James Buchanan Barnes isn't a killer. He isn't merciless, or cunning, or evil.
But something in him is.
*****
A wrapper crinkles, fabric shifts, and a small, open hand jerks in front of my face. The smell of powdery chocolate and oats meets my nos...
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"For the thousandth time, I don't know." I say through clamped teeth. The digits of my metal arm toil with the hem of my burgundy long-sleeve. Small cuts still line its arms and shoulders, bits of cracked metal and plastic littering the material.
Barton scoffs from across the table. "Like hell I'm going to believe that."
I catch a quick flash of Steve's eyes towards the archer at his comment. Heat runs through the bulk of his neck in a roiling, red wave.
"Watch yourself, Barton." He says. Natasha scowls in my direction at his side, not having lowered her gaze from my form since the moment she walked into the compound with Steve.
Apparently, he had been trying to get the military in line to help find me. Surprisingly, Mila had convinced Natasha to go with him.
Why on earth wouldn't she take someone with her to Loki?
I run a hand through the crest of my hair, and my fingers come down shakily.
We're wasting time. She's alone out there. Wth Loki.
That's if she's even still alive.
Natasha seems to think the same. "You know what, who cares? What we should be worrying about is how we're going to get her back."
"We've got a map right to her standing in this room." Stark mutters under his breath. Steve sends him a glare, but the billionaire's eyes - and practically everyone else's - roll to me.
I lower my hand from my shirt and circle it at the wrist. Metal clicks. Eyes glare.
I turn to look at Natasha, and an age long conversation flutters through the space between us over the table.
It's not as easy to wrap a hand around my throat Barnes. Even if it's metal.
It's almost as if the agent herself hears it too.
"Stop it, Tony." Steve breathes, exasperated. He plants two palms on the glass table at the centre of the room. "Just... stop."
The Iron Man's jaw tightens. "No, Steve, I'm not going to stop. Not until I have Mila back in this goddamn compound, and your super soldier buddy in custody."
Wilson perks up at Stark's side. "I'm with Steve on this one, Tony. Why would he even do somethin' like that in the first place? What motive could Buck possibly have?"
"A killer doesn't need a motive." His voice is low, cold, unsteady.
Steve slaps a palm against the glass. "That's enough!"
Natasha doesn't bristle at his side, but her arms slide down into the short pockets of her tight black jeans.
Steve's eyes glow red. "If you can't keep your vile opinions to yourself then I don't think we need you here at all, Tony."
