Chapter Text
Most people who lived in Madripoor hated it, you, however, tolerated it. Maybe you even liked it.
Sure, the clientele weren’t the best, most were shit tippers with even worse manners, but, it gave you an easy life.
And that was exactly what you wanted.
You had one rule, and everyone knew that if they broke it, they’d regret it. Keep their criminal shit out of your bar.
When you were a kid, being a bar owner wasn’t exactly what you had envisioned for your life- but you suited it, you knew you did.
You were the only bar in Madripoor that served actually decent booze, and also the only one where people were safe from being shot in the back of the head.
It made you pretty damn popular, and it earned you good money.
When the world’s population halved seven years ago, you were pretty quick to hop on the trend and disappear into the wind.
And it took you to Madripoor, and ironically enough, considering it had such a reputation for being the most dangerous place on the planet, it had become your safe haven.
“You’re looking a little empty there, Ervin,” you called to the old man sitting at the end of the bar. “You need a top-up?”
“Oh, you know me so well,” he smiled, holding up his glass. “Or you just want my money.”
“Money makes the world go around,” you winked, pouring him another drink. “And it makes my heart warmer.”
Ervin laughed, shaking his head as he passed you his money. You smiled widely, exchanging it for his drink and slipping it into the register.
“Ervin, you should know better by now than to engage in a conversation with this one,” Harold, your number one regular, called. “She’s as likely to talk the cash out of your wallet as she is to poison your drink.”
“Please, Harold,” you laughed, wiping down the counter. “When have I ever poisoned anyone’s drink?”
“With how strong you make them, you might as well have,” he replied, and you rolled your eyes, flashing him a smile. “We all know you’re as capable of murder as anyone else in this hell-forsaken place.”
“Don’t speak of such heinous activities in my bar,” you said, pointing to the sign above your head. “You know the rules.”
‘No cheating
No stealing
No murder
No assaulting
No gangs
No fraud
No fighting
No crime
Keep your dirty work out of my fucking business.’
“I like to think it’s your politeness that draws in this crowd,” Ervin said, motioning to the bustling scene behind him. “Or that sunny disposition of yours.”
“I’ll add no sarcasm to the list and then have a reason to slit your throat,” you grinned, and Ervin laughed, downing his drink. “You having another?”
“No, no,” he said, waving his hands and grabbing his coat. “Got to bounce, have a meeting with the big dog.”
“Bullshit,” Harold sneered, finishing his own drink. “No way a piss-head like you has a meeting with the Power Broker.”
“Say that name again and you’ll be on the street,” you scowled, sending daggers his way. “Talk about your plans out there, not in my fucking presence.”
“So charming,” Harold snorted, and then stood up. “Come on then, Ervin. Let’s go talk about the exciting stuff that Miss Sunshine over there misses out on.”
You flipped them the bird and turned away from them as they walked out, focusing your attention on the rest of your customers instead.
Apart from having to break up a couple of fights, and by breaking up you meant you fired your trustworthy pistol in the air and pointed at the sign with a pointed stare- it was a good night.
You ushered the last group of people out of the door and flipped the sign to closed. You sighed, letting your head fall tiredly against the door as you relaxed for the first time all night.
You moved back behind the bar, wiping down the taps and shoving the dirty glasses into the glass washer.
You put the cash from the night into the safe, triple-locking it the way you always did to make sure no idiots could rob it while you weren’t there.
You heard the jingle of the door opening and cursed under your breath, shaking your head as you called out.
“Can you not read the sign? We’re closed.”
There was no response, apart from the door slamming loudly against the wall and you saw the shadow of someone standing right above your bar.
You were quick, cocking your pistol and holding it to the person’s head as you stood up.
“Get the fuck out or I’ll pull the damn trigger,” you growled, glowering at the man in front of you.
The man didn’t even flinch, just raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. You rolled your eyes as you took him in, jaw clenching at the familiar face.
“Baron Zemo,” you spoke, finger still on the trigger. “Your type is not welcome here.”
“I see my reputation precedes me,” Zemo replied, his tone easy. “What exactly is my type?”
“Trouble,” you said, eyes narrowing. “So get out, or you’ll have a cute little bullet hole between your eyes.”
A hand forced your gun down, and you pistol-whipped the owner of it.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” the second guy cried, holding his face. “Calm down, would you? We’re not here to hurt you.”
You looked over, eyes widening as you recognised Sam Wilson, the very famous Avenger.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you groaned, shaking your head as you put down your gun. “Whatever this is, you take it out of here now.”
“Sorry, kid, we need the cover,” Sam Wilson replied, face serious as he turned over his shoulder. “Bucky, is the door secure?”
Your heart leapt in your throat as you turned to the third man, who had been busy locking the door. He turned around and your eyes met gut-wrenchingly familiar ones, and you dropped your gaze.
Fuck. This was very bad.
“Look, I know this is probably not what you had in your mind for your night,” Sam spoke to you, his tone understanding. “But this is a hell of a lot bigger than you, so too bad.”
You scoffed, glaring at him and pointing to the sign over your shoulder.
“Read it and weep, Falcon,” you stated. “You’re breaking my rules.”
“On a technicality, we haven’t broken any of those rules,” Zemo said, and you glared at him. “We just need a safe place to hide out.”
You sighed, looking at Sam again before turning around and pressing a button under the bar.
Shutters came down over the doors, and you could hear the locks clicking on all the entrances.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you said, turning the lights down low.
“Very secure,” you heard Bucky say, and you kept your gaze low. "Very well practised."
“I live in Madripoor,” you replied, voice harsh. “I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“Hey, thank you,” Sam said, grabbing your arm gently. “We appreciate it.”
“You can stay here while you work out where else to go,” you said dismissively. “No more than half an hour.”
“We’ll take it,” Bucky nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Mary Johnson,” you lied, using the alias that had kept you safe the last seven years. “I don’t need to ask you all your names. I do want to ask you what the hell you think you’re doing in this city, it’s not a place for Avengers.”
“Can’t tell you that,” Sam said, smiling. “Sorry, kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I run a damn good bar.”
“I do find myself rather thirsty,” Zemo said, taking a seat. “And I’ll pay triple what you usually charge.”
You figured your night couldn’t get any worse, and shrugged, pulling out three glasses and filling them with your favorite whiskey.
Sam and Bucky sat down on either side of Zemo and you slid their drinks across, you flashed a smile and felt eyes on you.
You looked up to make eye contact with Bucky, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over your face.
“What did you say your name was again?” Bucky asked, and your mouth went dry.
“Mary,” you said, the familiar lie falling across your lips easily.
“And why does little Mary run a big scary bar in a city like this?” Zemo asked, taking a sip of his drink and glancing at her up and down. “What are you running away from?”
“How about we strike a deal?” You asked, looking over the three of them. “I ask no personal questions to you, you ask no personal questions to me.”
Sam and Zemo grinned, nodding and taking a sip from their drinks, you could feel Bucky’s gaze still on you and prayed he didn’t recognise you.
Why would he? It was over ten years ago, and he hadn’t even known you.
You were just the girl the Winter Solider spared, nothing more.
“Do you always just stare at people like that?” You braved, turning to him. “It’s bad manners, you know?”
“Sorry, he’s working on it,” Sam said, and reached across Zemo to nudge him. “Dude, stop being weird.”
Bucky looked away, but you could see the dent in the middle of his forehead and you swallowed, deeply.
He clearly knew something was up.
You turned away from them, tidying away the whiskey bottle and tidying the shelves. You could hear the three of them murmuring behind you, only picking up words like ‘Karli’, ‘serum’, and ‘Flag Smashers’.
With your back turned to them, you closed your eyes and winced. That was the exact kind of business you stayed away from, and somehow Bucky damn Barnes of all people had brought it straight back into your life.
You had two rules about being on the run:
1. Never tell anyone your real name
2. Don’t let your past catch up to you
And Bucky’s presence was in violation of both of those rules- the Winter Solider usually had a crowd that followed him around that you stayed well away from.
And he had decided to hide at your safe place of all places- that was a very cruel twist of fate.
“So, we find this Nagel and then what?” Sam asked, and your shoulders slumped.
You knew Nagel, he was a customer, and not one of your favorites. Nasty piece of work.
Great. You felt like throwing your sign of rules in their faces and asking them if they were illiterate.
“We get out of this disgusting place,” Bucky said, and then gestured to you. “No offence.”
“Trust me,” you snorted. “None taken.”
“If we make it out alive,” Zemo stated, clinking his glass down on the counter. “They’re hunting us down for Selby’s death after all.”
Your body froze and you looked up at the three of them, your heart pounding in your chest.
“You killed Selby?” You asked, pulse drumming in your ears. “You killed her and then you came to my bar? Do you understand the danger you are in? That you have just put me in?”
You walked around the bar, pulling the backs of Sam and Zeno’s jackets and throwing them towards the shutter. You glared at Bucky and motioned your head to the exit.
“You get the fuck out of here and never come my way again,” you spat, shaking your head. “You fucking idiots. You might have just sentenced every single one of us to death.”
Your hands were shaking as you moved behind the bar to pull the shutters up, and you could see Sam walking up to you in the corner of your eye.
You felt the heat first, and then you were blinded by white light.
Someone had landed on top of you, dragging you further down the bar and away from the explosion.
“Are you okay?” Sam shouted in your ear, piercing through the ringing. You managed a nod, and he put his arm around you, helping you up. “Shit- Bucky, you good?”
Gunfire answered his question for him, and you were pulled out of the rubble and onto the street.
You managed a look back at your burning bar, your chest tightening at the destruction of the place that had kept you safe all these years.
You were pulled into a side alley, and you turned around and glared at Sam, Bucky and Zemo.
“You bastards,” you spat, shaking your head angrily. “You assholes! You fucking-“
“We get the picture, sweetheart,” Bucky said, and you locked eyes with him.
“Sweetheart?” You screamed, breathing heavily. “You’re going to sweetheart me? After you just ruined my life?”
“Y/N,” Bucky said, his eyes widening with a flicker of recognition. You stilled, his blue eyes drilling into yours. “Y/N YL/N.”
Another round of gunfire went off, distracting the group- and you took your chance, slinking away from them, and disappearing into the night.
Trust Bucky fucking Barnes to remember little old you, and not only that, but to blow up the only cover you actually enjoyed.
You were going to miss that grimy old bar, at least the people in this city would think you were dead.
There was always a silver lining.
You couldn’t stay here, not in Madripoor- you were going to have to start again, another new life, another new name- another new you.