RAISON D'ÊTRE ( bucky barnes ) 一 under editing

TWENTY-FIFTH

RAISON D'ÊTRE
TWENTY-FIFTH

THE MUZZLE DUG INTO HER SKIN, and she never realized how much she could hate something until this moment. It hurt every time her jaw moved and each time the car jostled, she could feel the tiniest sting of the muzzle hurting her skin. Her finger twitched with anger; she didn't understand what the point of this thing was. Witches didn't need to use verbal spells, and there were times where magic was based on emotion alone. There were several times where incidents and accidents and even natural disasters were caused because of a witch's emotions 一 and of course, anger and sadness were always the culprits. Perhaps this thing was a sort of power play, she mused, as if to treat her more like an animal than the powerful individual that she truly is. Everything about this was frustrating and if weren't for Bucky in the car behind them, she'd have snapped free of restraints and escaped. 

The car jostled once again, causing her tired body to shake, and she nearly bumped into the man beside her. It was another man from the chase, the one with the metal wings from the roof who had stopped the helicopter. According to Steve, his name was Sam. In front of her was Steve and T'Challa.

It was silent as they drove, and while Rome tended to typically like the quiet, this was not something she was enjoying. It was incredibly tense, with anger and frustration exuding from everyone else in the car. The silence was broken by Sam speaking, his question aimed to the now-king. "So... you like cats?"

"Sam," Steve chastised, head tilted slightly back to address him.

Sam looked back Steve, arching a brow. "What, dude shows up dressed as a cat and you don't wanna know more?"

He didn't get an answer to his question, and instead Steve followed up by asking a different question to T'Challa. "Your suit," he said, "it's vibranium?"

The witch watched as the man remained quiet for a moment before replying, his voice low and hollow. "The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now because your friend has murdered my father, I also wear the mantel of king. So I ask you as a warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

Bowing her head, Rome shut her eyes and slowly exhaled through her nose. She didn't understand why this was happening 一 Bucky hadn't left Romania since they first arrived in the country, and he certainly wouldn't have left to continue his Winter Soldier activities. He'd made Rome a promise that he'd be a better man and he'd meant it. Whoever it was that set those explosives and killed those people, it wasn't Bucky. These people had to know that, right? 

She could feel eyes digging into the side of her head, but she didn't bother looking up. Somewhere in the other van was Bucky, stuck and locked up like a caged animal. A growing anger bloomed in the pit of her stomach, and she felt like screaming. Rome wanted nothing more than to be by his side, to prove to these people that Bucky is a good, good man, but so long as they were prisoners, they wouldn't be together much. If at all... They'd be confined to their own cells, limit their contact with one another. But Rome was ready to fight for that.

Peering out the window, Rome noticed that their car had driven into a large building with an assortment of armed men awaiting them. Some of them were minding their own business, loading cargo, or even standing guard and waiting for their car to pull up. The moment they came to a stop, the doors opened and immediately, rough and gloved hands pulled her out of the van. She nearly stumbled, grunting as she did, but managed to catch herself. It wasn't until all four of them were out of the vehicle did she realize she was the only one locked up and manacled. Bastards...