It feels like all they've been doing – for the last year or more – is investigating from afar. Doing recon and analysis, gathering together in this very conference room to share their lack of findings, scrutinize all of the meaningless details… sit and wait.
And it's driving Steve insane.
For as long as he can remember, he's been a man of action. Even before the serum, even when he was small and weak and sick – long before Captain American was born – it was Steve's practice to jump in and do what needed to be done… whatever could be done. He's a soldier after all, not a spy who goes out and gathers intel. Not an analyst who sits back and pieces it all together. Certainly not a political strategist who spends his time weighing the pros and cons of each and every action. He takes orders. He gives orders. And he does what needs doing.
But this… mission… this ongoing, never-ending, unrelenting investigation has given him absolutely nothing to do other than sit and lament the fact that there's really nothing at all to be done.
The Canadian government is experimenting on mutants and trying to build a new breed of super soldier. Their own government – as well as those of many other nations – seems to be involved. Lobe is in the wind, or just really well hidden. The X-Men – Bobby now included – are gone. Tessa is – very possibly – dying. And… and…
"And we're just sitting here talking?!" he nearly shrieks as he pounds his open palms atop the conference room table. A long, bitter huff flows out of him as his eyes bounce around the stifling conference room that they've been huddled in day after day after day, going over nothing… looking at nothing… talking about nothing. Doing nothing.
Natasha looks at him from across the table, raises an accusatory brow – Are you finished? – and leans coolly back in her seat. "What do you want us to do, Steve?" she asks pointedly. "You want to just go knock down Ross' door? Maybe drag him into an interrogation room?"
He turns to her with fire in his eyes, inflated sense of justice burning through him in a way that Bucky immediately recognizes from when they were kids and little Stevie would hop into the melee without a second thought, standing up for what he deemed to be right. "Yeah," he breathes out slowly, dangerously. "I do."
She pulls herself upright, shoulders set in a challenging posture. "And then what? You think he's actually going to tell us anything?"
"So we just do nothing?!" he almost shouts, frustration simmering to a near boil.
"Alright, pal," Bucky steps in, placing a calming hand on his friend's shoulder. "We're not saying that. Nobody's saying that. Just… we're talking about the Secretary of State here. This guy could have you locked up if he wanted. Hell, he could probably make any of us just… disappear."
Natasha gives a slow, self-righteous nod. "That's what I've been saying. I'm all for paying this ass-hat a visit and hearing what he has to say, but we have to go in with a plan."
"Yeah," Tony mutters from across the room, contemplative look on his face as he gently strokes his chin with thumb and forefinger. "I have some people calling now to try and get us in to see him. But before we do that, I want to know something…" He cocks his head toward Tessa, narrowing his eyes as he assesses her from the opposite end of the table. "Let's talk about who this Dr. Sublime is."
"He's a brilliant scientist and a certified madman," she says, voice more than a bit flippant. She sits in the corner of the room, arms folded tightly over her chest as she glowers at the group of people before her. "He helped run Weapon X…"
"The program in Canada that was trying to build super soldiers," Steve interjects, reiterating the information she'd given them all on Sublime so many months before – before all of this had happened.
She nods, but before she can go on, Tony begins stalking, pacing fervidly as he intones, "You say he's a madman," letting the final word elongate and drift from his tongue.
"Yeah," she bites out with a shrug. "He wrote this… manifesto. It was all about taking powers from unworthy mutants and transplanting them into worthy… humans."
"Right, right," he nods. "It's where Lobe got his ideas from. I was more questioning the man part of it."
Her brows knit tightly together and she pulls herself to the very edge of her seat. "I don't know – "
"Ah, shit," Bucky breathes out next to her. She turns her quizzical look on him only to find that he and Tony have connected matching, calculating stares, a peculiarity that actually disturbs her more than all of the rest of this talk put together. Her boss and her husband – somehow – have a secret… together.
Tony gives Bucky a quick, tight nod, an acknowledgement of sorts, before he restarts his pacing, tossing Tessa a quick glance before muttering, "Your friend, the nut-ball crazy one…" He pauses, raising a hand in the air and snapping wildly as he tries to pull her name from the ether.
"Nut-ball crazy?" she questions, brow still deeply furrowed, eyes now narrowed suspiciously as well. "That could be any of you."
Bucky drops a warm palm to her shoulder, his gaze still trained on the rather harried man across the room. "Dr. MacTaggert," he supplies, the utterance immediately earning him a loud snap by way of yes! from Tony.
"She knew Sublime?" she asks, her face so theatrically pinched in puzzlement that Natasha – who's been pivoting back and forth in her seat, watching the exchange like a captivated tennis match attendee – has to stifle a laugh.
Tony raises a brow as he steps over to the table, looming at the far end, a good eight feet away from her. He drops his wide open palms atop the shiny mahogany surface and leans heavily over the top, staring her down. "She said that he's not a man at all."
Natasha quirks her head in his direction, reclining casually back in her chair as she glances at him with a coy smirk. "He's a she?"
He rolls his eyes dramatically, refusing to look over at her. "That's not what she meant."
"But he's not," Tessa starts, sputtering a bit before finishing with, "he's not a… mutant?"
Tony shakes his head, his eyes pinging back up to Bucky, connecting once again in mutual understanding. "No. He's not a mutant. She said he's not a mutant. But he's also not a man."
Natasha shrugs. "I'm back to woman."
Steve furrows his brow. "Inhuman?"
Tony shrugs as well – "She didn't say." – and looks back over at Tessa. "I'm not exaggerating when I say that she's a nut-ball. That woman is two aces short of a full deck… and someone slipped a couple of jokers in their place."
The befuddled expression quickly drops from her face, a not even remotely amused look of irritation immediately replacing it.
"I'm just saying, she wasn't exactly forthcoming with information. At least not any that made any damn sense."
"Weapon X was when?" Bucky asks, shifting around to lean – nearly sit, really – atop the table as he faces his wife. "Fifties? Sixties?"
She shrugs. "Something like that. Logan's memory from that time… it's not great. And I don't know when it first started or how long it might've gone on after he left."
Steve pivots to face her as well. "And you said he was involved with Project Rebirth?" he asks, still raking his mind for any memory, even the slightest inkling, of the name Sublime coming up during his time with Dr. Erskine.
She nods. "That's what Professor Xavier said. And in The Third Species, he mentioned it too. His book," she clarifies, clearing her throat. "We all had to read it… in the eighth grade, I think. We read it so we could better understand our enemy."
Steve's shoulders tighten, his jaw setting tensely as he thinks about a bunch of eighth grade kids reading about – even just thinking about – their enemies. He'd come to understand a lot about the philosophies and way of life of the X-Men, and the children housed at their school. But he still felt a dull ache pulsate through him upon being reminded of how so many of those kids had been recruited over the years to fight. "Your enemy?" he asks, almost seething at the words.
She doesn't need to be able to sense his energy to know that he's filled with a disapproving sort of contempt. They've discussed it before, in fact. No matter how much respect he may have gained for Storm – even Logan – over the past year, working and consulting with them, he was simply never going to be okay with the fact that the X-Men took Tessa on her first mission when she was just fourteen. He was never going to accept that she – nor any of the other kids who ever attended the school – was allowed to participate in… battle at such a young age.
But, really, he doesn't have to accept it. He doesn't have to like it. He doesn't have to think about it all. Because ultimately, it's not his place, not his life… not his world.
Her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as she pulls in a stilling breath, working to quell the sudden rapid beating of her heart. "The men who believed in Sublime's… work, the ones who treated The Third Species like some sort of bible," she starts, directing a pointed stare at Steve. "They came to the school once. Looking for mutants to… use. They showed up hoping to find powerful children that they could drain like batteries. They actually believed that they could transplant tissue from a mutant into a normal person and breed superpowers. Graft flesh and transplant organs…" Her lips pull into a tight, thin line as she glares at him, chin craned upwards to look him in the eye as he looms above, a superior set to his features. "I was nine years old then," she states simply, no emotion to her voice.
He flinches at her words, just a bit, just a barely noticeable balk as he strains to keep his expression flat.
"I know how you feel about child soldiers, Steve," she mutters with a hint of contrition. "But – yeah – we had enemies."
Bucky swings his leg out a bit, just enough to lightly tap hers with his knee as he continues to lean heavily on the table behind him. Her attention is immediately drawn to him – to his stoic yet sympathetic face – and he offers her a small, conciliatory smile. "Was Sublime with them then?" he asks gently, his voice low.
She shakes her head. "No. The U-Men – that's what they called themselves – they'd been on their own since his death. At least… that's what the Professor said. He told us all that John Sublime died years before. At a ripe old age."
He nods slowly, eyes still glued to hers. "Well, if he's not human, that would explain how he could be signing papers in 2015, even though he'd be, what, over 100?"
"Well over," she replies with a sigh.
"So," Natasha drawls out, spinning her chair slowly back and forth. "What we're looking at here is a truly suspicious business deal between the current US Secretary of State; Matthew Avignon, a man who no one has heard from in years, but was last known to be heading up Canada's mysterious Department H; and a… non-man with a crazy cult following who should have died decades ago. That sound right?"
"Well," Tony mutters as he pushes off the table and begins to swiftly pace the length of the room once more. "I don't know about right, but it is correct."
"And what do we think the odds are that Ross knows all of this about his business partners?" she asks blithely.
"He's not stupid," Tony supplies. "He's got a high-powered position and he's – globally – in the public eye. I doubt he'd risk getting into something that would jeopardize his current status… or his run for the presidency, which I think we all know is coming."
"So he would've vetted them," she mutters, almost to herself. "He would've vetted any agreement he'd sign his name to."
Steve's lip curls into a snarl. "You're saying that whatever this is… it's legal?" He turns to Natasha, who still has the file folder supplied by Tony and Tessa splayed open in front of her, pages spilling out into a haphazard fan. "What is this thing called? The business?"
She scoots up to the table and glances down at the documents before her, shuffling a couple aside before finding page one of the contract. "Tactical Defense Plus," she reads aloud.
He looks back at Tony with wide eyes. "Come on, man. This is obviously tied to Lobe's… super soldier project!"
Tony stops short, glancing up at the Captain for a brief moment before issuing out a noncommittal shrug. "Didn't say it was anything good," he mutters blandly. "Just doubt it's illegal."
"Which is even more concerning," Natasha states grimly as she once again appraises the documents in front of her.
"I should go with you," Tessa says suddenly, voice firm and chin set. She gives a tight nod to Natasha as the redhead slowly turns her way, skeptical brow raised high. "To talk to him. I want to talk to him."
Bucky lets out a deflating sigh, a tired expression tugging at his face. "You have to know that's not gonna happen."
Her hands fly up in an annoyed gesture as she bolts staunchly upright, sending the wheeled office chair flying back into the wall behind her with a thud. "Why not?!"
He gives her a get serious glare as she looms angrily in front of him. But no words are spoken, none have to be. She knows the reason.
But it doesn't keep her from fuming… and fighting. "What?" she spits out, voice filled with venom. "You think I'm just gonna… drop dead on his living room rug?"
Tony clears his throat. "I thought we'd try to schedule something in his office," he quips, steady pace continuing at the front of the room. "Bit rude to invite yourself into someone's living room."
"I'm okay with rude," Steve mutters, his strong jaw set in a petulant pout.
"I should be there," Tessa argues, tone suddenly calm and measured as she works to persuade the room.
Steve turns to her with an impatient frown. "You can't go see Ross. Even if you were up to it, which I don't think you are, we don't know how involved he is in this. He might know about you… about them having you."
"I agree," Natasha starts, rising slowly from her seat and turning to Tessa. "We know that he used to work with a man who was with you – interrogating you – while you were being held up in Canada. Now we find out he signed a deal – just before all this shit with Lobe started up – with two people who have intimate involvement with mutant affairs? I think it's safe to assume that Ross probably knows at least something about you… too much for it to be safe for you to be anywhere near him."
Steve nods. "Honestly, Tess, I still don't think it's safe for you to even leave the compound. Not now. Especially if your powers are… on the fritz."
She snorts dramatically and rolls her eyes. "On the fritz… that's one way of putting it."
"Okay, good," Bucky states in a decisive tone, clapping his hands stiffly together as he pulls himself up from the table. "We're in agreement."
A look of utter shock rolls over Tessa's face. "Wha-" she begins, the word trailing into a disgruntled huff. "I'm not in agreement."
But before anyone can say a word – argue either for her or, as is much more likely to occur, argue against and then with her – Friday's voice breaks into the conference room, announcing simply, "Dr. Barnes, you're needed in the lab."
Steve gives an appreciative – and rather amused – nod. "Good timing."
Tony merely recoils, a disgusted look on his face. "Barnes? When did you do that?"
She reaches down to gather her phone – and the banana that Bucky had tossed at her when he first entered the room – and mutters, "You mean how did I manage to jump through all the hoops you put in place to keep me from changing my name in the system?"
Her expression is so icy with irritation that Tony finds himself fighting off a sudden shiver. "Yeah," he capitulates simply.
She lets out an annoyed groan and rolls her eyes as she sweeps past him on her way out the door. "Too much time on my hands," she breathes out before stopping short and spinning to face everyone in the room. A single pointed finger is raised high, a threat to all. "This isn't over."
"It absolutely is, sweetheart," Bucky announces in reply, turning away before he can catch a glimpse of the enraged expression he's certain she's wearing. He looks to Steve, ignores the amused glint in his eye, and tells him, "You and Romanov," again with that firm tone that brokers no arguments, "you two go meet with the bastard. And keep each other in line. I don't want to have to put together a team to come pull you out of a federal prison."
His words are punctuated by the door slamming shut so violently that the entire room shakes, leaving each remaining team member with the same question burbling through their subconscious minds. Where the hell did she get the strength to do that?
000
As it turns out, even Captain America himself can't just waltz into the office of the Secretary of State. For one thing – according to his annoyingly saccharine-sounding receptionist – Ross is out of the country until Friday. For another thing – this according to the always cynical Tony Stark – someone as arrogant as Thaddeus Ross knows better than to look as though he's at the beckon call of some (well-loved) crime-fighting vigilante.
It's four long – and angst-filled – days before Steve and Natasha are permitted entrance into Secretary Ross' office in DC. Four days filled with stress and worry… because Tessa had decided to try out her serum-laced cure that same evening that Friday had beckoned her down to the lab. Four days of preparation and forethought… additional research garnering them a handful of other documents pointing to Ross being involved in multiple mutant-targeting agendas and weapons-creating pilot programs over the years. Four days of putting their heads together to try and determine the best way to approach this whole interaction… and to get out of him what they came for. Four damn long days… all leading to this.
"What can I do for you, Captain?" Secretary Ross says, terribly politic smile on his face as he pops the button on his suit jacket and lowers himself into the overstuffed chair in the corner of his lavish office.
Steve's eyes narrow, lips pulling into a straight thin line as he watches the man ooze with practiced tact. He has no time for this show of diplomacy, nor any other political maneuvering. They've waited four days just to get into a room with him. He's not going to waste any more time playing games. "We want to know about Tactical Defense Plus," he says, over-enunciating the company name with more than a hint of disgust.
Ross chuckles and leans forward casually. "I'm sorry?"
"Tactical Defense Plus," he repeats, still standing tall and still in the middle of the room. "Tell us about it."
"Well, I'm not really sure what to say." His gaze turns Natasha, who's busy studying seemingly everything in the room, casing the extravagant office from top to bottom. With a flick of his head – indicating the large chairs across from him – he says, "Really, why don't you two sit?"
Steve and Natasha share a quick look – a momentary calculation comprised of should we put him at ease? And he's not going to be intimidated, so we might as well – before slowly stepping over and lowering themselves simultaneously into the chairs.
"What is it?" Natasha says this time, pulling Ross' attention to her.
"It was a joint effort between the United States and Canada to create a mutually beneficial international defense program." He shrugs. "Never quite got off the ground."
"And this program involved mutants?"
"Mutants?" he asks with a small, smug laugh. "Why do you ask that?"
She raises an accusatory brow. "Because both of the men you partnered with on this joint effort were involved in anti-mutant activities."
He cocks his head casually, raising his brow with a slight nod as if to say, go on.
She pulls out a copy of the file containing the merger documents – signed by Ross, Sublime and Avignon – and hands it to him. "Matthew Avignon was the director of Department H, the division of the Canadian government dedicated to monitoring mutant threats," she states, tapping a stiff – perfectly manicured – finger by the man's name. She flips to the next page and points at Sublime's signature. "And John Sublime… participant in the Weapon X program and leader of the anti-mutant U-Men."
"The what now?"
"The U-Men," Steve bites out. "Terrorists who believed – a little too much – in Sublime's book about stealing powers from mutants and transplanting them into regular people."
He shakes his head slowly, a dark, sardonic laugh burbling out of him as he looks up and locks onto the Captain's eyes. "That wasn't the point of that book," he tells him, an unsettling shrewdness to his tone.
Natasha shifts uncomfortably in her chair, trying to cover the sudden unease by pulling her shoulders stiff and uttering, "Enlighten us then."
"Alright," he says, eyes ticking over to meet hers. "In a nutshell… The world is tainted. Unclean. As are we all, really… though some among us more so than others." He stops for a beat, narrowing his eyes at her, giving her an assessing look. "But we can be… better," he states, voice barely above a whisper. "We can achieve perfection."
Her brow furrows just the slightest bit. "Perfection?"
He nods. "Homo Perfectus… another breed of human altogether. A third species. Greater and more powerful than the rest – than the bereft regular person, as you so churlishly put it, Captain," he mutters, glaring fleetingly at Steve. "And certainly better than the eternally unclean mutants." His eyes settle back on Natasha, taking in her rapt stare. "You see, mutants aren't really deserving of their powers. They just… fell into them by virtue of some fluke of nature… some freak stroke of luck. But this third species, they all begin as men, live lives as real men, working to advance the world in a way that no mutant ever has or ever would." A fleeting look of utter disgust rolls across his face, so quickly that Nat blinks and it's gone. "When these men receive their powers, they'll be worthy of them." He reclines back slowly, releasing a contented sigh. Then with a blithe shrug, he utters, "That's what his book says, anyway."
Steve stares him down, eyes boring into his temple. "You believe it?" it asks, trying – and utterly failing – to hide his contempt.
He turns to look at the super-powered man in front of him, a wry smile creeping across his face. "Of course not," he says with a deep laugh. "That book is filled with mad ramblings. Anyone who buys into that crap is a lunatic!"
"But…"
"I was merely correcting your assessment of Dr. Sublime's work, Captain."
"Why would you sign on to do business with someone like that?" Natasha asks, her voice rising in pitch. "If you think he's mad…"
"Ms. Romanov," Ross intones haughtily. "I never said that Dr. Sublime was mad. On the contrary. That book of his did exactly what it was supposed to do." He leans slowly forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It took a group of angry – crazed – men willing to do anything for what they believe, and it gave them a cause."
"Hunting mutants," Steve breathes out, no question to his voice.
Ross merely nods. "It was much harder back then. Most people hadn't heard of mutants. Or, those who had thought they were… made up. Some sort of fairy tale. The Third Species spoke to those people – the conspiracy theorists – and it planted a terribly important truth… in order for humankind to survive, mutantkind must be eliminated."
"Jesus," he mutters bitterly, shaking his head helplessly back and forth. "You really believe that? These are people."
"Don't be naïve, Captain. Mutants have been causing trouble for decades… centuries, really. And if these U-Men, or any others like them, had just organized themselves a bit better and gotten the job done years ago, well then, we wouldn't be where we are now. Would we?"
"Where are we now?" Natasha asks, a dangerous edge to her otherwise cool tone.
He twists around to look at her. "Have you any idea how many crimes – how many atrocities – have been committed in this world by those… those…"
"Careful," Steve warns pointedly.
Ross pulls in a calming breath. "Look around you, Captain. Anyone can see the threat looming. Do you think that I created all of this fear on my own? That John Sublime did? No, of course not. It's been there all along."
Steve's jaw sets firmly, audibly clicking into place before he says, through gritted teeth, "People fear what they don't know, what they don't understand. What Sublime did, what you've done with all your little press conferences, your support of the registry, your… whatever the hell this business is… You're all just playing on that fear."
He laughs again, this time lighter and more airy, as though his enraged words truly had been some sort of hilarious witticism. "Captain," he begins, swallowing down the chuckle still burning at the back of his throat. "The whole reason you exist is because men far wiser than you or me could see, all those years ago, that a threat to humanity was on the horizon. You want to talk about Weapon X? What about Weapon I? That's what you are, don't you realize? You are the first successful weapon in the fight against the mutant scourge."
He shoots up from his chair, causing Natasha to jump a bit in surprise… though Ross doesn't so much a flinch as he stares up at him. "Project Rebirth was designed to create a soldier to fight Nazis," he spits out, looming over the Secretary. "Not mutants."
Ross slowly rises as well, triggering Natasha to do the same. "One man's super-strength was never going to win that war," he says, his voice soft and oddly sincere. "It was a world war, Captain. We won because the Allies had more money for weaponry, superior military strategy, and – thanks to the Soviets – greater numbers of troops." He takes a cautious step closer, going so far as to actually place a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. "You were made to fight a different war altogether."
It takes him a moment to shake off Ross' hand, the mere touch of it stunning him into stillness. "You're wrong," he says simply, because he can think of nothing else to say.
A long, deep breath flows out of Ross as he backs up a few steps. "Weapon X," he begins with an almost impatient intonation, "was the tenth endeavor to fall under the Weapon Plus umbrella. Project Rebirth was the first. The entire program was designed to create soldiers capable of fighting in the wars of the future. Wars with mutants."
"And you know that these wars are coming how?" Natasha asks.
"These people claim to be the next step in human evolution," he tells her. "Tell me, Ms. Romanov, what do you think happened to all of the other hominins throughout time? Where are the Neanderthals now?"
A dumbfounded look rolls across her face, fleeting though it may be. "If we're meant to evolve, then we'll evolve," she sputters out, adding on a flippant shrug at the end.
He shakes his head. "No. They will continue to evolve. And we will die out as they do so. Unless we fight." He walks back to his chair and collects the felled file with the Tactical Defense Plus agreement inside. Holding it up for her to see, he says, "This was meant to give us that fighting chance."
"But it never got off the ground," she states, repeating his words from earlier.
He lowers himself to the arm of the chair, tossing the file onto the coffee table to his left. "Things were in place. We had the Department of Defense on board. They even gave us a 4.5 million dollar loan to get things up and running. We had a small staff, a few labs set up throughout the world." He spins on a heel to look at Steve – the Captain's face still blanched and pinched – and he says, "Did I mention that five other nations signed on? It was mostly in a supportive capacity. They agreed to help us get set up in secret locales and we agreed to supply them with… end product."
"Secret locales?" Natasha mutters from his other side. "So this wasn't exactly on the up and up, I take it."
He almost laughs again, so amused by the naivety in the room. "I assure you, nothing illegal was going on, if that's what you're thinking. We had all our ducks in a row. But that doesn't mean that this wasn't a clandestine affair. We were building weapons after all… for national defense. That's not something you share openly with the public."
"Weapons or super soldiers?" Steve seethes.
He turns to him again, narrowing his eyes a bit as he watches the man's nostrils flare. "We were setting up a lab near Cohoes Falls," he states plainly, his voice dropping an octave. "New York. Not too terribly far from the Avengers' compound." He continues to stare unblinkingly at the Captain as he asks, "Have you heard of it?"
Memories return to him in flashes. A shoddily put-together mission plan with an inexperienced scientist at its heart. One bad call – It's okay, Tess. We've got eyes on you – followed by another – Buck, take whatever shot you can. Take them out. The feeling of cold, hard metal slipping beneath his fingertips as he struggles to force open a trunk. The sickening crack and pop of an unmoving chest caving beneath his shaking hands. The deafening statement from his oldest, dearest friend – If she hadn't have made it, I wouldn't have made it either.
"Yeah," Ross drawls out, seeing the realization wash over Steve's face. "I thought you may have." He stands up and takes a measured step back, then another. "Canadian officials got worried after that. They thought that US involvement might be… dicey. So we put together a new plan – a new project – with Canada's Defense Department running point. Of course," he mutters, chancing a glance at Natasha before looking back to the man before him. "We've recently had some hiccups there as well. Had to shut down a few locations."
"You son a bitch," Steve breathes out, his tone more disbelieving than angry.
But Natasha recognizes the look in his eye, sees an almost feral desire to attack brewing within him. She feels it rise up in her as well, snaking it's way through her gut, working to expand out into a flurry of quick, lethal movements. But – she reminds herself – this isn't just some criminal they're talking to. This isn't an international terrorist or despot or cartel leader. This is the United States Secretary of State. This is a man who has enough security outside his door right now to take down even Captain America – maybe, at least – and certainly enough power to have the both of them thrown into prison… and to have the Avengers officially shut down.
So she takes a few swift strides and places herself in between the two men. Reaching a surreptitious hand back behind her, she grabs Steve's wrist and gives him a tight – hopefully telling and quieting – squeeze. "Do you know what was happening there?" she asks forcefully, glaring daggers at Ross. "Do you know what they did?"
"I assure you, Ms. Romanov, everyone in those facilities was there willingly. We have any number of signed waivers to prove it. And payment records, of course."
Steve lunges forward, shout tumbling from his lips – "You lying piece of shit!" – before Natasha thrusts a hard and fast elbow into his gut, jarring him back into a bitter, brooding silence.
"We know that's not true," she says, somehow managing to keep her voice still and calm.
"How do you know?" he challenges. "Your little mutant friend told you… the doctor?"
Her shoulders stiffen even further, every muscle in her body pulling tight as she hears a low growl roll out from Steve's chest behind her. "There were children," she bites out.
A quick look of surprise flashes across his face, eyes widening in horror for the briefest of moments before he shakes his head and states, "No. I don't know anything about that. What I do know is that your friend murdered twelve people in cold blood."
"What?"
"The facility in Nunavut," he says, tone dipping as though issuing out a reminder. "Did you really think we didn't know? The only reason no one's gone after her is that a war with the Avengers would be a PR nightmare. But that doesn't mean that she's not still a murderer. And it doesn't mean that we won't find her and bring her to justice eventually. And in the meantime, well," he issues out a low whistle. "I suggest you be very careful, Ms. Romanov. You've no idea what kind of monster you have living under your roof."
At that, Steve shoves past her, chucking her forcefully into one of the large chairs beside them before taking hold of Ross' lapels and thrusting him into the wall with a heavy thud. His knuckles go white – not just from the tautness of his grip, but also with the effort of keeping clenched onto the suit jacket instead of the man's throat. "Where are they?" he growls, tiny shards of spittle pocking Ross' face.
"Who?" he asks, shaking his head casually, seeming not at all concerned by this dangerous display.
"Lobe… the others. All of the people involved. Where are they?"
His brows shoot up in surprise. "Lobe?" he mutters, studying Steve's face for… something. He pulls in a swift breath, punctuating it with an, "ah," as realization washes over him. "You don't know. Here I thought… with all the talk of… But you don't know."
His fingers tighten around the jacket, knuckles driving into Ross' chest enough to elicit a sharp gasp and grimace. Natasha leans over his shoulder, eyes boring into the Secretary. "Don't know what?"
He wiggles a bit in the Captain's grip, trying to somehow back away from the pressure of his knuckles digging in. "Lobe," he grunts out through the pain. "It's just an alias. That man… he's in a different form, sure. Whatever he is… whatever he does to… to change… I don't know. But the man you call Lobe is Dr. John Sublime." He pauses, nostrils flaring in discomfort as Steve shoves into his chest a bit harder, a look of utter shock – and confusion – washing over the Captain's face.
"Where is he?" Steve repeats, terse, harsh words scraping between tightly clenched teeth.
"I don't know where he is," he spits out at him. "And I assure you both, if he doesn't want you to, you'll never know where he is either."
