HYDRA knew their dirty secrets wouldn't stay secret forever. They knew that someone would break into their base, steal their Super Soldiers.
So they created failsafes.
Helmut Zemo killed the five Super Soldiers in their capsules that day. A bullet...
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FIVE
The music is loud enough that people can barely hear their own thoughts let alone each other, the crowd cheering with alcohol sploshing from their glasses onto the dance floor. People don't seem to care, either there to let loose, or there to bet on the paintings Sharon's been smuggling.
Either way, people are too drunk or too unbothered to take note of the four wanted people in the room, scattered around, getting to their own business.
Sam and Bucky are sticking close, mostly because they have no clue where Zemo and Evelyn are. It's only when the former catches sight of Zemo fiddling with some of the paintings that they realise it's better to keep an eye on him. After all, they're not here for fun. They're here for a job, and they're not leaving till they get the information they need.
Finally, they split, leaving Zemo dancing in the middle of a crowd as they make conversation with strangers, pretending to be interested in the paintings, trying to find something more.
The bar is furthest away from the speakers, the noise easier on Evelyn's ears. With all her heightened senses from the Super Soldier serum, it's difficult not to jump or attack with every movement around her. Parties were never her jam, but she's learnt to go with the flow of things around her. Otherwise, what's the point in pretending?
"Can I have a sex on the beach, please?"
Another voice sounds nearby, and she leans on the table, eyeing the stranger in the half-illuminated room. All men are the same, with the familiar lustful glints in their drunken eyes, searching for something more than money.
She just suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. "Maybe not on the beach, sugar," she replies flirtatiously instead, lips curling into a smirk. "Sand's not so great for sex. I've always found cotton's better."
She changed out of the red dress, not wanting to be recognised. Instead she put on a black dress, red hair seeming darker in the barely-lit room, instead done up in a braided bun.
The man smirks. "Good thing I've got silk waiting for us back at home."
Evelyn smirks before turning, grabbing some things from the shelves, fingers moving deftly before a drink is passed over to the man a few seconds later.
"I have a question for you," she says instead in a low voice as he starts drinking, hoping he's drunk enough to have a few seconds of loose lips. "Wilfred Nagel. He's an old friend of mine, but he's always on the move. I seem to have lost the location he sent me. Help a girl out, why don't you."
The man lowers the glass from his lips, something glimmering in his eyes. "Nagel. Yeah, I know him. Filthy little fella. Always squirrelling about."
"I know," she replies, tutting sympathetically.
Then he shakes his head. "No clue where he's at now, I'm afraid." Instead, a smirk stretches over his face, lopsided and creepy, showing off his yellowing teeth. "But don't you worry yourself, darlin'. No need for him when I'm the one going to be showing you a good time tonight."
