oblivion. ▷ captain america. [1] •••DISCONTINUED•••

v ▷ the planning.

Gen scoffs.

"Yes, sir," I reply. "But I'll need a bigger team." I quickly glance down at Gen, whose eyes lie on the floorboards as a smile slowly creeps across her red lips.

"We're already putting together the best men," Colonel says.

I gulp. "With all do respect, sir, so am I."

[•]

We all sit around a round table, chugging down beers in an English pub. Soft piano plays in the background as the chatter erupts more.

"So, let's get this straight," Dum Dum begins, setting his glass on the table.

"We barely got outta there alive, and you want us to go back?" Gabe Jones asks.

All eyes are on me as we begin the topic of conversation I had with Colonel earlier. I know that Gen is going to be here soon, but it's been a little while now. Then again, she's from here, maybe wanted to get a quick glance at home. I just need some of her manipulation to help me here.

"Pretty much," I sigh, drumming my fingers on the table.

"Sounds rather....fun, actually," James Montgomery Falsworth smiles.

Jim Morita belches, clearly having too much to drink. "I'm in."

My eyes wander to Jacques Dernier, who speaks in French to me. I just nod and smile, not having the slightest idea of what he could possibly be saying. Jones speaks in the elegant language back, ending in Dernier chuckling and shaking his hand happily.

"We're in," Jones informs me, referring to himself and Dernier.

"And I'll always fight," Dum Dum smiles, the tips of his mustache touching his beer as he brings the glass to his lips. "But you gotta do one thing for me."

"And what's that?" I ask him.

In response, he slams his empty mug on the table, filling the room with a loud bang. "Open a tab."

I just smile, letting a chuckle rack through me. The entire table erupts into loud laughs. I obediently take up their empty mugs and set them on the bar for the bar tender to refill them.

"Where are they putting all this stuff?" he mutters, shaking his head as he goes to fill them back up to the rim.

I head into the next room over, where the piano is louder than ever. A man sits on the bench, filling the room with music and bountiful singing. I silently ignore the Captain America poster on the wall and the strip of tape saying "tour cancelled" across it, cutting around the corner to sit on the barstool next to Bucky.

"See? I told you," he boasts, sipping his drink. "They're all idiots."

"How about you?" I ask him. "You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

"Hell no," Bucky replies, shaking his head. "That little guy from Brooklyn was too dumb to run away from a fight. And I'm following him."

I smile at my old friend. I'm happy he's agreed to come along. I need my good old partner in crime for all this.

"But you're keeping the outfit, right?"