Blades & Ballet | Bucky x Reader

Fourteen

Madripoor.

Zemo provided Sam and Y/n some new clothes to help them blend in with the Madripoor crowd. As for me, I wear my tactical suit, dressed like the Winter Soldier I'm supposed to be.

"We have to fix this," Sam states as we walk along the bridge, staring down at the red and yellow patterned suit he's wearing. "I'm the only one who looks like a pimp."

Y/n laughs, and I sneak a glance at her. The short, black dress she wears hugs the curves I only now notice she has.

"Trust me, Sam," Y/n says. "You'll fit right in."

"Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp," Zemo adds. "You look exactly like the man you're supposed to be playing... The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger."

"He even has a bad nickname," Sam states, taking the phone from Zemo to look at the picture of his cover. "Hell, he does look like me, though."

"As for you, Miss Y/l/n..." Zemo addresses her. "You will need to pose as—"

"I don't need a cover story," Y/n interrupts. "They know me here."

Zemo smiles at her, sniffing the air as the wind shifts. "You smell this?"

"Yeah," Sam confirms. "What is that? Acid?"

"Madripoor," Y/n corrects.

A car approaches us, stopping a few feet away as it waits for us to get in. Y/n opens the back door, sliding into the middle seat to make room for me as I follow.

"No matter what happens, we have to stay in character," Zemo warns, getting into the passenger seat. "Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error. High Town is that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town's the other way."

"Let me guess," Sam muses, walking around the car to get in on the other side. "We don't have any friends in High Town."

The car takes us across the bridge and into city. Reaching Low Town, six motorcycles surround us, and through the windows, I see the guns strapped to their sides.

As we drive under an underpass, the motorcycles veer off, and the driver stops our car on the next street. We climb out, following Zemo over a pedestrian bridge. Neon lights illuminate the night sky as people dressed in flashy clothing wander the streets, many of them carrying weapons of their own.

"Here we are," Zemo says as we enter The Monkey Bar, weaving our way through the crowd. He switches to Russian before turning to me. "Ready to comply... Winter Soldier?"

Zemo's statement draws attention, and many curious glances turn in our direction as we make our way to the bar.

"Hello," the bartender greets. "Wasn't expecting you, Smiling Tiger."

"His plans changed," Zemo informs. "We have business to do with Selby."

The bartender's eyebrows furrow before he turns to Sam. "The usual?"

Sam nods, and the bartender walks off to make his drink, pulling a dead snake from a jar on the shelf and bringing it over to the counter to slice it open.

"Ah," Zemo says, trying to hide his humour as he turns to Sam. "Smiling Tiger, your favourite."

The bartender pulls the guts from the snake, dropping them into a glass filled with alcohol before finally sliding the glass over to Sam. Sam tries to hide his disgust as he picks up the glass, but Y/n is less subtle as she wrinkles her nose.

"I love these," Sam declares, saluting Zemo and the bartender with the drink.

"Cheers, Conrad," Zemo replies, clinking Sam's glass with his own.

After a second of hesitation, Sam downs the drink, and gives the bartender a thumbs up. The bartender nods before walking away.

At that moment, a man with a bald head and a large beard approaches us.

"I got word from on high," he tells Zemo. "You ain't welcome here."

Zemo shrugs. "I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me..."

Zemo gestures to me, and the man looks over. "New haircut?"

"Or bring Selby for a chat," Zemo orders.

The man glances between us before walking off.

Once he's out of earshot, I turn to Zemo. "A power broker? Really?"

"Every kingdom needs its king," Zemo explains. "Let's just pray we stay under his radar."

"Do you know him?" Sam asks.

"Only by reputation," Zemo answers. "In Madripoor, he is judge, jury, and executioner."

At that moment, another man approaches, grabbing Y/n's behind. "Hey, Princess. Why don't we go have some fun?"

In one swift movement, Y/n grabs the man's wrist, twisting his arm at an odd angle as she presses a dagger to his throat.

"Try that again, asshole," she threatens. "I dare you."

The man chuckles. "You think I'm afraid of Selby's little pet?"

He grabs her dagger hand, but before she can react, Zemo turns to me, speaking in Russian. "Winter Soldier, attack."

I lunge for the man, grabbing his arm and pulling him from Y/n as I walk him backward. The crowd parts as we approach, and I dislocate the man's shoulder before flipping him to the floor.

Another man charges at me, swinging his fist, but I dodge it, grabbing his arm and punching him repeatedly. I stomp him in the stomach, and he falls back into a third man as he rushes in. A fourth man jumps over a nearby table, using it to support his weight, but I kick the table leg out from under it and he crashes to the floor.

A fifth man charges at me with a knife, but I block his attack with my metal arm before knocking him away. The men keep coming and coming, but one by one I knock them down.

"Didn't take much for him to fall back into form," I hear Zemo mutter to the others.

I grab another man by the throat as he attacks, throwing him up on the bar.

Sam puts his hand on my shoulder, but I hear Zemo's hushed warning. "Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us." He turns to me, switching to Russian. "Well done, Soldier."

Slowly, I release the man in my grip, and he drops to the floor before scurrying into the crowd.

A moment later, the bartender returns. "Selby will see you now."

"Thank you," Zemo replies, walking toward him.

"You good?" Sam asks me quietly.

I exhale sharply, quickly glancing at him before following the bartender.