A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky Barnes

|41|

Winter, 1974

The girl's eyes wandered to the agent across the room. He was bundled in a thick jacket, with a muffed hat and mitts that he took off each time he pulled one of those little white sticks from its carton. She didn't argue that it filled the room with an obnoxious smoke that made breathing difficult, she just stayed quiet with her back pressed against the cold cinderblock of the outpost wall.

He wasn't familiar to her, and neither was the other agent that sat beside him. That one didn't seem to care about the mitts; he just let his pale hands be chilled by the cold while he sorted through small cards on the table in front of them.

In the hour that he'd been doing it, she hadn't figured out why he was doing it. It was almost certainly not part of the mission, but then again, it was possibly something she hadn't been briefed on...

"We could—"

"Don't tell me to play Durak again, I would rather walk into the blizzard," the man grumbled, taking another sip of whatever was in his cup.

The second agent cocked a brow. "Maybe you should..." he mumbled.

"Maybe I will, it's better than sitting in here—"

"Yes, I know—"

"It's too damn cold, there's nothing to watch, no women—"

"There are women—"

"She does not count," he hissed. "I would lose my cock if I ever went near her."

"Might be worth it though... that suit doesn't hide much. And without the mask... Hmm."

"Go ahead. Try. Be my guest."

A quick whistle caught the girl's attention, and she met the eyes of the man without mitts.

"Prizrak, come here."

She stood from the bench and walked towards the man, waiting for him to explain what she needed to do.

"Stop."

She did, even though she was only half-way to him.

"Turn around."

She did.

"Take a step backwards."

She did.

"Anything you wanted, Iosif. Anything."

"Don't fuck around like that. Not when we're stuck in here and all I have to look at is your face."

"You could look at hers," the man suggested.

"Fuck off, Matvei."

"Beats cards."

"There's got to be something entertaining that she can do. Right, Prizrak? What can you do?"

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer, so she didn't say anything.

"Bitch—I asked you something." That moment, a hand wrapped around her bicep and spun her, leaving her facing Agent Iosif. "What can you do?"

"I do not understand, Agent."

"Sing, dance, jokes, come on," he suggested, his voice dripping in the tone that she heard often before she sparred.

"I do not know how to do any of those things, Agent."

His eyes rolled and he tilted his head. "What do you know?"

"To fight. To plan. To obey."

She'd never listed those things before, but the Russian had mentioned them over and over, so she assumed that's what he wanted to hear.