Angels Cast The Shadows of Demons

give me water that could last in a drought

Bucky was right when he said they would close ranks. It had been more than two months since Bucky had gone undercover and he made very little headway in terms of getting inside the organization. All the informants Tony and Rhodey had either met a grizzly end or skipped town when Bruce's real identity and news of his fate came to light.

From what Bucky had learned from the latest drug dealer was that anyone who Richie felt had a hand in bringing in a federal agent into his ranks met a very gruesome end. While there is no shortage of members he can order to do his dirty work or assassins he could hire, it seemed to be common knowledge on the street that Richie enjoyed dealing with problems like this personally.

Bucky feared at this rate he'd be undercover for years and that was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen. He had heard rumors and stories of agents that had gone undercover for long periods of time and would start to lose track of who they really are and buy into their cover story. Or the cautionary tales they tell agents in training about how some people become seduced by the lifestyles of those they were assigned to arrest and want a part of it. As he looked around the shitty rundown apartment that bureau supplied him with, he prayed that he could find a way in sooner rather than later.

A few days later, Bucky is sitting across from Steve in some hole in the wall diner that's well outside the city limits. Extra precautions were being taken since Bruce's death; Bucky and Steve never met in the same location more than once and only they two knew time and place. Bucky kept in contact via a phone given to him by Tony, which Bucky kept hidden under a loose floorboard underneath the cheap nightstand by his bed.

Steve watches as Bucky pours what looks like an entire bottle of syrup on his stack of pancakes, "so anything new? Made any new friends I should know about?"

"Just some extremely low level people," Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of scrap paper and slid it over to Steve, "here's their names of you wanna look into them, but it's probably best to give it to the local cops, let them get the collar."

"Can anyone on here get you an in? Ya know move you up the ladder? Maybe in exchange for reduced time or something?" Steve asked before taking a bite of his omelette.

"Man, I wish. The whole thing with Banner has everyone spooked and Richie is out for blood, no one's sayin' or doing anything." Bucky said with a defeated tone. He really thought he would've made more headway by now.

"You'll get there, Buck."

Bucky wishes he could believe his partner.

--
Richie had once again locked himself in his office, just like he's done every night for the last several months. He ran his hands through his hair before resting his head on the desk in front of him, on top of a stack of financial documents that he barely understood. His once lavishly decorated office, the room he so carefully put together to impress people, is now a disgusting mess. A metaphor for his life he guesses, surrounded by tainted wealth and garbage.

He should've known better than to trust an outsider since it was the first lesson his father taught him, one that he drilled into Richie's psyche everyday. Richie was the oldest son, the heir apparent, and his father raised him that way. His father viewed their relationship as master and apprentice, never father and son. While other children his age were being taught how to ride a bike or playing catch, Richie was being taught the best ways to smuggle drugs and other contraband into their largest markets and how to go about blackmailing and bribing officials. He was fully aware he could not blame his father for everything, the monster inside of him that craves blood and chaos, well that's all Richie, but everything else? Richie chose to blame good ol' dad for all of that.