He accepted the bottle, took his own deep swig from its mouth — this news had them past the civility of glasses, past pretending they were simply having a dignified nightcap, this was the sort of news that needed a stiff drink — and paced over to the table while Nat spoke. With his metal hand, he picked up the antidote to scrutinise it closer, the vial glowing red like blood. He listened to her rundown like he was at a tactical briefing, taking note of all the pertinent details and filing them away, already mentally preparing himself to go into the field with this intel. Because there was no chance he was letting her dive into this one alone. And there must've been a reason she came out here to find him, after all. Reaching out for help, even if she wasn't usually the type.
But then she went and said chemical subjugation, and Nat could see the muscles in the back of James' neck tighten, the shoulders stiffening. The man going still again, processing that information. Under the influence.
It all sounded too familiar. The Red Room with its boot on the younger widows' necks, like HYDRA had had their boot on his.
He swallowed. Breathed out. Looked over and met her shuttered expression. They were mouthy when it mattered, but ultimately, they were both quiet people. There was so much they could communicate between each other with a nod, a knowing look. He likely wouldn't need to explain why he wanted in on this one; this new insidious turn to the programme's operation was like a fist driven into a still-healing wound.
"You never told me much about your sister," he said after a pause. Nowadays, he knew vaguely there was one widow in particular that had been closer to Nat than the rest, but back then, the Winter Soldier wouldn't have been able to pick Yelena out from the gaggle of anonymous girls run through the grinder. Human weapons with the serial numbers filed down during Red Room training.
Then, Bucky added, "You're gonna need backup." An offer, flat and automatic. "Speaking from experience— mind-controlled assassins are hell to wrangle."
no subject
But then she went and said chemical subjugation, and Nat could see the muscles in the back of James' neck tighten, the shoulders stiffening. The man going still again, processing that information. Under the influence.
It all sounded too familiar. The Red Room with its boot on the younger widows' necks, like HYDRA had had their boot on his.
He swallowed. Breathed out. Looked over and met her shuttered expression. They were mouthy when it mattered, but ultimately, they were both quiet people. There was so much they could communicate between each other with a nod, a knowing look. He likely wouldn't need to explain why he wanted in on this one; this new insidious turn to the programme's operation was like a fist driven into a still-healing wound.
"You never told me much about your sister," he said after a pause. Nowadays, he knew vaguely there was one widow in particular that had been closer to Nat than the rest, but back then, the Winter Soldier wouldn't have been able to pick Yelena out from the gaggle of anonymous girls run through the grinder. Human weapons with the serial numbers filed down during Red Room training.
Then, Bucky added, "You're gonna need backup." An offer, flat and automatic. "Speaking from experience— mind-controlled assassins are hell to wrangle."