Secret Bit of Right From Wrong

A.N. Sorry for the wait, folks. remember to review so I can feed my muse.

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At nine o’clock, the crew gathered over bagels and coffee in Steve and Clint’s room.  All of them were in a subdued frame of mind, but all for different reasons.  Hawkeye and Widow refrained from witty banter, instead talking in low voices about the upcoming meet.  Karen and Steve cautiously walked the line between hesitant gestures of friendship and coolly acceptable civility, all the while sneaking glances at each other when they thought they wouldn’t get caught.

Cate was watching all this, analyzing, trying to adapt to the unexpected changes in the rest of her companions behavior.  Her life had been set on its head over the last month, and the introverted agent found change mildly perturbing.  *You know your life is crazy when you worry more about your sister’s crush than going into the middle of nowhere to meet a known psychopathic killer and beg for his help.*  Sipping her French-roast, she scanned the room one more time, looking at her former co-workers to see if they were going to start things off.  They didn’t seem to be heading that direction, so she stood up and cleared her throat.  “Can we get this show on the road already? More caffeine will not make this any easier or safer.  We’ve all gotten as much information as we’re gonna get on the meet, Magneto, and the low chances of our survival without this hail-Mary pass.”

“I hate to admit it, but she’s right.” Natasha sighed and put down her cup. “We’ve been stalling.  I’ll drive, Barton, you look like drisnya.” The archer opened his mouth, then shut it promptly, as his partner pointed a finger, and a stern glare, at him.  “No arguments, you hear me?  Get your things.”

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The rally-point had been chosen by the rightly paranoid man they were meeting, and proved difficult to reach.  They finally had to leave their car in the parking lot of an abandoned shopping mall to prevent tire puncture by the litter of an incredibly dilapidated industrial zone, and wait in front of a half-collapsed warehouse.

Nervously checking her watch, Cate muttered under her breath. “What is keeping him?”  Just then the corrugated metal wall next to them shuddered and bent outward with a great screech.  From the darkness within, a helmeted figure in a long, full cape stepped forward.

“When the great Nicholas Fury asks for a meeting, one expects him to be at that meeting.  I was also given to understand that someone of particular interest was to attend.  Yet, I don’t see any good reason to open my home to spies and strangers.  Care to try to change my mind?”

Steve moved forward, carefully putting himself between the mutant and Karen.  “Eric Lehnsherr, I presume?  My name is Seven Rogers.  You saved my life once, a very long time ago, in Poland.  I was, well, I didn’t look like this then.”  Steve stood straight, gathering his mettle, trying to sound like a super-soldier at least.  “I was hoping you might do me a favor.  You don’t owe me, I owe you in fact, but we could use some help.”

“You may be confused, or lying, I don’t care which.  I’m not in the habit of saving lives, and you aren’t old enough to have been in Poland at the same time as me. I’m afraid at any rate that you have not convinced me to help you.”  He turned, moving to retreat back into the gloom of the warehouse.

Hawkeye leapt forward to interrupt his withdrawal. “Wait, Magneto, Steve’s just terminally modest. He was Captain America.  He led the assault team that freed you.  He saved your life, and now he’s in danger.  I was told you repay your debts.  That you have honor.” The archer put his hands on his hips, his eyes dark with unidentifiable emotions.  “Was I misinformed?”

Magneto turned sharply, his anger clearly visible.  “You play with the name of a greater man than you will ever know.  Captain America is dead, and a great light in the darkness died with him.  Do not use his name in your games; lest you draw the wrath of the Master of Magnetism. Let Fury take warning as well.”  He loomed over Clint, his rage revealed in his stance.

Steve jumped forward to protect Hawkeye, interposing his own body between the threatening mutant and his teammate.

“It was raining.  The testing facility was in the middle of nowhere.  A combined Allied force passed the outer patrol at 1900 hours, breached the fence at 1930, and had the internment barracks doors open before 1945, as planned.  But we didn’t count on a spot inspector with his own guards.  Our detachment was spread out too thin; we got the order to pull back.  My squad conveniently "lost" our walkie reception.” His was tired, remembering times, places and people he knew were gone.  His grief invaded his voice.  “Morita and Jacques were driving personnel transport vans; Gabe was on the other side of the compound in the command HQ with someone from another unit.  A Ranger on loan from the Canadians, Dum-Dum Dugan and I were left to get the sickest prisoners into the trucks when five heavily armed soldiers bum-rushed us.”

His eyes fell to the ground, remembering the fear and confusion of battle.  “Dugan was too busy with an amputee to fight, Howlett had his hands full with a guard who refused to be knocked out, and I was too slow to turn.  The little kid I was supporting threw up his hands and screamed.  The guns flew out of their hands.”  He smiled a hollow smile, which turned into a tiny grin.  “Then you passed out, with a nosebleed like Niagra Falls.  It might have been seventy years ago to you, but to me it’s more like a six months.”

The powerful mutant softened, moving toward the former super-soldier.  “You remember the nosebleed?”

“Honestly, it was too scary to forget.  We thought you might have brain damage, and there was no way to get you to a real hospital.  You came to as we carried you into the medical tent.”

Uncharacteristic tears came to the eyes of the older man.  Catching Steve up in a hug, his smile beaming, Magneto gestured for them to enter.

 

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Drisnya is a Russian term that translates loosely as 'crap'