Steve tries to ignore the fact that he feels like garbage all the time.
He's used to feeling sick. He's used to being in pain, injured, beaten, and a myriad of other afflictions. He remembers all of that now.
But he's not being tortured. He's not under duress. So why does his head feel like it's being split in half constantly?
He's able to hide it from them. No one is better at having a calm face when the pain is mind-numbing. He even works on keeping his heart rate slow because Bucky heard his heart rate rise after a particularly bad stabbing behind his eyes and looked at Steve with concern.
"Pinched my finger." Steve had lied.
Bucky had believed him. So he works on accepting the pain as a constant part of his existence so it doesn't trigger a pain response to his heart or breathing.
It works but it takes a lot of concentration.
He starts feeling tired all the time. But he doesn't tell Ross and he definitely doesn't tell the team. They're already treating him like he's made of glass. He hates it because he doesn't even know why. He's been feeling exhausted since staring solo missions, which makes sense. But the last two have really taken it out of him. He had felt even worse after the long memory session with the team. His brain screaming at the input of more information. They'd agreed to take a two day break before resuming.
Steve needs the break. But he also knows he needs the memories they're keeping from him. Something about Zemo. Bad enough that Bucky wants him dead. Maybe whatever Zemo did to him is the reason his head feels like a jackhammer currently resides there.
—
Helicopter inbound - 5 minutes
The sound has him looking up from where he's staring at the mission briefing packet.
"Guess that's my cue." He says quietly. He stands up, ignoring the eyes that follow him as he steps onto the elevator. He also ignores the absolutely overwhelming sense of dizziness that overtakes him in the elevator. But he doesn't react, just leans against the wall. Friday may have privacy protocols, but him fainting in the elevator would negate those. He doesn't really remember how, but he makes it on the helicopter, clutching the bag at his side. Hoping he won't have to throw up into it.
—
They're on Tony's plane not even 20 minutes after Steve has left.
"It's at another building in Madripoor this time." Natasha speaks low, pointing out a location on the map. "We have tickets this time, but we should still wear our disguises."
They get dressed silently on the plane. Only Tony grumbling about his 'stupid redneck outfit'.
—-
They show their tickets and get waved in no problem. Someone sees Bucky, eyes widening, and the man takes off.
Bucky raises an eyebrow and Natasha chuckles. "Like I said, eerily similar."
They find their seats and wait.
—-
Steve is the last match again. And he's painted this time. A white and black stripe painted diagonally across his chest and around his shoulder onto his back. His pants are different, cargo, utilitarian instead of comfortable. The bandana across his eyes is still there, but his demeanor seems more uneasy. Agitated.
He and his opponent, the Puppetmaster, shake hands and Steve steps backwards, his feet bouncing as if there's too much energy in him.
"LET THE BLOODBATH BEGIN!" The same announcer from last time screams into the microphone.
Steve leaps forward, not waiting for the other to initiate. Their bodies slam together and Steve rolls away and springs back up. He dodges a swipe and ducks, swinging his leg and knocking the man's footing out from under him. His opponent hits the ground hard, his breath leaving him in a whoosh.
Steve doesn't stop, kicking out and sending the man sliding into the metal fence.
Steve straightens. Even without his eyes, they can see on the screens that his expression is pure annoyance. He turns towards the announcer and they hear his voice, amplified through the stadium, "I thought you said this would be a real challenge tonight!"
The crowd reacts, screaming and shouting and cheering Steve, no, Sentry, on.
It hasn't even been two minutes. The Puppetmaster struggles to his feet, wobbly but raising his fists and they watch as Steve turns back to face him, a sickening grin plastered on his face.
"I'm still here." His opponent snarls.
Steve scoffs, and takes a running start, leaping and spinning, bringing his foot down with a crack against the man's body, right where the neck meets the shoulder.
The man thumps to the ground and doesn't rise.
The crowd screams again.
"Something's wrong." Natasha says, her eyes trained on the man standing, hands on his hips.
"No shit." Tony hisses.
"We have to talk to him." Bucky speaks, his eyes on the man on the ground.
"Fun." Barton grumbles.
—-
Steve feels worse than usual as the loud blades rotate above him, the copter lowering to the ground.
His brain feels like it's trying to rip out of his skull. He sits calmly, eyes closed as the copter makes contact with the ground. He needs to move. He knows he does. He can't quite tell his feet to do so.
"Captain?" Ross speaks, "You planning on getting out?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
Steve still doesn't. He's willing his feet to move. Begging them.
"Captain."
"I'm going."
He stumbles, his foot not hitting the ground right and he lands on the grass on his knees. He can hear the gasp of someone from behind the glass window. They're always freaking watching him when he gets back. It's a lot of pressure to seem fine after a mission where you just got beat to a pulp by some guy in a ring.
But he can't tell them how poorly the mission went. If he does then they'll try to find a way to stop him from going. He's already felt weak and helpless the past almost year. He doesn't want them to agree with him. To keep him at the compound, useless.
So he uses every brain cell not currently shrieking in pain and stands up, brushing off his knees and he laughs. Laughs like he's any regular old joe who falls sometimes. Who could have just tripped because he's clumsy.
Ross is staring at him, a smirk on his.
"Tell your team they're needed for a full mission tomorrow. Tell them to come civilian style. No gear. No Banner. 0700 departure time."
Steve nods, even that motion hurting his head. He was hoping for a day or two of downtime to recover.
Well.
He grits his teeth and heads towards the door, every step sending a pounding in his brain. He takes a deep breath, sliding his calm and collected mask over his face for his team. He can take it.
—-
Steve falls. Straight up crumbles out of the helicopter and Barton gasps in surprise. They watch as Steve stands up, laughs awkwardly and speaks to Ross.
They're planning to confront him. To talk to him about his missions.
They're not expecting him to have a mission for them.
—-
"Ross says to be ready at 0700." Steve finishes, explaining that they're needed for the mission and it's a civilian run.
"No gear?" Tony asks incredulously, "what is Banner supposed to do? Or you? Or Barnes? Leave your serum at the door?"
"Banner stays." Steve says, looking at Bruce, "Ross mentioned you should stay. I'm not sure about me and Buck. He just said no gear. All four of us," he points at Natasha, Clint, himself, and Bucky, "are all good fighters. Tony you're the smartest of the bunch, so I'm sure we'll be fine wherever we're headed."
They don't like it. And each one returns to their rooms, trying to figure out a way to bring stuff that Ross has said not to bring.
—
Ross arrives early. Setting the day at an already frantic pace.
Natasha steps onto the large helicopter in civilian clothes, but Bucky can tell she has at least 12 knives on her. A concealed pistol in her boot, and mini widow bites, disguised as earrings, courtesy of Stark.
Bucky himself has an array of sharp weaponry latched to his skin underneath his clothes. Ross can tear the knives out of his cold dead hands. A pistol harness, that he usually wears on top of his combat gear, is now strapped to his bare chest. He's wearing a bulky leather jacket to conceal it.
Barton has nothing on him. Except a small plastic box in his pocket. Bucky eyes the box and Barton just smiles at him. Somehow it's a terrifying smile. Bucky doesn't question further.
Tony has a watch on, glasses, and Bucky's not sure what, but something metal around his ankles.
Steve is bare. Nothing. Following orders to a 'T'. It's unlike him, confusing. A mission with no weapons? Nonsense. What the hell is going on with his friend? What the hell is Ross getting them into?
Bucky sees Bruce watching them, concern on his face as the helicopter rises and he fades into a dark spot on the grass and then into nothing.
—
It's about hour 5 that Natasha and Tony go particularly still, their eyes catching each other's. Barton's elevated breathing, which Bucky had noticed but not thought anything of, now seems unbearably loud. Barton is anxious, but Bucky doesn't know why. Steve seems calm, his eyes partially closed as if resting, but the other three are on edge.
Ross eyes the 5 of them, watching like a hawk. A grin on his face.
Bucky's eyes look out the windows. Just water as far as the eye can see. Why would that put the three on edge?
—-
Barton's the one who stands first, fists clenched at his sides. "Why are we here?"
Here? He looks out the window, but there's just water, where is here?
Ross looks at Barton calmly, "What, you don't want to visit your old prison buddies?"
"Stop with the crap, Ross." Tony barks. "Why are we at the Raft?"
Oh. OH.
Bucky watches in awe as his eyes catch the shadow of something dark and hulking beneath the surface.
"Zemo and Beck escaped from here. I need to know how. Rumor has it, their informant and also their accomplices are either a security guard or inmates here. We don't know how many, but we need to know who they are. We can't have high security inmates getting loose. We still haven't found Zemo or Beck. You wanted in on the mission to capture them. This is part of it. Catching these bastards will stop us from having to play 'catch me if you can' with other resident psychos."
Beck is dead. But Steve and Ross don't know that. Zemo is loose. And that is a problem. So Barton sits down and Ross smirks again.
Bucky hates that smirk.
"Why no gear?" Natasha asks.
"Because you're not going in there as you. You're going in as new inmates. Disguises and all. I need you to get information as soon as possible. When you have information we need, you tell your security guard you love Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and presto, you'll be free again."
"You're joking." Tony says flatly. "You're just going to drop us off in your ocean prison? No plan, no gear?"
"The best way for it not to seem like you're there playing a part, is for you to have to make it up as you go along. And I think the items littered against your bodies would answer the 'no gear' question. You'll be going through metal detectors and nothing is kept. We can't have any of the other psychos getting their hands on your stuff." The four all glare at him, but he just huffs, "I told your Captain to tell you. It's your fault you didn't listen and your stuff will get locked away."
Bucky glances at Steve who has been uncharacteristically quiet. In fact he was quiet the whole flight, last night, and the few days before. "Steve?" Bucky asks, "What are your thoughts?"
Steve doesn't look up, his eyes still half closed. "Sounds like a plan to me."
Something about the way Steve says that, no fight, just compliance, chills him to the bone.
—
Bucky's hair gets buzzed. Barton's gets a different cut. Natasha gets a chop and Tony gets his facial hair shaved. He looks about ready to blow a gasket at the mirror when Steve walks through the door. Except… He has dark brown hair now.
"They dyed your hair?" Tony groans, "how long are they expecting us to be here for?"
Steve doesn't respond, just sits quietly in a chair. Bucky watches as Natasha walks over, her hand resting on Steve's shoulder. "Are you okay?" She asks softly, "you seem… I don't know, quiet?"
His eyes blink slowly. "Just tired. Nothing major."
Just Steve admitting he's tired is major. Bucky's senses are on high alert when Ross walks through the door. He throws them each a file, "here are your new aliases and the crimes that landed you here. Under no circumstances are the guards not assigned to you, or any inmate, to discover your real identity." Ross glares at each of them before continuing, "Rogers, you'll be next with our main suspect. The rest will be the eyes and ears around the rest of the Raft. The sooner you figure it out, the sooner you can go home. Memorize your rap sheets and let's go."
—
Steve's head is nearing a level of unbearable that he's never experienced. It's like someone is cramming more and more into his skull and there's just no room but they keep trying. Keep shoving stuff in there. What stuff? He doesn't know. All he knows is that the pressure is at such a level that it's all he can do not to curl up and cry out in pain. He sits on the plane, feigning relaxation. They're going to the Raft? The place Barton was held prisoner and that he broke Wanda, Sam, and Scott out of? That Ross would have put Bucky in given the chance? Okay. Sounds good.
They're going in with no plan, no gear, and no backup? Okay.
He's pretending to be a criminal? Okay.
He's getting his hair dyed? Great.
There's not enough room in his brain to process why he should be against those things.
Natasha's asking him something. Tired. That's always a good answer. Tired.
They're walking him to a cell. Ross has a smirk on his face at the sight of him, and Bucky and the rest in prison jumpsuits. He shouldn't like the fact that Ross is smirking. That means something bad. He'll figure it out later.
—
Somehow Barnes, herself, Tony, and Clint end up on the same cell block.
And it feels like a real interesting coincidence that the only one that is not in eyesight is Steve.
She stalks around the cell, her glass wall scanning her motions.
Her fingers run through her new short cut and she hates it. But it's just hair. They gave her the option to dye it. She chose to cut it instead.
Clint is looking queasy. Sitting on his bed and staring at the wall. Probably dredging up some not great memories.
Tony looks positively murderous, fitting his rap sheet well, standing at the glass just staring out, studying any and all electrical systems that are in his eyesight.
Bucky surprises her the most. He lies on his bed, eyes closed and staring at the ceiling. His arms are away from his sides, palms up. The position is unnatural and it sends shivers up her spine. Something about it is methodical and purposeful.
"What the hell are you doing?" She growls out. She's not sure he'll be able to hear her, not sure what their audio system is, but she needs him to stop.
Bucky does hear her though because his eyes snap open and he looks at her, questioningly.
"Why are you lying that way?"
He looks down at his awkward arm position with the palms upturned. He grimaces, shoving them into the pockets of his jumpsuit. Something about it has made him angry. She catches his eye and they are dark as he says something back.
She can't hear him though.
"What?" She asks, and it hits her that he can hear her because of his enhanced hearing, but she can't hear him. She glances at Tony and Clint who haven't even noticed their exchange.
Bucky says something back, but the only thing she catches is him pointing at his covered metal arm.
Oh.
Must have been a habit Hydra had burned into him. Now she pictures the position. They had probably chained his arms down whenever he slept so that he would be helpless until they had control over him whenever he woke up. Bucky's eyes are trained on her and she just blinks slowly, nodding. Her own upbringing, flashing through her mind.
—
Steve walks into his cell and lays down immediately. The bright fluorescent stabs his eyes, so he shuts them, falling into sleep.
He wakes, hearing other cells around him. Their voices muffled by the glass, but not inaudible.
"Who's the new guy?" One says gruffly.
"Dunno."
"He better know who's boss around here."
"Oh, and who's that? Cuz it ain't you."
"Shut the hell up."
"You first."
There's a squabble and the voices grow louder. Stabbing hot pokers into Steve's ears with each shrieking sound. He rises, glaring at the two.
They can't hear him but his eyes say enough, he growls and stabs a finger at them, zipping it across his lips. They fall silent and he lays back down, falling into sleep once more.
—
Steve's not at the mess hall. He's not at rec. They do their work. Trying to get to know the inmates but every lead comes up dry. They're annoyed after the first 24 hours prove unfruitful.
"Why the hell haven't we seen Sentry?" Natasha asks quietly, standing behind Barnes and Stark in the mess hall line. They'd decided to use that name, not his alias when talking about him.
"Ross is keeping him under wraps?" Barton guesses, joining the line.
"Something was wrong with him. Something's been wrong with him." She adds, watching the inmates move forward.
"Yeah, no shit, Red." Tony grouses. "Can we stop stating the obvious here?" He slams his tray down a little too forcefully and gets a glare from the cook. He smirks and the server rolls his eyes. "No one even knows who the hell I'm asking about. Whoever helped Zemo is not one of the inmates here."
"Guard?"
"I guess it has to be."
Natasha watches as the food gets set on her tray. Gray, inedible things. She says nothing. Just takes her tray to her table and pretends to eat. They don't sit together, but she knows exactly where they are in the room. Her eyes scan for dark brown hair and blue eyes but Steve doesn't appear. She throws her tray in the disposal and walks back to her cell.
—
Clint is out of his mind. His skin crawls constantly and he's pretending he's fine but he wants to shout and bang on the walls and fight his way out.
But he can't.
It's a mission.
Finish the mission. Go home.
He can do that.
He's walking to his cell when someone walks past him. He isn't looking at the man's face. But he's not known as Hawkeye for nothing. His peripheral catches something. His brain synapses fire and he turns his head to catch the figure. But they're gone.
Something in his spine tingles and he knows something about what he just saw is important. He stores it away to roll it over in his mind later.
—
Tony scrubs at his bare face. He hasn't not had facial hair since he could grow it. It's clever, he admits, because bare faced he looks almost nothing like himself, but it makes him want to scratch at the newly shorn sections.
He walks back and forth, running over any electrical panel, wiring, video or audio system he has seen. He's familiar with the system anyways from his previous visit, but he can tell there's been updates and changes. He curses Ross internally for taking his watch and ankle gauntlets.
He runs over the extra wiring he saw heading into a service room. It looked sloppily done, as if it had been done quickly. Room 2913. He keeps that number in mind. Something is in there.
—
Someone comes to get Steve. He feels himself being hauled up.
Voices are speaking and he's hearing the words but not understanding the meaning.
"Too much information—"
"—doesn't care, get it done."
"—programmed, it's done."
"—want it tested, no mistakes, not like—"
He feels himself being sat down. Eyes scrunched closed in the pain as hands touch him. It's sensory overload and he groans.
"—oo long, waited too long."
"—doesn't have the space. Overloading—"
"He doesn't care. As long as it works."
"It works. We proved that with the fights."
"Then get him."
"What about—"
"Them too."
—
Bucky wakes with a start as the alarms begin blaring. He's out of his bed and at the glass wall instantly. He stares at the others, who are all in various stages of waking up. Natasha's at her glass, staring out at the hallway, Clint is halfway there and Tony is sitting in his bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
Bucky sees Tony say something but he's the farthest cell from him and he can't hear it.
Their doors hiss open.
They stand there in shock. They step out and Tony speaks, his voice a mixture of confusion and anxiety, "fire drill?"
"This feels wrong." Natasha states, "something's up."
"A trap?" Barton offers.
"Probably" She grits back.
"We have to get Steve and get out of here." Bucky orders, "screw Ross and whatever the hell he has planned here."
"My sentiments exactly." A voice that they all recognize, accented and calm makes each of them halt in place.
A figure steps out of the shadows, his coat collar framing his face.
"Hello, Avengers. Let's talk."
—