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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MILA
"Jarvis, pull up everything about Loki in the past thirteen weeks." The room bubbles to life around me, and I glance hesitantly over a shoulder to the door.
Tony would never let me leave if he knew I'd been in here.
And I don't have time for any of that right now.
I don't have time for any of them.
"Access denied." The male voice speaks. I stick a lip between my teeth and blow out a harsh breath through my nose.
Crap.
I press a finger to the large, green touchpad on the metal table's surface. Lights flicker beneath my fingertips and a hum of electricity reverberates around the room. Fabric scratches roughly against my back as I lean in further over the table.
"Relay identification." Jarvis pronounces.
My back straightens, and I speak to the room. "Mila Yevgenievna Novikova."
"Access denied."
I groan outwardly and throw my arms down on the screen. Of course he'd keep whatever was in here from me. From the one person besides Steve that's gotten closer to Barnes. I shiver as a brisk cold sweeps over my skin.
Don't have time, don't have time, don't have time.
"Request renewed identification." I say.
The keypad hums, as if blowing out a heavy sigh. "Relay renewed identification."
I shovel as much grace and authority into my words as possible as I say, "Natalia Alianovna Romanova".
A second passes.
Another three.
My heart races, and the skin of my neck prickles.
"Access denied, falsification."
I curse and slouch down in frustration on a large, black office chair to my left. The steel of its arms bites into my wrists as I spread them over it, and my skin continues to crawl.
I know Tony's found Loki by now. With a machine as brilliant as Jarvis and the man's own brain as creased as a walnut there's no way he's come up blank in all this time. He's hiding it, for whatever reason. And I'm going to find it no matter how long it takes.
I type another jumble of letters onto the touchpad.
"Request renewed identification." I speak, voice gruff. Jarvis almost sounds bored as he agrees a second time.
My fingers stretch against the metal table. I run a pinkie over its surface, and my mind races back to the feel of a different metal against it. A warm metal. A soft, smooth me-
Focus.
I press my eyes closed and force strength to my throat. This has to work, this has to work. I channel regality. I channel will. I channel the voice of a cutthroat, red headed assassin and as much fire as my lungs can humanely muster.
