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.
“You’ll be provided with an office instead of a cell. Now, do me a favour, stay in it?” Ross said as we walked.
“I don’t intend on going anywhere,” T’Challa said, catching my eye. I knew what he meant.
We didn’t intend on going anywhere.
“For the record, this is what making it worse looks like,” Natasha scolded behind me.
“He’s alive,” Steve replied, his only thoughts on Bucky.
We entered a room filled with glass walled offices. Men and women walked briskly between them, staring at us as they went. Inside one of the glass offices was Tony, talking on the phone.
“No, Romania was not Accords-sanctioned. And, Colonel Rhodes is supervising clean-up,” he was saying, his eyes glancing over at me. He was not only angry, he was disappointed, and I didn’t know which was worse.
“Try not to break anything while we fix this,” Natasha hissed.
“Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously, you can quote me on that, cause I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.” Tony hung up and looked over at us coldly.
“Consequences?” Steve asked.
“Secretary Ross wants you all prosecuted. Had to give him something,” Tony shrugged.
“I’m not getting that shield back, am I?” Steve said, almost grinning.
“Technically, it’s the government’s property. Wings too. And your energy supplements are being reviewed,” Natasha said, scanning us.
“That’s cold,” Sam said.
“Warmer than jail,” Tony added
“Agent Carter, you take Mr Wilson and Captain Rogers to an office. Miss Romanoff, you can escort His Highness somewhere he can clean up. And afterwards, I’m sure you would love to have a discussion with Mr Stark here,” Ross smirked at me. “Meanwhile, I will take Miss Walsh to see a special visitor in Detainment Room Seven,” Ross ordered, and before I could protest armed guards gripped my shoulders and began to move me away from Steve and Sam.
“Wait, wait. Where are you taking her?” Steve called out, and for a moment I thought he would rush past the guards and stop them.
“Somewhere safe, Captain Rogers,” Ross said, beginning to walk away.
“She doesn’t need protection,” Steve protested. Ross smirked as we walked.
“No Captain. We do.”
***
I was stripped of my green suit and given what seemed to be a set of Natasha’s clothes; a tight pair of suit pants, and a white blouse with no top button. They let me keep my shoes, seeing as they weren’t anything special.
Sitting opposite me was Elizabeth, her pale blue eyes ringed with dark circles. Apparently, they had flown her in half an hour ago, especially for me.
The detainment room was small and cold, bare concrete making up the walls and only an icy metal chair and table as company.
Oh, and the metal confines restricting my hands, strapping them around my waist and squeezing my hands together. They were oval in shape, and my hands fit perfectly inside. The metal came up to my wrists, and from there metal chains were secured around me, my arms crossed painfully around my own body.
I was told Tony and Bruce made them, just in case. Probably at the same time they made those prototype vests, just in case.
“Why did you do this, Keight? Why did you not sign?” Elizabeth searched my eyes, but I only stared, expressionless.
“Keight? Are you listening to me?” Elizabeth leaned forward, waiting. I stared down at my exposed forearm, the three rose tattoo stark against the white. That tattoo used to be a part of me, an extension of who I was. Now it felt disjointed, as if no part of me could ever be linked to something so beautiful as a rose.
“Have you ever met another hero, Elizabeth?” I said suddenly, a thought forming in my head I hadn’t thought of before. Elizabeth blinked, and shook her head slightly.
“Actually, I have. That, oh what’s his name? Spider-Boy or something? He works in Queens. Stopped a truck from hitting me a few weeks ago. He was, uh, well,” Elizabeth’s cheeks tinted red, and she seemed flustered. I pondered her answer.
“And what about Daredevil? Or Luke Cage? Iron Fist? Or Quake? They’re all independent heroes, and yet, where is their supervision? Why do they not need permission to save but we do?”
Elizabeth had no answer. She stared, dumbfounded.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about this for a few seconds. And I wonder, if they think that if they control us, the ones that started it all, maybe even the most powerful ones, that the other ones will bend to their will,” I leaned forward, my stomach against the edge of the table. “But they won’t. Because you see, what makes a hero a hero is that nothing will stop them saving the people that need help. And that’s exactly why I didn’t sign. People need saving, and I can’t do that without permission, I’d rather be a criminal.”
“That was very inspiring, Miss Walsh, but I’m afraid your words are wasted,” Ross’s voice echoed from the speakers, and I growled like an animal. Elizabeth was startled, almost falling of her chair.
“There’s not much else I can do here, Mr Ross,” she squeaked, getting up and moving away from me.
“Alright then,” Ross replied, and a buzzer sounded, opening the door. Elizabeth scampered out without a goodbye.
I said once how I liked Elizabeth because she actually treated me like a person.
It was then she realized I wasn’t a person at all.
Ross entered the room, along with four men, all armed to the teeth.
“Your energy supplements have been approved, and I’m sure you’re dying for a hit. These boys will dose you up, then Stark wants to see you. Something about, finding the truth,” Ross glared up at me, and I snarled. He waved the men forward and then left the room.
Two of the men grabbed me by my arms, holding me upright while one of the others took out my silver case of poison. With military efficiency, he uncapped a needle and drove it deep into the vein in my arm, and the relief that came with it was extraordinary.
However, one of the men who held me strayed a little too far with his hands, trailing them up my waist until;
“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, spitting in his face. The men laughed.
“What are you going to do about it, princess?” he mocked.
I grinned, and headbutted him.