Rumlow watched the barbarian souls roam the mountain, his team idle.
These ancestors, clad in thin garments, didn't seem menacing.
Still, Rumlow hesitated to engage ghosts.
Their existence was already unnerving.
Direct conversation felt daunting.
The barbarian ancestors knew of Rumlow's team, but having taken days to climb Harrogath, they weren't warmly welcomed.
Courage was admirable, but barbarians, never lacking it, saw no need to initiate contact.
"Rumlow, any new findings?"
Nick Fury's voice crackled through Rumlow's earpiece.
"Sorry, we're observing, but nothing clear yet."
Investigation wasn't Rumlow's strength; his team excelled in combat.
This mission, sparked by the mountain's mystery, didn't suit their fighting skills.
They felt useless.
They could tell the ghost warriors were once mighty, but little else.
"Why not ask? You saw that burly old man."
Fury understood Rumlow's reluctance. Even he couldn't easily chat with ghosts.
Overcoming that fear wasn't instant.
So, he urged Rumlow to question Bulkathos.
"Hey, you lads seem troubled?"
A sudden voice startled Rumlow—a barbarian soul, better dressed than most.
He calmed quickly.
"May I have your name?"
Rumlow steadied his trembling arm, finger on the trigger, gun lowered but ready to fire in a second.
The soul's robust, translucent form made hand-to-hand seem futile; he doubted guns would work either.
"Call me Veda. If I were alive, I'd sell you some gear."
"A merchant? You don't look it."
Rumlow eased his finger off the trigger, curious about this Veda.
"I was an adventurer, but it wasn't for me—too much pain, too little gain.
Not everyone can be a warrior. Someone's gotta sell gear. Though I lost all my stock when I died."
Veda was surprisingly chatty, perhaps because as a merchant, he didn't share the warriors' disdain for Rumlow's team.
His friendliness relaxed the team.
"No need to worry. They're honorable warriors—they won't touch you unless provoked."
Veda shrugged, unconcerned by his words' impact. Even as a merchant, he was a brash barbarian.
Rumlow scoffed inwardly. Unfamiliar with barbarian might, he took Veda's words as boasting.
Among S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fighters, Crossbones Rumlow was top-tier.
If these barbarians weren't ghosts, he wouldn't be so cautious.
"It's the barbarian festival, but you missed our great king's battle show. Shame."
Veda spoke, ignoring Rumlow's arrogance.
Barbarians often thought themselves invincible—not uncommon.
Even Bulkathos, in his pride, stormed the Mad King's palace alone, shattering the Skeleton King's bones on his throne despite wounds.
No warrior cowers.
"Your weapon looks like a crossbow. Similar?"
Veda eyed the gun, curious about new wares.
"This isn't some crossbow. Your civilization's stuck in the age of blades?"
Rumlow's awe of the ghosts faded.
He looked down on those wielding swords in melee.
"Ha! Confident in that weapon? Wanna try target practice?"
Veda loved gear enthusiasts—they'd crave better equipment greedily.
"Shame I'm dead, or you'd be my best customer!"
Veda nearly laughed.
He sensed no energy in the black tube.
It might scatter a revived skeleton, but in Sanctuary, it'd barely outdo novice weapons.
No ammo limits for standard crossbows, at least.
"No thanks, not into target shooting."
Rumlow feigned disinterest. Fury's voice in his earpiece urged a performance.
The ghosts seemed harmless, so probing within limits was the plan.
Neither Fury nor Rumlow knew why he'd climbed the mountain, but it didn't stop their probing.
Fury weighed the barbarians' threat to world safety; Rumlow sought Hydra's chance at cross-dimensional secrets.
"Fair enough, I've got no goods to offer. But honestly, if that's your weapon, don't clash with those guys.
If they settle things the barbarian way, that toy won't help."
Veda smiled, a hint of amusement in his expression.
(End of Chapter)