𝑼𝒔, 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑩. 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

12b

After hours of small talk, sleeping, and ignoring each other, the jet finally entered the Indonesian area. Marcella got dressed in the outfit Zemo wanted her to wear just before it landed. He had thought of everything and she hated him for it.

The dress that matched Bucky.
The heels that could be used as a weapon.
The dark makeup to accent her stormy glare.

She stepped out of the washroom and found only Zemo waiting for her. Bucky and Sam were already outside ready to go. Zemo smiled at her. "Stunning, Marcella."

She rolled her eyes and reached over to place two handguns on her holsters. Then a few knives. "Yeah, that was the point wasn't it?"

Zemo lowered his head and extended his arm for her to take. She looked at him as she stepped forward and grabbed it. Before they made it to the door, he stopped them and turned to her.

"I would like to apologize." Zemo looked down at her, "For how I... how I told you about your child's death."

Marcella stared back at him unsure of how she felt and unsure of what to say. Once again, he was out of line and telling her at the wrong time. She was scared Bucky or Sam could hear. "We're not talking about this right now." She let go of his arm and walked down the steps of the jet. Zemo nodded, and followed.

Bucky looked at Marcella as she walked down the steps. Dark makeup surrounded her eyes as it did when she was Hydra's. No one would be able to keep their eyes off her, maybe not even him. She walked towards them and her facial expression changed from feeling something to feeling nothing. She was doing what he was: Getting into character. He knew it hurt her maybe even more so because of that damn dress, but when Zemo stood behind her, everything felt a whole degree worse. He looked away when Marcella looked at him.

Bucky was wearing something he would have in Hydra. A one sleeved tight leather jacket, showing off his metal arm. Thank god, she thought, if she saw him with that harness they put him in or that mask on she might've tripped over her heels.

Sam looked at Marcella, a little flabbergasted.
"Sheesh. You really wore that?"

She was a bodyguard to public outings and dealings for Karpov and Pierce, before he had a wife. Everyone let women, especially one that look like her, into things because she looked more like an escort than an assassin.

"You really wearing that?" She snapped back at Sam looking at his outfit.

Sam's eyes widened and he turned to Zemo. "We have to do something about this. I'm the only one that looks like a pimp." Sam complained about his outfit as they walked away from the jet and across the bridge.

"Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you're supposed to be playing." Zemo let go of her back and pulled out his phone, "A sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger."

"He even has a bad nickname." Sam look to phone and looked at him. "Hell, he does look like me, though."

A car pulled up in front of them and they all walked towards it.

Marcella looked at the glowing city in the distance. It had been a long time since she'd been there. Her first mission with he Winter Soldier went down in Madripoor. It was a complete success, of course.

"Smell that?" Zemo asked them when a stink wafted towards them.

"Yeah, what is that? Acid?" Sam asked.

"Madripoor." The car got closer. "Okay. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error."