Bucky’s response is quick, instinctive, ready to reassure her and say that that’s not what SWORD has planned — but even before all of the words are out of his mouth, he’s already trailing off and cutting himself short, the gears in his head turning.
Because. Would they?
Through Sam, they’ve had access to some of the operational files on Westview. They’d heard what had happened with Wanda. SWORD dissecting Vision’s corpse and picking over his body to see how he ticked, when he had once been their comrade, one of the heroes of the Battle for Earth. And Bucky’s been on the other end of that lab table, too: scientists had once hooked up sensors to him, a bit in his mouth, readings on the monitors, measuring his metabolism and stamina and strength. The effectiveness of their serum.
SWORD wasn’t HYDRA — but that’s what people had said about SHIELD once, too.
He’s quiet for too long. Contemplative. Starting to question his mission; he’s had so many years of blindly following orders and fulfilling his mission.
(So apparently I’m still a gun.)
“What do you want?” he asks, after a moment. “A phonecall to the Guardians of the Galaxy and to hitch a ride off-planet with them, or what?”
no subject
Bucky’s response is quick, instinctive, ready to reassure her and say that that’s not what SWORD has planned — but even before all of the words are out of his mouth, he’s already trailing off and cutting himself short, the gears in his head turning.
Because. Would they?
Through Sam, they’ve had access to some of the operational files on Westview. They’d heard what had happened with Wanda. SWORD dissecting Vision’s corpse and picking over his body to see how he ticked, when he had once been their comrade, one of the heroes of the Battle for Earth. And Bucky’s been on the other end of that lab table, too: scientists had once hooked up sensors to him, a bit in his mouth, readings on the monitors, measuring his metabolism and stamina and strength. The effectiveness of their serum.
SWORD wasn’t HYDRA — but that’s what people had said about SHIELD once, too.
He’s quiet for too long. Contemplative. Starting to question his mission; he’s had so many years of blindly following orders and fulfilling his mission.
(So apparently I’m still a gun.)
“What do you want?” he asks, after a moment. “A phonecall to the Guardians of the Galaxy and to hitch a ride off-planet with them, or what?”