Chapter Text
RIGA LATVIA: DAY 1
A ticking clock echoed in the distance, coaxing Helmut Zemo to open his eyes, but the aching in his face refused to subside. Opening them would only made it worse.
His head was already swimming and he knew better than to push too fast. He had to give himself time to come around in case he woke up to a less than desirable confrontation. Considering the events of the day that possibility was still very high.
The last thing he remembered was looking up just as the closed fist of a Flag Smasher made contact with his face, followed by the sound of his own head hitting the floor…
In spite of that memory he manage a smile, flinching from the pain. A strong sense of fulfillment dulled the persistent ache behind his eyes as he remembered the way the glass shattered beneath his boot before he'd been stopped. Zemo had managed to destroy those brilliant blue vials and the experience had been wholly satisfying. His mission while not complete had been a success so far and he let his smile grow just a fraction wider.
No doubt there would be more to hunt down and destroy as there always seemed to be, but for now, he would take the little victories — and maybe some sleep. It would be a welcome change from unconsciousness.
As the groggy Baron began to settle again with a false sense of security, a sudden rush of awareness roused him from the effects of being knocked out.
He moved his fingers and felt that his hands were cuffed in his lap but they hadn't bothered with his legs. No need. A Flag Smasher could run him down and break them with ease. And then he realized with a groan that he must have been here some time as his body ached with the feel of being stuck in one position for far too long.
Damned smashers and their dirty hiding holes. Now he was stuck in one. A temporary residence to be sure, but no less annoying.
Begrudgingly, Helmut opened his eyes…
Of course he was bound to come around sooner or later, but the girl left to watch him had not been expecting it to happen on her shift.
“Fuck” Christine whispered and sat up straight in the metal folding chair. She watched him stir from across the room and gripped her M4 tight.
Far enough away to feel safe with the open door beside her, the new recruit still felt a surge of adrenaline. This was Helmut fucking Zemo. Former Sokovian army Colonel turned International terrorist who hated her and her kind.
He was not known for physically attacking his victims, but what the man could do to a mind sent a chill down her spine. She had no desire to be on the receiving end of his attention. Still, She was here guarding him for a reason. The group saw enough in her that she’d been put on watch duty and she would not let the smashers, or their leader down. It wasn’t that she needed to prove herself to them, hierarchy didn’t have much of a place here. But showing that she could be a true asset would get her closer to Karli and that, was all she wanted.
‘Looks like I’ve got my shot’, she thought and let the weight of her gun calm her though it was not her protection of choice.
To her everlasting shame, she did not hold power in her veins like the people she admired. Instead, the brutality of weapons was her only option when watching over prisoners— not that she’d had any before him.
Christine “not super, not yet” Vargas sighed.
Not super and perhaps not ever thanks to this shit groaning on his own folding chair.
‘God he’s a bit dramatic isn’t he’? She rolled her eyes at his grumbling.
When they brought Zemo in, Karli said he’d smashed it all, every drop of serum Like the fanatical, narrow minded bastard an internet search told her he was.
“I was supposed to be next.” She’d cried to her friend Hiro over breakfast that morning. He’d held her close and promised that Karli would not let Zemo’s attack go unpunished which was a relief as Christine trusted in their leader completely. If anyone could get that Baron to talk surely it would be Karli Morgenthau.
As Zemo’s eyes opened, Christine smiled knowing that the time had finally come. She would go and alert the others.
“Where am I?” He asked and she froze mid-rise.
Adjusting her gun, she watched him carefully. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not leaving.” She told him and sat back down, waiting to see if he would try to free himself or maybe pull some move to break the cuffs and run to fight her. But he just sat there, staring down at nothing in the very dim light.
“All right.” Zemo said, seemingly unconcerned.
She cocked her brow. He was slick. And smart enough that she felt intimidated and angry at the possibility of being played by every word from his mouth. Why did he have to wake up on her shift? “Just, be cool Zemo.” She insisted not bothering to cover the sharp tone in her voice. “The others’ll be back soon and Karli will want to talk to you.”
He made a funny sound and she realized he was laughing. Compelled to show him there was nothing funny, the young woman stood and took a walk further into the room, empty but for his chair and the forgotten kitchen setup along the wall.
Slowly, the Baron’s gaze shifted and he raised his head to look up at her.
They locked eyes for a little longer than was necessary and she felt the unexpected intensity of his gaze. “May I have something to drink?” He finally asked and lowered his head back down.
She couldn’t tell if he always sounded like this or if his throat really was dry. Either way she knew better than to turn her back on him. “When you’re ready to stand, you can go to the sink.”
“But you need to place that gun at my back,” He easily guessed.
“Thats right.”
He shrugged as if this made perfect sense. “Fair enough.”
Christine backed away to show that she would wait for him.
Zemo raised his head looking up at the plaster ceiling which peeled and sagged from years of water damage. He glanced over at the far wall full of holes and exposed wooden lathe looking like the ribs of a rotting cadaver. His nostrils filled with the scent of damp and neglect and he wondered how long they planned on staying here.
The architecture was still distinctly Latvian, but no more than a shell of it’s former glory. He wondered for a moment how far they were from his apartment. He would figure it out fairly quickly. People tend to drop little clues along the paths of conversation. Truths revealed by the unwilling… Still, a direct approach sometimes worked.
“Are we near the water?” He guessed out loud. His place wasn’t far from the river.
Christine’s crooked smile grew from pure irritation. “Nice try. I’m not going to tell you smart ass.” She huffed but settled back, resting her gun comfortably in her arms like Hiro showed her. “It’s safe— if that’s what you’re worried about”
“For who?” He asked looking at her again.
“All of us.” She replied simply.
Zemo smiled. “I’m ready for that drink.”
Christine felt the tingle of adrenaline surge again. She had to be careful “On your feet but take it slow. You’ve been unconscious for a while and I can’t pick you up if you pass out.”
Zemo made a mental note. Not a super soldier. Brave of them to place her on duty. He did however take her advice and got up slowly, groaning a bit as he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stop the head rush.
She waited, watching as he stood with one hand dangling in the air, secure in the cuff, the other still at his face. With a heavy sigh he took a few steps, paused them made his way across the room to the crumbling basement kitchen.
The convenience of holding him down here was the open floor plan which made keeping him in her sights easy. But when he bent down behind the small island, Christine was there without hesitation, rounding the corner with her gun pointed down at him before he could move again.
“Just looking for a glass.” He said standing with an old plastic kids cup someone had left behind. His other palm was up to show his innocence.
“Just watch it.”
“With pleasure.” He shot back and she gave a little start, her eyes narrowing as watched him turn the tap. The faucet produced a trickle and no more, so that it took a while for him to rinse and fill his cup. It was just enough time for her to watch him and the way he moved. How could anyone bruised and shackled be so calm and confident. It was a part of his act she was sure. Just a show to distract her from some scheme to get away or fool her into letting her guard down.
“You’re new?” He asked suddenly, glancing at her side long.
“What?” She felt thrown by his question. What had he noticed?
“New, to this…” He looked around then down at her. “I’m surprised they left you here.”
“You don’t know me.” She tried, her fingers inching towards the trigger. “Don’t talk to me anymore. Just get your drink and get back to the chair.”
He gave her the sort of smile that made Christine think he could quite easily kill her where she stood, but instead he just drank.
Eyes fixed on hers now, Zemo took a step closer.
He wasn’t an especially large man, average height and build, but when he looked down at her, she felt very small and vulnerable. It was a feeling a woman determined to take control of her life did not appreciate.
“Back the fuck up Zemo.” She ordered and he held up his hands again but stayed where he stood.
“You’re not one of them are you? Not yet,” He asked, seeing the truth too easily.
Christine stepped back, her heart racing as she looked him over. How could he tell?
“They don’t need those.” He said with a hint of sympathy as he nodded at the gun.
Oh… “Don’t worry about that.” She said raising her nose at him “I’m still just as capable of taking you out as any of the others.”
He gave her a nod and she knew he was just appeasing her. “Hm? Shifts over.” He said looking into her eyes again— just long enough that Christine felt a chill. He blinked and when his eyes opened they were fixed on the open door.
“Hey!” They both turned their heads to find Hiro walking in.
“See.” Zemo whispered from the side of his mouth to her.
Is he smiling at me? She leaned away before finding Hiro again.
Studying her profile, Zemo noted how she seemed quite capable of calming herself when faced with what she and her kind perceived as a threat, at least enough to fool most people and her efforts made him genuinely smile.
“What took so long?” She asked keeping her eye on both prisoner and comrade as he came close.
“I’m one minute late Chris, calm down.” Hiro shot back with a smirk as he walked past her. “All right asshole. Back on your perch. Happy hour’s over,” He ordered and smacked the cup from Zemo’s hands making the man flinch and roll his eyes, but he did step back. Quickly glancing down at the man’s clenched fist, the Baron recognized that a punch from this one, could be as deadly as that one’s bullet, so he gave in as any wise man would.
Stepping between them, Zemo made his way to the chair and sat, irritated at being back in the same spot. But then his attention was grabbed by the sight of her walking towards the door.
She wore a black t-shirt and cargo pants that did nothing to show her shape but he found the curves easily in spite of not really looking. Her long mane of curls cascaded down her back in bouncing layers. Thick locks would fall in her eyes unintentionally, though it had a rather distracting appeal and Zemo imagined that in the sun some strands might glow a deep violet as black tends to do.
She was young probably still in her twenties, but his warden was no child. Far from it. When she looked back at him from the hall, he saw that while she truly was new to this world, she was not afraid of it and the Baron looked forward to her next watch.