Reviews

DBZFAN45: Here comes Zemo! Karli's a little ways off, but you won't have to wait too long for her. So glad you're enjoying and thanks for reviewing!

Strawberrycheese: Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you're enjoying :)

Shorttrooper: out of curiosity, which parts of TFATWS did you not enjoy? And I agree, Isaiah is such an interesting character. Speaking of another character that I found fascinating in the series, so excited to introduce Zemo! Thank you for your lovely review x

This wasn't an Air Force mission, and none of them had access to a Quinjet these days, so Maggie booked the three of them business class seats on the next flight out to Berlin. It had been a pain getting through security, but Maggie had a doctor's note to cover her nanotechnology and her prosthetic, and Vibranium didn't go off in metal detectors.

They'd journeyed mostly in silence so far, and a couple hours into the flight, when Bucky got up to go to the bathroom, Maggie leaned over to Sam.

"What's going on with you two?"

He scoffed and adjusted his neck pillow. "He's your boyfriend, you ask him."

"I prefer the word partner," she sniffed. "And I will. But I'm asking you. I thought…" she frowned. "I don't know, I didn't think you were friends, but I thought you were…"

"Well whatever you thought, we're not," he said firmly. "We're doing this mission, and then going our separate ways."

Her eyebrows rose, and for a few moments the only sound was the hum of the engines and the rustles and murmurs of the passengers. "Am I counted in that, then? Is this the end for us, Sam?"

He rolled his eyes. "You ain't as much of a pain in the ass. You can call me."

"How generous." She shifted so she could face him more comfortably.

"Look, I'm really… no offense, Maggie, but I just wanna sleep."

"Sure," she nodded. He did look tired; there were lines around his eyes and his brow was heavy. She didn't stop scrutinising him even as he put in his headphones, slid a sleeping mask over his eyes, and reclined in his chair.

"Hey," came a whisper from over her shoulder, Bucky touching her arm lightly as he slid back into his seat. Maggie turned to face him in the dim light of the cabin, and reached out to touch the bruise under his left eye again; it was very faint now, but still there. His sea-grey eyes tracked her fingers, then lifted to meet her eyes.

"We're really doing this, huh?" she murmured.

"You don't have to-"

"I've made my decision. I… I can't pretend I'm not terrified. But… this is important."

"It is," he sighed as he pulled her fingers away from his bruise and kissed her palm. Cautiously, he eyed her face. "You haven't left home in a while. This is… a big jump."

"I know." She shivered. "I thought… I thought home was all I wanted. It's - I made a promise to Tony, Bucky."

"I know, I know," he murmured. He shifted in his seat so his whole body faced her, his eyes open and warm. "You're not letting him down."

"I don't know how to feel like I'm not letting myself down." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "What about you?" she opened her eyes to look at him again, really taking in the sight of him. He looked much different from the man who'd walked through a portal onto the battlefield at the Avengers Facility six months ago; his hair cut short, his face a little leaner. Their physicality never changed much, thanks to the serum, but his eyes, which she'd always been able to read, seemed even older. He hid so much of himself from the world behind a perpetual frown, a clenched jaw, and a closed-off demeanour, that it was nice to see him like this, his hand in hers and his expression open. Though a furrow remained in his brow.

She sighed. "You seem… you seem harder, somehow." She reached out and brushed away the furrow with her thumb.

He closed his eyes at her touch. "I… the shield, followed by this… and Sam's being a pain in the ass-"

She smiled. "Funny, he said the same about you."

"Well, the feeling's mutual."

"Do you think it would be easier if Steve were still here, or harder?"

He blew out a breath and opened his eyes. "That's a hell of a question, doll. I… I guess I've been second guessing a lot of what I thought about… Steve. And myself. He's gone, and I was real happy for him, I still am, but… I don't know how to deal with the expectations he left behind. His legacy, I guess."

"Maybe it's like with my dad," she said cautiously, and the furrow returned to Bucky's brow. "Howard Stark… his name carries a lot of weight, still. And I know Tony really struggled with that legacy for a lot of his life, of reconciling… the image the world had of him, as a hero and a patriot, with the father Tony actually had. I've had the same thing too, since returning to the world. I feel like… like since he's gone, I can't really grasp at who he was anymore, y'know? That's why meeting him, when we went back to 1970" - Bucky's eyes flashed with awe - "was so important to me. Because I felt like I got to see him as he was, not how people said he was."

Bucky frowned. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "How did… did Tony say how he dealt with all that, over the years?'

"He smiled and nodded through the public hero worship, he told me. And in the end, he just said fuck it, and focused on what he knew about dad. Like a quiet voice at the back of his mind. Like he was still alive, and laughing and frowning and cheering on everything Tony did. Flawed, but human."

"Hm." Bucky ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "I think people forget that about Steve, sometimes."

"'Course they do. And he knew that." She leaned across the space between their chairs to lay her head on his shoulder. "I think that's why he gave the shield to Sam, you know. Because Sam always sees the human."

They both looked over at Sam. He began to snore lightly.

"What are we going to say to Zemo?" Maggie asked. "Other than fuck you, you enormous pile of UN-bombing, traumatising shit."

Bucky snorted. "I mean… we'll have to think of something other than that. But I… I think he'll know something, doll."

"Unfortunately, I do too. You know, I was thinking about that day in Siberia. You remember he didn't even speak to you or me? We were just… chess pieces to him."

"No, he said one thing," Bucky murmured. She frowned up at him. "He said 'did you think I wanted more of you?'"

They settled into an uneasy silence, as the plane soared over the dark Atlantic.

4 May, 2024
1337 Connect Internet Cafe, Berlin

John Walker had access to much faster jets than Sam, Bucky, and Maggie, so they were still somewhere over the ocean when he and his team raided the Internet cafe in Berlin where they suspected the Flagsmashers had found respite.

After a short, terse exchange, Walker slammed the owner of the cafe into a pillar and roared: "Do you know who I am?"

The man looked into his eyes with a dark spite. "Yes I do, and I don't care."

Berlin Correctional Facility

Sam had not wanted Maggie and Bucky to go in alone.

"Why?" he protested, leaning in close in the white brick corridor lined with cells. Maggie had been compulsively keeping a mental map of the entire prison as they walked through it.

"Because you're an Avenger," Bucky explained in a low voice. "You know how he feels about that."

"It's not like you were known for frolicking in the sun together," Sam hissed. "And Maggie, you're an Avenger too."

"Retired," she said, looking back down the way they'd come. She and Bucky had already discussed their plan on the plane.

"He was obsessed with HYDRA," Bucky continued. He wore jeans and a blue canvas jacket, his gloves concealing his hands. "We have a history together. Trust us, we got it."

Sam glanced between the two of them; Bucky in his dark colours, to Maggie in green trousers and a striped shirt, her hands in her pockets. Deep frowns hung on both their faces. "You sure you're both not a little too emotionally compromised right now?"

"He'll like that," Maggie replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. "He'll want to manipulate it."

Sam's brows furrowed. "You've had enough emotional manipulation to last a lifetime, Maggie."

"I can handle it."

He eyed them for another long moment, then spread his hands and made a you're going to do what you're going to do expression. Bucky glanced to Maggie, and she squeezed his hand once. Then, side by side, they followed the prison guard to the high security wing.

Maggie continued to compulsively document each turn, camera, and security measure as they passed it. It wasn't necessary, as she and Bucky had already gone over the prison's entire security system before they arrived. They had flexed old skills again, shaking off the dust.

Bucky and Maggie did not speak as the prison guard guided them, stopping in one section to recite a passcode to the prison director watching through the CCTV. And then the door opened, and they were in.

"Through there, call out when you are ready to leave," explained the guard in accented English. "We do not have audio in the cell, only a camera, so if I can't hear you, wave at the camera and Director Shlogl will let you out."

Maggie and Bucky did not reply. They stepped forward together, side by side, faces blank. Her stomach churned like angry snakes, and she was sure Bucky felt the same.

It had been almost ten years since Siberia. But Maggie could still feel that stomach-dropping, skin-chilling dread from the moment she'd seen December 16, 1991 on the old computer screen in the base. The grief and rage in Tony's dark eyes, directed at her. Cold seeping into her knees as she clutched Bucky for what she'd thought might be the last time.

She clenched her fists in her pockets to drive away the memory.

Zemo's cell was much like the one Maggie had occupied briefly on the Raft; an enclosed cell on the small side with a toilet and a bed, and nothing much else. Glass walled off the cell from the small anteroom Maggie and Bucky now found themselves in. The lights were turned off, leaving just a single shaft of sunlight through a skylight to illuminate a stretch of the floor between the bed and the glass: they could see a man sitting on the bed, but only make out the details of his legs, and the hands laced loosely together in his lap.

Does he wait like this for all his visitors? Maggie wondered. It seemed like his thing, to dramatically appear only partially revealed in the light.. She wondered how many visitors he'd had.

A few personal effects were visible in the room: a small, tired rug on the floor under the man's feet, a stack of newspapers, piles of books. No photographs.

Bucky and Maggie walked right up to the glass, an arm's length apart. The man sitting in shadow on the bed did not move, until…

"Zhelaniye." [Longing] That voice, low and gravelled.

Bucky stilled.

"Rzhavyy." [Rusted]. His face appeared from the darkness; illuminated from above, shadows stretched long down his features and almost concealed the sharp gleam in his eye. He rose to his feet.

"Semnadtstat." [Seventeen]

"Those days are over," Bucky said, his voice even.

"I know," Zemo smiled a little and began to move forward. When the light hit him fully some of the terror of his initial appearance faded; he wore a hoodie and tracksuit trousers, his hair brushed and parted neatly. "I just wanted to see how the new you reacts to the old words." He came up to the glass and cocked his head curiously, inspecting Bucky's face. He fixated on Bucky's eyes, and Maggie felt Bucky sway back an inch.

"Something is still in there," Zemo whispered, and the sound of it made Maggie's spine tingle. She recalled that low, knowing whisper, though it sounded so much closer now than it had in Siberia, muffled by the intercom speaker he'd been talking through.

As if sensing her discomfort, his eyes flicked to her. "And you, Vivern," [Wyvern]. His intensity focused on her. "Verre," [Glass] he uttered. Maggie's stomach twisted, but she remained still. "Transmission. Affamé." [Transmission. Starving.] He inspected her expression, the careful blankness. "Hm."

Something sharpened in his gaze and he glanced to Bucky quickly, then back to her. "Still sleeping with your parents' murderer, I see."

Maggie somehow managed not to flinch. Of all the things she'd imagined he would say, she had never predicted that.

Zemo's mouth twitched into half a smile. "There is less to you now than even when we last met," he said, eyes flicking to the slight wrinkle in her right trouser leg where her prosthetic began.

"I could say the same to you," she finally replied, holding his gaze. She instantly regretted it. She and Bucky had already agreed: let him get out his barbs, his manipulations, then cut right to the heart of it.

Zemo raised his eyebrows, then looked around at his cell as if seeing it for the first time. "At least you, Soldat, were not conscious for most of your imprisonment."

"That time wasn't exactly a picnic," Bucky murmured.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," Zemo gestured to both of them. He turned, shaking his head. "It was never personal. You were both simply a means to a necessary end."

Bucky glanced to Maggie for a moment, then down. "Someone recreated the super-soldier serum," he said simply. Zemo stilled. "We need to find out who."

Maggie watched him closely as he looked to Bucky, then blinked a few times, before moving back to the glass. He looked to her, as if for verification. He analyzed their faces.

"You are assuming HYDRA has something to do with this," he murmured, and it was that low, gravelly knowing whisper again. He looked to her. "Which is why you came to me." His gaze returned to Bucky. "Which means you are desperate. Luckily for you, I know where to begin."

A long, awful silence passed. So far, everything was as Bucky and Maggie had expected. They knew what they had to do now. Zemo knew, too, and he knew he didn't have to convince them.

Let's hope we know what we're getting ourselves into.

Closed Mechanic Shop and Garage, Outskirts of Berlin

Over two hours later, Maggie perched on the roof of a closed-down building, her hands resting on her knees as she used her vantage position beside the exhaust system to survey the surrounding neighborhood. She occasionally allowed her gaze to drift up to the clouds streaming across the sky.

Sam and Bucky were inside the mechanic shop by now. Bucky had drawn the short straw on explaining the plan to Sam.

"What are you talking about?" Sam exclaimed, in the darkness inside the mechanic shop. "You wanna break Zemo out of jail?" He smacked aside a length of plastic sheeting in the darkness, barely illuminated by the flashlight in Bucky's hand. "Where are we, Buck? And where's Maggie? Have you lost your mind?"

"We have no leads, no moves, nothing," Bucky said frustratedly as he searched for the light switch.

"What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars."

Bucky's light swung over machine parts, a deconstructed car, Sam's squinting face. "We also have eight super-soldiers that are loose."

"Zemo's gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense."

Bucky finally found the light for the room, and switched it on. Sickly yellow light bloomed from a couple of lightbulbs on chains. He switched off his flashlight and looked to Sam. "Offense."

They'd left the prison two hours ago. Maggie checked her phone periodically, and she could see that the prison was still on lockdown after the riot that had broken loose as they were leaving. No word yet on any escapees.

As she scanned the news, she got a message from Pepper. She opened it to see a picture of Artemis hanging around the back of Morgan's neck like a scarf while Morgan laughed uproariously. Maggie smiled, and forwarded the message to Bucky.

Then she pocketed her phone again, eyes sweeping the surrounding streets.

"Let me just walk you through a hypothetical," Bucky said to Sam, after his explanation of Zemo's code on super-soldiers didn't seem to work. "Can I walk you through a hypothetical?"

Sam looked over his shoulder. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Bucky protested.

Like a sixth sense, Maggie's brain seemed to know where the man was before her eyes found him. She shifted behind the exhaust system, only her eyes visible, as she tracked his progress.

The man picked his way through the alleyways toward the garage, a cap low over his face and his body language outwardly unassuming, though a trained eye could spot the way he kept to the shadows. She was sure that under the cap his eyes were darting, covering all his angles.

No one had ever matched the Wyvern for watching from above. She remained unseen as he drew closer, and she soon recognized the dark navy JUSTIZ uniform he wore.

Zemo was only feet away from the garage when Maggie dropped down from the roof. She'd done this dozens of times before without a sound, but she hadn't banked on the prosthetic - her leg wobbled a little under her as she landed, and she stumbled a step. Zemo whirled, muscles tense and centre of gravity lowering, then eased up when he recognized her.

"Ms Stark." He touched his prison guard's cap in a gentlemanly greeting.

Maggie took a breath to steady herself after her stumble, then nodded to the guard's ID badge pinned to his chest. Officer Menz. "Is he dead?"

"No," Zemo said in a low voice. "As promised. Though I cannot guarantee there were no fatalities in your prison riot."

"There weren't," she said curtly.

"Ah. So your conscience can remain as white as driven snow." He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. "Freedom is sweet indeed."

"Make the most of it while you've got it." Maggie stepped around him to the locked door, and broke the lock with a single yank of her hand. Before she opened the door, however, she turned to face Zemo.

He watched her curiously, seemingly at ease in his prison guard's uniform. "Well. Are you going to threaten me first, or are we going to meet Mr Barnes and Mr Wilson?"

She bristled. She hated this, she hated how out of control she felt. "I don't need to threaten you. You already know what I'm capable of if you cross us."

He eyed her with that intelligent dark gaze. "I wonder if you are capable of anything any more," he murmured, then stepped past her, opened the door, and led the way into the garage.

Her fingers curled.

Maggie and Zemo paced through the dimly-lit garage, Maggie in the lead since she could see in the dark better. They didn't speak. Soon, Maggie heard Sam's voice:

"- and where are we, man?"

She opened a door and found that they'd entered the garage proper, with just a curtain of plastic sheeting separating them from the yellow-lit shop itself. She pushed through the plastic to find Sam and Bucky facing each other in a tense silence, standing between a dark car with the hood opened up and a desk covered in mechanic's tools. A moment later, Zemo followed her in.

Sam's eyes went wide. "Whoah, whoah, whoah-" he started forward, and Bucky leaped in front of him.

"No, listen-"

"What are you doing here?" Sam shouted, trying to get around the hand Bucky had placed on his chest.

"We didn't tell you because we knew you wouldn't let this happen," Bucky said, still blocking Sam's way.

"What did you do?" Sam demanded of Bucky, then turned to Maggie, who stood a step in front of Zemo, her face wary. "What did you do?"

"Sam, we've thought this through," she said calmly.

"We need him," Bucky added.

Sam pointed a finger at Zemo as he took his hat off. "You're going back to prison!"

"If I may," Zemo began.

"No!" Sam and Bucky yelled in unison.

Zemo blinked and lowered his gaze. "Apologies."

Bucky turned his back on Zemo and lowered his voice. "When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. For us." He glanced at Maggie for a moment, and she nodded. Sam looked away, and Bucky followed his gaze. "I'm asking you to do it again."

"I really think I'm invaluable," Zemo began, and Maggie glared at him.

"Shut up," said Sam. He sighed, shaking his head, until he faced Zemo. "Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission."

"Fair," Zemo shrugged.

"Okay Zemo." Sam shot one last stern look at Bucky. "Where do we start?"

Zemo smiled.

Zemo had requested they meet in this neighborhood, but apparently hadn't wanted to tell them the exact building until he was sure of his freedom. He led them out of the closed-down mechanic shop and down a few blocks, toward a higher-end garage.

As they walked, Sam left Bucky by Zemo's side and hung back to match Maggie's pace. His frustration rolled off him in waves.

"Maggie, what the hell. Bucky I can understand not telling me, but you?"

She closed her eyes a moment. "I am sorry. But you know this is the right move." She opened her eyes to see Zemo's back as he strode down the sidewalk in his JUSTIZ uniform.

"Sure, maybe, in a crazy way. So tell me."

"Okay. She nodded. "It's… it's been a long time since I've done anything like this, Sam. Other than with Tony, Vision, and Rhodey, I'm not really used to working on a team."

His face softened. "Okay. First rule of teamwork, you talk to each other."

She finally looked at him. "Are we a team then, Sam?" He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off, her voice still low and even. "Why didn't you call me when Bucky got arrested? Were you on my team then?"

His mouth snapped shut and she saw plain regret on his face. He let out a sigh. "You've got me there. And I knew you were going to bust my ass about this, I just didn't expect it now." He ran a hand over the back of his head. "I guess I got the impression that…" he searched for the words. "I got the impression that you already had a lot on your plate and that Bucky didn't want to…" he hesitated, but Maggie did not interrupt or fill in his blank. "Didn't want to bother you with… all this stuff, I guess."

Maggie looked down, frowning. She's not exactly the Wyvern anymore, y'know?

"But I know I should've told you," Sam added. "He's your boyf- partner, and if it were me I'd be mad about not being told."

"I'm not…" her frown deepened. "I'm not fragile, Sam." Even as she said it, she wondered how true it was. Zemo had said there is less to you now than even when we last met, and he was right; she was hurt, in more ways than one. She'd surrounded herself with home comforts to survive, and the idea of the woman she'd been before felt like an impossible dream.

But to her surprise, Sam barked out a laugh. Her eyes widened and she glanced at him.

"Believe me, I don't think that," he said, eyes alight with humor. "You could crush me into a ball on an off day, I know that." Maggie's eyebrows rose. She didn't think of herself as dangerous any more. "I guess I just thought you didn't want to be involved with all this anymore. You keep telling me you're retired."

"I am."

"Your escaped prisoner begs to differ," Sam said, with a significant look at Zemo. Bucky cast a glance back at them. Sam shook his head and held out a hand to Maggie. "Anyway. Teammates?"

She took his hand. "And friends."

His eyes darted back to Zemo again. "And I guess we've got a brand new team member."

"Okay, but I'm not telling him everything."

"Agreed." He frowned at her. "So did he try to manipulate you guys?"

"Of course," she nodded. "He went for the trigger words, first, then started being nasty."

"Jesus."

"And he'll keep trying."

"You okay?" he eyed her. "Last time you guys met, he ruined your life."

"He ruined everyone's lives," she said simply. "I'm fine. Just… you don't know him, Sam, so be careful."

"Yeah. You too. Any idea where he's taking us?"

"No. He's keeping his cards close to the chest. That's what I would do, in his situation. I'd also plan a break for freedom."

"Yeah. We'll have to keep an eye out."

"We are here," called Zemo, gesturing to a nondescript concrete building with various PRIVATE PROPERTY signs in German displayed.

The next few hours were a strange display of wealth and power; the private garage turned out to belong to Zemo's family, filled with antique cars. Zemo picked up a few supplies and changed into an extravagant fur-lined coat as he explained that he had been a baron in Sokovia. He also tossed out a few insults about new money, with significant glances at Maggie. She ignored it.

He did, also, explain his plan for figuring out their super-soldier situation.

"I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished." Maggie didn't like the flat, assessing way his eyes slid over her and Bucky before landing on Sam again. "To do this, we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes-"

"Well, join the party. We've already started," Sam sniped.

"First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb."

"Where is this Selby?" Bucky asked, arms crossed.

"Madripoor," Zemo smiled.

"Christ," Maggie sighed. She'd only ever been to Madripoor as the Wyvern, and she did not remember it fondly.

"Madripoor?" Sam asked.

"No time to explain now," Zemo said, swinging a bag over his shoulder. "We can talk more on the jet."

"The jet?"

Of course Zemo had a private jet. It was a nice one, too, complete with a white-gloved butler named Oeznik who greeted Zemo with a kiss to the cheek. They all settled into their seats (Maggie ended up with the bad luck of being sat directly facing Zemo), and were soon in the air; Maggie ignored most of Zemo's snooty conversation with his butler, because her gaze was fixed out of her window.

They were at cruising altitude now, above the patchy clouds, with the dark rolling forests of Germany visible below. It was a warm, sunny day, and the light played over the tops of the clouds. Occasionally she could see wind sending the clouds into streaming eddies of vapour. She could practically feel the condensation on her fingertips, the sun baking against the bak of her neck.

She was startled away from her sky-gazing when Bucky suddenly launched out of his seat, across the cabin, and seized Zemo by the throat. Maggie gripped her arm rests, leaning forward and ready to leap into action if needed, her eyes darting.

She spotted the small book in Zemo's hands, which he'd been talking about; a small notebook with a dusty red cover. Bucky's notebook.

As she watched, Bucky snatched the book out of Zemo's hands, still gripping his throat. "If you touch that again," he murmured, face inches away from Zemo's, "I'll kill you."

Zemo gave a stiff nod. Bucky released his throat, then slowly retreated to his own seat, pocketing the notebook. Maggie stayed leaning forward, her stare intense and quiet.

"I'm sorry," Zemo said, with a seriousness on his face that Maggie wasn't sure was genuine or not. "I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."

"Don't push it," Bucky snapped.

Maggie let her grip on her armrests creak the plastic ever so slightly. Zemo looked to her, almost amused.

"I've seen that book," Sam cut in. It drew Zemo's attention, and Maggie used that to look at Bucky. Sensing her gaze he glanced over, giving her a very slight nod. I'm alright, it said. Maggie let her brow furrow a little.

Sam continued: "It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it?" he asked Bucky. "What'd you think?"

Bucky was still frowning, his gaze a little distant. "I like 40's music, so…"

Maggie rolled her eyes and kept her mouth shut for the rest of the Trouble Man discussion, in which Zemo professed a strange admiration for it. Bucky was winding Sam up; he listened to all sorts of music.

"Everybody loves Marvin Gaye," Sam was saying.

"I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky grumbled.

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye."

"You must have really looked up to Steve," Zemo commented, champagne flute propped on his knee. "But I realized something when I met him." Maggie's expression dropped. "The danger with people like him, America's super-soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals."

"Watch your step, Zemo," Sam uttered.

"They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws."

Maggie's flat gaze turned shocked. It was as if he had been listening in on her conversation on the plane with Bucky the other night. She glanced at Bucky, and he shot her an equally startled side eye.

"From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought." Zemo's gaze fixed on Bucky, who was still doing his best to pretend the conversation wasn't happening. "You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?" He shook his head. "That is why we're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor?" Sam said, catching on the change of topic. "You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island."

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago," Bucky muttered. "It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s."

"It's kept its lawless ways," Zemo added.

Maggie sat back in her chair. "Let's just say, there was a lot of business for the Wyvern and the Winter Soldier in Madripoor back in the day." She didn't care to count how many times she'd been there, but she remembered the people she had killed there; on assassination missions, on protection missions for HYDRA officials, on cash exchanges and contraband drops.

"But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves," Zemo said. "James," Maggie's frown lowered at the use of Bucky's first name, "you will have to become someone you claim is gone."

Bucky's gaze dropped, and Maggie's stomach turned over at the hunted look in his expression. She stiffened, then realized Zemo was looking at her.

"You've rather publicly renounced your demons, but…" he cocked his head at her. "I think to really survive in Madripoor, you will have to grow your claws back."

"Never lost them," she glared, bolstered by Sam's words earlier. You could crush me into a ball on an off day.

He laughed, champagne flute still dangling in his hand. "Oh, you certainly did. You're practically a…" he searched for the term, "a soccer mom, Maggie." She hated the way he said her name. "Your brother spent his life creating murder machines, but he turned you into a house pet."

"Hey," Bucky and Sam snapped at once.

Maggie just stared Zemo down, her pulse roaring in her ears. Only Tony's imagined voice, always laid back and joking even in the midst of the end of the world, pulled her back. You're going to let this jumped-up aristocrat get to you, Maggot?

She drew a slow breath through her nose. "You will not shame me for my domesticity, or my comfort," she said in a hard voice.

The nanotechnology laid along the skin of her back activated, slithering up her back and then over her shoulders in tiny rivulets, like molten metal. It slid down her arms, glinting in the light, and Zemo, Sam, and Bucky stared. The nanotechnology played along the back of her hands and down her fingers before extending out into five razor-sharp points.

She reached out and snatched the champagne flute out of Zemo's hand, barely avoiding gouging him with the metal talons. "And don't you worry about my claws."

She took a long sip of champagne.