Switzerland 1998
There should have been a breeze by now at least; it was only eleven o'clock. Summer had only just begun, so why was it already so hot? The courtyard was completely silent, save for the cracking of fencing blades, and the occasional grunt or breath from himself or his opponent.
Shifting his weight, his eyes searched his opponent for any open spots. He lunged forward but she jumped back with ease, parrying his blow like his own father's baseless criticisms. Sweat slowly dripped down his temple, teasing at his eyebrow. He blinked firmly to encourage the sweat to drop past his eye but it refused to fall any further. His opponent swung from her right, and he stepped back; her blade whipping past his shoulder. The sweat droplet felt increasingly present upon his eyebrow, becoming unbearably distracting. It would be foolish to simply shut his eyes, but if he didn't he would completely lose focus and thus the match.
He let out a quick breath hissing through his teeth and he shut his eyes tight, feeling the droplets of sweat wash over his eye. He flicked his wrist and swung but before his eyes even opened again, he felt his blade meet his opponent's. She whipped her blade around his and wrenched it from his hand. Something heavy thumped him directly in the chest and knocked him off his feet.
"Dammit!" he gasped upon feeling her blade strike across his chest. "I had it." He held his hands up in defeat, coughing and fighting to regain his breath.
"I know for a fact, Helmut Zemo, that you closed your eyes again," her reedy voice chuckled. Her German accent always tinted her Sokovian but it seemed more apparent when she spoke condescendingly; as if her voice was most comfortable there. Helmut pulled his fencing mask off, finally wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, and let his head flop back onto the ground.
"How you are able to tell, Iryna Weber, I will never know," he huffed, refusing to even admit this embarrassing loss, he stared at the blue sky above them for a few beats as his breathing normalized.
"I have my ways," Iryna chuckled again. She pulled off her mask and whipped her wavy brown forelocks back. Her blue eyes twinkled and she reached out to him. Helmut returned her smirk and took her hand, hoisting himself back onto his feet.
"You were too confident. You put your weight back and had you kept your eyes open, you wouldn't have aimed here." Iryna pointed out, mimicking what he had done. Without breaking his gaze, Helmut stepped back and grabbed his water bottle, taking a quick sip.
"Fair enough. But at least I wasn't playing dirty," he pointed at her, a grin stretching across his face, "for once."
"Someone has to bring down that ego a couple notches." They both laughed. A breeze swept across the courtyard, bringing with it the scent of the alpine air. Finally. The laughter quieted down to sighs, then to a heavy silence.
Helmut watched Iryna take his water bottle from his hand and take a few swigs. He then glanced down at his black duffel bag, the corner of a white envelope peeking out of the front pocket. He felt his teeth clench. There was never going to be another summer like this. His family had been vacationing here for three generations, and Iryna's father had managed this property for as long as he could remember. There wasn't a single corner of this property not tied to a childhood memory. Soon enough they both would be completing their mandatory military service, effectively nailing the coffins of their youth shut.
The corner of that envelope burned brightly in his vision. He could just leave it, forget it was there. No one would have been the wiser if he never looked at it again. Helmut glanced back at Iryna, realized she had been eyeing him up and down as he was briefly lost in thought. She could sense something. That must be how she kicks his ass at fencing.
"Down for another round, Helmut?" she suggested, "No playing dirty this time."
Helmut opened his mouth to speak, but a soft voice called out behind them:
"Young Master Zemo!" The youths turned around to see an older man, dressed in a crisp black suit, standing by the door. "Lunch will be ready shortly."
"Thank you, Oeznik. We will be right there." Helmut waved his hand as he strode towards his duffel bag, his eye resting on the envelope again. He shoved his fencing mask into the bag and slipped the envelope under his arm, making sure Iryna hadn't noticed.
"We'll pick up after the food's settled," Iryna added, throwing her mask in the general direction of her bag. She then tugged and shrugged her arms out of the sleeves of her suit, tying them around her waist. Her blue eyes darted back at him, twinkling again. A smile began to form at the corner of her mouth.
"Race you to the table." Her lips pulled back revealing the one snaggletooth that marked her otherwise straight teeth.
"Not after getting kicked in the chest by a—" Helmut resigned, but she was already gone. He chuckled upon hearing her victory whoop in the distance. By the time the youths reached the table, they were met with the gazes of the Baron and Baroness who were already seated.
"Ahh, there you are, darlings!" said Hilda Zemo, gesturing for Helmut and Iryna to be seated. Her warm brown eyes, the same Helmut inherited, followed her son as he placed a kiss on her cheek. "You could have at least freshened up before coming to the table…"
"I see Miss Weber has been besting you at fencing again, son," remarked Heinrich Zemo, his steely grey eyes briefly glancing up at him before darting back down to the newspaper spread in front of his plate. His mustache wiggled as he chewed. He had already started eating, as he usually had no patience to wait. It was often noted how the baron and his son were nearly identical in appearance, as it was with every past baron. Iryna mentioned that it had to have been a genetic anomaly for all men in the Zemo line to look alike, but the details of exactly how were blurry. He and his father looked alike, but they couldn't be more different.
"I didn't realize you were watching," Helmut mumbled, pushing Iryna's seat in before seating himself.
"Your fencing instructor reported that you were showing some improvement, but from what I have seen, I'm inclined to doubt that."
"Iryna is the best fencer at the studio." Helmut said, lifting his drink, "You can't possibly compare my progress to hers."
"Her abilities with the blade are almost as remarkable as her research," the baron shot back his brandy, "It would be best to keep this one around, Helmut."
"No!" the youths said in tandem. Helmut noticed Iryna's face turning bright red.
"That was ONE dinner in Riga, sir," Iryna insisted, "You told Helmut he needed to bring a date!"
"And he made a good choice." Not once did the baron even crack a smile.
"Dear," the Baroness reached out and laid her hand on her husband's, "Your son is seeing that Heike girl from military school, remember?"
The baron shrugged with indifference. Helmut entertained the idea of a possible world where Iryna took his place as their child. Clearly, she got along better with him than he ever could; both being scientists for one thing. Although his father was an engineer, foraying into lasers and adhesives, he was always asking Iryna about her findings in her biotechnology studies.
"Any new findings, Miss Weber?"
Like clockwork.
"Nothing new yet, sir." Iryna reported, pushing the potatoes on her plate around with her fork, "I'm a bit worried about these protein compounds though and how they are—"
Helmut lost the ability to follow along from there. He got decent grades in his science classes, but he couldn't bother to care about it all. Iryna was a science fanatic. Her childhood obsession with Captain America spurred her onto studying biology and cell regeneration. Upon mentioning a Dr. Erskine to his father, Iryna was gifted some copies of old files on the super soldier serum, never mentioning how or where he got them. It was an understatement to say that Iryna was excited to receive them. Helmut swore she had memorized the entire study word-for-word by the following summer. He looked over at his mother, who had been nodding along to the conversation. She clearly had no idea what Iryna and the Baron were talking about either.
"I'm sure you must be excited about furthering your studies in America, then." Heinrich remarked, sawing impatiently into his next bite of meat.
Iryna's eyes widened from behind her glass as she had taken a sip. She seemed to struggle to swallow before setting the glass down to look incredulously at Helmut, then to the baron. "I-I beg your pardon, sir?" she stammered, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Helmut kept his eyes on his own plate, gritting his teeth. He didn't need to look up; knowing exactly the kind of expression his father was giving him: that unblinking glare that could drill through wood, and that eyebrow quirk he only ever saved for threats. "I was getting around to it." He murmured after a beat. He pulled the white envelope from under his placemat and handed it to Iryna.
Iryna looked at each Zemo with an equal amount of confusion as she tore the letter open, "What did you all plan?" her voice trailed off as she read the letter in her hands. She looked closely at the check tucked into the letter and gasped. Clutching the letter to her chest she once again looked at each Zemo in disbelief. "You did not…"
Helmut struggled to hide a smile. "They did." His family was always private and guarded, being of Sokovian royalty, but that never stopped their generosity towards those closest to them. Iryna was a driven and talented scientist. No school in Sokovia could handle her tenacity and fierce intelligence. He doubted they even had the funding and resources for the work that she wished to do. No, sending her to America was the best decision for her.
"I don't know what to say," Iryna said once she finally found her voice. Her eyes scanned over the letter and the check again. "Nothing other than, thank you."
"The work you have been able to do, Miss Weber, especially at your age, is remarkable. It would be a waste to not send you to the best school money can afford." The baron said, straightening his posture, as if he was speaking to a foreign dignitary. "As soon as you have completed your service, Helmut's tutor can help you with your application process."
The rest of the meal was completed with excited chatter about science, America, and Iryna's thoughts about it all. The longer the conversation went, the harder it became for Helmut to maintain his smile. He had a military career laid out for him, and his superiors assured him of an early promotion; and he was good at it. His father would eventually expect him to learn the ins and outs of the Barony and all of its responsibilities. Iryna's friendship would eventually fade as they went on with their lives.
He then realized that Iryna had just addressed him.
"If we want to fit in another round, we'd better go now," Iryna noted, "My parents want me home by three."
"Right," he nodded, dropping his napkin onto the table. He turned to acknowledge the baron and baroness, "If you'll excuse us."
"Keep your eyes open this time, son." Heinrich said, mockingly.
Iryna chattered excitedly about America while walking back to the courtyard. "You think I'll meet Sarah Michelle Gellar? Buffy's my hero. Should I start learning American slang? 'As if'!"
Helmut chuckled, despite the pain in his chest. It wasn't the sharp pain in his sternum anymore, but deeper. He still chose to blame the pain on her kicking him.
"That reminds me!" Iryna continued, fastening her suit shut again and picking up her mask. She rotated it in her hands and looked back up at him "Tell me more about Heike from military school."
Helmut smiled as he watched her blue eyes shut and her face disappeared behind the mesh of her mask.
Madripoor 2024
The harsh, neon lights glittered on the wet concrete streets of Madripoor. Despite all that, one could easily get lost in the shadows and never be seen again. He forgot how thick and humid the air was down here, tinged with the stink of Low Town; of acid, petrichor, smog, and gunpowder. Helmut Zemo breathed deeply, taking in his surroundings. Maintaining a cool demeanor, he kept an ear out for his traveling companions behind him. His eyes, however, kept forward toward their destination: The Brass Monkey.
"Stop fiddling with the suit, Sam" said one companion
"The vest is too short," snapped the other, "it's riding up. At least Zemo got your measurements right, Buck."
"Shut it."
"Tell me to shut it after you stop chafing from all that leather."
There was a beat of silence. James' stare was almost audible.
"Oh, you're definitely chafing. Don't think I can't tell—"
Helmut stopped and made an about face to look at Wilson and Barnes. The bickering, however entertaining it was, had to stop. "Gentlemen, need I remind you of the importance of staying in character? Whatever…this…is," he gestured between the two of them, "should be saved for couple's therapy."
Sam and James glanced at each other as they fidgeted once more with their disguises, the slightest bit of venom showing in their eyes.
"Conrad," he continued, "undo the last button on your vest; it'll relieve the tension on the bottom hem and help it lay flat. And, soldat, this is for the chafing." He procured a small bottle of baby powder from the deep pockets of his collared coat and tossed it to James. "Can we continue?"
From there they pressed onward three more blocks. And in blessed silence for that matter. For a moment the acidic air was broken by the smell of barbeque and fried foods wafting down from street food vendors up ahead. Unfortunately, they were well past the destination. The food from the flight over was less-than satisfactory at best and something fresh would have been nice.
The glowing sign of the bar finally came into view. Above the entrance was a monkey's face, glowing in vibrant magenta, and its teeth bared. The face was surrounded by a halo of fluorescent blue light. In all his previous visits to the city, Helmut had only stopped by the Brass Monkey once before, while building rapport with Selby. From what he remembered, this bar wasn't much different from any other one on this block. It was that sign that was the memorable bit.
"Here we are." Helmut announced to the two as they neared the entrance. He glanced up at the monkey sign again, watching it pass overhead. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed Wilson and Barnes had fallen into character immediately. His eyes set forward again, assessing the bar and its various patrons. They seemed to be the usual bunch of ne'er-do-wells that one would find at any Madripoorian dive. Taking one more breath in and out, he squared his shoulders, chin up, and stepped forward. The room was full of rich blacks, mood lighting, splashes of red, and a wall covered in gold monkey skulls.
Mild dance beats pounded from the speaker system, meshing with the chatter from the other patrons. The volume level was just loud enough that questionable conversations and deals could be made without raising an alarm. He was curious, momentarily, about just how many conversations might be happening at this very moment. From his assessment of the room, chances were there were at least a dozen. Helmut strode towards the center of the bar, where Wilson joined on his left. Barnes stayed behind, watching out for the other patrons.
Helmut muttered some empty orders to Barnes in Russian, to sell the act.
A patron from a nearby table elbowed his buddies, "Is that the Winter Soldier?" he questioned.
"Hello, gentlemen," said the bartender, approaching from around the other side of the bar. The soft glow of the lit bar accented the bartender's glower. His eyes darted to Wilson, who had already tensed up. "Wasn't expecting you, Smiling Tiger."
"His plans changed," Helmut interjected before Wilson could open his mouth, the less talking Wilson did at this moment, the better. "We have business to do with Selby."
The bartender's eyes shifted between himself and Wilson, disbelief forming. "The usual?" he asked. Helmut watched Wilson to see what he would do before requesting a shot of vodka for himself. It seemed fitting for the atmosphere.
Wilson rested his arm on the counter, glancing at him, as if asking for assistance. Helmut raised his eyebrows, hoping that would give enough of a message. Wilson looked back at the bartender and nodded. The bartender turned to prepare Smiling Tiger's drink, whatever it was. Helmut leaned against the counter, feeling his shoulders relax a little bit. So far, so good. As the bartender procured a snake from beneath the counter and began to butcher it, which was enough of a sight as it was, Helmut sensed they were being watched. He took a moment to eye every body seated at the counter.
Looking past the bartender, through the shelves of various bottles and glasses, he saw a familiar twinkle. Helmut blinked a couple times. Surely it was just a trick of the eye, or his mind attempting to make sense of the numerous faces in the room. The twinkle vanished in a split second, hidden behind tendrils of wavy brown hair. Helmut briefly glanced at Wilson, who was entranced by the atrocity of a drink that was being prepared for him, then back at the source of the twinkle. It returned, glinting just barely off the edge of a bottle of bourbon. He leaned slightly, craning his neck to get a better look across the room.
The twinkle became a pair of familiar blue eyes. Delicate fingers brushed those familiar brown forelocks away from an oval face, a pair of full lips parted. The expression the face made matched his own. Helmut suddenly found himself unable to breathe, but he'd be damned if he showed it. The last time he saw that face was in a manila envelope, the words "deceased" stamped over it in bright red ink. He broke his gaze from the face across the room and inhaled sharply through his nose.
"Your favorite, Smiling Tiger." He commented, masking his shock with a smug grin at Wilson.
"I love these," said Sam, his voice struggling to find the right timbre. With great hesitance, he slowly lifted the shot glass of liquor and snake innards.
"Cheers, Conrad." Helmut lifted his own shot glass and lightly tapped it against Wilson's concoction. The two shot back their drinks.
Wilson's face screwed up, but quickly eased and was covered by a grunt of approval.
Helmut glanced back at the face across the room, but found it was no longer there. He turned slightly and watched her make her way around the bar. Not once did she make any moves toward him, but she did match his gaze again. He couldn't deny who he was looking at, her face and figure becoming clearer as she neared.
Iryna Weber.
His breath caught in his throat again, his eyes refused to blink. Her expression matched his again; shock and confusion. Millions of questions spun through his mind. How is she alive? Why hadn't she contacted him all this time? What was she doing in Madripoor?
"Hey," Wilson nudged, "earth to Zemo."
Helmut tugged his stare away from the woman and looked back at Sam who had gotten near, his voice low.
"What was that about staying in character again?" he remarked, "You look like you just saw a ghost."
Helmut glanced back at Iryna who was flanked by a couple of what he assumed were her own companions. One companion was a large and brutish man, ruddy and freckled. Another was lithe, her hair cropped short, one of her eyes glowing bright purple. Two more were average height, stocky, and clearly armed to the teeth. Iryna turned to the purple-eyed woman next to her and seemed to whisper in her ear. She looked back as the group made their way towards the entrance.
"If you are so curious to know, Smiling Tiger," he hissed, "I believe I just did."
Before Sam could make another comment, they were approached by a couple more men from that nearby table. One of them squared his shoulders, addressing Helmut with a sneer.
Helmut grit his teeth as he sized the men up. They weren't too large, or built for that matter; James could take them on easily if necessary. He just hoped they wouldn't need the Winter Soldier this early into the game.
"I got word from on high. You ain't welcome here." He mumbled. Helmut quirked an eyebrow. Did the Power Broker really think so highly of himself?
Helmut gave the man another once-over, "I have no business with the Power Broker," he calmly set his shot glass down after realizing it was still in his hand, "but he can either come and talk to me—"
A couple more sizable men stood up and joined the Power Broker's messenger. The messenger looked over at Barnes, who was standing at the ready. "New haircut?" he commented, his lip twitching.
"—or bring Selby for a chat." Helmut finished. These men were only sending a message, nothing more. He turned around, resting his arms against the counter so the men knew the message was received. He was ready to continue with his evening.
"A power broker? Really?" Sam asked incredulously, mimicking Helmut's gesture. What part of 'lawless city in the Indonesian archipelago' did he not understand? In a land without law, obviously those with the most power and influence take over.
"Let's just pray we stay under his radar."
"Do you know him?" Sam looked at him, keeping his face turned so the thugs remained in his line of sight.
"Only by reputation." Helmut answered. Suddenly a pair of strong hands grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face the thugs again, pinning him to the counter. "In Madripoor," he grunted, "he is judge, jury—"
A fist flew towards his face, which he was able to dodge and wrench himself from the thug's grip. "—and executioner." He glanced back at Sam and fixed the leather lapels of his coat. Immediately, he turned to James and gave him the orders, subtle ferocity bubbling into his Russian.
James surely played his part well. Within seconds, thugs were flying across the room, glasses and table legs were breaking and chaos began to ensue. Helmut looked around among the flurry of fists and faces, noticing Iryna and her gang had vanished completely. It would have been simple enough to slip away and go after her. The questions he had…
James' fist nearly clocked him in the nose, bringing Helmut back to the fight at hand.
"Didn't take much for him to fall back into form." He commented with a smirk.
The sound of at least a dozen guns cocking came over the room, almost sounding like rainfall. Helmut, Sam, and James found themselves staring down the barrels of pistols, shotguns, and even a couple rifles. Was that a rocket launcher back there? Really? That was a bit overkill.
Helmut held his hands up, maintaining a calm front. "Stay in character," he hissed to Wilson and Barnes, "Or the whole bar turns on us." He looked to Barnes "Otoydi, soldat."
He turned to look at the bartender again, this time flanked by both Wilson and Barnes, their expressions as serious as his own. The bartender's eyebrows were raised; he was either impressed or fearful.
"Selby will see you now."
"Thank you." Helmut replied, always mindful of his manners. He looked around the room one last time, but Iryna and her gang were nowhere to be seen. Straightening his fur collar, Helmut led the Avengers upstairs.