UNRAVELED ~ STEVE ROGERS [3]

Chapter Twelve

The handcuffs dug into the soft skin of my wrists, but I barely noticed. I stared straight ahead in the SUV, next to T’Challa, my brother. Behind us was Steve, and behind him was Sam. Neither of them were handcuffed, but my reputation preceded me. Steve hadn’t talked to me since that incident on the underpass, but I knew his head was whirring, his thoughts swirling around and around trying to explain somehow why.

Why I had lied.

“So, you like cats?” Sam said harshly.

“Sam,” Steve warned.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam snapped. Steve ignored him.

“Your suit…its Vibranium?” He asked curiously. I glanced at T’Challa, who narrowed his eyes and looked out the window.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of a king. So, I ask you...as both warrior and king...how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

“It wasn’t him,” I said suddenly, an unusual urge to defend Bucky stirring in me.

“I would believe you, Omilio, but I am afraid your recent deception means I will not take your word for it,” T’Challa said coldly, turning to burn his brown eyes into me. I met his gaze, and when he looked away I couldn’t. I continued to trace the shape of his face with my eyes, taking in all the lines, all the things I had missed for seven years.

“What is going on Keight?” Steve hissed behind me, his tone icy, but also pleading.

“You call yourself Keight still? I thought you would have left that name behind,” T’Challa said coldly.

“Keight, what does he mean?” Steve’s voice was like splinters, hard and painful. T’Challa turned to look at me, awe and was that surprise on his face?

“They do not know,” he realised.

I bit my lip, but I didn’t turn around and look at Steve.

“No, they do not.”

***

When we got out of the SUV, Bucky’s containment pod was being carried away by a forklift. We were in a large grey bunker, or rather, a glorified garage. Walking behind Steve, Sam and T’Challa, we approached a diminutive grey-haired man, who was accompanied by my all-time favourite person:

Sharon Carter.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asked the man, glancing at Bucky again.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you. Psychological evaluation and extradition,” the man said, the authority-filled tone that he used sounding odd coming from such a small person.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander,” Sharon said. He eyes flicked to me, the only handcuffed member of the group, and she scowled slightly.

“What about our lawyer?” Steve said seriously. Ross laughed harshly.

“Lawyer. That’s funny,” he looked to an armed guard. “See their weapons are placed in lockup. Oh, we’ll write you a receipt,” he said, raising an eyebrow at us. He began to walk away, and like obedient little dogs we followed.

“I better not look out the window and see anyone flying around in that,” Sam muttered as we went.

We were lead upstairs onto a covered skywalk. I glimpsed Natasha join Steve behind me, but I didn’t talk.