Chapter Text
If there was ever a time to channel her sister’s charm, it would have been now.
Facing a sea of reporters aiming various phones and cameras at Val and her ragtag group, Yelena smiled unflinchingly. The muscle beneath her left eye threatened to twitch uncontrollably and yet with a deep, controlled breath, Yelena forced herself to remain calm. Brushing the hair from where it fell into her eyes, she crossed her arms loosely and glanced at her unwitting colleagues. none of them looked all too happy to be here, besides Alexei although she felt confident enough to say that may have been a front for her benefit.
It was an onslaught to the senses, not unsimilar to a battlefield. Shouting voices and flashes of shutters sparking across her vision like gunshots and battle cries. The swarms of reporters circled as though they were a pack of wolves scenting blood, and Yelena was just waiting for one of them to make the first lunge.
Beside her, Val shifted uncomfortably, thumb moving frantically across her phone behind her back. The woman was sweating beneath her foundation. This was bad. Yelena didn’t need years of experience to see the truth: this was damage control. Valentina was using them—using her—as a PR stunt to front the truth.
Technically they were her property now. ‘Indebted’ to her and all that jazz. Well fuck that. She’d been waiting on this, on having a purpose, on being a hero. Val may have been the one to light the fuse, but Yelena was going to be the one running the show now; she was going to be the person holding the detonator. She'd meant what she said. What was Val going to do against a team of enhanced misfits with one heavy grudge and a bucketful of dubious morals?
She lifted a hand to the crowd, offering a little wave. Smile, wave, lie. Natasha had been a master of it. She remembers seeing Nat on the news, knowing that deep down she actually loved it. She missed five years and in that time, being a hero had gotten her sister killed.
As Yelena’s smile faded into a grimace, the godforsaken curtain of plastic behind them was pulled aside revealing an armed officer. Val broke away from her position in the limelight to dart behind the stiff-backed man. Clearly she didn’t trust them – valid given not moments ago she had three people threaten to kill her.
Yelena suppressed a smirk, lip curling as Walker clipper her shoulder hard enough to send her stumbling into the wrap. He didn't apologise – of course he didn’t. Just kept waving at the crowd, full of bluster and cheap cologne. Asshole. (Let’s ignore how Yelena most certainly would have done the same given the chance).
The officer simply nodded to them, emotionless. He cleared his throat. “Ma’am, Avengers. Your ride is here.”
The volume of the crowd increased in desperation as they realised their window for interviews was rapidly disintegrating. No juicy gossip, no scandalous quotes, no photo ops with ex-assassins and enhanced agents. It was a strange feeling to be watched so intently. It wasn’t… bad. Yelena only realised she was lingering when Bob tentatively tapped her on the shoulder. With a roll of her neck, she saluted the shouting hoard and followed Bob behind the conveniently placed plastic sheet, reluctantly leaving behind the feeling of fame.
As expected, they were met with a wall of rifles and shields encircling the open doors of some grey, armoured truck as though they were defending the last standing post at war. Bucky was already stepping into the back, Walker grudgingly following him. That just left Ava, Bob and her dad – who, naturally, was making a scene.
Ava also looked flighty which was hardly unreasonably given what they’d just been through, but Yelena didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially without a chance to talk it through as a team… and wasn’t that a foreign notion? She was surprised that the mere thought of not going solo didn’t make her feel ill.
The sound of the safety clicking off multiple guns tore through her unusually optimistic reverie, and Yelena’s head immediately snapped in the direction of the danger. Alexei was getting alarmingly close to the perimeter and she didn’t want a repeat of last time. Confidently, she strode over, looping Bob by the elbow and dragging him behind her like a reluctant handbag.
“Stupid, American men with their little toy guns!” Alexei boomed, jabbing a finger at one particularly nervous-looking guard. “You think this contain me? Red Guardian is force of nature! You are no match for the Thunderbolts!”
As she reached him, Bob stumbling after her, she grabbed his shoulder firmly. “Alexei,” Yelena snapped, cutting through his theatrics. “Remember what you told me? When you were happiest?”
His clenched fist paused mid-air as he took a moment to consider her words. As recognition flickered across his face, Yelena felt relief seep into her bones.
“Ah... yes,” he muttered. “That time in Cuba. I had the lobster.”
There goes that hope. This man.
“No,” Yelena said, flat. “Not that time.”
He blinked. Then, slowly, the tension drained from his body like air from a deflating ego. It was perhaps a low play to manipulate him like this, but she had to avoid ruining this before it even really started. Val looked smug from behind her armed meat shields, which soured the victory, but whatever. One battle at a time.
As they climbed in, Yelena glanced back at Ghost who was stood gritting her teeth and glaring a storm at their captors. “Ava?” Yelena called softly. They locked eyes across the debris ridden street. Ava’s felt like daggers daring her to speak the truth. “They’ll catch you.” It wasn’t even a lie; not a threat, not a bluff. Just the harsh truth. She saw Bucky nod encouragingly from beside her and knew this was the only decision.
“Come on,” she added, quieter. “We can plan together.”
Ghost hesitated. Then, with a sigh that could’ve curdled milk, she relented. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Ava made her way to the truck, resolutely staring at the ground. Though it was silent Yelena could almost hear Ava’s complaints in that quaint British accent of hers. She smiled to herself as she offered the woman a hand up. She didn’t take it, glaring as though this was Yelena’s fault and took the seat next to Alexei who was bouncing his leg with far too much energy.
The dual-doors slammed shut behind them with a hiss that sounded too final. The air inside felt tight. Uneasy. Metal bench seats. Bolted floor. No windows. Just recycled oxygen and bad vibes. Yelena didn’t flinch, but the others shifted – boots scraping metal, breath catching like they were still being watched. They probably were.
On her left, Bob fiddled with his hands, alert but as she’d come to get used to, not in the remotest alarmed. Sure he was suffering from some science-induced amnesia but one would’ve thought any human – enhanced or not – would have a stronger sense of self-preservation.
The silence lasted until the engine started.
“I hate this,” Ava muttered. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, fists clenching and unclenching – a self-placating action.
Alexei, oblivious to tone or tact, boomed beside her, “Fear not, Ava. We are heroes! We will crush our foes! The people will cheer! Posters! Wheatie boxes-”
“Oh, yes, let’s all smile for the propaganda,” Ava cut in, rolling her eyes. “We are quite literally a publicity stunt for the woman who just spent a week trying to kill us all. What’s next? Breakfast TV? ‘Today on Good Morning America: this weird British woman killed seven people in a burning warehouse. Stay tuned!’”
Walker snorted, mouth already half-open to ruin the moment. Yelena intervened before any more could be said, “Look, we all need some rest. I know this is far from ideal-”
“Understatement of the century,” Bucky interrupted.
“-but we could use this. We kicked ass today –”
“We?” Walker scoffed. “I think you mean you’re welcome. Pretty sure I saved your sorry asses the most.”
“You quite literally would be dead if it wasn’t for us, you douche. You didn’t carry anything except your own inflated-”
Yelena could feel the rage beginning to radiate of Bucky from two people away. This really wasn’t going her way.
Bucky’s hands twitched. Rage, palpable from two seats away. Yelena held up her hand.
“Guys. Think. We need a plan for what happens when that door opens. They’ll be armed. But maybe—just maybe—we can overpower them.”
A sensible strategy, an almost reasonable plan. Then Alexei chimed in.
“Yesssss! We crush them! Fists first! Take their leader, make her our bitch! The world will cheer the Thunderbolts! Especially the Red Guardian, pride of Russia!”
Yelena blinked. “That was not what I said.”
Ava calmly wrangled Alexei’s flailing arms back into his lap. “Okay, big guy. Save the speeches for your memoir.”
Meanwhile, Bucky and Walker were still engaged in some kind of silent battle, brows furrowed and gazes sharp. Yelena could tell in that moment she’d lost the battle for control.
And then piercing the dull background noise, as if to make matters worse, a phone began vibrating in someone’s pocket. The jazzy opening notes to some seventies song filled the stifling air and everyone paused.
It was someone on Yelena’s left. Deduction pointed to Bucky which made sense.
Walker raised an eyebrow. “Is that Marvin Gaye?”
His own question broke him from his stupor and he launched himself at Bucky with unprecedented speed. They fought for it. Literally. Elbows, grunts, limbs flailing. Yelena got kneed in the side. She sighed. Nope, this wasn’t happening.
“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered, elbowing her way between them, face getting mushed into Bucky’s shoulder as Walker strained against her.
Unnoticed by everyone, Bob let out a nervous cough, trying politely to get someone’s attention. “Umm. Guys, there’s something—”
No one listened. They were too busy watching or engaging in the ensuing fight.
Walker had Bucky’s arm in a grip that made Ava sigh like she was debating vaporising his spine. Yelena’s boot wedged between them, and Alexei clapping like the unhelpful asshole he was. Walker wouldn’t stop grabbing for the phone in Bucky’s pocket and Yelena had to stop herself from crying as he managed to grope him not once but twice.
Men.
“Are you seriously groping him right now?” Ava deadpanned.
No response. Just chaos.
Bucky rolled out of his grip and tried to reach it himself, Walker now fighting Yelena struggling to see the caller ID, “Tell me that’s Sam. It’s Sam isn’t it?”
Bucky turned away as he retrieved it and shot a glare over his shoulder, “No, it’s God. He’s come to tell me it’s my time – of fucking course it’s Sam! What other friends do I have?”
Walker lunged past her, knocking Bucky and the phone to the floor. Yelena watched helpless as it skidded out of either of their reaches and both of them lay there scrambling wildly. Honestly, Yelena didn’t know why she ever thought this team would work.
Walker had Bucky in a headlock. Yelena tried to pin Walker’s wrist to the seat. Ava, somehow calm, slid her finger across the mostly crushed screen and answering the call.
“Hi, Sam,” she said flatly, ducking a flailing elbow. Neither Bucky nor Walker realised their battle had been lost until the ear-gratingly loud voice of a very disgruntled Sam Wilson began shouting up a storm over the tinny speakers of Bucky’s phone.
“James Buchanan Barnes, you better have a good explanation for this or so God help me, I will kick your motherfucking ass. What happened? Are you ok? Who the hell are these people?”
In the resounding silence, Yelena’s gaze was drawn to Bob’s frantic movements and distressed noises from the far end of the space. His face was pale and clammy, his sleeve clamped over his mouth and knees tucked up to his chest. She followed his gesture to the ceiling of the truck, face paling as she realised the open vents were steadily releasing a lightly coloured vapour. “Bucky, I think they’re gassing us.”
“What?” Present company, Sam included, demanded with varying urgency.
Bucky stood, ignoring Sam’s constant stream of questions to inspect the vents, “Yeah, you’re gonna be out in a minute. Maybe sit down before you hit your head.”
Well shit. “We have to get out of here.” Everyone nodded, even Walker who had gone shockingly quiet.
The next step she took was paired with a lovely wave of vertigo and the next thing she knew, she was out, a cold hand grabbing her by the neck before she could smack her skull against the seat.
Goddamn it.
Yelena woke up comfortable, which was never a good sign.
There was a soft bed beneath her, and she was dressed in loose, unfamiliar apparel. She fought to keep her heart and breathing slow, resisting the immediate urge to tense. Eyes shut, she gave herself a moment to take a reading on her environment. Primarily, she could make out a sterile hum, mechanical like some kind of generator, but there was a slight shifting from various directions around her which indicated a larger space. The air was an odd mix of sterile and musty, as though it had only recently been brought into use. Mothballs sprayed with disinfectant and yet the stench remained. Which would track if it was some kind of containment cell.
“Yelena, they know your awake.”
Ah, so they were in confinement. But she wasn’t alone.
“Good morning to you too, Barnes,” she replied, voice raspier than intended. She blinked her eyes open slowly, ignoring the brief spin of disorientation.
“Ouch, demoted to last name like Walker? That hurts.”
A scoff from somewhere off to her right confirmed Walker’s presence, and that was enough to push Yelena into motion. She sat up pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets in an attempt to relieve the oncoming headache and the slight twinge in her neck. Now fully aware, she could see the charming cell they’d been confined to – that’s if you could call it a cell. It was containment, dressed up to look like accommodation. While the stark beds and open bathroom pointed to incarceration, nobody appeared to be restrained and there was a remarkable display of trust in the lack of cameras. Hidden viewing window maybe?
Across from her, Ava and Bob were both still out cold. Yelena noticed they’d elected to leave Ghost in her stabilising suit. Whether you could call that a nicety or not was debatable but she could safely say that she’d prefer not to watch Ava suffer through the fallout of that.
“There’s no way out that wouldn’t result in immediate detainment,” Bucky said, quietly. “Val’s not taking any chances.” He was closer than she expected — already sitting beside her on the bed, leaving enough space between them to be respectful, but not distant. With surprise she realised she wanted that physical comfort. Maybe even craved it, in a quiet, unacknowledged way that made her want to recoil and lean in at the same time. This damn teamwork crap was making her soft.
She hummed instead, letting the sound carry her irritation. It was all starting to feel the same – always fighting for the upper hand, always losing to someone with a bigger stick. Was the fame worth it? Worth a constant battle for freedom. It was beginning to look like not but she wasn’t about to ruin it now.
Her eyes skimmed over the team, restless. Next to her, Bucky was almost disarmingly calm, a contrast to her own fidgety state. “So. How long did it take for them to knock you out?”
The question was born more of impulsive curiosity than actual strategy. Bucky, who had been inspecting a cut on his flesh hand, shook his head in amusement, “You ask all the important questions. All that training going to good use, I see.”
“Oh, you know, just want to know how mighty your ‘Hydra serum’ really is.”
“So you heard Alexei’s definitely-not-insensitive conversation starter from your five-star backseat?” His tone was light but didn’t fully land. She turned her head slightly, catching the flicker of strain beneath his sarcasm.
She sighed. “He’s always been… hard, I guess? I don’t know if that’s the right word. He’s complicated. He can be an asshole but also strangely thoughtful. Maybe on accident though.”
They both laughed, causing Walker to glare at them from where he was mid-perimeter check. He looked a little silly with his military posture decked out in loose, long sleeves and jogging bottom cotton pants. Like a child pretending to be a soldier, marching around the house in their pyjamas. Yelena raised a brow. “Has he been doing this since he woke up?”
“Yes, thinks he’s going to find something I didn’t.”
The steady confidence Bucky spoke with at times reminded her of her sister. She carried herself in the same way – calm and menacing whilst the Avengers scattered around her. She wondered if Bucky noticed. She wondered if he knew she was related to Nat by blood. Probably.
Yelena took in the harrowed man next to her. She didn’t know Bucky well. In fact, she could probably say she knew the Winter Soldier more – though Bucky didn’t know this. And she’d rather keep it that way.
They’d taken his arm, offering no replacement if the empty socket was anything to go by, and he too had been dressed down into what were essentially plain prison slacks. Or a mental asylum uniform maybe. There was an imbalance to his posture, flesh shoulder lower than usual as though used to compensating. The way his hand twitched to his thigh made it obvious he missed something more than a weapon. Routine, maybe. A tether. His hair was beginning to look a little greasy and she subconsciously ran a hand through her own. It should be the least of her concerns but she was but a simple creature, and she hated not looking her best.
Chuckling, Bucky rolled his eyes having caught her staring. He shoved her shoulder with his own as though they were friends and patted her on the shoulder as he offered reassurance, “You look fine. Your eyeliner hasn’t even smudged.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Bucky simply chuckled a little more – it felt foreign to hear. “Mine used to run.”
That wasn’t a fact she had been expecting to learn ever, “Can’t imagine Hydra had much high quality make-up. Why’d you bother if it ran?”
He locked steely eyes with hers. “Think that’s why I wore it,” he replied, without irony.
“You think?”
He shrugged, tone lowering into something more sombre. “I don’t remember. Certainly don’t catch me wearing dramatic emo make-up now. That was so four decades ago.”
She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. The idea of the century old Bucky Barnes – assassin, veteran, congressman – using the word emo was almost too much. She shook her head instead, silently amused.
His hand twitched to his thigh once more, the reflexive action quite clearly in desire for a phone. She could hardly blame him. Yelena was missing being able to call for help right now… which prompted another question.
“You get to talk to Captain America?”
He sighed, face tightening. “I think so. I remember him asking for a location, and I tried to tell him that Val was a rat and not to trust her, but I’m not entirely sure I said those words out loud. Whatever shit they used was strong. Alexei was out right after you.”
At that, Bucky got up and began to walk in the direction of a far bed. Yelena followed, feeling the soft fabric swish around her ankles as she passed by the slack faces of Bob and Ava. Alexei was also still asleep, though Yelena was sure that was definitely just exhaustion rather than the effects of the sedative they’d inhaled.
He looked peaceful — almost grotesquely so. The kind of peaceful that made your stomach turn. Her father’s snoring was usually enough to kill small birds; this quiet felt wrong. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he’d said earlier. She didn’t want to think about how prophetic that might turn out to be. Alexei was an impulsive man. Some of his worst traits were amplified by the serum. Yelena knew he had very poor self-restraint, but sometimes it felt almost arrogant. Suicidal.
She let out a sigh, long and heavy, just in time for Walker to interrupt.
“Could you two shmucks stop standing around and help me break the legs off this bed.”
Yelena groaned, an accusatory finger pointed at Walker without hesitation. “Don’t you start at us. We could have had Captain America busting our asses out of here by now if it wasn’t for your ego.”
“Yeah, well I’m sorry. Ok? Now help.” The bastard even had the gall to look wounded.
Conveniently, a yawn interrupted their argument before it could escalate. Three heads snapped in the direction of the disturbance. Bob was stirring, arms stretched above his head. Yelena had already reached the foot of his bed as he began to sit up, face unreadable. Bob was… complicated. Nobody knew how much he remembered leaving them in an unfortunate position. She didn’t know where she stood with him. It had felt like they’d finally connected when they’d come together to beat their fears in the void. Evidently he didn’t remember much if any of that, but they’d known each other for longer than that. She was hoping it was enough for him to trust them.
“Alright?” It was perhaps a little short but it’s better not to overwhelm people. Especially dangerous ones without training
He blinked at her, confused, then frowned. “I… think so? I don’t remem— oh. We were kidnapped.”
“Bingo.”
He offered Yelena a weary smile as he swung his legs out of bed. He was endearingly uncoordinated, Yelena had noticed, and it was without thought that she offered an arm for support when he stood on shaky legs. He looked fine and, given the shit they’d seen launched at Bob in recent days, it was probably safe to say no damage would ever last. She was more worried about how he was feeling. Totally because it would be world-threatening if he wasn’t. No other reason. Nothing to do with the suspiciously Natasha-shaped hole in her life.
Bucky passed by them to shake Ava from her slumber. She roused immediately, grabbing his wrist in a ruthless grip, other fist raised and eyes wild. There was a collective clamour of panicked ‘woah’s and ‘wait’s as everyone scrambled to stop Ava from decking him. Just when everyone’s attention was diverted,
And then the far wall faded away to reveal Val stood on the other side looking far too pleased with herself, grinning like the cat who got the cream in her overly expensive pantsuit.
The woman didn’t even flinch when Walker charged over from Ava’s bedside and attempted to shatter the translucent wall with his fist, shouting ‘let me out’ as if she’d ever listen to him; nobody else did. The resounding thud echoed uselessly.
“Now, now children,” Val cooed, tone condescending. “Is that any way to greet mummy?”
The chorus of disgust was immediate. Next to her, Bob shifted uncomfortably and she wrapped Bob’s arm around her shoulder comfortingly, helping him take a few steps so that they could join the rest of the group. Even as he grew steadier, she stayed close, gravitating towards him despite herself. Again she dismissed any notion of craving physical contact because it was silly and what kind of ex-assassin was touch starved or emotionally stunted…? Yeah. Ok so her argument was definitely flawed.
Val continued her monologue. Yelena elected to tune her out, instead scanning the room beyond their captor. Avenger’s Tower maybe? But then why would they have them get into a truck – they’d been right next to it. Some other unused establishment like the Avenger’s Compound? Maybe it didn’t matter. The point was: they were trapped. And someone had to figure out how to escape.
“Yelena.” The call of her name broke her out of that train of thought. Val's voice dripped with smugness, like honey poured over broken glass. “Didn’t you come to me, not a week ago, and ask for – and I quote – something more ‘public facing’? Well, dear, it’s your time to shine. You’re heroes now. Isn’t that more than you could ever ask for?”
That caught her off guard. Her jaw clenched. She had no words for Val, especially when all the woman seemed capable of doing was using the people around her as tools for personal gain. She just stared through the now-transparent wall at Val, imagining she’d just walked out of a power lunch where she’d devoured the souls of three interns and a CEO. Perfectly pressed suit, hair naturally styled, and a lipstick shade that screamed I win.
It made her feel sick.
Fortunately, for her, the rest of the group took this as a good time to intervene, starting with Bob tightening his grip on her shoulders, and Walker muttering under his breath as though they weren’t all stood in an enclosed space.
“I swear to God, if she says one more self-satisfied word-”
“She is one more self-satisfied word,” Ava replied from across the room, scrubbing a hand across her face. Her tone wasn’t even angry – just tired. Disdainfully British in that way that makes every insult sound like a formal complaint. A moment of silence passed before she turned around and dropped back onto the bed she’d woken on, arms folded tight like she was keeping herself from bolting again.
Then Bucky was stepping forwards to stand face to face with Val, next to Walker, arm folded across his chest. Unfortunately for him, without the Vibranium counterpart it was a lot harder to take him seriously, but going off aura alone, he was still an intimidating individual.
He shifted, leaning forwards and lowering his voice to a cold growl. “A hero would sacrifice any fame or fortune to take down the bad guys and protect their people. If we were really heroes, we would have exposed you immediately. Or even killed you before any of this bullshit happened.
As it stands,” Bucky continued, “I want to make you pay, legally I should say, for your numerous crimes. However, if Walker here were to slip… well, let’s say I wouldn’t be too mad.”
It was ridiculously corny – especially when Walker proceeded to crack his knuckles like he was in a boxing ring – but Val looked at least a little distressed. Ava’s muffled chuckle devolved into a laugh which resulted in John flipping them off with his back to them. Bob made a distressed noise and Ava rolled her eyes.
Some team they were.
“Ok, we get it, Val,” she said with authority, stepping ahead of Bob and Ava to get her attention. “You have us where you want us: contained, subdued. You want us – no scratch that – you need us to work for you now that you’ve said we’re your long-standing project. So don’t pretend this is some gift.
The way I see it, you should be working for us and not the other way around. Maybe you should start acting less like our jailer and more like our agent.” Yelena swallowed the swell of pride she felt when the others nodded in agreement. It was short lived anyway.
Val was nodding, not even looking at them anymore, head tilted to a tablet in her hand. “Well sure, you could see it that way. But we have leverage, and you? You have feelings. Dangerous combination, darling.
Sure you have Sentry too, but I’d like to see you harness that without ending the world – no really, I would. You can’t save everyone; why not start with keeping those you love alive…”
Val paused dramatically, eyes rising to meet theirs. “By working for me.”
Walker scoffed, “The fuck you mean leverage? You’re bluffing, you have nothing.”
There was a click, like the sound you hear on an AV receiver as it switches between inputs, and a soft whirr as generators buzzed to life. Before their eyes, the white walls around them became screens – or perhaps they always had been – each of them displaying CCTV footage of various individuals. Yelena’s eyes darted from panel to panel searching for a face that meant anything to her.
There. The fucking dickheads.
They knew about Kate.
From behind them all, Alexei had startled himself awake and was thrashing with his bedding. It was like his brain was hardwired to do the least intimidating thing. The disturbance did little to assuage her anxieties, and by the looks of it, the same could be said for the rest of her friends.
Moments after Alexei tumbled to the floor, he was on his feet fists raised and looking suitably unnerved. He relaxed a little at the bemused glares of the others before noticing Val’s raised eyebrows over their shoulders. Yelena prepared herself for the oncoming storm.
“You-!”
And there it was.
“We will put a stop to your nefarious game-”
“I would like to see you try, Alexei Shostakov.”
“- and become the true heroes of your puny country.”
Val ignored him, swiping on her screen to turn off the screens. “Well you’ve certainly all made a bit of a splash. The whole world’s watching, and more specifically, the American government. I, for one, am delighted to offer you such a stunning opportunity to rise above your… less-than-stellar reputations. New Avengers, assembled. Cute, right?”
Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “How are you going to frame that? We are literally a team of morally-grey murderers. There’s no way the government will approve of this. Never mind the general public.”
Alexei snorted. “And we are not cartoon characters. We do not 'assemble' like children’s toys. We are Thunderbolts!”
(“Please stop saying it like that. It’s embarrassing.” “Why?” “Just don’t.”)
Walker rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself. You sound like one of those toy bear souvenirs that recites its national anthem when you pull the string.”
That got a snort out of Bucky. Even Bob cracked a weak smile from where he was still leaning heavily against her shoulder. He was steady on his feet now, but not exactly radiating confidence—his usual half-lidded calm slightly rattled. She didn’t blame him, it felt like their lives had just been flipped upside down.
Val smiled sickly sweet. “Well it’s nice to see you all getting on. It will make press easier if you’re not trying to tear out each other’s throats. We need the people-”
“You need.”
“- to love the New Avengers for this to work.” She finished with a dramatic flourish of a wrist.
Yelena didn’t think this argument could become any more tedious until Alexei inhaled, preparing to speak.
“Listen, Lady. We are the Thunderbolts. Not New Avengers-”
“Wait, I thought we collectively agreed that was a terrible name.”
“I like it.”
“Thanks, Bob.”
“Yeah, I definitely prefer Thunderbolts.”
Perhaps it was worth putting up with the pointless arguments just to see the vein pop on Val’s smooth forehead. “Well tough, you are the New Avengers now and you will go by that name. Now, do what I say or there will be consequences.”
With the air of a bull gearing up to charge, Bucky planted his feet. “No. I didn’t sign up to be part of your circus,” Bucky called out. “Or your brand. Or whatever self-serving plan you’ve duct-taped together with taxpayer money. I’m a congressman and voice of the people, I know the law and I can safely say that you can’t do this.”
Val raised her brows and smiled like he’d just complimented her earrings. “Oh, sweetheart. You think anyone gets to ‘sign up’ anymore? This is conscription with better marketing. Thought a traditional guy like you might be familiar with the notion.” Her voice grew sharp.
“You have two choices. Play the part, or rot in a cell. Maybe even a little hole in the ground, depending on which way the penny falls.”
A tense silence followed, broken only by Alexei cracking his knuckles theatrically and muttering something in Russian that Yelena didn’t need translated. It was probably along the lines of “I will crush her,” because that was his usual go-to. Uninventive. Nat was always better at making her smile.
At that, it seemed Val deemed their conversation over. A chime sounded – pleasant and high-pitched – that felt out of place in the bleakness of their situation. Then that clicking noise and the glass wall shifted again, tinting back to opaque. Val’s voice remained, projected now from some hidden speaker, crisp and cruel. “Rest up. You start orientation in the morning.”
And with that the lights dimmed, leaving the team to their own thoughts.
Bob shifted beside her, voice low as though trying not to disturb the other. “So what, we’re just her lackeys now? Is this what redemption looks like? Because it’s a bit shit.”
Yelena nodded, feeling utterly defeated. “Yeah. It is shit.”
Bob’s hand found hers, fingers tentatively curling around three of hers, “Well, in it together right?”
With a solemn nod, she squeezed his fingers back and tried not to let the emotions overcome her. This whole situation was somehow worse than almost dying – perhaps because it felt so much more real.
Because now she actually had to face the consequences.