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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If he doesn't stop sneering at me, I'm going to hit Captain America where I know it hurts.
Steve's knowing eyes drag from mine to where Mila's fingers play absentmindedly with the hem of my shirt. The fabric tugs at my hips.
I scowl in Steve's direction, but he only smiles back teasingly and lifts his brows.
"There has to be something we're missing." Mila says, voice strong. The Avengers return the comment with a fit of nods, hums, and unsatisfactory grunts.
Thor swings his hammer idly around a wrist as he paces. "Loki always harboured a great love for... what is it you call it that..." His face scrunches. He snaps a finger. "Hiding and seeking."
Romanoff's eyes roll. "I'd say this is a little bit bigger than that, Thor."
"Why can't we ask the military to put up raids? City scans? Anything?" Mila presses.
It's Wilson that responds, perched on the tough green couch at the side of the room. "Nobody like that is going to want to trust us, much less work with us after 2010."
"After any of it." Romanoff adds.
Mila's fingers tighten amid the stitching of my shirt, and the space between my brows bends.
Something doesn't feel right. Someone has to have found Loki by now. It's been months since we first got news of his presence, and the fact that nobody has even managed to secure an area or a field is...
Strange.
Steve's eyes harden, and he turns to Stark. "Have you tried programming, well, anything to find him?"
The billionaire tightens his hold on a small glass of some sort of light brown liquid. His other hand furls into his pocket.
"Jarvis couldn't find anything, his..." His lips shift, struggling for words. "Loki must be using some sort of illusion mask on himself and his surroundings. There's no read."
My eyes narrow on Stark. Slowly, the brown of his eyes roves to me and he does the same.
Barton extends his legs from where he sits on the floor, arms braced behind him. "You're joking, right? Jarvis? The sci-fi, talking, computer thing that makes your clunky suits can't find one guy?"
Stark blows out something between a cough and a huff. "Well, Legolas, finding people is a lot harder than throwing a sharpened stick at them with a string."
Barton dips his head. I see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly beneath his nose.
"God it feels like this is going on forever." Banner grunts. His thumbs stick up from above his pant pockets, and the raven curl of his hair dances. "Something just isn't adding up."
"Not everything is numbers, Bruce." Natasha raps.
"Most things end up being numbers." He responds, turning away. "In the long run."
