As usual, he comes through. Within two hours, Goliath has acquired something. He says it belonged to a lab we raided a while back. Never turned it on before, so it takes a minute to figure out, but we get it running and set up in my room. I'd rather have this thing close by than not. I want to watch it, to know what it is.
Because if that demonic thing that came out of the other one was essentially the diluted, baby version of this… what the hell is this one capable of? A truly titillating thought, I must say.
I'm not really sure when, but I've developed a fascination with weapons and the oddities that land on this world.
I spend the next three weeks combing through the journals with all sorts of books on advanced chemistry, biology, anthropology, and any other subject I need to try to decode what the hell is in his journals.
It's truly a daunting task. I'm attempting to absorb the knowledge that man absorbed over his lifetime in a few weeks. Not to mention, I've never been book smart, so I certainly throw my fair share of them across the room when I get annoyed.
Goliath brings in a few people we find to help, but each is dumber than the next. They do aid in explaining a few concepts, but that's about all they're good for. This data confuses them as much as it does me.
I might not understand the science behind it, but I can read Russian just fine, and he writes about what this thing is. Kind of. The black goop is some kind of symbiote alien they discovered a few years back. More accurately, it's a fragment of one, a strong one that apparently escaped their lab and disappeared, leaving this small piece behind.
These things seek out human hosts compatible with them and essentially take over their bodies to live. The two successes they saw managed to retain their human consciousness despite merging with it.
This is the serum they were testing. They wanted to give a human its abilities without it gaining control. The red stuff is blood from a subject who survived merging with the rest of the black one. The blood somehow became its own life form. The journal notes concerns about how easily these things multiply and how they can hide in plain sight by living inside a host.
A bigger concern was that they need compatible hosts. Otherwise, that's when the boiling-alive effect occurs, and the subject dies. That other one said she "would do for a bit," and it told me "no," which meant neither of us were right. I'm just curious why it didn't just boil me alive and kill me like others, or did it hate my super soldier body so much it just flat out rejected me.
Why do I feel a bit offended at the notion an alien doesn't want to possess me?
Either way, this means it'll go looking for another host since it won't stay in that kid long, and who knows if I'll ever find it again.
The dude didn't write much else about it. His data was limited by the fact that their human experiments kept dying on them. Although he does note these things dislike loud sounds to a certain extent, and fire or heat immobilizes them. If they aren't contained in a vial like the ones I found were, they'll run from either of those things.
Reminds me a little of a bear.
"Ma'am!"
Goliath and Roller have come into the room while I'm deep in thought.
"What?"
"We have a problem," Goliath declares.
"So deal with it. I have an army. I shouldn't need to come out for everything," I reply flippantly, turning back to the journals and books I'm laid out with on the floor.
"This one you might want to handle," Roller chimes in.
I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"
"We just got news that the Winter Soldier was spotted in Madripoor."
He's right, that certainly gets my attention. "Is it reliable?"
"We wouldn't be here if it wasn't. We have two confirmed sightings." Goliath replies.
Shit.Why is he here?
"Was he alone?" I question, worried he may have been dumb and brought Mira with him, although I have no room to talk since she was basically raised here.
"Yes, ma'am."
With that, I finally get off the floor for the first time in the last several weeks and get dressed in a hurry. "Goliath, watch that thing," I say, pointing to the heater with the vial in it.
He nods, confused, as I leave. Roller follows behind.
"Where is he?"
"He was last spotted in Low Town, at Calypso's Tavern."
I roll my eyes. That shithole is in the Power Broker's turf, and I'm not in the mood for a fight for once. Plus, he doesn't need to see me dripping with blood. I still have no desire for him to know the truth.
Before I'm out the front doors, a thought occurs to me. "What is he doing here, Roller?" I question.
"Unsure. He hasn't fought anyone, stayed low actually, didn't ask any questions either. We only found out he's here because Echo spotted him on our surveillance system and we have facial recognition on him"
Why would he be here, then?
He knows to stay out of here, especially after everything he and Sam did last time. Against my better judgment, I elect to find out for myself. My face isn't well-known in Madripoor, and as long as I keep my hood low and don't display any crazy strength, no one should know it's me.
I don't know why I'm doing this. Logic says stay in my manor and let him leave after he's done. But my stomach and heart flutter the moment they tell me he's been spotted. I start toward the tavern without a second thought.
What is this weird hold he has over me?Why do I feel a tinge of excitement to see him again?Do I really love him?
I ride my motorcycle through the streets, the wind flapping through my hair, heart racing, palms sweating. I'm nervous. I haven't been this nervous since I sprung Mira on him.
More importantly, I hope she isn't here. She knows my nickname was the Crimson Queen, it slipped a few times way back when. I don't need her hearing about all the things I've been up to in the last couple of months.
The sun has already set when I roll into Low Town. The repulsive scent of smog, drugs, piss, and lowlifes fills my nostrils. I don't come back here very often anymore, so the smell is more choking than usual. The cold night air tickles my senses, neon signs lighting my path as I dodge down alleys.
I'm nearing the bar when an arm swings out into my path. Too close to brake, I twist the bike to the side, sliding across the ground. Sparks scratch as the metal collides with the concrete as it slides.
The side mirror flies off, I know for sure it's damaged. I catch myself on the ground, one arm and leg bracing me. I twist, launching my other leg at the torso below the extended arm. A firm arm blocks my kick, but he still gets knocked back a little before pushing me off.
I get back to my feet in a hurry and draw a knife, ready to kill. His face is concealed down the alley. All I see is the herculean frame, concealed by black leather. The night breeze carries his scent, piercing through the vile stench of Low Town.
"Bucky?" I speak, standing firm.
He steps out into the dim moonlight. His face is mostly concealed by a hood, but I see that firm jaw.
"What was it you said to me once? We have a lot to talk about," he says sarcastically, lifting his hood just enough to reveal a clenched jaw and furrowed brow. Those baby blues of his look as if the water in them might catch fire from his anger.