8-1-0-9

Chpt. 16

"You must've really looked up to Steve," Zemo said, his drink back in his hand as he looked to Bucky. "But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's super soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals."

"Watch your step, Zemo," Sam warned, the joy from before drowning instantly.

The man looked at me, as if gauging my reaction to the once again rising tension in the small area of the jet. I just kept my gaze steady on him, arms resting on the armrests of my seat. "They become symbols, icons," he continued regardless, turning to the Soldier again. "And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there... cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought." His brown eyes scanned the room, watching. "You remember that, right?" Zemo asked James. "As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?" He shook his, as if answering his own question for us. Though, I looked to the Asset, more curious about his past than ever, but he wouldn't look at me. "That is why we're going to Madripoor."

I tensed. That was not where I was hoping we'd have to do this. "What's up with Madripoor?" Sam inquired. "You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island."

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago," I said quietly, blinking when I realized my vision had locked onto a blank spot on the floor. "It was a pirate sanctuary back in the eighteen-hundreds."

Sam stared at me, a question clearly on the tip of his tongue and I could almost guess what he wanted to say. How I knew of such a place when it seemed these past five years I've been kept in the dark. "It's kept its lawless ways," our lawless extra went on. "But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." He paused to take a breath, his demeanor shifting to something similar to regret, which seemed strange from such a man. "James... You will have to become someone you claim is gone."

My heart pounded uncomfortably in my chest as I turned to him and his intense blues met my hazels. The frown on his face was prominent, the crease in his brow a sign of discomfort and nerves. But something flickered across his irises, something there and then gone in the same second. I had the sudden urge to tell him he'd be fine, to say that unlike myself, he had his mind under his own control and the least that would happen would be to fight off people. But I bit down on my tongue and glared at Zemo when he addressed me.

"Miss, you-"

"Gale," I corrected, watching as the Asset opened his mouth in the corner of my eye to say the same thing but refrained. I wasn't going to admit that the name he'd given me was starting to stick.

Zemo nodded respectfully. "Gale," he started again, "I'm afraid you will also have to take on the role as Eight-one-'o'-nine, but more fashionably so."

"Hold on," Sam interrupted, holding his hand out slightly to slow the conversation, his brown eyes narrowed incredulously. "Are we going to ignore that she knew the history of Madripoor?"

"I know the history," Bucky quipped, raising a brow at the man.

I felt backed into a corner as all of them turned to me. My hands shoved themselves deep into my pockets, gripping the metal bracelets like a lifeline. I looked between the three of them, clenching my jaw. I could either ignore Sam's curiosity and ask what the hell Zemo meant by 'fashionably so', or abide to the the curious man and question the criminal afterwards. Well, the other criminal, since I'm technically one too. I mentally blanked, and all I managed was a quiet, "what?"

The silence that followed was deafening, though I heard the faint sound of the Soldier chuckling at my mental blockade. Damn him. "How do you know about Madripoor?" Sam asked again, and his question made up my mind.