❝WHEN WE FIGHT, WE FIGHT LIKE LIONS.❞
❝BUT THEN WE LOVE AND TELL THE TRUTH ❞
In which an ego-centric ex-Widow who thinks superheroes are bullshit has to team up with two and falls in love with one.
[TFWS-?]
{Sam Wil...
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2023 (present-day)
The bar was nearly empty, save for a few regulars hunched over their drinks. It was a quiet, unremarkable Tuesday afternoon, the kind where time seemed to stretch and yawn. The place didn't have an official name; on the books, it was called Vincent's Bar, but to everyone else, it was just the joint on 39th and Western. Nestled in a nondescript corner of East L.A., it was the kind of dive that didn't attract much attention-a perfect hideout.
To Cherry, it was a sanctuary. Here, she was known only as Angel, a nickname she'd picked up after a particularly wild night and a conversation she barely remembered. It was a simple, unassuming place, about as nice as a dive bar could get, with dim lighting and a lingering scent of old beer and wood polish. Vincent, the grizzled old owner, paid her under the table, no questions asked, which suited her just fine. The work was easy, almost meditative. After years of espionage and assassinations, she found a strange comfort in the routine of pouring beers, mixing the occasional Negroni, and making small talk with the regulars.
The most important thing was that Vincent's Bar was a hole in the wall, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of place. Inconspicuous. No one would think to look for her here. Not the FBI, not the CIA, not Interpol, SAS, or any other global agency that had her on their radar. She was safe. Or at least, she had been.
She was halfway through preparing a glass for the next customer when the sound of unfamiliar footsteps caught her attention. Slowly, she turned, ready to hand over the beer she thought they might order, but the words died on her lips.
She froze. The man standing in front of her was someone she hadn't seen since before the Blip. Her heart skipped a beat, and despite herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Hey Vinny!" she called out, her voice cutting through the bar's low murmur. "I'm going on my lunch."
2006
"Again."
Cherry spat out blood, her vision blurring as the man with the metal arm grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the ground. The impact rattled her bones, but she didn't let herself stay down. She groaned, forcing her legs to wrap around his torso, using his momentum to pull herself up as he stood. She braced her hands on his shoulders, flipping herself over his head and landing lightly on her feet, turning to face him with her fists up.
"Break."
Cherry's head whipped around at the command from Mistress Blake, the woman overseeing their training.
"Let me try again," Cherry insisted, her voice hoarse.
"You can go after a break," Blake said, her tone flat, leaving no room for argument.
"I don't need a break. I can go again," Cherry shot back, spitting out more blood.
Blake exchanged a glance with the handler standing beside the Winter Soldier, who muttered something in Russian. After a tense moment, Blake nodded.
