The Winter Soldier: Master of Madripoor

Epilogue

The flight landed in Washington D.C. in midafternoon and among the passengers was a man with shoulder length dark hair tied back, wearing the immaculate suit of a businessman, nearly indistinguishable from every other well-dressed person who had been on the flight. He carried a backpack and briefcase, strolling among the crowds to the rental car counter. He rented a small sedan, driving through the city until he reached the National Mall. He parked the car, heading to the reflecting pool near the Lincoln Memorial, buying a newspaper on his way. He sat on a park bench near the pool, as families and tourists wandered around, paying him no more attention than he paid them.

He found the headlines interesting and though he had been keeping track of the story, he read the articles related to the headlines thoroughly. "Sokovia Disaster!" one headline read, and the pictures were graphic for a newspaper, but considering what had happened in Sokovia, none of the pictures could be anything but graphic. The largest city in that long-troubled country had been literally ripped from the ground, destroyed past the point of being rebuilt. An artificial intelligence was behind the attack, which had been intended to wipe out all life from the planet itself. The Avengers had been responsible for stopping the attack, and the man on the bench read with more than a little intensity of the actions of all of the Avengers, but mostly Steve Rogers.

It was more intriguing to see the beginnings of a probe into the cause of the attack, and the rumors were swirling that the artificial intelligence, named Ultron, had been created by Tony Stark, possibly with help from Bruce Banner. His own sources had already brought that information to his attention, but he was mildly surprised it had been leaked to the press so quickly. The Avengers, it seemed, had saved the world from a threat they'd created. He knew Steve wouldn't have been involved in the creation of Ultron, just as he knew no one could talk Stark out of anything he wanted to do, but the blame was beginning to be placed with all of the Avengers.

There was an odd reflex within him at hearing about Steve shouldering blame for a situation that wouldn't have been his fault. He wanted to protect Steve, and also had a strong urge to tell him that he shouldn't be taking responsibility for everything. It was what Steve had always done, taken responsibility even when others shirked it. He stepped up where others would fall back and it was what made him a hero, and always had. It also made him an idiot and a small smile appeared on the man's face, brief, but there, before it faded. Steve wasn't currently in the D.C. area, which was one of the only reasons the man had decided to go there. He didn't want to be in the same city as Steve, the urge to meet him would have been too strong, and he had to stay away from Steve and anyone associated with him.

"Mr. Blackwell?" A voice asked. The man currently going by the name Blackwell looked up and saw another man, slim, shorter than him but equally well dressed standing next to the bench.

"Yes, I'm Blackwell." He put the newspaper aside, and the other man sat next to him on the bench.

"I have information for you," the other man said without further conversation. He handed a file over, which the man calling himself Blackwell took and placed in his briefcase without looking at it. No one paid them any attention, the amount of tourists in the area on a summer day made it easy to operate without being noticed.

"Thank you."
"It wasn't difficult to get the file, once I knew what I was looking for. It's not a pleasant story, though. And the person you'd asked about is dead."
"Just filling in the blanks, I already knew he was dead."

"I was curious why anyone would care about that particular story. It's been archived for twenty years. Is it related to what happened a year ago?"
"No. It's unrelated to anything." Blackwell turned and smiled at the other man, though it was devoid of any feeling. It was what was required in the situation. "A personal curiosity."
"Are you an academic?" The other man looked very curious. "I've been called on to get information for the group in Madripoor before, but nothing so obscure. You must be paying a lot to get it."