There was no way this situation could have gone any worse. They all had heard the bullet break through the glass, whizz across the room, and strike Selby square in the head. The five guards who had been posted around the room flew from their places before her body even hit the floor.
Helmut leapt out of his seat, reaching for the gold-plated gun nestled snugly in its holster. But before he even pulled it out, James had pounced on the guard who started towards him. He whirled the man around and kicked him into the coffee table, smashing it completely. James seemed to have this completely under control…
That was until Helmut watched another guard pull out his gun and point it towards James, hearing it click.
He ran forward, climbing up the armchair in his way. He stepped onto the back of the chair, causing it to fall backwards. A couple more gunshots fired and Helmut heard bullets whizz by him. This caught the attention of the guard who turned his head away from James. Helmut dove forward, the tails of his coat flying behind him, and threw his fist square into the man's elbow and wrenched the gun from his hand. He whirled around almost a full 360 degrees, striking the guard on the side of the head with the handle of his own gun.
The guard flopped onto the floor in a daze. Helmut pointed the gun at the man and fired the already-loaded bullet into his face.
"They're gonna pin this on us!" Sam exclaimed, dodging a fist that was flying towards his head. He grabbed the second fist and managed to flip the guard over his shoulders and onto the floor, kicking the man's gun away from him.
Another guard charged into Sam, throwing him against the wall. Sam grunted and shoved the man away. He geared up to throw a few more hits, but Helmut strode forward and fired a couple rounds into the man's torso.
Sam watched the man fall to the floor and bleed out. Helmut walked towards him; gun still pointed at the guard.
"Who the hell let you have a gun, Zemo?" Sam asked with reproach.
Helmut pointed to the body with the bloodied face behind him. "That guy," he said flatly.
"But we have a real problem now," he tossed his gun to the ground and kicked it towards the body. Looking back at Sam, and then over to James who was throwing the last couple of punches, "so leave your weapons and follow my lead."
After knocking out the last guard, James looked around and noticed that some of the bodies on the ground were not just unconscious, but not even breathing. "How'd Zemo get a gun?" he asked.
"That guy." Said both Helmut and Sam in tandem, pointing to the body across the room; Helmut's tone was matter-of-fact, Sam's less so.
"Let's go." Helmut insisted. He slowly strode back to the entrance of the upper floor. He gave the two avengers a moment to drop their weapons, which were scant between them. The clicking of Sam's heels could be heard behind him, but James' footsteps hadn't sounded yet. Helmut sighed.
"You can keep the knife, James." He said, not even needing to look back. James's footsteps came pounding behind them.
Helmut slowed his pace, breathing slowly and cooling his demeanor again. As anyone in this building was concerned, nothing happened. Selby didn't get sniped, and it was all just one peaceful business transaction.
The trio made it down the stairs, around the corner and back onto the main floor. There was the occasional threatening glare from the patrons, but only because of the earlier events. No one was suspecting a thing so far. Helmut's eyes darted around the room as they made their way past the bar, the bartender folding his arms and watching them leave. Helmut gave a casual nod, bidding the man farewell.
When the trio made it to the entrance of the bar, the music that had been playing on the speaker system suddenly shut off, replaced with the chirp of a phone notification. Suddenly phones all around them chimed, pinged, bubbled, or hummed.
Helmut looked around at not only the patrons in the bar, but at the pedestrians outside walking up and down the street. One by one they all checked their phones and watches. It had to have been an SMS notification that they were all receiving. But from whom?
"This is not good…" he muttered to the two behind him, noticing that more and more eyes were falling on them.
Amidst the chiming of phones, a gunshot suddenly echoed from down the street and ricocheted on the ground before the trio.
"Shit!" Sam exclaimed, three more gunshots firing as the trio bent down while they covered their heads.
Helmut bolted forward and then veered to his right, down a quieter looking alley. He called out for Sam and James to follow but didn't bother looking back because a bullet whizzed just past his ear. A few paces ahead sat some trash bins, which he quickly grabbed and threw behind him to slow down any attackers. He continued forward until he came across a large dumpster, which he dove behind. He expected Wilson and Barnes to catch up at this point. But they didn't.
Helmut peered around the dumpster, just to get a view of the alley, and two figures were quickly gaining on him, but neither of them were Wilson and Barnes. They must have split up back at the bar.
"Fuck." He hissed in Sokovian, clambering back to his feet. This part of the city had luckily been built as a grid, so if he made a couple of left turns, he'd be bound to run back into Wilson and Barnes again. Bullets kept getting fired at him, so he took care to keep zigzagging from one side of the alley to the other.
Helmut was nearing a chain-linked fence as he sprinted forward. Panic briefly flashed through his mind realizing he might be cornered. A left turn had come up and passed. His eyes darted in every direction, looking for an out. There were two fire escapes nearby, neither which even a running start could be reached. An external pipeline came up on his right, which with the rain, would have been too slippery to get a grip.
It was too late. Helmut ran straight into the fencing, and it merely bowed beneath him. He staggered back, and spun around, a bullet catching the tail of his coat. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed there was a narrow alleyway blocked off by another dumpster. If he slowed down his attackers, maybe it would give him time to squeeze around it and down the alley. Whipping out the pistol from his holster, he fired at the approaching figures.
Hitting his targets at such speed and low-light circumstances were difficult, even for his level of marksmanship. He prayed maybe one of his shots would ricochet.
One of the figures yelped and fell.
Helmut dashed to his right, squeezing and shoving his way past the dumpster and down the alley. It was about half the width of the previous alley, and even darker than before. He remained light on his feet as he ran. God forbid something decided to show up on the ground. Tripping might mean the end.
The light from the street lamp behind him shifted. There was a sound of groaning metal, and then a crash. It wasn't the sound of a vehicle, but it might have been what a dumpster sounded like being picked up and tossed…
"Fuck!" Helmut exclaimed again in Sokovian. He didn't have the time to think of someone being able to lift a whole dumpster. The sound of gunfire bounced off the walls of the alley. His lungs burned, and a stitch began to form on his side. He was losing steam fast. Helmut turned his head slightly, trying to gauge how far this remaining figure was behind him. The assailant was mere yards behind him. His eyes widened, realizing how fast the figure had to have been running to catch up so quickly.
And how quickly they'll catch up if he slowed down in the slightest.
Helmut pushed himself further, making another left turn into a wider alley and knocking over a food stand and shoving a couple people out of the way. Surely, he would have found Wilson and Barnes by now, having returned to the right street. Where were they?
Suddenly a man appeared before him. He only had a few seconds to realize a gun was pointed in his face. There was no time to slow down at the pace that he was running so Helmut thrust his arms out, using his momentum to both knock the man down and disarm him. They tumbled a couple of times, but he managed to get the upper hand, thrust his gun into the man's chest and fire.
Helmut's eyes shot back to see if his pursuer had caught up. He had noticed that the sound of their footsteps wasn't thudding like boots, but slapping like bare feet. Before he could complete that thought, Helmut ducked as something glowing orange flew over his head and crashed onto the ground behind him in a shower of sparkling embers. A glowing red piece of pipe sizzled and smoked as it rolled away.
It was then that Helmut decided Sam and James were on their own. He'd find them later once he outran whoever the hell was chasing him. Helmut pointed both his and the spare pistols in his assailant's direction hoping maybe he'd be as accurate as he was before.
It wasn't often one had molten metal thrown at one's head. On second thought, standing one's ground might not be the wise option. Time to run. He was prey. He coughed trying to catch his breath and bolted down what he thought was another alleyway. As quickly as he began running, he found himself stopped. Before him was a solid brick wall. He was cornered. Panic began to set in again.
"Come on!" he yelled at himself in his native tongue. There had to be a way out.
Another object came flying from behind, embedding itself into the brick wall before him.
A single high-heeled shoe.
Helmut blinked a couple times at the sight, realizing his pursuer might be a woman. Or at least someone with a taste for such footwear. For an object to break into the brick like that, the strength behind that throw had to be superhuman. And so nearby…
Suddenly, he found himself flying towards that same brick wall. The impact pushed every bit of air out of his lungs and he struggled to emit any sound from his throat. He scrambled back onto his feet, and whipped around. His torso stung; a rib or two had been definitely bruised. The ground beneath him swayed, but he leaned against the wall for support. The lights from the street glowed behind the assailant, making her nothing but a deadly silhouette. He pointed his guns at the woman standing before him and hastily fired them both at her.
The woman grunted and staggered back as she was hit by his hastily aimed shots. But she hadn't fallen yet. Helmut emptied both guns, hoping to build enough space between himself and the assailant to make a run back towards the street.
The woman crumpled; her grunting became ragged breathing. Helmut kept his now-empty guns pointed at her as he slowly stepped around her and backed away. The woman should have been dead, but she had simply knelt. He watched as he continued to back away, wary of making any sudden movements. She was fast and strong; emptying two whole guns didn't even kill her.
No, these were superhuman abilities, if she was even human at all.
The light from the streets which had previously kept her in shadows now revealed her bare arms, although splattered with blood, were covered with what looked like tattoos of some sort. They were wandering webs of dark lines, every so often interacting with small oval shapes. Her face was hidden by a mop of wavy brown hair. The dress she wore once appeared to be dark grey, with a subtle silver threading. It glittered in the light. It would have been a lovely dress had it not been soaked with blood.
A pair of blue eyes peered out from amidst that mess of brown hair, twinkling. The woman slowly rose to her feet again.
Helmut blinked a couple times. He could have sworn he just saw veins of an orange glow spread across the woman's arms. The woman, still hunched over a bit, slowly stepped towards the wall and with a grunt reached for her shoe. He knew she was aware of him standing there. Why was she so calm? She carefully hooked the shoe to her belt, where its companion had been dangling. The better question was why he hadn't run away yet. With one hand she pushed back her mess of brown hair and looked directly at him.
He wouldn't admit to the shiver that ran down his spine. Her posture straightened as her entire body became covered with those same glowing veins. Her eyes ceased twinkling and now glowed a fiery orange.
"Iryna?" he managed to whisper, lowering his aim slightly. This had to be a trick of some kind. Maybe she was just a doppelganger, not actually Iryna Weber. She tilted her head at the sound of her name.
Iryna bolted towards him, barely giving him a head start. He managed to turn and run a few paces before she grabbed his collar and threw him to the ground.
Her warm, glowing hands found their way around his throat and tightened. Human hands were not this hot, and they kept getting hotter. Her eyes glowed fiercely, and she bared her otherwise straight teeth marked by one snaggletooth.
"I-Iryna Weber." He grunted again, adrenaline kicking in as he struggled to breathe. "Iryna it's-it's me!" Pleading for his life was well past him, but it was natural for the body to keep fighting. He'd at least like his questions answered first.
Iryna's grip tightened even more. Helmut gagged, finding his legs kicking upwards against the woman on top of him.
"It's me!" He repeated, but he was unable to make a sound. He could feel his heart pounding as he fought, and his peripheral vision began to get blurry. He had noticed the strange tattoos trailed up her neck. His hands tried wrenching her grip off his neck, but she was too firm. The stinging heat from her hands finally reached his skin. He would pass out before he would burn.
Iryna blinked, her expression softening a bit. "Helmut?" she breathed. Her grip began to loosen, then she looked up ahead.
"There he is!" Sam's voice called out from a distance. The sound of heavy footsteps grew nearer.
A shining black arm swung just above Helmut's head and knocked Iryna completely off of him. Helmut gasped once the pressure from her hands was released. He rolled over to his hands and knees, coughing and spluttering.
"Hey, hey, hey—" Sam muttered, "You good, Zemo?"
Helmut glanced up at him, a hand nursing the hot spot on his neck. "Never better," he said dryly, awkwardly getting back up onto his feet. Realizing that the Winter Soldier had joined the fight, he turned around and went towards it.
"Don't hurt her!" he demanded, albeit with effort. His side stung again. Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Hold up," he said, "Until about three seconds ago, she was strangling you? But you don't want her to get hurt?"
Helmut tugged his arm from Sam's grip and glared at him. There was no time to explain.
When he looked back at the fight, Iryna had wound her legs around James' neck. She flung her weight forward, causing him to lose his balance and he was flipped forward onto the ground. Iryna whipped her hair back and looked back at Helmut for a second before James leapt back to his feet and threw several volleys of punches towards her. She managed to dodge and block several of them with expert speed before knocking James down by tripping him again. He seemed too slow to get back to his feet.
Iryna turned back to look at Helmut, her expression almost… hopeful. She took a couple steps towards him and her mouth opened as if she was about to say something. James' non-metal arm suddenly snaked around her neck in a chokehold and yanked her backwards.
"James, wait!" Helmut barked, "let her go!"
Iryna fought back, jerking her shoulders left and right. She gripped his arm and jumped, kicking her feet. James seemed to finally have the upper hand; not budging in the slightest.
"H-Helmut Zemo," Iryna squeaked, clawing at James' arm. Her eyes had widened in panic and darted around the alley as she looked for a way out from the super soldier's grip.
"Wait…" James mumbled, "How does she know you, Zemo?"
Helmut scrambled to grab one of the guns on the ground and pointed it towards James. "I said let her go!" He ordered. The pistol may have been empty, but James didn't know that yet.
"Nuh uh, not the gun thing again!" Sam called out from behind him.
Before Helmut could take any more steps forward, Sam jumped him and tried to snatch the gun in his hand. Helmut turned and wrestled himself against Sam's grip. "We need to get him off her," Helmut grunted. He was not going to plead.
James bellowed a scream and released Iryna from his grip. He staggered back, smoke rising from the hand-shaped burn marks on his sleeve. Iryna slumped to the ground. The glow from her hands slowly faded away.
Helmut finally managed to wrench himself free from Sam's grip. He was only able to lurch a couple more steps towards Iryna's limp body before a gunshot rang out. A bullet struck the ground before his feet, stopping him in his tracks.
"Drop it, Zemo!" a woman's voice yelled from the street.
Helmut turned to look at the woman approaching him. She pulled off the hood of her jacket, revealing a head of long, wavy blonde hair and a pair of brown eyes that seemed to know more than they let on.
Sam looked over at the woman, his eyes brightening upon recognizing the woman. "Sharon?" he called out. He trotted forward and held a hand up defensively towards her.
Helmut heard her gun cock again, as she kept walking towards him. She raised the barrel of the handgun and pointed it at his chest. "You cost me everything…" she muttered. If she got any closer, she could take a point-blank shot. Helmut held his hands up.
Sam called out her name again and stepped in front of her. "Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead," he explained rather quickly.
Sharon must have been someone who had worked with Sam previously. Considering the vitriol in her voice, Helmut thought she must have been heavily impacted by his previous actions towards the Avengers. He looked back at Iryna who remained on the ground, panic tickling the back of his mind.
Was she breathing? It was too dim to tell. But if he moved, he could get shot.
He looked back at Sam and Sharon who had gotten caught up arguing about some past events; going off the grid, being on the run, and more interestingly stealing a shield. What had they gotten into while he was in prison?
"Sharon… We need your help." James chimed in, nursing his burnt arm. He glanced down at Iryna for a second, but then walked over to join the conversation.
Helmut took that as a cue to slip over towards Iryna. He pulled a glove off and checked for a pulse; there was. He bent his ear down to her lips; her breathing was shallow but even. James had just knocked her out.
His millions of questions poured into his mind again, but he swallowed them back. Not until she was conscious and cleaned up. He noticed his own gun was just near enough to him that he could grab it with a stretch. With one eye on the three other people, Helmut swiftly snatched up his gold-plated gun and tucked it into his holster underneath this jacket.
"I have a place in High Town." He heard Sharon mention to the others, "You'll be safe there for a while."
He then heard James quietly mutter something to Sam, which caused Sam to look behind him. "No shit." Sam walked over and squatted down to look at Iryna.
"Bucky says she knows you," he said, turning his head to look at him. "Do you?"
Helmut clenched his teeth as he took a moment to think. Bringing up more of his personal life could be a liability. This was, in fact, Iryna Weber, but the one he knew couldn't glow and lift dumpsters with her bare hands.
What would become of her if these Avengers learned about her and her ties to him? They hadn't spoken in over 15 years, there really weren't any connections, but his reputation would shadow all of that.
However, Sam and James had trusted him this far, it wouldn't be too much for them to let Iryna slide. She was an innocent party, as far as he was concerned at least.
He had so many questions to ask her, and if he convinced them to keep her around, he could learn more. What had she been doing since she left for America? Where had she been since the Avengers attack on their homeland? Amidst the questions a realization crept up and silenced them all: He hadn't lost everyone in Sokovia.
"Back there, you asked me if I had seen a ghost—" he finally said to Sam. Rather than look the man in the eyes, he reached a hand out and pushed some of the hair out of Iryna's face.
"She's your ghost," Sam responded.
"Yes, Sam." Helmut sighed, sitting back on his heels, "She's my ghost."
A ghost really was the best word to describe her. She was supposed to be dead, and he had seen the paperwork for it. Yet she was here in Madripoor. She nearly killed him. He blinked a couple times, realizing he never stopped to ask himself why he saw her name in his searches in the first place. Helmut watched Iryna's face, searching for any hint of her waking up. Her face remained still; peaceful almost.
Sharon approached them; her gun had returned to its holster. Her expression when Helmut looked at her was still quite sour. He couldn't blame her, whatever he did, he was the bad guy. No matter, much like he mentioned to James earlier; it wasn't personal. She looked to be chewing on the inside of her cheeks. Sharon was clearly a person with a lot to say but not enough motivation to say it.
"Might wanna wrap this little chat up." she said, bending down to look at him and Sam directly. "Our ride's gonna be here any minute." She quickly stood back up and strutted towards the sidewalk, her arms folded across her chest.
Helmut nodded, then proceeded to scoop Iryna up in his arms and push himself up to his feet. He winced at the pain in his ribs. It was an annoying pain, but nothing he couldn't push through. He exhaled slowly through it, tensing his core as much as he could.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam exclaimed and jumped up. "We're not bringing her with us." Helmut watched him march forward to get a head of him, turn around, and then walk backwards. "She nearly burnt off your other arm, Buck!" He gestured vaguely in James' direction.
James said nothing as he walked, still cradling his arm. But his hardened glare was enough to express his opinions.
"She's unconscious, Sam." Helmut countered, tilting his head towards the woman in his arms. "You'd really leave her alone in the street?"
"She might try to kill you again if she wakes up," James finally added.
"Point taken, James," Helmut replied, "but like you said: she recognized me. I don't believe she will be trying that again."
"How are you so sure, Zemo?" Sam implored, shoving his hands into his pockets. He knew he was losing the argument. "Who is she to you?"
Helmut stopped for a moment to think about his wording. "She's an old friend of the family, much like Oeznik."
Sam opened his mouth, about to protest but before he could say a word, Helmut cut in.
"I assure you," he said calmly, "she has no ties to my… line of work."
Sam stopped walking and watched Helmut step around him, continuing towards the street. He pulled James aside, quietly discussing with him what they should do.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Helmut adjusted his grip on Iryna and waited on the sidewalk near Sharon. The venom in her eyes hadn't lessened when she looked at him. Her gaze, though, shifted down at the unconscious woman in his arms. "There won't be room for her in the car," she said.
"We'll make room." Helmut tilted his head back and kept his eyes on the street before them, choosing to continue his calm demeanor. He could hear the discussion between Sam and James get more hurried and intense.
"He might not cooperate if we don't let him have this," said James.
"But how many of these will we let him have, Buck?" said Sam. "Look at what she did to you, man."
"As far as we know, he may be telling the truth."
"The operative words being: may be."
"Did this gal show up at all while we were on the run?"
There was a brief pause in their conversation. "I don't remember."
"How about this," James suggested. "She acts up, I take her on. If she causes more problems, she's gone."
"Fine," Sam sighed, "but if we run into another distant relative shooting lasers out his eyes or something, I won't have it!"
It was then Sharon waved her hand at a silver sedan that pulled up to the group. She briefly turned to face them all. "Figure out your own seating arrangement, boys." She said, then promptly slid into the passenger seat.
Helmut glanced over at Sam and James; his eyebrows raised. "If you could—" he said tilting his head towards the sedan. His hands were quite full at the moment.
With a bit of shuffling, and bickering, the three men finally found a way to squeeze themselves and Iryna into the back seat. Issues were vocalized, but also ignored.
Helmut, who insisted on taking a side seat, held Iryna in his lap and made sure she didn't bounce her head against the car door. Sam, despite his objections, was squished into the middle and had Iryna's lower half resting on his lap. Sharon assured that he could get a change of clothes at her place should his suit get any bloodstains. This quieted Sam's objections. James, who had hunched his broad shoulders in as tightly as he could stayed silent and his face turned towards his window. He used one hand to adjust Iryna's legs if the car jostled them down.
The car pulled away, made a quick U-turn and zipped down the street.
After a couple minutes passed, Helmut felt inclined to inform Sam that he had no distant relatives to worry about. "They killed each other off in a power struggle long ago."
"Good to know." Sam deadpanned.