James Buchanan Barnes isn't a killer. He isn't merciless, or cunning, or evil.
But something in him is.
*****
A wrapper crinkles, fabric shifts, and a small, open hand jerks in front of my face. The smell of powdery chocolate and oats meets my nos...
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I don't let fear unwind the fingers clasped beside my hips. Don't let it mangle the perfect straightness of my frown. Not even as I notice the tremor in Mila's hands quicken, jerking her arms ever so often from side to side.
She doesn't let her grip on the gun loosen.
The man, Loki, steps out further from behind the seat. Our breathing mingles in the cramped quarters of the conductor's cabin, and my shoulders tense. Loki looks at me, eyes unbearably wide and filled with... curiosity.
"Thor's brother." Mila says. Her voice hides an almost imperceptible hint of shakiness.
The Asgardian's grin falters, and his head snaps to hers on a phantom gust. "Know this, mortal." He spits. "That hammer wielding charlatan is no brother of mine."
Her brows lift almost condescendingly, but lower as his seethe deepens. At the sight of her coiling away, Loki's pleasantly venomous smile returns, and raven hair shifts over his shoulders as he turns his gaze back on me. Knowingly, his eyes turn down to my hand, to the metal calibrating beneath the unbearably thin black glove.
His eyes glint darkly. "Fascinating, isn't it?"
Neither of us answer.
I don't let myself think of what he's referring to.
Loki's hands glide to his pockets, and Mila's grip on her gun tightens. He doesn't pay her any attention, gaze glued to my fingertips.
"I've heard so much about you, James." He says. I straighten at the unfamiliar name and he smiles, sensing my unease. "So many wonderful things."
The train lolls to the side as we dip right, still racing at a wicked speed. Something mixed with wind, bullets and shouting meets my ear as Wilson hurries at us to slow it down.
I fight the urge to rip the ear piece from my head.
Loki's feet cross as he dips back to rest against the seat. "Forgive my childlike curiosity," He starts, grin feral. "But how much of you... is you at the moment, Mr. Barnes?"
I plant my feet further down. Lower my gaze from his. My lips squirm tight against each other and my chest swells as I heave a breath. Another.
At my silence Loki's voice fills the room in an almost growl. "How often do you wake up, skin in wrinkling tatters, clothes in ribbons? What silence fills your head in the light and blares with blood and metal and fire in the dark?"
My jaw shakes, and my eyes bead red. My head stills with a deathlike quiet and my throat burns. This is just Loki. He's trying to get inside my head. I mumble the words over and over in my head, eyes glued to a small shadow of green circling the man's chest.
I can't help but wonder how he knows.
He rises, and presses himself closer to our side of the cabin. His teeth gleam in the onslaught of the maintenance lights, and Mila breathes in harshly at my side.
