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Natasha is still sitting on the chair with the doctor, her face contorted in pain as she gritted her teeth against the searing agony that flared with each movement. Despite Indigo's stoic demeanor, she could see the strain etched into the lines of Nat's face, the flicker of vulnerability that betrayed the facade of invincibility she wore like armor.
As the doctor finished up, Indigo approached the chair, her footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. Natasha looked up at her, Nat's eyes meeting Indigos with a steely resolve that mirrored her own. There was a silent understanding between them, a bond forged in the crucible of battle and tempered by the fires of adversity.
"Thanks, Doc," Indigo said, offering a nod of gratitude to the doctor as he stepped back, his work complete.
He offered her a weary smile in return, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a warmth that belied the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon him. "Anytime, Indigo," he replied, his voice tinged with a weariness.
"Steve said it's time, Nat. I'll grab our suits," Indigo murmured, her voice a low rumble in the quiet of the makeshift infirmary. Natasha's gaze met hers, a silent acknowledgment passing between them as t hey both understood the gravity of the situation.
With a nod of determination, Indigo turned on her heel and made her way to the rack where their suits were stored. The materials gleamed in the harsh light, a testament to the meticulous craftsmanship that had gone into their creation. They were more than just clothing; they were our shields against the dangers that lurked in the shadows, our armor in the battle for justice and freedom.
Indigo grabbed Natasha's suit from the rack and tossed it over to her with a fluid motion, the fabric sailing through the air before landing in her outstretched hands. Without missing a beat, she caught it with practiced ease, her movements quick and efficient as she began to don the armor.
Meanwhile, Indigo wasted no time in shedding her civilian clothing, stripping away the layers until she stood clad only in her undergarments. With a sense of urgency driving her actions, Indigo reached for her suit, its sleek surface cool to the touch as she slipped her limbs into the familiar confines of the armor. The suit seemed to mold to her body, fitting like a second skin.
Its contours hugged her form snugly, every curve and angle tailored to perfection, creating a seamless fusion between man and machine. In that moment, Indigo felt invincible, as if the very essence of power and purpose surged through her veins.
Indigo walks over to the table where Hill had laid out their gear. With the same urgency guiding her motions, Indigo deftly reached for her arsenal, each weapon meticulously positioned for swift access. She grasped the sleek handles of her twin blades, their polished steel glinting menacingly in the dim light of the room. With practiced precision, she slipped them into the specially designed holsters secured along the thighs of her suit, the weight of the blades reassuring against her fingertips.
Next, her hands found the compact yet lethal pair of pistols nestled within their concealed compartments. The matte black finish of the firearms contrasted sharply against the vibrant hue of her suit, a testament to their deadly efficiency. She expertly clicked the safety off each weapon, the familiar sound echoing with a promise of impending action, before sliding them snugly into the holsters strapped securely to her hips.
Finally, her gaze fell upon the array of throwing knives meticulously arranged on the nearby table. Each blade was honed to perfection, gleaming with a deadly sheen under the soft glow of the room's lighting. With a fluid motion, she swiftly gathered them up, the cold metal fitting comfortably in the palm of her hand. One by one, she tucked them into the specially designed slots on her suit's utility belt, ensuring easy access when the need arose.
Looking around for the rose handled gun, her mind flashed back to the chaotic scene on the bridge, where Bucky, in a fit of rage, had decided to use their car for an impromptu demolition derby. There it hit Bucky's shocked face, the delicate roses stark against his contorted expression. Regret washed over Indigo as she remembered the impulsive decision to use the gun as a last resort in the chaos. But there was no time for remorse now; retrieving it was out of the question.
As Indigo adorned herself with her weapons, there was an undeniable sense of readiness that washed over her, a silent acknowledgment of the dangers that awaited beyond the confines of their current location.
"You feel for him, don't you?" Nat's voice cut through the whirlwind of Indigo's thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment.
Indigo glanced up, meeting Natasha's penetrating gaze with a mixture of surprise and apprehension. Nat had a way of seeing straight through her, as if she could unravel the tangled web of emotions that Indigo kept carefully concealed.
"I... I don't know," Indigo replied hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, he's... complicated."
Nat offered a knowing smile, her eyes softening with understanding. "Complicated is an understatement when it comes to Bucky," she said, her tone tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But there's something about him, isn't there? Something that draws you in, despite all the chaos and pain."
Indigo nodded, a lump forming in her throat as Bucky's eyes flooded her mind—seeing the beautiful human inside under the lingering shadows of his troubled past. Despite everything, there was a flicker of empathy within Indigo, a desire to see beyond the mask of the Winter Soldier and reach the man beneath.
"It's like... there's a part of him that's still fighting to break free," Indigo murmured, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "And maybe... just maybe, there's a chance for redemption."
Nat's expression softened even further, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. In that moment, Indigo knew that she wasn't alone in her conflicted feelings towards Bucky—that Natasha, too, understood the complexities of love and loyalty in a world torn apart by war and betrayal.
Natasha's voice cut through the haze of her thoughts with a steely resolve as she approached Indigo, her eyes blazing with determination. "Let's just focus on not getting shot again," Nat said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Then you can focus on metal man, okay?"
Her words were like a slap of reminder of the dangers that loomed on the horizon. Indigo nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat as she met Natasha's unwavering gaze. Nat was right, of course. There would be time to unravel the mysteries of Bucky Barnes later, after they had dealt with the immediate threats at hand.
"Okay," Indigo replied, mustering up a semblance of composure. "Okay, let's do this."
