.

Dodging one man's advances, the Baron shoots the attacker's partner before spinning, using that same man as a shield to shoot another bounty hunter approaching from the container to your right.

Still standing atop the container, you watch as some more people file in from the left. They're in a blocked viewpoint from your friends. Crouching, you vault yourself off the container and ignore the pain that shoots up your shins as you try to catch the attackers off guard. Gun aimed before you, the first man walks out into the open before you shoot him. Pop! Pop! Pop! One man down. Two to go. The next two emerge, one darting for their friend in an attempt to save him. You take that opportunity to shoot. He's injured, but not dead yet when you feel something whiz by you. The third man, who'd taken your opportunity to his advantage is coming for you! Another bang comes from behind and you find yourself cowering, hands covering your head as you realize someone is shooting at you too! You're screwed.

The advancing man coughs, however, blood sputtering at his lips as he comes to a halt. With a shaky hand he lifts it to his stomach before you turn and see that it wasn't someone out to get you... but was someone protecting you? It was Zemo... and knowing him, you'd sooner guess that he was simply finishing the job so your friends can make a quick exit.

You watch as Buck leads Sharon and Sam down an aisle. With a quick look between the two, Zemo's closer. While you've been left behind, you chase after the Baron who's only a few feet ahead of you. Every few feet he slows down, head turning this way and that as you eventually realize he's reading the numbers on the shipping containers. While you have no idea why, you don't question him. He turns a corner and stops. Opening the latch, he spots you in his peripheral as he turns his head and waves you closer. "Get in."

While it's almost pitch black inside as the shipping containers parallel this one are stacked high enough to block out most of the sun, you can see the shadow of a large object. Gently guiding you further inside, there's a faint click before the container is illuminated. His flashlight, right. Why hadn't you thought of one of those? Or better yet, why didn't Sam, for God's sake? You'd think someone with more experience would've guessed what we were up against beforehand.

Lips parting in awe, you can't help but ogle the car for a moment as you don't think you've ever had the luxury of being in a convertible. "Hello," Zemo practically purrs, and you're more than sure it's for the car. After having seen his little collection back in Germany, it's clear he has a thing for them. "Ladies first," he teases. This time you know it's toward you, and while the car is pressed up against one of the walls of the container, it makes getting in the passenger's seat difficult. With that in mind, you simply opt for the back. Climbing in behind Zemo as he takes the driver's seat, you meet his eye in the rearview mirror as he adjusts it. "Like what you see?"

"Can't say you don't have taste," you joke. With that, you're out of there. The wind whips around you, and you're suddenly thankful you'd tied it back this morning as the car expertly swerves and maneuvers the crates. The car eventually rolls to a stop just before your friends. "Supercharged," Zemo touts, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips.

"You're going back to jail," Sam states, clearly unamused. You hadn't even had time to think about how Zemo found them before the banter began. Geez.

"Do you want to find Karli or not?" Zemo asks, trying to ration with him. An eyebrow quirked, you all wait for their response.

"He's right. We need him. There's two of us and at least twenty of them," Bucky defends. Opening the passenger side door, he climbs in. Sam opts for the back seat beside you. Any other time you might be offended that Bucky hadn't included you in the count, however you're sure he sees you more as a Bioengineer than a Fighter.

"Fine, but if you try that shit again," Sam warns, still eyeing Zemo skeptically.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Zemo quips smoothly. With a shake of your head and a roll of your eyes, you decide to chime in.

"Hey, at least I didn't let him get away," you point out. If there's anything you accomplished today, it was that.

"I saw that," Sam acknowledges, a chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head with a reluctant smile on his face.

"Well, that was one hell of a reunion," Sharon comments as she shuts the back seat door. Wait. She's not coming?

"Come back to the States with us," Sam offers in an attempt to persuade her.

"I told you, I can't. Just get me that pardon you promised me," she responds. With that, she's headed in the direction you'd come from. Fortunately, you know that you'd gotten every bounty hunter you'd come across. She should be alright, she can clearly handle herself. At least, that's what you tell yourself out of comfort.

"Thanks for everything," Sam calls after her. Sliding down into his seat, he turns his sight toward the seat in front of him. Where Bucky sits. "You're not gonna move your seat up, are you?"

"No," the soldier responds without hesitation. This elicits a chuckle on your behalf, though a pointed look from Sam is all it takes for you to pull your attention elsewhere.

--------

While you were out of leads and aboard Zemo's private jet once more, you have no idea where it's taking you all. Did Sam really intend on returning to the US and harboring a fugitive? Were you going to give up and just go home? The morose thoughts had consumed you since you'd gotten to safe space.

Eyes on Madripoor's city lights disappearing under the settling fog over the island, you can't help the incessant bouncing of your knee as worry brews within you. The recent memories of shooting those men in the shipyard gnaw at your moral scale; you may have never been directly involved with the Avengers, or your friend's antics, but that doesn't mean you hadn't done bad things in life. Yet... taking someone's life? That's on an entirely different scale, you fear. Sure, you could argue that they were after you and it was a matter of self defense, yes... but was it? Couldn't you have taken them out some other way? Rendered them unconscious?

Nevertheless, there's no point in arguing the different ways today could've unfolded when there's no way to change what happened. It doesn't change things. You killed two people, aided and abetted in more deaths. That's blood on your hands, something that despite the physical act of washing them of their blood, will never truly rid them of the true sentiment.

You can spot Zemo drying his hands off on a towel as he heads toward the galley in your peripheral, Sam pacing the short distance of the aisle repeatedly as he'd picked up a call you can only assume is business related.

"Donya Madani. She's a refugee, yeah," Sam explains over the phone. His voice stirs you from your internal war, the recipient on the other end must be done talking for now.

"I still don't understand how you can get service up here," you mutter jokingly to yourself. "Always thought the plane was supposed to explode or some shit if that happened." Head leant back against the jet's leather seat, you turn your attention onto Sam, watching him pace.

At this point you can deduce who's on the other end of the line. Joaquin must say something as Sam quiets again, the cabin silent for another moment, the only sound being that of the wind passing by the windows and the simultaneous quiet roar of the jet's engine.

"Okay. Call me if you get a hit," Sam instructs. Heart leaping in your chest, you know he's about to hang up.

"Say 'hi' for me, please!" You shout, not wanting Sam to ignore you, and to miss this opportunity. Joaquin's been your best friend since you were kids, after all, and you miss him. If today had shown you anything, it's that you weren't the only ones after the serum, and there were people willing to kill in order to protect it. Tomorrow is not guaranteed by any means.

"Thanks, Torres," Sam responds after another moment. "Oh, and-" Sam says your name, "says 'hi'." A light-hearted and audible huff of breath leaves the man as he plops back into his seat. "He says 'hi' back for the record." There's a tired smile on your lips as Sam releases a sigh. It's clear that exhaustion has consumed your group for the time being and rest is needed.

"You okay?" Bucky speaks up, turning his head toward your friend.

"Yeah," Sam responds, though it doesn't sound entirely convincing. "Just thinkin about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American Test Subject like Isaiah wasn't even a real person." The Avenger sits up, turning to face the soldier. Your lips curl inward in a grimace as guilt sits heavy on your chest. Hopefully, Sam doesn't think of you the same.

There was a reason Nagel referred to 'Isaiah' like that. And while you might only just be learning the name of the test subject yourself, you have no idea of his background. The government did it on purpose. Most clinics do it intentionally; it's a way to keep things isolated and somewhat confidential. Almost like a doctor's confidentiality agreement. The government may know the details concerning Isaiah's specimen, but you, the scientists handling it were never to know.

And you know the only reason is to cover up America's hands getting dirty.

While you'd drifted into your own thoughts again while the boys were talking, you finally manage to tune back in. Whether they know the circumstances of your employment or not isn't really necessary at the moment.

"But maybe I made a mistake," Sam says. Though you're now lost as to what the topic's about.

"You did," Bucky agrees.

"Yeah," Sam continues, "Maybe I shouldn't have put it in a museum, maybe I should have destroyed it."

The shield. That damned thing, that's what this is about. Garnering your attention, you can't help but eavesdrop. Albeit, you're sure they know considering it's a small space. Not that you'd ever divulge any sensitive information if it were to come out.

"Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me," Bucky points out. "The world is upside down, we need a new Cap, and it ain't gonna be Walker, so before you destroy it, I'll take it from him myself."

You wonder what Bucky's plan is, and how exactly he determines to do that... but you also know it's not your place to ask. It certainly isn't the time either, considering all of your emotional states. Just as the buzzing of someone's cellphone chimes throughout the cabin, Zemo returns. Plate in hand, he wordlessly offers you it. Dinner, you suppose.

"Thanks," you graciously respond while taking the plate into your hands and place it across your lap. A silent nod of his head, you take that as the closest thing to 'you're welcome' that you'll receive.

"Yeah?" Sam says. "Yeah... yeah. Okay." The boys, focused on the call, Sam listening while Bucky stares, as if trying to read the man and figure out what's going on before Sam can say, Zemo returns again. Two plates in his hands this time, he offers the men dinner as well. "Thanks, good work." As the Baron takes a seat beside the men, you all wait intently for whatever news it is Sam's gotten. "They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea."

Sat in contemplation upon the revelation, Zemo suddenly points his finger, the motion catching your eye. "I have a place we can go," he announces. While none of you question it, you can't help but wonder about it. How many places does he have? And where? All across the globe? How long does his contact list go, exactly? Yet, the Baron sits back in his seat, an unreadable expression across his face. "I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli." As you all process the change in plans, Zemo speaks up again. "Oeznik, we're changing the course."

--------

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @jynzandtonic , @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @penelopepine

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove , @ashy-kit

[insertsomthinawesome]

You crimed in the wrong neighborhood. Unfinished, but at the moment I'm unlikely to actually finish it, and I quite like it how it is!

[No Romance Included]

[racingwest]

i think it's pretty clear who's who

[oxygen-stealer]

Ultratober 2024 // 23-25 different genre

I think ultkill would probably make a really good basis for an analog horror. This specifically was based of the monument mythos because I love that fuckin series.

[strawberrij-art]

THE DAY YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!! IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!

Thespius Green: A Fashion Zine is now available...

free to view here in Canva,

and free to download here on itch.io!

Special shoutout to @scribblelimbo for all his incredible help and wisdom in making & formatting & publishing the zine, to @jathis for all their wonderful support throughout this process spreading the word and gathering submissions, and to EVERYBODY who submitted their artwork! You made this community project possible!

Also a wild coincidence, but happy birthday to Yugo Limbo!! wow!!!!!!

Thank you SO SO MUCH to everyone that participated!!! please check out the credits below :]

@treefory, @wishgraanted, @brainman1987, @fr00t-snacc, @sweetberry-roebuck, @theyouthjester, @modmad, @determunition, @bluedendroica, @upperstories, @maarshmint, @cheveronya, @payasita, @tazeralien, @superyokaigamer, @organchaos, @zooterscooter, @hug-monster, @dendixia, @ejsmith145, @coffinshaped, @scribblelimbo, @toonilumi, @m-0-l-0-t-0-v, @beastwhimsy, @thegroveofgreatgods, @echobsilly, @zzapnel, @a-demifish, @voidedtea, @gwinver-art, @sunflower-dreamboat, @skettihair, @cozyghostly, @kovvskii, @mochis-hideout, @poke-a-dork, @taropancakesys, @artscheese, @blorpberry, @thehedgehogarts, @michaels-reality, @inspektalover, @tarot-the-silly-one, @citrussillies, @whirlwindwonderland, @alpoocka, @clickety-clacker, @voxymoxyboxy, @deedee-sunflowers, @voidvendetta, @octobobble, @malartsorte, @aroundclown2, @4cyberdreamz, @aces-and-ashes, @chirpy-chase, @gummyshork, @sootnuki, @plutoons, @orderforbrian, @soupsnspoons, @cyberscraps, @vintage-dummy, @pespillo, @amber-chickadee, @lizorbblizzorb, @souppotat, @nachogoobus

[pirouetten]

[chillfaerie]

POV: You're doing the Duets quests and he shows you this

[burninblood]

Thunderbolts* (2025) end credits

(Thanks to Mcu portal on fb)