'𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.'
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Even if every memory from 1917 comes roaring back to you, being a former Hydra assassin means you can never get a break. Since Beverly is on a mission of redemption, she respo...
The music is so loud that I groan loudly, but I digress. Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and I are walking through a well-known and seedy party in Mandripoor. The room is crowded, with people practically dancing on top of each other. Dancing was never like this in the 40s, it was actually nice. The lights are bright purple, and giving me a headache. The smell of alcohol makes me feel physically sick, but I know, chances are, I will have to drink some. Zemo always has a horrid trick up his sleeve.
Sam is dressed like a pimp. I won't say it to his face, but he looks ridiculous. However, Zemo looks worse. He is wearing a stupid, long coat and a smug smile on his face. But, the difference is that Sam knows he looks dumb. Bucky and I are in our tactical gear, however, the same type that we had to wear at HYDRA. Bucky's metal arm is on display, and my hands are bare. We look ready for a fight.
We are not Bucky and Beverly, but The Winter Soldier and Morana.
Zemo instructs us to go to the bar, where he smiles at the bartender. They clearly know each other, but there is some awkwardness between them. The bartender nods his head at Sam, recognising the character he is supposed to be playing. He hands him a drink, a chunk of meat slowly sinking to the bottom of the glass. Sam grimaces at the sight, but with a stern look from Zemo, he picks up the glass, chugging it down. His face contorts into disgust but tries his hardest to pretend to enjoy it.
"Lovely," His voice is squeaky. "I've always loved that drink."
"It has always been your favourite." Zemo smiles.
"Yes, yes" Sam turns to him. "Remind me again, what was the meat at the bottom of the drink?"
"Snake,"
"Snake?" Sam's eyebrows raise. "Delicious. I mean, fuck the snakes, right?"
"Anyway," Zemo faces the bartender. "We are here to see Shelby."
"No," The bartender scoffs. "You have no right to be here, let alone make demands."
"I know they don't like me here, but we have business with her."
"We?"
"Yes," Zemo places his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Me, The Winter Soldier, and Morana."
Bucky's and my eyes meet at his words, not having been told anything about this 'business'. His eyes quickly dart behind me, where a few men are nursing their drinks, and smirking at me. Their eyes are all over my body, mentally taking off my clothes. I boil with anger, but when I turn back to look at Bucky, he looks even worse than me. He is bursting with jealousy and anger, his eyes glaring holes into the men.
