Work Text:
Mad, Bad and Dangerous.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
“Someone turn that damn thing off!”
“Trying!”
“What the hell is it? JARVIS? Anyone? This isn’t a fun thing! Did anyone say this was a fun thing? Turn the fuc...”
“HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH...”
“JARVIS! Where is it coming from?”
“I am attempting to locate the source of the sound, Sir, however, it seems to be coming from an outside source. I cannot pinpoint the location at this moment, neither can I terminate it.”
Tony glared around the room, his faceplate tipped upwards, one gleaming hand jabbing ineffectually at a pad. “Tasha – got anything?”
Natasha shook her head, her own fingers flying over a lap top. “Nothing. As JARVIS said, it’s an outside source. Can’t seem to...” She lapsed into angry Russian, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....”
Steve was helpless. He could only stand in the middle of the ready room, whirling alertly as the maniacal laughter echoed around them, shield at the ready, his whole body wound up and tense for enemies who wouldn’t show their faces; only the laughter, on and on and on. “Can you at least mute it?” he pleaded.
Clint, beside him, had his eyes fix firmly on Bruce. “Don’t turn green don’t turn green don’t turn green,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers twitching towards his bow. “What do we do if he turns green?”
“I won’t!” Bruce said. His soft voice had a slight edge to it, one hand rubbing at his brow. “I really won’t. This isn’t annoying.”
Steve was sure he wasn’t the only one who heard the faint note of pleading, because Clint’s hand moved closer to his own weapon of choice. Thor, rubbing unsuccessfully at Bruce’s shoulder, glowered at everything, hammer at the ready.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Who are you? Show yourself!” Steve demanded to the walls. This was not a good day for dire happenings, because every single damn journalist in the city had arrived for a press conference, as well some of the military’s finest commanders, and too many senators for Steve’s liking. In less than a minute, The Avengers, would be announcing their intentions to the press, and, more importantly, to their enemies.
“It’s too late to cancel the conference,” Tony snapped. “They’re outside, waiting. Next time I go on a little Avengers-related ego trip, just stop me, would you? I’m serious. Stop me.”
“We tried,” Natasha said softly, not taking her eyes from the screen in front of her. “You insisted. We gave up because it was easier than trying to shut you up.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....”
“Sir, I can mute the sound temporarily and overlay it with something more appropriate to drown out the background noise, but the effect will not last. You have approximately five minutes before my control is overridden.”
“Do it! This is going to be the quickest press conference in history. I guarantee it.” Tony flipped down his face plate and threw his pad down onto a table, his alter-ego’s blank mask hiding his frustration.
As he spoke, the laughter faded into the background and the crashing triumph of Beethoven’s 9th replaced it.
“I suggest, we get out there, right now.” Steve slapped his shield onto his back, squared his shoulders and faked his hero face. Around him, the others did the same; except for Thor, because he always had a hero face, and Bruce, who merely picked up his headphones and put them over his ears. He would only be present in spirit. No one was impressed by a greying, bespectacled, professor type, and he certainly wasn’t going to be Hulking out for a bunch of parasite journalists, politicians, and uniforms.
Tony looked at Maria, giving her a prearranged signal.
“Let’s do this. Look awesome, everyone. Maybe they won’t notice the murder-cackle.” Tony paused at the door out into the conference room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Maria announced into her headset microphone. “Please welcome onto the stage, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Thor, Iron Man and Captain America!”
As she announced each name, each Avenger walked onto the stage. The assembled press and persons of importance had been in confusion, first at the laughter, perhaps thinking it was part of the show, then relaxing as the music had started. Some clapped, others cheered, many were silent, depending on the stance and politics of their various organisations.
Steve walked onto the stage last of all, realising that each of his team mates had ignored the long table and chairs that had been set up in advance for them all. Instead, aware of a need for speed, they all stood at the front of the stage: Nat and Clint, at ease in their usual tight-fitting gear, hands behind backs, faces stern. Thor was twirling his hammer idly, the tenseness of his biceps telling a different story to the friendly grin on his handsome face. Iron Man, posed like a red and gold metal statue, hands on hips, merely moved his head slowly from left to right, servos whirring too softly for anyone but Steve’s enhanced hearing.
Taking his position as their leader, in front and centre of them all, Steve stood at strict attention, giving his very best salute. Flashes of cameras almost burned out his retinas, between the applause and cheering. The cacophony of clicks and whirrs was deafening. Then the questions started.
Letting go of his salute, Steve held up his hands for quiet. The press settled down, the uniforms settled down, everyone went quiet, waiting for Captain America’s words with bated breath.
Beethoven’s 9th did not.
“Ladies and gentlemen...” Steve started, raising his voice over the sound of a thousand strong choir. “Thank you all for...”
“Freude, schöner Götterfunken, Tochter aus Elysium...”
“...coming today. We, The Avengers, have...”
“Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligthum!”
Steve raised his voice further, a little desperately, to be heard over the choir in full voice. He was damn sure the volume was increasing – and who the hell picked a German composer for this particular announcement? He paused and shot a hard look at Iron Man who shrugged his titanium shoulders, face plate, as always, blank.
“Our national security has been compromised. Our lines of defence have been compromised. We have been slowly and surely infiltrated by HYDRA. We have taken down many of HYDRA’s agents, but many more remain. Our pledge to you, as...”
“Deine Zauber binden wieder, was die Mode strenggeteHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Motherfu....” Clint started.
“Belay that curse word,” Steve snapped, then softer, “Avengers do not curse in public, Clint.”
Clint merely glared, but kept his mouth shut. Beside him, despite the seriousness of the situation, Natasha’s lips curved into a smug grin.
Before them, the crowd stirred uneasily, most looking around, the realisation that this was not a part of the conference clouding their faces. Many looked nervous. Demanding voices rose above the sick, mad laughter that filled the hall.
“Captain America, what is the meaning of...”
“What is that?”
“Is this a trick?”
“Please remain calm.” Tony took a step forward and held up his hands. His voice, magnified under the suit, sounded so much calmer than Steve felt. He tensed, reaching back for his shield.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Abruptly the laughter stopped. There was a sudden silence as everyone in the room held their breath, waiting for... what?
“Captain America. You think your Avengers can stop us? Nothing can stop us. Cut off one head, two more shall appear. So it is, and so it will always be. Mankind will fall beneath us and there is nothing you can do about it. MANKIND WILL FALL! MANKIND WILL FALL! HAHAHAHAHAHA...”
The voice was familiar, echoing, malevolent. Steve glanced at Natasha and saw the recognition in her eyes. She looked scared – actually scared – and that, more than anything made Steve’s heart skip. Nothing scared Natasha... well, nothing except...
Clint whirled as the door onto the stage opened, bow and nocked arrow at the ready. Natasha and Tony reacted immediately, moving into combat stance. Thor raised his hammer, Steve his shield. The gathered crowd went still.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Then HE walked onto the stage.
Steve held his breath until his heart pounded. He lowered his shield, swallowing so hard that his throat ached for hours after wards.
Black - unrelieved black, heavy boots, tight leather TAC tunic, cold, dead eyes, long dark hair hanging in his expressionless face. A powerful gun held ready in his hands, more weapons clipped to thighs, back, belt – knives and pistols, grenades and smoke bombs. His metal arm gleamed in the lights, ruthless and unstoppable. He walked into the centre of the stage, the cold, relentless malevolent, stalking gait of a predator.
The Winter Soldier was here.
Steve heard terrified screams over the cold laughter that still echoed around the hall. The Winter Soldier stood on the stage, came to a halt next to Steve. The dead eyes looked into Steve’s own, then...
Steve was sure, would swear on his mother’s grave, would swear blind up and down to any god anyone wished...
... the Winter Soldier winked at him.
Then the Winter Soldier spoke. His voice was hard, brittle frost.
“Members of HYDRA, I will find you. I will not stop finding you. And when I find you, I will kill you.”
The laughter halted abruptly.
The Winter Soldier’s eyes raked the crowd, then he turned to Steve once more, and slowly tapped the star on his metal shoulder. A white star, ringed with blue and red.
Steve’s jaw dropped and he waved a hand at the others. Immediately the Avengers stood down, each lowering their weapons in turn.
“Motherfucker.” Clint said softly.
The echoing, malicious voice of HYDRA cleared its throat.
“UM... ON SECOND THOUGHTS, WE SURRENDER.”
*********
“Bucky?” Steve reached out tentatively, his hand almost, but not quite, stroking Bucky’s cheek. “Are you... are you back? Are you still...?”
Mine?
The Winter Soldier remained, although dark blue eyes, so ice-filled before, on stage, thawed slightly.
“No.”
“But, you... your arm. I thought you were...” Steve’s words seemed to strangle in his throat. He wanted to say so much, wanted to ask, to tell, to remind, but Buck... the Winter Soldier seemed as unapproachable as a blizzard. His hand slid downwards to touch the cold metal, the white star.
The Solider shouldered the rifle he was still carrying and, for a moment, his eyes darted around the ready room. The others stood behind Steve, all obviously alert, all waiting to see what the world’s deadliest assassin would do.
All he did was slowly pop open the straps across his chest, and reached into his vest. He pulled out a flash-drive and put it into Steve’s hand. “Names, Places, missions. It’s all there,” he said coldly, then efficiently fastened the straps. He turned to leave.
“Bucky...” Steve shut his eyes, fresh grief almost overwhelming him. He couldn’t let Bucky leave again. “Please.”
But when he opened his eyes, Bucky was gone. Nat was in front of him, her hands grasping his shoulders, her eyes, for once, full of empathic understanding.
“We’ll get him back, Steve,” she said. “Won’t we guys?”
“Sure,”
“Of a certainty!”
“By the way, who was that guy?”
“Cap’s pet murder-doll. Yeah, why not? Let’s fill the tower with assassins. You know, we can never have too many assassins. We could maybe do with a few more armour-based superheroes as well, or maybe a telepath or two? Do we know any telepaths? Guys, how about we recruit some...”
“Shut up, Tony,” Steve sighed. He fixed Nat’s gaze and smiled a little, hope blazing inside his chest. “Yeah, Nat. I’ll get him back. I know I will.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through to Sam’s number. “I’m already on it.”
He pressed ‘dial’.
END