Chapter Text
The guy had a chain wrapped around his waist. Standing there, Steve blinked but didn’t let it slow him down. He continued, “I’m looking for a few good men Chief. I have a job I need some help with. You came recommended to me pretty highly.” He kept his screwed up hand in his jacket pocket. Steve still wasn’t comfortable with the fact that he couldn't heal, that those fingers wouldn't eventually be back.
Chief smiled, waving the cigar in his right hand around. He had taken a drag but didn’t seem to exhale any smoke. It reminded Steve of a movie from the early sixties he had watched on Netflicks one night in a shitty hotel. One of Bucky’s recommendations when they were on the run, ‘Requiem for a Heavyweight’. He didn't think that was necessarily a good omen for the near future.
“Not sure about if we qualify as exactly good men, Captain, but if you want us for that job you’ve been talking about we’re here for you.” He waved his tattooed hand back towards the bar parking lot. Steve could see maybe forty guys standing around bikes in front of the restaurant. All wearing gang colours, patched members, many of them carrying holstered weapons or baseball bats. Some wearing kerchiefs to hide their faces, others with hoodies or baseball caps pulled low.
“I understand you’ve been having some issues lately Captain. Personnel loss and some personal damage. I can relate I think.” Chief struck his own thigh lightly with the cane in his left hand. Steve heard a hollow metal sound. “And I'm not sure if you heard about our disagreement with another club in this very spot a couple of weeks back. It's hard to lose people around you to death or to jail. And sometimes you lose a part of yourself too.”
Steve marveled again at the new modern times he was living in where at lunchtime, an entire biker gang could assemble fully armed, in a strip mall, outside of a family-style restaurant. “Can we talk somewhere? Somewhere a little more private maybe?”
Chief smiled again, “Sure Captain, let’s head inside for a drink and we can talk more about the details of your job.” He waved over two of his lieutenants, “Keep an eye out here, Doc, and you too Chaika.” The two guys nodded and moved to stand in front of the restaurant door facing the parking lot. He added, “Hey, Ticket you’re with me inside.”
A large barrel chested shirtless man in overalls and a uniform name badge with ‘Booth’ embroidered on it in script, strolled on over, stroking his scraggly beard with one hand, “Yo boss.” He grinned a gap toothed smile at Steve offering a huge hand as he introduced himself. “I’m David Booth, but everyone calls me Ticket of course.”
Reflexively, Steve offered his damaged hand for a shake. That was a mistake. Damn it, he needed to avoid shaking hands entirely. After releasing the massive paw, he cradled his aching three fingered hand, shoving it back in his pocket.
As he followed a bit behind them, he realized Ticket was carrying a baseball bat into the restaurant.
++++++
Steve sat in a booth. Chief and Ticket were talking with a ponytailed waitress who was dressed in what looked like a school girl uniform two sizes too small. They were discussing pitchers of beer, nothing new for Steve.
He took his right hand out of his jacket pocket and stared at it in his lap. Thumb, forefinger and middle finger only. He was missing his ring finger and pinkie. He turned his mangled hand over. A chunk of his palm was missing too, a thick ridge of scar tissue crossing his lifeline. He could still fire a gun, throw a knife, although his grip he guessed might be compromised.
Could he punch? Probably, nothing wrong with the strength in his arm. The wound had already healed but there was no indication that the missing fingers would restore themselves. He rubbed the fingers of his other hand over the scar remembering the fight. He sighed and put his hand back in his jacket pocket, his attention returning to the guys at the table.
Apparently in addition to the chain, Chief was also carrying two holsters underneath his leather vest. Steve could only barely see the butt of the grip on one, looked like a Sig Sauer. Ticket seemed to only have the bat, but maybe knives? His knuckles were like grapes, his sausage fingered hands darkened and swollen. Battered ears and a flattened nose. A fighter then.
Ticket turned to him first, “So what brings you to us? I’m thinking somehow it isn’t to join up.” He laughed, a barking sound. “Although you don't have quite so many fancy friends these days as you used to after you defrosted.”
The waitress set three pitchers and some glasses on the table, leaning low. Then she sashayed away back to the bar area. Steve sighed, “True, SHIELD is done. We lost Iron Man and Hawkeye. And lost ready access to transport and weapons. I’d say these days I can only rely on individuals instead of organizations. You might say the team is a bit..., “ he paused to pour a beer from one of the pitchers using his left hand, “diffused.” He took a quick sip, careful to use his left hand also for the glass.
“It’s a more organic team approach. Apparently they call it asymmetrical warfare these days.” He shrugged. “Harder to ‘assemble’ the team so quickly, but easier to avoid a situation that will fatally shut us down.” He hung his head a bit, staring at his beer. “You know I just really can not get caught until I get him back out.”
Chief looked at him over his pint glass with a beady eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do? I was expecting a flowery patriotic speech out of you.” Ticket laughed.
Chief continued, “I don't really give a shit why you want us to do anything. You need your buddy back, we’ll help you. You are an original celebrity badass and I like you. Whatever.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast to Steve.
Steve cleared his throat, “Okay, so you trust me? Should I trust you?”
Ticket spoke up, “We don’t fucking trust anyone. Helping you sounds like it may make us some money. I’m sure not recommending we patch you in for this. It’s a business arrangement yes? We’re honorable guys, good for our word. Plus we have the manpower and connections this time, and we can be your armoury.”
Steve tapped the table with his left hand and asked, “So you’re familiar with the location I was interested in?”
Chief snorted, “This isn’t the states, we don’t really have secret prisons here. There is only the one federal military prison. Everyone in Edmonton knows where it is, what goes on there and we used to know who was in it too. They never have that many guests at a time. Looks like your friend didn’t make it on the guest list though. Was that you? Did you work some deal with that bitch running it to keep him off the list?”
Steve sipped his beer and didn’t answer.
“Okay I get it, no matter.” Chief said. “We’ll work around it. I have some ideas I’d like to bounce off you.” Ticket coughed.
Chief’s head snapped up. “Hey beautiful, don’t sneak up on us like that or you may not get a good tip.” His hand snaked out and grabbed the passing waitress’s arm. She flicked her wrist and Chief let go in surprise with a yelp of pain.
Steve looked at the waitress a little more closely. He smiled warmly. “Widow! I didn't recognize you, it’s a little early for Halloween don't ‘cha think? Brittany Spears costume was it? I loved that song. Are you free at the moment?”
Natasha glared at Chief and Steve, “I’ve been here for hours and you have to look at my face to recognize me?”
Chief smiled expansively waving at the booth. “Have a seat with us now that we’ve been introduced properly Black Widow. Any friend of Steve’s is a friend of ours at the moment.”
She paused and then slid into the booth next to Steve, facing Chief and Ticket.
Steve shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to her with a questioning look on his face. She snorted, “Ok prude, I’ll put it on.” She slipped it on over her tiny crop top and then took out the ponytail, shaking her hair out back into her normal bob.
Ticket poured her a beer, handing it over, then he started talking. “We were just getting set to discuss some tricks we’ll need to get a friend of Steve’s out of a jam.”
Natasha set her jaw, “I’m aware of both the friend and the location.” Her voice was dripping with ice. “I think it’s impossible to save him but Steve is a moron and already lost a number of things important to him and to me. I have nothing else on my agenda for the moment.”
Chief crowed, “I’m having a drink with the Black Widow and she is pissed at someone other than me. Never thought that would be possible. Also did you just say you were out of work?”
“Steve?” Natasha turned to him. “Tell me again why you are having this conversation with these idiots?”
Steve’s face was grim. “They are my best local option at the moment and I will have to move forward with that in mind if I want this to succeed. You know that this action cannot actually take place without their assistance. And I can’t give up.”
He turned in his seat to face her fully. “If you don’t want to be involved or you cannot see a successful outcome, please feel free to leave. I want you here but I need you to want to be here.”
Natasha tossed her head and snapped, “I’m here okay? Isn’t that enough? I always thought you were a pompous jerk. Don’t be a jerk today. Don’t question my motives. I don't have to share my motivation and I won’t.”
“You are awfully bossy today Widow. I’ll ignore that outburst for the moment. I need to get the background info, scope and risks. And I need you.” Steve looked her in the eye.
“Korotshe Steve-chik.” She took a sip of her beer and stared him down. Steve dropped his gaze but smiled. Chief and Ticket sat back with their beers.
“You guys better be more professional when we are out there and this job is going down man.” Ticket put some papers on the table and smoothed them out. “Let’s have a look at a map the old fashioned way for my old fashioned friend Steve here.”
Steve took a drink from his pint and then leaned forward to check the map. He reached for a pen and pad in his shirt pocket. He held the silver fountain pen awkwardly in his injured right hand.
He pointed with the pen, “We came in this way initially I think, but I was in the back of a windowless transport with him. He was bleeding out, so I missed most of the scenery.”
Ticket tapped the map and an architectural cross-section schematic of the prison building interior that had appeared on the table. He started asking Steve endless questions, sounding less like a biker and more like a cop.
“What gear was used by the guards outside the facility when you got out of the truck?”
“Did you deliver him personally to her or did someone take him from you to bring in?”
“Do you remember how long you were in the elevator?”
“What did they do to his arm when they took you inside?”
“Did any staff use their ID numbers in front of you?”
“What gear were the guards using when you entered the elevator?”
“Were you with him in the holding area?”
“Was the hallway long or short?”
“Did you hear any doors open or close?”
“Did you leave him with Rahc or with a guard?”
“Were you in her office or a processing area?”
++++++
Steve tried to answer the questions as best as he could remember but eventually it was too much for him. Staring at the table he asked for a break and then left the restaurant without waiting for an answer.
As he stepped outside into the parking lot, he noticed one of the guys Chief had left outside, standing off to the side of the front entrance smoking a thin dark cigar.
“Chaika was it?” Steve asked the guy, “I was hoping to bum a smoke, could I buy one off you?”
“Sure buddy, here just take it.” His voice was low with no trace of an accent. His hair was short in a perfectly level flat top, he was blonde everywhere, stubble and eyebrows so light they almost disappeared. He was tough solid, but with a potbelly showing under his open leather jacket. “Need a light too?”
Steve bent down a little for the light, holding the cigar in his left hand, took a deep drag. “Thanks, nice cheroots you’re smoking. You Russian?”
“Ukrainian man, big difference.” Chaika shrugged, “But that doesn't matter here. Didn’t think you’d be a smoker.”
Steve exhaled a cloud of blue smoke, “I’ve been around. I just didn’t think anyone smoked any more.”
“These are actually Dutch, we have a business partner in Leiden so he sends us care packages. What’s up inside?” Chaika nodded at the front doors of the restaurant, “You need anything special?”
Steve looked down at the ground, “Your buddy Ticket is just a little too intense for me today. I think I need to take our conversation somewhere else I’m getting a headache. The restaurant is a bit too open for my liking.”
“Ticket is often like that. Like a dog with a chew toy if he finds something interesting. I guess he finds you interesting.” Chaika grinned at him. “That’s a good thing if we are going to be working together on something fucked up.” They smoked for awhile in silence, watching the traffic go by on the busy main road.
Then Chaika flicked his cigar butt away and said, “Oh and Rogers? I haven’t been told you can leave yet so I’d encourage you to go back inside for a bit when you’re done with your smoke.” Steve only now noticed Chaika was wearing a comm earpiece.
Chaika, opened his jacket a little, intentions very clear. Steve caught sight of again twin-holstered pistols. “Hunh, interesting. Guess I will then. Thanks for the break.” That tough guy posturing didn't scare him but he thought probably he should go see what was up with the Widow.