Do You Trust Me? // Bucky Barnes

2

Down Town New York

Ava

The screech and whir of machinery, from drills and blowtorches to hammers and guillotines, was the soundtrack to each step she took. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her mind ran over her escapes: fire exit to the left, trap door five steps to the right of the furthest table, a ladder to the roof outside the fourth window. Ava Hall knew how to get herself out of here if she needed and she could do it in her heels.

Faces glanced up, some she recognised and some new, and she held her head high. Her gaze was ice. Her mind was fire. Her soul was numb. Each step she took reflected the glow of flames; the shimmering silver of her dress refracting in the light and she danced in the power of her movement. Men stared. Men whispered. Men worked. But she had control. In this life - this second version of the world - Ava Hall had control. And she wasn't letting it go.

"What have you got for me, Joe?" She sauntered to the rotund man with his face obscured by a metal mask as a small circular blade cut through a metal she couldn't name.

The chatter around her seemed an oddly comforting familiarity as Joe slowly lowered his tools and pushed his mask from his face, revealing the grease marked ginger beard and swirling green eyes that marked her contact in this operation.

"The boss will fill you in tonight." He frowned slightly when he spoke and Ava felt her stomach tighten. "It's good stuff, Little Lady."

"The boss?" She stepped forwards, feigning casual interest in his work, and leant over the work bench, pressing her lips into an exaggerated pout and fluttering her eyelashes as she trailed her index finger over his arm.

Joe's breath hitched.

"You know, Joe. I enjoy our little meetings. Just the two of us." She watched as his body gave the tell tale signs of lust when she spoke, and then she stood tall; her eyes returning to ice and her expression slipping into a nothingness that showed the absence of her emotion. "So why am I now dealing with the big guy?"

A rush of wind pressed around the space, filling the echoing warehouse with a thunderous, metallic whir and whip, and Ava's spine straightened as her stomach hollowed.

The man, dressed in leathers with wide silver wings protruding from his shoulders landed with a thud; his knees bent and his head hanging low. His movement was slow and precise, deliberately detached from the den of iniquity that he ruled over, and as he rose his eyes moved across the room and landed where she stood.

A shiver ran the length of her as her heart stumbled to a stuttering race and she steadied her breath. After escaping lockup in the chaos of the snap, The Vulture had gained a reputation in darker circles than he had run in before, and Ava knew him by reputation only. And now that changed.

"That's the boss?" She kept her facade of disinterest enough to mask the quiver of her voice. "Mine's much scarier, Joe."

"I don't doubt that," the mechanic muttered as he ducked his head and returned to his job. "Ava here wants the lowdown on the goods boss."

The Vulture shook off his shoulders as his wings were lifted by two of his men, removing him of the weight of his power, and took a step down the metal rung stairs.

"So this is the elusive, Ava?" His eyes roamed freely over the length of her body, skimming over the shimmering silver and lingering on her bare legs. "Got a last name to go with that?"

Ava eyed him with distain as he approached her and shook her head. "No."

"Interesting."

Was it? No one else cared that Ava did not share her name. She watched him as he stepped closely around her.

"Take what you need, gorgeous. Business has been good."

Ava let out the breath she had been holding as he passed her and moved to the desk behind Joe's work station, dropping into his chair and placing his feet on the desk.

"Great. The Power Broker thanks you."

With a click of The Vulture's fingers, six men stepped out of the shadows, each carrying a crate of weaponry that glowed with inconceivable power. She moved quickly, surveying each item and holding them between her hands. Weighing them, observing them, feeling them. She felt his scrutiny as she moved and she cleared her mind of all details outside of this - outside of her mission focus. She had a job to do and once it was done she could drink enough to forget for a moment that this was her life; this was her world now.

*

The Upper East Side

Bucky

Music throbbed and the air was slick with booze and sweat as Bucky and Sam searched the crowd. The former assassin shifted uncomfortably, the black blazer hugging too closely to his skin for movement to be easy, and wished he'd ignored Carter's advice on the dress code. In black trousers, a thin black knit and the added blazer, he felt like one of the bouncers. Hell, he looked like one of the bouncers. And he was itching to get out of this place and these clothes.

Sam nodded to the far corner of the room, indicating he had seen Sharon and the men stepped forwards, parting the crowd around them as they wove through dancing bodies and grabbing hands.

She glanced to the bar and Sam nodded, shifting his weight to the left and redirecting the pair so that they could wait while she spoke with a man clearly unsure of how to hide his identity as a CIA agent.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he scoffed and Sam twisted to raise his eyebrows at him.

"Play nice, Buck. Steve would want you to."

"Steve's not here," Bucky grumbled.

"Why do you think she chose this place?" Sam mused as he shook his head at the approaching bar tender. Bucky just shrugged.

"Beats me." His eyes roamed the room, watching as men and women pressed together and lips met lips. Skin brushed against skin and each person moved as if they were sharing one heart beat. It was a den of iniquity. It was a home for the morally corrupt. A vice for those with lives to forget.

As he surveyed the room, his eyes fell on one woman - younger than the rest and moving in her own time. She swayed her hips as another girl held onto her and her head was hung back, face to the ceiling with her eyes closed. Her hair, a dark sea of waves, moved with her as she lifted her arm and placed her hand on the neck of the girl dancing behind her. She laughed as she moved. She lost herself in the music and the atmosphere.

Bucky's chest ached to look at her. His mind wandered to situations and issues that could have lead her to this place - to this life - and he stepped forwards. He stepped away from the bar and towards the crowd.

"It's good to see you guys!" Sharon shouted over the music, stopping Bucky in his tracks. His eyes never left the girl. "Come. This way."

Sam stepped off with her, following behind as requested, and turned to where Bucky stood, rooted to the spot.

"Buck?"

"Yeah," his voice didn't carry over the sound of the music. "I'm coming."

Tearing his eyes from the girl in the silver dress, Bucky turned to follow Sam and shook off the feeling of dread burning in his gut. Something wasn't right about that girl. Something was going to happen with that girl. He could feel it in his bones.