1964-04-12 - Not Just A Story
Summary: Silver Sable learns that the Winter Soldier isn't just a scary story told to political figures.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
silver bucky 

So, Red Widow's caught the Winter Soldier….and with relative ease, a few days ago. He's been confined ever since, to one of the cells within HQ. Mostly sedated and restrained, truth be told.

But they've finally reinforced one enough to soothe the nervous soul of the local chief of security, and so Bucky's both conscious and untied, for the moment. There's nothing in the cell save him himself, really, sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the wall. They've taken his boots, his coat, and of course all of his weaponry, and he's clad in what can only be a set of sweatpants (minus the drawstring) and a clean t-shirt. He simply seems to be waiting, though for what isn't clear, eyes more lucid than they have been since he was taken.

She does exactly mean to be (nor does she, you know, act like it or push it onto others) but Silver Sablinova tends to cause bits of stir amongst the rank and file agents. CEO of her company and Princess of Symkaria. They've seen her in magazines more often then they've actually seen her at HQ - if they even knew she was an Agent to begin with! Murmurs follow her from the ones who've never met her before, though senior agents working are quick to silence them. Let the woman walk without being whispered about. She'd thank them if she really cared. Though she is thankful someone can remind them how to be professional.

It is really curiosity that's brought her down to see this Winter Soldier. A name she's heard whispered about like anyone else has, of course. But she never considered it was real. She thought it was a moniker used to scare others. To be fair, it's a good one. "I thought you a story," she admits.

He doesn't look particularly fearsome caged - a tired-looking man in his mid to late twenties, longish brown hair loose around his face. They won't even allow him a rubber band, lest that somehow be used as a weapon. The only oddity is the metallic arm, sculpted to the countours of human muscle, but gleaming a soft silver.

He's got courtesy enough to rise in the presence of royalty, looking back at her with equal curiosity. His eyes are a faded blue, sunk deep with weariness. "Your Highness," he says, and there's a wry note to his voice, and no hint of a Russian accent. "No, I'm very real….if not all there."

So between them, it's Silver that has the Slavic accent? Symkarian dialect, of course. "Well. I'll have to tell my father. He'll be pleased he won the bet." Odd bet to have, but when Symkaria's king fought against Nazi invaders and Silver started in this business as a Nazi hunter.. well, they tend to speak of odd things. And make bets about odd things. "You know who I am?"

There're a few beats of silence….and a sense of something changing. A different presence, as if someone else had stepped into the room. The pale eyes regard her with a kind of bleak humor…..and then he smiles, very faintly. "I almost killed you once," he says, voice light. "But I was called off. But yes, I know who you are."

Several years ago, that may have haunted her. That phrase would have stuck with her. Now, it's almost become so cliche she might as well say it's just another Wednesday night. She casually checks her gloves, as though worried about a loose thread. "Me? I'm flattered someone decided to take notice. I don't suppose you'd tell me who that was," she asks, her gaze flickering back from her glove to the Winter Soldier.

He gives the smallest of shrugs, the plates rasping faintly, like a snake's scales. "No, Highness, I can't. I don't know, at the moment. The current consensus is that's it's the Russians." He does have a scarlet star emblazoned on his deltoid, after all. The smile's gone, but there's no real contrition in his face. Merely that watching air.

Silver nods slightly. "I had the feeling you'd say that. Can't blame my curiosity, I suppose." She can understand the decision to have her killed - it might weaken her father's resolve, make Symkaria an easier target for who knows how many plots. Of course, they are allied with neighbouring Latveria… but certainly they had considered that.

There's that feral little grin, for a moment. "Sorry I can't satisfy it," he replies, softly. "But I am real, in one way or another. What do you get for winning the bet?" he asks, leaning back against the wall, for a moment.

"My father gets to avoid the state dinner with Latveria. Which means I have to step in for him. Again." This has happened for… five years now. She's seen more of Doomstadt than most people outside of its citizens, she suspects. "You have no idea how pleased with himself he'll be."

Bucky purses his lips, raises his brows. "That tedious, eh?" he asks, simply. "Though I've never head of Doom exactly being a party animal, so….I imagine so."

Silver considers the question for a long moment. Eventually, she decides on a simple shrug. "Latveria took us in during the war," she says. "They didn't have to. But they did. The annual state dinner is a tradition to reaffirm our friendship. My father… is not a man who enjoys ceremony. He knows why it must be done, but he still twitches like young boys locked inside on a sunny day."

"And you? Do you enjoy ceremony?" he asks. She's one of the few he's talked to who hasn't immediately steered the conversation into a region made painful by the conditioning….or made her hatred and disgust plain. Maybe that's why he's not clamming up.

All part of her plan! …Okay, really, she was just down here to see the man. She half-expected some nightmare inducing phantasm, based on the whirlwind of rumours and theories. It's nice to find them all entirely wrong. "Thre is a certain… reassurance to some forms of ceremony," she admits. "And I don't mind the state dinners at Doomstadt. Not exactly the same as a night in London or Tokyo, but… for the sake of my country and my people, I can stand them." Her people first, always. She is the country's biggest employer, through her auction house company, after all. It should be no surprise that she is so dedicated.

Underwhelming, really. He's not even a big handsome brick like Steve Rogers - smaller, wiry more than built, and utterly without the Captain's charisma. He studies her silently for a while. "But you're here, now. What do you do for SHIELD?"

Silver gestures absently at the area around her. "So here I am," she agrees, nodding. The question could have many answers, and she's not quite naive enough to spill the full story. Or a completely accurate one. "I hunt war criminals that escaped at the end of the war," she answers. Which is honest. But only part of the story, of course.

"That's really not SHIELD's bailiwick, though, is it?" he asks, tone mild. "And….are there a lot of those in New York? I'd think you'd be in Argentina?" Yes, he's prodding. Of course he is. There's enough of the Soldier there to glean what he can, even if he's fairly sure he'll never make it out…never answer to his makers.

Another shrug. "Not usually. But doing so has made me a lot of contacts across the world. They keep an ear to the ground for me, I pass on anything I hear."

Bucky lifts his hands, palm out, as if conceding the point. "Fair enough," he says, more softly. "And now you can pass on that the Winter Soldier is real, is one man…..and that SHIELD has him."

"I don't think that would be wise," Silver says, a slight shake of her head. "Bragging isn't often good for one's health, in this business."

He inclines his head in agreement. As if they were merely business rivals, competitors. But then, his skills've never been traded on anything like the open market. It's so hard to hire a ghost.

Wouldn't exactly make her popular with SHIELD high ups, either. She inclines her head slightly in reply. "If you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to." Like informing her father that the Soldier is real. "Is there a name you prefer to be addressed by? I assume 'Winter Soldier' is hardly appropriate." Works better for a ghost than a man, in her opinion.

"James," he says, simply. "It's kind of a help, honestly. The Soldier doesn't have a name. He hates it when people call me by my real name." As if there really were two people in that cell. In one body.

Silver Sablinova nods slightly. She might not understand the psychology behind it all, but she accept the explanation coming from the man's mouth. If he feels it's like there are two people in his head, that works. "All right, James. I can't promise when I'll be back - I have duties outside of SHIELD, I'm sure you know - but I could by again, if you wanted to talk."

There's the first real smile she's seen from him - whatever the horror stories one hears about Soviet dentistry, he's at least in decent shape there. "I won't be going anywhere," he tells her, eyes suddenly bright with amusement.

"Well good. Word has it you're a hard man to track down." Silver actually smiles back. Another incline of her head and she turns. Her curiosity, for the moment, sated. Even as she walks away, she can already hear the way her father will gloat over this bet's victory. Sigh.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License