"I've got eyes on the target. Heading northwest, twenty meters from the rendezvous, navy windbreaker and-" Natasha's voice muttered over the open line.
"I see him. Ugliest brown loafers." Sam makes a noise of disgust. "Like, dog shit brown."
"Everyone know their objectives?"
"Roger, Roger's."
"Gotcha, Cap."
Steve half listened to the rest of the chorus of affirmatives, half glancing to his right.
"You ready for this, Bucky?"
"You ask me that everytime, Stevie." Bucky readjusts his grip on his rifle. Stark built, lighter than he was used to. "The answer hasn't changed."
"And I'll keep asking." Steve smiles at the slight huff and the small upturn of lips his friend gave. "Objective?" Bucky's slight smile dropped.
"Eyes on target, stun or incapacitate, retrieve the hard drive ." His stoic expression and flat voice made the hairs on the back of Steve's neck bristle. Bucky had come so far, but there were times when he was too much like...
"Target at rendezvous."
"Let's go."
.
.
.
Wars are fought, and largely won or lost, by information.
And their information was faulty.
The mission was going to shit.
Civilians were scattering, or hiding where they could, just barely managing to avoid the crossfire.
The remnants of HYDRA were just as fanatic as always, fighting like cornered wild animals, with no cares of the casualties in their wake. It made the teams job all the harder.
There were scores more than the Intel said, some in plain clothes.
It was a trap.
Bucky watched Stevie's six, protecting his back.
Then over the headset, he heard a barked curse.
"What is he holding?"
Bucky head whipped around, trying to find what Sam could see.
The world flashed. His ears rang. His head ached.
Hands gripped his tac-vest.
"-cky! Bucky!" His swimming vision cleared, and there was his Captain, standing above him, pulling him up to his feet. "Fall back! Handle the civilians, get them to safety!" Shot's rang out, and Bucky managed to grab his rifle, raising it to take down the assailant. The Captain raised a shield, blocking the projectiles.
"That's an order, soldier! Move!" The Captain pushed him, and he obeyed the order, ignoring the blinding pain and sprinting from the rubble. Bodies lay unmoving. Dead. In his ears was staticky communication, garbled words mixing with the orders repeating in his head.
Fall back. Handle civilians. Get them to safety.
Bullets flew past him, he raised his gun, dispatching the assailants. His vision wavered and swooped. Something was falling into his eyes.
Fall back. Handle civilians. Get them to safety.
Movement to his left. He raised his gun, ready to take down the threat. His head felt like it was splitting.
Fall back. Handle civilian safety.
No weapons. Leg injured. Shrapnel. Through and through. Pupils blow wide. In shock.
Fall back. Handle safety.
He surged forward, using his robotic arm to grab her, her scream mixing with the ringing in his ears, the static of the ear piece, the sounds of war, the orders he was given.
He ran from the battle.
Fall back. Handlers Safety.
That's an order, Soldat.
.
.
.
Pain.
Someone grabbed her.
Ears ringing.
Nausea.
She was held, movement jostling her.
She blinked and the world was dark.
Trees.
Movement jostling her.
She blinked and she was lying down.
Her leg was on fire.
A grip held her down.
She blinked again.
.
.
.
Pain woke her up. A deep throbbing pain in her leg. Not like a day of riding. Not like a day of work on the farm. Not like any she could remember before.
She cried out involuntarily when she tried to move, barely a twitch, and the pain doubled, shooting up her thigh and down to her calf.
She didn't know when she'd opened her eyes, but she grabbed a threadbare blanket and pulled it back. Her pants were gone, red stained guaze wrapped her right thigh, just above the knee.
She couldn't remember what happened.
She remembered the family vacation. A long flight from the Appalachia's to California. A cruise she and her family had saved up for years, down to Tijuana and back, then a road trip home, just like the old days. An unconventional family reunion, the planned caravan splitting off as cousins and siblings and others drove through their home states.
They'd stopped at a port town, a day excursion to play tourist and buy overpriced trinkets.
She'd stayed behind an hour longer to peruse the shops.
An explosion.
An explosion!
Fractured memories of her back hitting a wall, and that pain in her leg.
Her breathing became erratic as the pain in her leg reared up, her panic making her tense.
A hand was Infront of her now, outstretched with a trio of pills sitting in the gloved palm.
She looked up, and shrieked.
The man's impassive face was covered in blood. A large gun in his free hand.
She tried to scramble away, but lost her breathe and strength when her retreat twisted her leg. She'd never had pain like this.
He didn't react to he scream, his eyes trained unerring on her, his face blank and unexpressive.
"Who are you?!" It was supposed to be demanding, but pain made it breathy and weak.
"Aktiv." There was an accent she couldn't place.
"Where am I? What happened?" She looked past him briefly, and saw a ramshackle room filled with dust. This wasn't a hospital, and he certainly wasn't a nurse.
"Bezopasnyy dom. Proizoshel vzryv." The man said, and she felt tears burn her eyes from fear, and pain, and confusion.
"I don't understand what you're saying!" She was finally able to put feeling into her words, despite the pain. The man blinked once, gave a short dip of his head, a nod, and spoke again.
"Safe house. There was an explosion." Perfect English. He could speak English! That's good!
"Why am I here, and not in the hospital?"
"Orders."
"From who?!"
"The Captain." She sneered in frustration.
"That doesn't explain anything!" She noticed his hand had yet to retreat, the mystery pills still held in his gloved hand, the arm not even shaking. "What are those?"
"Pain suppressants. Antibiotics." There was no inflection in his voice.
"Oh sure, go against everything I've been taught and take candy from strange men!" He didn't react, didn't move. He just kept staring at her. "What were your 'orders'?" She raised a hand, making air quotes, and his gaze very briefly watched the movement, before locking back onto her.
"Fall back. Handler's safety."
"Okay, big guy, imma need you to explain! I don't understand!" Tears fell, from pain and frustration.
"The Asset was tasked by The Captain to retreat and ensure The Handler's safety." She gestured with her free hand, rolling it in the air for him to continue. "The Handler had shrapnel in right thigh. The Asset retreated to safe house, removed the shrapnel and stitched the injury. The Handler has been asleep eighteen hours."
"Wait, wait, wait! Am I this 'Handler'?" The blank face of man gave that short nod, and she gave an incredulous, manic, laugh. "What, like, for a fucking dog?!"
He nodded again.
This wasn't helping her panic.
And he still hadn't moved his arm.
She batted his hand, trying to knock it away from her, but his arm didn't move, and it made the strangest noise when her hand met his covered arm. Like when she kicked her tractor whenever it broke down.
"What the fuck?!" She wheezed quietly.
"The Handler needs to take-"
"I'M NOT TAKING ANY PILLS FROM YOU!" she screamed. "And my name is Charlie!" The hand finally retreated, and he gave that single nod again.
"Understood." He didn't move, just stood over her, unblinkingly.
"Please stop staring at me." Charlie muttered, hand gripping the thin blanket. "You're freaking me out." A single nod again, and his eyes slipped off her body, and began a strangely mechanical sweep of the room, back and forth and back again.
Charlie felt pain and exhaustion. Whether from the injury or the sheer, utter, confusion of the situation, she wasn't sure.
She watched the man continue his watch of the room.
And fell back asleep.
.
.
.
When Charlie woke again, the strange man wasn't hovering over her, and that did wonders for her mental state. The pain in her leg was still there, still as strong, but now she could feel the pain in her back, from when the explosion had knocked her into the brick wall. It took more than a lot of effort to slowly push herself into a more upright position. She had to stop a few times to slowly take a full breath, and continue the halting process.
The bandage around her leg wasn't as red as before, instead of the dinner plate sized stain, it was more an orange. She looked around the room. A cot on the floor, a single lamp blazing a soft yellowed light. A foldable poker table with two chairs against the opposite wall. Two doors, one open and she could make of the faint outline of a toilet, the other closed. There were windows, Charlie guessed, but they were covered in heavy drapes, blocking the majority of the light, a thin sliver of light glowing on the ceiling.
The door opened, and the man from before slipped in silently. He still held a gun, large and imposing as he was. He snapped his gaze to her, eyeing Charlie's leg, then holding her gaze.
"Where's my phone?" Charlie demanded, adjusting the blanket to cover her underwear. "And my pants." Her brief survey of the room didn't result in finding her pants.
"Unknown." The man quietly walked to the table, and picked up a cloth bundle. "Pants." He briskly and just as quietly walked to her side, holding the bundle out. How could he walk so quietly in heavy looking boots. Charlie hesitated a moment, before snatching the pants, like a dog who'd been tempted with a treat only to have it teased away too many times. The man turned away, and sat in one of the chairs, the gun resting on the table. She pulled something from one of the pockets on his pants, and began fiddling with a small object. Charlie breathed a little easier now that his dead eyes wasn't trained hard on her.
The pants were ruined, the cheap polyester stiff with dried blood, a long cut running from ankle to hip, effectively flaying the material open. Her wallet was in the back pocket still, but the phone wasn't.
A brief flash of memory, her phone had been in her hand, using the map to find her way back to the dock when she'd wandered too inland.
Charlie groaned, angry that she'd lost it.
She chanced a look at the man, and he was looking at her.
"Am I allowed to call my family?" She wasn't sure of her situation, if she'd been saved, of this guy was as crazy as he looked and she'd been kidnapped. He took a second to answer, but he nodded that single jerk of his head. It relieved some of her stress, she'd at least be able to call for help. "Do you have a phone then? I lost mine."
"Negative." Charlie felt her hope dash away.
"What do you mean, 'negative'?" She barked. The man held up the tiny thing he'd been fiddling with, an ear piece attached to a cord.
"Communications were lost in the engagement." Charlie groaned, closing her eyes, and leaning her head back in unconcealed anguish.
"Okay.... Okay, we need to get to phone." Charlie grunted, already trying to push herself to stand, crying out when the movement made her leg throb angrily. Quicker than she could comprehend, her savior and possible capture was at her side, hovering close but making no move to help her. He wasn't holding the gun this time. "God, this hurts." Charlie fumbled back into a reclined position, hand reaching out to her wounded leg, but resisting the urge to touch it. Once she was settled, the man crouched down, eyes locked on the dressing wrapped around her thigh, before reaching. Her flinch didn't deter him, as he lifted her leg, and began to unwrap the gauze, seeming to ignore her hiss of pain.
As the last of the gauze peeled away, sticking to her skin where fresh and old blood stained the skin of her thigh, she noted the black stitches on her outer thigh. Even threads holding bright red skin together. She could make out bruising around the wound, making she heart stutter at the damage. He lifted her leg more, and Charlie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling, as he bent down to inspect the underside of the leg, where she could only assume more stitches lay. As he lowered her leg down, she I expected the man face as he began rewrapping her leg in new gauze he pulled from another pocket of his black cargo pants.
He had a sharp jawline, covered in the beginnings of a black beard, stubble going down his neck. His hair was pulled back in a small bun, but most had escaped the tie, dangling over his eyes. She could just make out the blood still covering his face.
"Is that my blood, or yours?" His eyes slid over to her briefly, not moving his head as he continued to wrap the wound. Charlie wasn't sure she really cared, but it was a good distraction as any from the pain. "You should probably wash off."
"Affirmative." He lowered her leg, and stood. He turned on his heel, and quietly stalked to the bathroom, and Charlie had to avert her eyes as he began to strip. Where was this guy's dignity? Or sense of propriety?!
Charlie heard an awful clanking from the walls, and a minute later, the sound of rushing water, he seemed to be taking a shower. She looked to the bathroom, he'd left the bathroom door open, but she couldn't see him. The light to the room was on, she could just make out a dangling cord swinging from the ceiling.
He'd left the gun on the poker table, but something in the recesses of Charlie brain said he probably didn't need it to hurt her.
.
.
.
Charlie was trying to think of a plan to get out, but didn't have much time, as it couldn't have been more than five minutes, and she heard the water cut off. The pipes in the wall clattered briefly and it was quiet again. Charlie busied herself with her wallet, counting the money inside, as well as going through the numerous cards inside, not wanting to see the man naked. She didn't hear him walk out, but she heard the rustle of fabric. He must be getting dressed. Her stomach felt hollow, for a number of reasons, but the most pressing reason was hunger.
"Is there anything to eat here?" Charlie looked up when the rustling stopped, and she sucked in a gasp.
His arm was covered in metal armor. The light from the lamp and bathroom illuminating the joints and panels. Her eyes trailed up, to where his shoulder met the metal, and her hollow stomach dropped at the sight of red puffy skin meeting the silver metal.
"Oh god... It's not...." The man looked to her, still unblinking and blank. "You're arm... It's metal?"
He gave that short nod, moving to a bag she'd not noticed, rummaging around as she grappled around with the discovery on he head. Soon, an unmarked silver wrapped bar was Infront of her.
"Is... Are you gonna poison me?" Charlie didn't reach for the bar.
"Negative." He wasn't wearing a glove, and she noted that the wrapper wasn't as shiny as his arm. She slowly reached for the packet.
"What is it?"
"Nutrient block." She nodded at his brief answer, peeling away the oddly loud wrapper in the quiet of the room, inspecting the brown and grainy block. It didn't smell like much, and when she took a bite, she thought it may as well be poison.
"God that tastes like shit!"
.
.
.
The Asset watched The Handler sleep. Her hair, face and shirt were still coated in dust from the explosion. After The Asset provided the nutrient block, standard issue sustenance in every safehouse due to its high caloric value and stable shelf life if stored correctly, she had hesitantly accepted the glass of water, eyeing it suspiciously, before downing it.
The Handler had refused pills, but The Asset's orders were to Keep The Handler Safe, it was easy to see the beginnings of an infection settling into the wound on her leg. Hidden under the floorboards was a box filled with sterile needles and various vials. He grabbed the antibiotics, and prepped the needle. The Handler only grumbled in her sleep as he injected the medicine. He would fail his mission if she died from infection.
Broken memories of previous Handlers flashed through his mind, cruel and cautious. None had looked as confused as her. She wasn't cautious, she was afraid. Nothing new, that he could remember.
She hadn't given him orders, outside of telling him to not stare at her person. She asked for communications, she suggested him to clean himself off.
What an odd Handler.
.
.
.
Charlie woke again, and noted the light from the drapes burned on the ceiling brighter, and the pain in her leg had lessened minutely. Not enough to move it, but enough that if she didn't move, she didn't want to cry.
The Man was sitting in one of the chairs across the room, watching her like a hawk.
"It's rude to stare." Charlie muttered.
The man didn't respond.
"Are you a cop or something?"
This time, he blinked, and he took a full ten second before he spoke.
"...Military."
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. Her brother was military. Marine. He'd brought a few of his company over to the farm, and some had that same stoicism.
She could handle that.
"You said your name was Atkiv, right?" He nodded.
"Is that what happened? Some kind of battle? Is that why there was an explosion?" He nodded again. "And your captain said to get me to safety?" At his nod, she breathed a little sigh.
"The Captain ordered The Handler's safety." Atkiv monotoned.
"And I'm this 'Handler'? What am I handling? Because the only thing I know how to handle is on a farm." For the first time, that blank face emoted, just barely, a slight furrow to his brow, and a downward twitch of his lips.
"The Asset."
"Well what the fuck is this asset?" Charlie fisted the sheets, trying not to yell again. She needed answers, and her mother's voice echoed in her brain. Yellin' ain't gonna get yer way.
"Me."
.
.
.
"We got a casualty report, Cap. Twenty-six dead, only three civilians. Fourty-two injured, fifteen in critical, but pulling through. Stark is managing the medical costs. One missing..." Sam read off the tablet, sliding a mug of coffee over to Steve, as he went over the list on his own Stark Tablet, reading each name.
"Bucky." Steve muttered, blindly grabbing the cup as he set the tablet down, drinking the black coffee. It had been two days, edging into three, and still now word from his friend. F.R.I.D.A.Y. said his communicator was down, along with it's tracking feature. His last known location before it went dark was on the outskirts of the South American town.
"Him, too." Sam said, and watched as Steve's head shot up. Sam flipped the tablet to show a DMV picture of a freckled, ginger woman. "Katherine C. Daniels. She was on a vacation with her... Huge ass family, a cruise. The ship was docked for a day excursion, and she'd hung back. No body, no calls, and none of the three hospitals have her. Her phone was found by local authorities, but that's it."
"You think she might be HYDRA?" Steve asked, quickly memorizing her face.
"I'm gonna say no, but as history has shown, you never know. Late twenties, lives in the ass end of the mountains near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Old family farm. Runs the farm with her family. Notable family members are a brother in the Marines, E-7 Gunnery Chief Micheal Daniels, and an old friend of yours." Steve looked up to Sam, brow cocked in question. "A one Jonathan Juniper."
"Junior?!" Steve leaned forward in surprise. He was barely an adult, in the Howling Commandos.
"The very same. He's still kickin' if Intel is right. After the war, he was some fancy professor at The University of Pennsylvania, before buying a farm with a local gal and settling down." Sam flipped the tablet, pulling up a few photos, turning it back to Steve. A frail old man, skin sagging and heavily wrinkled, dark glasses over his eyes, a WWII veteran hat on his head, in full military dress. "Katherine Daniels is his great grand-daughter." Steve shook his head with a huffed laugh. Despite the situation, it was nice knowing an old friend had done well.
"So Miss Daniels is missing, and Bucky is A.W.O.L." Steve ran a hand down his face, cupping his chin as he thought.
"What was the last thing that happened, Cap?" Sam say across from Steve, locking the screen to the tablet. Steve sighed.
"It's all in my debrief, Sam. That bomb knocked us down, I got him to his feet and told him to help the civilians." Sam nodded, sipping at his own mug. "He looked confused for a minute, but he ran out while we were under fire."
"Confused?" Sam repeated, cocking a brow. "That wasn't in the report."
"It wasn't mission integral for the report." Steve defended.
"Soooo... You lied?" Steve gave Sam an affronted look .
"I didn't lie!" Steve defended, and Sam's other brow rose. "I ... I didn't think of it at the moment." Sam raised a hand in a gesture of peace.
"Okay, okay I believe you. But, confused? How do you mean?"
"Bucky looked.... Out of it. Unfocused, until I ordered him to go, and with the blood-"
"Blood? Super Soldier the Second was bleeding?" Sam leaned forward, and Steve rolled his gaze upward, staring at the gold furnishings holding the lights of the tower aloft, thinking.
"Yeah... He was bleeding... A head wound, I think." There was beat of silence, and Sam cursed.
"Shit."
"What?"
"Head wounds do funny things to the brain, Steve."
"You're not saying-" Steve looked absolutely stricken.
"I'm not saying anything yet, just that... Brains are delicate, and his more so." Sam watched Steve, his face slowly hardening into that determined look he knew well.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y."
"Yes, Captain Rogers?"
"Have a team do a sweep around the perimeter of the city. Recon, attempt communications, but do not engage in combat."
"Yessir." Steve stood, coffee ignored and nearly full.
"So we gonna head out?"
"We're gonna find Bucky."
.
.
.
"Pants first." Charlie glared at Atkiv, as he hurriedly packed a duffle bag with supplies. He'd pulled up loose floor boards, which surprised her, and pulled ammo boxes, more of those foul nutrient blocks, and so many weapons. Atkiv, free of blood and now wearing a black jacket and gloves, blindly tossed a new bundle at her. She caught it, barely, and unfurled a fresh, if musty smelling, pair of black cargo pants. A canvas belt was tossed next to her a half second later, clattering on the floor, making her jump slightly.
Atkiv had left for 'Patrol', and returned half an hour later, face hard, and began to tear the room apart, telling her they were moving. Something about his frantic, measured movements caused a curl of anxiety settle in the out of her stomach. When she'd suggested that maybe it was people looking for her, he'd only shook his head, and pushed a fresh clip of ammo into his rifle.
Tossing the blanket aside, she attempted to put the pants on, whining in pain when the movement of bending forward caused an ache to radiate in her back.
Atkiv's head whipped to her, taking her noise of distress seriously, and stalked over, grabbing the pants and pulling them up her legs. Pain kept her from feeling embarrassed at the close proximity, but didn't stop the frustration at feeling helpless. He left her to button the pants, and she forwent threading the belt through the too large pants, instead just wrapping it around her waist and tugging it tight.
He threw the duffle bag across his body, adjusting the strap until it was snug against his back, and walked to Charlie. He stopped down low, that metal arm scooping her up, and holding her tight against his side, she hissed when he thigh hit his body. She still had the pistol he'd handed her, and for the second time, she contemplated shooting him, and crawling out of the "safe house", looking for help.
And for the second time she stayed the thought.
He'd done nothing yet to hurt her, so far.
Maybe tomorrow, that might change, but as he cracked the door open, the blazing orange light of sunset illuminating his stoney face, eyes flickering outside, she figured he was her best bet at safety.
Or maybe he was crazy. Or she was.
Still... As he quickly stepped outside, she took one last look at the cot she'd spent who knows how long, where she'd left a good pinch of hair she'd torn from her head on the pillow.
.
.
.
"We've got movement."
"Two figures, he's carrying the other."
"Engage. Keep damage to The Asset a minimum, lethal force for the other."
"Understo-"
"Bravo Six? Bravo Six do you copy?"
"We got bogeys!"
"Bravo Four, provide back up, Five and Two, follow the Asset, capture at any means necessary."
.
.
.
Charlie knew that sound.
She'd heard it many times in her life.
That was gunfire.
Atkiv's quick stride broke into a run, and she yelped in pain at the movement.
They were in a forest, it was muggy and humid, the setting sun slipping through the canopy of the sky, occasionally blinding her.
They were moving fast, the sounds of gunfire and the barely audible shouts fading away.
Her previous unease for Atkiv fell away as a new fear of the unknown shooters took it's place.
And it turned out it wasn't unwarranted, as a nearby tree exploded, bark flying everywhere, hitting her cheek.
Charlie squealed, ducking her head into Atkiv's shoulder to try and protect herself.
"Oh my God!" Atkiv didn't stop, if anything, he sped up. Running faster than he'd done previously, his breathing barely audible.
She bit at her cheek as he bounded over something, the jump and subsequent landing jostling her thigh and she was terrified to make any noise. Her rapid breathing made her back flare in pain.
"Soldat!" A voice behind them called out, and for a second, Atkiv slowed down. Charlie tensed.
"What are you doing? Run, Atkiv!" Charlie hit his chest with the underside of her fist, the one holding the heavy pistol.
And the world blurred.
She knew fast. Seeds, the retired track horse turned trail horse her uncle had bought at auction, was fast.
Atkiv was faster!
Tears steamed down her face, as his run kept her injured leg bouncing against his side, and for a dizzying second, his grip on her loosened, she yelped in fear he'd lost his grip, but he adjusted her from the sitting position on his forearm, into a crushing near hug. His arm latched against her burning back, and a hand dangerously close to her ass as he propped her hurt leg up. She wrapped her good leg around his stomach, clinging desperately to him like an opossum.
Breathing was harder, but the new position kept her leg from repeatedly hitting his side. And gave her a clear view of black clad man slowly shrinking in the foliage of the forest.
She tasted blood, having bit through her cheek, but she continued to clench her teeth, afraid to alert any others of their position.
Adrenaline beat through her heart and blood. Pain was eased, but fear kept her on high alert. Atkiv never slowed, and his breathing stayed even and steady. Charlie had no clue how long he ran, but soon, the sun had set, and she couldn't see a thing outside of the occasional shape of a tree or bush.
Finally, he began to slow, his outright sprint slowing into a run, the run to a trot, until he was walking.
Still, she stayed quiet. Night creatures called out, Atkiv's steps quiet in the dark.
She felt him slow more, picking his way through the trees, crouching slightly as he stalked forward. Charlie turned her head, and could make out the shape of a house, if only because of light spilling from windows.
She held on tight as he edged around the house. He leaned down, sitting her on the ground.
"Stay." He whispered, and Charlie resisted the urge to mouth back about not even being able to stand let alone walk. He disappeared into the night, crouched low like a stalking predator. An owl hooted above her, and the sound made her jump, her grip on the pistol tightening. Time was lost on her as she waited, every sound in the night making her flinch, the pain in her leg throbbing, the pain in her back, which she was sure was at the very least bruised, and the utter fear, made her breathing heavy and wheezing.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, and Charlie bit through her other cheek, jumping hard at the touch, swinging the gun to her left.
Atkiv grabbed the gun, stopping her from doing something stupid, and she sighed in relief. He didn't say anything, hoisting her up and quickly carrying her towards the house.
She'd assumed it was another one of his "safe houses", but he reached behind her as she glimpsed the shadow of a person through the glowing curtains. He sat her down again, and it took her brain a minute to process she was sitting in the front seat of a car. The headlights were off, and Atkiv quietly closed the door, quickly rounding the vehicle until he was firmly seated in the drivers seat.
He shifted the car into drive, and with the headlights still off, and with little light from sky, slowly drove the car away from the house.
Charlie didn't feel relaxed until Atkiv sped up, the headlights finally on and lighting up the dirt road ahead.
"Who.... Who were they?" Charlie's quietly asked.
Atkiv took the longest time to answer, and she looked over to him, unable to make out his expression in the dark. It took him so long to answer that she honestly thought he wouldn't, until he finally answered, in a low, vicious, growl, that had her stomach flip in fear.
.
.
.
"HYDRA." Steve watched the live feed in the quinjet, as Nat inspected the body. She'd stayed behind for recon and assistance in the clean up. He spotted a few ex-SHIELD agents bodies, but not as many.
"Looks like it." Natasha muttered, but over her earpiece, and through the speakers of quinjet, it was as clear as if she was inside the cockpit herself. The video feed raised with her standing, showing a ramshackle hut. "Looks like they were surrounding this place, about to ambush, but our guys surprised them." The hut got closer.
"What's so important about this place?" Sam asked, noticing the tell tale bullet holes that lined the adobe walls.
"Don't know yet, I'm first one in. Heat sig doesn't show anyone inside." Nat's body was close to the wooden door, and it creaked open slowly. She stood in the doorway, and they all collectively took in the room.
"What's that? On the floor?" Sam pointed to the screen, as if showing Nat. The feed moved again, and the floor came up as Nat went down.
"Bandages. Bloody, but..." Nat used a knife to push them aside. "Looks like multiple wrappings. Could be multiple wounds. Could be one wound wrapped several times."
"Bucky?" Steve wondered aloud.
"With his healing factor?" Sam questioned back. Nat turned, and they saw a hole in the ground, a skewed square of wooden floor haphazardly covering it.
"Supplies," Nat confirmed, looking inside. "Couple empty ammo boxes, some expired." She picked up a syringe between two fingers, and her voice called out to someone for evidence bags.
"Drug den?" Sam tossed into the air the suggestion.
"Safe house." Nat hummed. A silver wrapped bar suddenly in her hand. "These are old, but I remember them from Back in my Red Room days."
"We'll need to to do a forensics sweep." A feminine shape covered in a white jumpsuit carefully walked in, grimacing slightly when she saw Nat touching the syringe bare handed. It was carefully bagged up, and the forensic team member got to work. Nat turned in a slow circle, letting her camera feed capture the room. It would be used by F.R.I.D.A.Y later.
"Okay, so, HYDRA was staking the place out-" Sam started.
"Ambush." Nat corrected.
"And this could possibly be a HYDRA or Red Room safe house." He continued.
"It is." Nat had a smugness in her tone, Sam rolled his eyes.
"And Buckaroo had a head wound and was acting confused last Cap saw him."
"Did he now?" This time there was no mistaking the light tone, belying her curiosity. "I didn't see that in the report." Steve sighed.
"I forgot about it until Sam asked." Steve grumbled, feeling attacked despite her innocent words.
"Any chance the hit to the noggin made him... Relapse?" Sam spoke the words Steve didn't want to admit.
"I... I can't believe that. I refuse to. We've, he's worked so hard." Sam felt so guilty even saying it, the broken look on his friends face.
"Miss Romanoff? I think this may interest you." A feminine voice called out. Natasha turned to face the woman, holding out a seemingly empty bag. The bag disappear from view, as Nat inspected it.
"Huh...."
"What'cha got Nat?" Sam prodded.
"What colour was the missing girls hair?"
"Uuuh," Sam faltered a moment, reaching for his tablet. Steve perked up.
"Red." Steve blurted, before correcting himself. "Ginger, actually, less red than yours."
"We may have found something on her."
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The smell of something savory woke Charlie. She couldn't remember falling asleep at all. Her last memory was Atkiv growling out the word hydra, in such a bone chilling way she'd held her tongue at the blooming questions that crashed against her teeth. She assumed her adrenaline crash knocked her out. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the sunlight, not able to tell if it was late morning or afternoon. In her lap was a brown paper bag of food, that was on the warmer side of room temp. When she turned to look at Atkiv, he was focus on the road intently, she guessed he may not even know she was awake.
"Eat."
Oh, he did notice.
Charlie looked to the bag, opening it curiously, and finding tamales. She only recognized them because the cruise had served them during dinner once.
"Is it poisoned?" She asked, somewhat still distrusting of the weirdly robotic man. Maybe he was a robot, with the arm, and his sheer speed, and his whole damn demeanor.
"No."
"You're not much of a conversationalist, huh?" She snorted out, and he didn't reply. "Yeah, real jabberjaw." She pulled a tamale out, peeling away the husk, she wasn't repeating what her cousin had done when the family tried it for dinner. Taking a bite carefully, it tasted much better than that gritty brick he'd given her back in that room.
She flinched when she remembered the gunfire.
"Did you eat?" Charlie asked to distract herself.
"Negative."
"Worried you'll forget which one has arsenic?"
"Negative." That's it, he had to be a robot. Shoving the other half of the barely warm tamale in her mouth, she grabbed another, half peeling it, and handing it out to Atkiv.
"Here, better than the breakfast bar from hell." She caught his blue eyes glancing away from the road to her for just a moment, and he slowly grabbed the food from her hand, eating it in such a stiff way. She'd focused on eating, downing one, handing him another. She'd broken the last one in half, offering it to him, and crunching the bag and husks into a ball before dropping it to the floorboard.
She sat, worrying her fingers, carefully adjusting her leg until less pressure was near the wound. Some of the pain lessened.
It was so painfully quiet.
"Where are we?"
"Arizona." Charlie startled.
"What?! How'd we get here so fast? And past the border? I left my passport in my room!"
"The Asset has contacts in The Cartel." Charlie felt her jaw drop.
"That- That doesn't really answer my question?!" She leaned forward, the seatbelt she didn't remember putting on. "The Cartel?!!"
"Affirmative." Sweat beaded on her neck.
"Are you like, secret service?! Or-or are you gonna like, sell me to the highest bidder?" One hand gripped the strap across her chest tightly.
"Negative." Atkiv reassured her, but his dull tone did little actually make her feel better. "The Asset was tasked with The Handler's safety."
"Stop calling me that!" Charlie barked, and then added, "I'm not calling you 'the asset' either. You said your name is Atkiv, I'm calling you that, so call me by my name!" She saw Atkiv's brow pinch and lower from his profile, not in an angry way, but in a confused way. The most emotion she'd seen the robot make.
Silence settled in the car, and slowly, Charlie's grip loosened on the seatbelt strap.
She reached for the car's radio, and fiddled with the dial, only static and static laden music played.
She gave up on filling the tense void.
"So...." Charlie started, drawing out the vowel. "What is it? German?"
His eyes flickered briefly to her, as if asking for clarification.
"You name. Is it German?"
"Negative." Charlie rolled her eyes.
"Okay... Well?" She shifted in the seat again, when the pressure on her back started to make her back throb. "What is it?"
"Russian."
"Oh." The silence crawled on. It made Charlie twitchy. "What does it mean? I don't speak Russian. I mean, I know a couple of words, but just, yes and no."
"Atkiv means Asset."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
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"Well, the DNA from the syringe matches the hair and blood samples. We're looking to get in contact with next of kin to confirm, but if I was a gambling man, I bet it's the girl." Sam hummed, reading the report from his tablet as the quinjet descended towards the landing pad on the tower roof.
"I'll raise that wager," Natasha said, pulling the throttle to the jet back slowly, landing the jet cleanly. "and add that Bucky was there, too. It would make sense he'd know where an old HYDRA safe was, and where those supplies were hidden."
"And HYDRA would know Bucky was with us, so went after him." Steve finished, unbuckling the harness to his seat.
"But why would Barnes have the girl, and why hasn't he gotten in contact with us? His comm may have been wrecked in the explosion, but he would've found another way to reach us." Sam stretched his arms above him, finger grazing the roof, as he elbows popped. "Oof, gonna need a hot shower."
"I don't know, but we need to flag Miss Daniel's... Everything. Her bank account, her families phones, in case she calls." Nat shit the jet off, and released the clip to her own harness. "I have feeling it may lead us to them."
"Ain't that an invasion of privacy?" Sam cocked a brow at Nat. She shrugged.
"Privacy isn't in my job description, unless it's my own." Sam huffed a laugh at her.
"Right, spy. I forget that sometimes, especially when you snap a guys neck with your thighs." He nudge her shoulder with his own, and she rolled her eyes with a barely there smile. Sam looked to Steve, who'd been oddly quiet the whole ride home. "You good, Bud?"
"Yeah, just ... Worried." Steve admitted, running a hand through his hair.
"I get'cha, man. Just... Have some faith. Well find him, and with luck, Daniels, too."
"You think so?" Steve asked, as the descended the ramp to the windy roof.
"Yeah, and even if he has reverted back to his Machine of Death days, we know one thing."
"What's that?" Steve frowned at the thought of his friend in the those of madness once more.
"He'll come looking for you." Natasha said, a hand on his shoulder.
The thought didn't do much to reassure him.
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"Can we stop somewhere?"
"Negative."
"Dude, I have to pee!" Charlie squirmed in the seat, wanting to press her thighs together, but worried she'll make the pain in her leg worse. "Come one, there's a motel off the next exit." Charlie felt like petulant child, but after the few days she had, she felt it was warranted.
"It isn't safe."
"What, do those hydro guys have people everywhere?" She meant it rhetorically, but her heart stuttered when he replied an 'affirmative'.
"Please? Just... One night, in a motel? We can stay the night and be back on the road by morning. We have to be running low on gas, anyway?" And in a motel room, she could make a call. Whether to emergency services or family, she still wasn't sure. The Man, who she refused to call Atkiv, which was just Asset in Russian, and while she wasn't sure he wasn't going to kill her, she wasn't going to dehumanize him.... Even if she was about eighty percent sure he was some kind of robot, glanced her way, his head actually turning this time to get a better looks at her. He scanned her body briefly, not in the sexual way guys did at the bar further down from her mountain home, but in a calculative way.
"We use cash." Charlie perked up, a wide grin on her face she couldn't hold back. "Do not use your card. We leave at oh-five hundred hours." Charlie nodded happily.
"Yeah, sure! I might have enough in my wallet!" She hissed when she knocked her thigh in her eagerness to grab her wallet and count her cash. As The Man pulled off the exit, and slowed the car, she had counted 182 dollars in various bills, and fifty in pesos she still had from her excursion day. It might be enough for the night, if only for one room.
As her Savior (captor?) parked the car, he reached behind them to the backseat, pulling a jacket, gloves, and pistol out from the duffle bag she hadn't known was there. With an ease she almost envied, he shimmied the coat on, checked the pistol, and handed it to her. This was the third time he'd handed her a gun, and this time she didn't have the intrusive thought to shoot him.
"Lock the doors. If they get past the door, shoot them. Aim for-"
"Center mass." Charlie finished, remembering the days her great grandfather and bother took her to the range. "I know."
Something in the man's face flickered, a very brief crinkle of his eyes, a flash of a half cocked grin on his blank face, and he released the gun. His gloved hand, not the metal one, patted her head twice in an almost human gesture.
"Ochen' khoroshiy." Charlie startled at his words, but more at the blink and you'll miss it emotion he portrayed, and then he was out the car, slamming the door. She watched him walk to the main office, and once the door was closed, she unclipped her seatbelt, and not so subtly looked out off the windows, wincing at the pain in her leg when she sat on her knees to look out the back window.
Across the street was another run down motel, further up the road was a gaggle of of fastfood restaurants, and he stomach growled in want. Conversely down the road, closer to the exit they took, were gas stations, and one food truck.
Her stomach rumbled louder than any gunshot she'd heard the other day... Almost.
As she twisted back into the seat properly, she leaned down, looking through the driver side window and could just make out the sign to the motel.
Desert Bloom Motel and Lounge
Okay, that was a good place to start. As she sat up in the seat, she locked eyes with The Man as he stalked to the car, a bright pink fluffy keychain dangling from his fist. As he reached the driver side door, his gaze dropped, and he reached for the door, opening it. As he slid in, closing the door, he turned to her, and he had a faint frown on his lips.
"You didn't lock the door."
"Shit." His frown deepened, and honestly? It freaked her out more than his robo-face. "I forgot." He blinked, and somehow that blink gave off the impression of a deep, deep, disappointed sigh. He turned away from her, Charlie feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment, and she watched him reach under the steering wheel column and his hands fiddled about. The car suddenly chugged to life.
"Wait, did you steal this car?" She laughed, attempting a joke.
"Affirmative." She swallowed her laughter as he backed out of the parking space.
"Oh. I... That... Didn't occur to me." As he slowly drove down the parking lot, she gave a light gasp. "You didn't take my money!"
"Nega-"
"You don't have to... You know, answer like that all the time." Charlie cut him off. "You can say yes or no, or just... Talk. Like a human?" She cringed, worried she had offended him. He didn't reply for a moment, but she watched him jerk a nod.
"Noted." He backed into a new parking spot, parking the car and somehow shutting it off.
"How'd you pay? You didn't take my money."
"Cash." Charlie hummed, doubting him, worried he may have just stolen the key, or... Threatened the manager. Or killed him. She took heart in the fact she didn't see any blood on his gloves or face.
He left the car, opening the back door to grab the duffle bag, lifting it easily, shutting the door and making his way round to her door. She opened it for him, attempting to stand, but he reached down, and picked her up, she could feel the coolness of his metal arm through the jacket and he closed the car door, and made their way to a door mark A-22. She wrapped one arm around his neck, hiding the pistol in her lap as he made his way inside. Quickly setting her on a chair directly next to the front door, dropping the duffle next to her.
She watched as he inspected the room, looking into every vent, nook, cranny, crevice, reflective surface, and even stood on the bed, inspecting the overhead light, before slipping into the bathroom, and she guessed did the same. Finally, he walked out, pulling his gloves off, and began to shrug off the jacket, leaving him in a black tank top.
"Clear."
"Clear of....?" He cocked his head, just slightly, and she noted that he was... expressing more. He reminded her of a dog, looking like that.
"Bugs." Charlie huffed, amusedly.
"Honey, I live and work on a farm, creepy crawlies don't bother me none."
"Noted." Charlie sighed, tired of his clipped answers. She missed her chatty family. She scooted forward in the chair, putting all her weight on her good leg, intent on getting to the bathroom to relieve herself. The Man, and she really needed to learn his real name if he even had one, was by her side quickly, hovering but not touching. Charlie gave a hesitant hop, not trusting her injured leg to walk on, and that hop made pain flare, and made her almost loose her bladder and balance. Charlie wheeled her arms, grabbing The Man to steady herself.
".... Can you help me to the restroom?" He gave a short nod, lifting her easily, and now that she was paying more attention, she could hear the faintest whirring and whining from his arm. He deposited her on top of the toilet seat, and walked out, and Charlie gasped.
Without the jacket on, she could plainly see the round holes in the back of his dark tank top, and the dried blood.
"Oh my God, you were shot!" The Man halted his steps, and turned on his heel to face her.
"Yes."
"Fucking hell, come here!" Charlie wiggled back until she was leaning on the toilet tank. The Man stepped back into the room, standing Infront of her, and she made a gesture with her hand to turn around. He did, and she lifted the fabric to get a better look. The wounds weren't actively bleeding, but with so much blood, she couldn't get a gauge on how bad it was. "How are you even standing?" Charlie whispered in awe, resisting the urge to poke at the three holes.
He didn't answer.
"Do you want... Me to help?" Charlie offered, but didn't know how to help. She could make repairs to her tractor and truck, knew how to birth goats, but her brother wasn't a medic, the only first aid she knew started and ended at homemade chicken and dumplings, bandaids for the small cuts, and super glue for the real bad cuts.
The Man walked away without a word, and Charlie worried she had insulted him, and debated on reaching for the open door to close it and handle her business, when he walked back in with a canvas pack in hand. He set it on the corner of the sink opening it up, and she glimpsed packets of gauze, little bottles and packets of alcohol, tweezers, a packet of needles and thread. He took off his shirt without complaint, and turned his back to her.
"You're gonna have to tell me what to do." Charlie swallowed hard, and grabbed a few alcohol wipes, wiping her hands.
"Charlie will need to remove the bullets." She startled and dropped a wipe when he said her name.
"Okay... Okay I can do that." She wasn't squeamish about blood, but the thought of pulling a bullet from him made her grimace. "Just... If it hurts too much, let me know."
"Yes." In spite of the situation, she huffed a laugh through her nose.
"You can talk you know." She reached up and gently prodded the hole near his lower back. "I'd appreciate the conversation." She pressed at the wound, using a fresh wipe to try and clear away the dried blood.
"Yes." Charlie rolled her eyes.
"You got a family?" She asked, watching as the dried blood wiped away, and a small trickle of fresh blood dribbled down his back slowly. She thought she saw the glint of metal.
"....Yes." He responded after a moment, and Charlie reached for the tweezers.
"Who are they?" Charlie prodded with the tweezers and her words. She felt the tweezers hit something hard.
".... A sister.... And mother." Charlie didn't notice when his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly, slowly.
"That's nice, I always wanted a sister. Got a few girl cousins, one niece. I'm the only girl in my immediate family." Charlie fumbled a little, blood making it hard to get a hold of the bullet, but was able to slowly pull it from his skin. "Just me, an uncle, great grand-dad, and my two brothers. I'm the baby, despite being, you know, nearly thirty." She dropped the slug into the sink with a plink. She sat up a little straighter, wiping at the next wound at his ribs.
"Where are you from?" Charlie had to dig a little deeper into this wound.
".... Brooklyn." It took him even longer to answer this time, but she wasn't keeping track of the time, focused on his back.
"Jeeze, I don't know how you could handle living in a city. My brother, Micheal, he's the oldest, took me and Gabe, that's the middle brother, to Philadelphia once." Despite how deep this bullet was, it came out a little easier. "I was so overwhelmed most of the trip. I got lost once, and genuinely thought I'd never see my family again." She wiped at the trickle of blood that ran down his back when the bullet finally slid out. The Man stayed quiet.
"Your know, I thought you were a robot, but I guess this kinda proves you're at the very least some kinda of cyborg." Charlie attempted another joke, gently tugging his arm, the flesh one, to get him to kneel. She couldn't reach the one next to his shoulder blade. He slowly crouched to his knees.
"Cyborg?" She noticed the slight tilt to his head. A questioning gesture.
"Yeah, like, human and machine. Science Fiction stuff. Or I guess not so sci-fi." She poked at his metal arm, the side with the final bullet. "Is it just the arm, or are your legs robotic too? Because you ran faster than than a sinner who owes a debt to the Devil." Charlie laughed, feeling at ease now that he was on her level, both height wise and the fact that he was wounded, like she was.
"Just.... The Arm." She heard the whining, whizzing noise from the arm.
"It's cool." Charlie absently said as she focused on the wound, adding to her stack of bloody wipes. "You're handling this whole thing well. I'd be a sobbing mess if someone was digging around inside me. I guess I slept through you stitching me up."
"Charlie was in shock." She gave an ungainly snort he grandma would smack the back of her head for.
"We need to work on your pronouns, bud." He flinched, just barely, and Charlie pulled her hands away quickly. "Sorry, did that hurt?"
"...........No." Charlie hummed, but worked slower, not wanting to make it worse.
"So... What's your name?" Charlie had to angle the tweezers slightly, this bullet sitting a little to the right. It occured to her that she'd been carried on this side when they fled from the mystery shooters, and her hand shook slightly. "And not Asset or Atkiv, or whatever. That's not a real name."
She could feel the sudden tension in his back, and the tremble it caused.
"I....I..." Charlie leaned to the side to get a look at his face. She'd worried she had hurt him again, but she caught a glimpse of his furrowed brow, a ticking in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He looked ... Confused, or maybe conflicted?
"Hey, if you can't tell me that's fine! I'd rather not be on the receiving end of the whole 'If I tell you that, I'd have to kill you." He turned to look at her with a sharp quick ess that made her lean back reflexively.
"I am to ensure Charlie's safety." His face didn't change, but his tone seemed... Insulted, she settled on, that she'd even suggest he would hurt her. She raised a placating hand, tweezers still in her hand.
"Okay, okay! Sorry!" She settled back behind him, and his head slowly turned to look forward. She managed to pull the final bullet out, having to pull it at an angle, and dropped it in the sink with the used wipes and other bullets. "Do you want me to stitch these? Do they need to be stitched? I never got the hang of sewing."
"No." Charlie hummed in agreement.
"Alright, let me just put some bandages on them then." It was as she was biting the end of the tape off the roll for the second hole in his back she spoke back up. "Luke."
He didn't respond, not that she expected him to.
"Have you seen Star Wars?"
"No."
"Well the main character is a kid who learns to fight and has to save the world. He looses his hand, and gets a robot one to replace it." She stopped to bite off more tape. "If you can't tell me your name, at the very least I'm going to call you Luke. That cool?"
"Yes."
"Great! Well, Luke, I'm done with your back." Charlie gave a soft pat to his shoulder. "Now, not to be rude, but I'm about to piss myself." Luke stood, and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him without so much as a thank you. "Well fuck me I guess, you're welcome." Charlie grumbled as she started to unbuckle the pants.
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Charlie wanted to take a shower, but with her leg, she settled on letting the water fill the tub somewhat and washing herself as she sat on the edge of the tub. It hurt to unhook her bra, the soreness in her back still present but feeling a little better, and she wheezed a little everytime she bent over to wipe her body, or wet the washclothes, or even just unplug the quickly dirtying water to replace it with fresh. The hard part wash washing her hair. That took several washes before the water ran clear, what ever was in her hair was... Stubborn. She managed, but it was a a deceptively tiring experience. She'd dropped her dirty clothes in the tub, and used her good leg to stir them in the water, running them through with water until the worst of the dust was gone. She didn't exactly have fresh clothes on hand. Using the toilet tank as leverage, she heaves her self up, focusing on not slipping.
She took a good look at herself in the water stained mirror. Twisting her body, she blanched at the dark bruising on her back, and she vaguely remembered her back hitting a wall when that explosion happened. There were bags under her eyes, and there's was a few scratches on her face. She couldn't figure if it was from the explosion or when the hydro guys shot the tree the other night.
She looked haggard.
Wrapping a scratchy towel around her body, she cracked the door open, and caught a peek of Luke sitting on the bed, facing the door. Only one of the bandages on his back had a tiny stain of blood.
"Hey." His head whipped to look at her. "Do you have some spare clothes in your bag? I washed mine, but they need to dry."
"Yes." Luke stood, disappearing a moment, and she could hear the zipper to his mystery bag. He came back into view, a nearly folded stack in his hand. She thank him and closed the door. Boxers, which was fine, she'd stolen a few pairs from her brothers when she skipped laundry day. Another pair of cargo pants, they'd need the belt, but she figured she'd skip the pants until morning. No bra, a men's tank top.
She thanked genetics for her b cup. At least she wouldn't be spilling out the sides. Dressed, and settling the towel on her head to let it try and soak up the lest of the water her hair held, and half hopped, half leaned on the sink to the door.
Luke was still standing there, and it was only a little creepy.
"Care to help me to the bed? I still can't put pressure on my leg." Luke nodded picking her up with ease. She only briefly panicked about his back, but remember his sprint carrying her, the bag, and the bullets in his back. He sat her on the bed, and she was glad there were two, she wasn't sure she trusted him enough to share. "There should still be hot water if you want to shower. If you can, anyway. If it fucks with the bandages, I can patch them up again." Luke stared at her for a moment, his eyes flickering between hers, as if deciphering her words.
"Yes." And he left her alone. As soon as she heard the shower running, because he hadn't closed the door fully, leaving it cracked, she fell to her side, grabbing the phone, and dialing the only number she had memorized.
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"Captain Rogers." Steve stopped his throttling of a punching bag, the fourth of the evening, and took a swallow of water.
"Yes, F.R.I.D.A.Y."
"You ordered me to alert you and the team should anything regarding Sargent Barnes or Miss Daniels came up." Steve was halfway across the large gym, running to the already opening elevator doors. "The team is on there way to the conference room."
"Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y." Steve couldn't stop the anxious tapping of his foot as the elevator ascended the tower. He squeezed through the doors as they started to opening and entered the room just as Clint popped out of a vent from the ceiling, much to Tony's unamused eye roll. Natasha was already seated at the table, Sam next to her, nursing a mug of steaming coffee. "What have we got?"
"F.R.I.D.A.Y. is already tracking where the call came from, and we got a recording of the call." Nat answered, taking a moment to dust off Clint's arm free of debris. "Take a listen."
"Daniels Residence, Michael speaking."
"Mikey!"
"Charlie! Oh my God, Charlie! Where are you, what happened?! We got word from authorities that there was explosion and you weren't on the ship when it left port!" A gruff man's voice shakily spoke from the overhead speakers.
"I don't know, I was trying to get souvenirs and then I got grabbed and I woke up in some shack with a bum leg, a bruised back, and a fucking cyborg!" A woman's voice hurriedly whispered, but Steve could hear the quaky, teary quality to her words. "He grabbed me later and we ran away from the shack and there were people shooting at us, Luke says they're called hydro or whatever, and then he stole a car and we're somewhere in Arizona and he was shot but he didn't even show it and he's like a fucking robot and he won't say his name so I called him Luke like from Star Wars but he says he's military and he says he's an asset and god I just want to come home." Tony snorted at the name Star Wars, during her rushed tumbling words.
"Well it's safe to assume her robot savior is Barnes." Sam murmured.
"She called from a landline, Arizona is accurate." Tony said, tapping at his tablet. "Seedy motel off the freeway. Barnes sure knows how to impress a lady."
"You let a stranger take you to a second location? Charlie you know better!"
"Not like I had a choice!" Her tone pitched higher, it wasn't hard to make out the panic in her words. "I can't put pressure on my leg, I have stitches and he... He's weird, but he saved me. Said some Captain ordered him to keep me safe."
Eyes turned to look at Steve, and he furrowed his brow.
"I didn't tell him to protect her, just handle the civilians."
"Charlie, don't go anywhere else with him! You need to call the cops!"
"Hell naw, I ain't calling the fuckin' cops! Shit, showers off." She was whispering. "I'm gonna get home, don't let Gabe near Seeds, Seeds likes to nip him. I love you!"
"Char-"
The recording ended.
There was a tense silence.
"She said he was calling himself The Asset." Natasha muttered, steepling her fingers under her chin.
"The blow to his head ..." Sam leaned back in his seat, rolling his head back with a sigh.
"If he was back in The Winter Soldier mindset, he wouldn't bother with a civilian." Clint said. "And she said 'Captain' ordered him to keep her safe."
"I didn't order him to do that, though." Steve balled his fists, the pressure shaking his arms. "Why wouldn't Miss Daniels call the police?"
"I can name a few reasons." Sam snorted, his body jostling. "This is a mess."
"Let's take the wins where we can." Clint stretched his arms high, shaking his hands when he swung them down. "We know Miss Daniels is in Arizona, along with Barnes."
"I don't think him falling back into his old ways is a win, Robin Hood." Tony crossed his arms. "Also, we sure this is the same girl? I thought her name was Katy, Kristen?"
"Katherine, her middle name is Charlotte." Natasha corrected.
"Think she knows how to play a violin?" Tony cocked his head in a playful way.
"It's a fiddle." Sam shot back with a grin.
"Can we focus?" Steve tried not to bark, but couldn't hold back the edge to his voice. "Sam and I will head to Arizona. Maybe we can follow their trail."
"If he's back to being the Winter Soldier, do you really think he's gonna leave one?" Natasha questioned. Steve didn't respond, and she sighed lightly. "I'm going with you, with my training, I may be able to predict his next steps."
"Tony, Clint, will you keep us updated on any news?"
"Sorry Rogers, I'm shipping out tomorrow for Wakanda." Clint genuinely looked remorseful. Steve looked to Tony, who was pretending to not be paying attention, the sounds of a game on his tablet ringing out.
"Hmm? Oh, me? Steve you know I'm not Barnes biggest fan on a good day. He's only been here because I respect you, and maybe the smallest bit guilty about our little spat. The end of our honeymoon phase was because of him." Tony put a hand to his chest mockingly.
"He's done everything he can to atone. You know how terrible he feels about his time under HYDRA." Tony's lip thinned, and he rolled his eyes.
"Don't use that face on me. You look pathetic, I feel like I'm kicking a starving puppy."
"What face?" Steve startled back at his words.
"I know, isn't it the worst?" Sam chuckled, pushing himself by the table to stand.
"Wait, what?" Steve looked to Sam, confused.
"It took me six months to get that expression perfect." Nat smirked, accepting Clint's hand to stand.
"A starving puppy right on the side of the road, whining for help." Tony exhaled through his nose loudly. "Get out of here, I'll call if something comes up, but you owe me big, Capsicle." Tony left, already back on his tablet, Sam clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder.
"I have a face?" Steve asked while Sam drained the last of his coffee.
"Yep. Come one, it'll take a few hours to get to Arizona, and we still need to get clearance from ATC for clear skies."
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