unfinished business ♔

hello! I’m Ray, 27, she/her, and this is my indie mcu-based baron zemo rp blog. 21+ only. / / selective. / / mutuals only. / / para style. / / oc & multimuse friendly.

guidelines. dossier. memes.

anyway im gonna catch up on inbox stuff tonight, I hope y'all are doing well!! here's the mood for this week:

Hermine didn’t expect Zemo to be here, nor did she want him here. The Flag Smashers expected Walker, Sam and Bucky. They had plans for those issues. None of them had plans for the man who decided they should all die. Karli had asked Hermine to go after him since she’s had the serum the longest. Hermine couldn’t protest, only hope he didn’t recognize her and that she could knock him out. 

Apparently neither hope would be achieved today. Grabbing him close brought hesitation to her mind, and gave him enough time to realize who she was. Anger bubbled under her skin when hearing her name. How could he be so casual about this? They were just fighting for heavens sake! 

“Shut up,” she hisses. “Someone’s coming.” It’s one of the other smashers. Hermine ducks down behind a boiler, Zemo still in her grasp. Once the other moves to another room she stands back up. She kicks the gun across the room and lets Zemo go. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” She snaps. “If you’re with the other nuisances then I swear you’ve reached a new low.” As if she’s unaware of how her position must look to him. “You were in prison last I heard.”

Irritation furrowed his brows as she dragged him out of sight, his true feelings bleeding past the air of casual calm at the way she was handling him. So it was Hermine. Unbelievable. The fact that she was apparently concealing him from her fellow Flag Smashers didn’t escape his notice. But she’d known who he was the entire fight and hadn’t made any effort to communicate her identity—she clearly couldn’t be trusted.

With a swift kick she sent his gun spinning out of sight, then finally let him go. He brushed off his coat as she spoke, trying to keep his calm in the face of her apparent anger. As if she had any right to talk, walking around with a gang whose very existence was an insult to her father’s work. He took the time to carefully smooth out his collar and give himself a moment to process the situation. 

and then the snap happens and what's left of sokovia gets broken up and claimed by its neighbors. so how many sokovians eventually ended up in one of the GRC refugee communities after the blip? I'm gonna say that number probably isn't insignificant.

Madripoor is proving to be both a dead end and far more leads than he can wrap his head around. It feels like so much has happened –– meeting up with Sharon again, having Zemo find his way around the city, flying in his jet… the latter one he’s not even sure where it came from. Maybe he’s just better at hiding his shock than Sam in that regard –– he’s got no idea how Zemo’s held onto his wealth but he’s not going to question it. It’s an easier option than what he would have to go through otherwise –– he doesn’t much feel like using the government’s equipment, not when he’s helped someone break out of their lovely secure prison. Really, was it that secure if it was so easy?

Either way, he pushes it out of his mind. He’s been trying to sleep for the past half an hour, mind entirely too restless as he tries to breathe through it. There’s that annoying knowledge in the back of his head that if he goes to sleep, the nightmares will come –– they’re hard enough to deal with on his own, but if he’s around Sam and now Zemo and Sharon? Yeah, he doesn’t need that much vulnerability on his shoulders. So he hasn’t slept –– mind is just churning over and over again, and he eventually tires of trying to find the aid of sleep.

He turns over to rustle through his bag, looking for the one thing that will keep him at least a little bit sane. He can read over Steve’s writing if he wants to, and then memorize the names that he needs to make amends for. Even if it’s just reading them over and over again, it serves the purpose of running his brain on one singular thought process. It’ll eventually tire him out that way. 

It should be there, underneath a set of spare clothes, but it’s not. He goes through the entire bag twice, even checking zip pockets that he knows it won’t be in. Teeth grind together as his mind goes to the one person who would have it –– for an asshole that runs his mouth constantly, it seems that Zemo has some assets that he hadn’t been very up front about. One of them apparently is pick pocketing. The other? The absolute need for death.

Throwing himself out of bed, he storms into the living room portion of the hide away, eyes narrowed and jaw set. How many times does he have to repeat himself before Zemo gets the message that he will kill him no matter how useful he wants to pretend to be? 

He doesn’t even refute anything –– simply walks straight up to him, grabs him by the throat, and slams him against the wall. “Give it back. Right. Now. And I won’t snap your neck before you can even think of screaming for help.” Teeth are grit as he speaks –– the shield and that notebook are the only connections he has left to Steve, and he’ll be damned if he lets someone like ZEMO have his hands on it. “It’s like you want to die.”

James continued to stalk toward him, his intent becoming clearer by the second. Zemo took a step back in anticipation, but the movement did nothing to lessen the impact of James grabbing his throat and sending his skull crashing violently against the wall. Stars burst behind his eyes and the force of it impact snapped his jaw shut, teeth clacking together to create an echo of pain throughout his skull. His hand jerked forward in an instinctive move toward the grip at his throat, but his cut the motion short as James spoke, his hand remaining frozen in midair.

This close, it was easy to distinguish the hate in James’ eyes, underscored by the barely restrained anger in his voice. Zemo had no doubt that he could make good on his threat. How many of the Winter Soldier’s victims had died in similar ways? Though, Zemo had no intention of calling for help. For one thing, there was no one here who would be so inclined. Especially not now, when they already had the name they needed. For another—

“It’s like you want to die.”

His brows drew together, confusion flickering in his expression for a brief moment. It hadn’t occurred to Zemo that the circumstances preceding his imprisonment might not be, at least among the most personal of his victims, common knowledge. Or, perhaps whatever they had done to scrape the programming from James’ mind had addled it into forgetting certain details.

Regardless, he’d seen his name in the notebook. Others were crossed off, but not his. The living are not done with you, yet. If life in prison wasn’t resolution enough, what was James waiting for, then? An opportunity? This was as good a time and place as any. An excuse? He’d been explicit about what would happen if Zemo took the book again, and now here they were. Another nudge, another provocation, and if there was any true intent behind James’ words... Zemo allowed himself a moment to consider the possibility, meeting that hateful gaze with a level one of his own.

@myuuzupunk​​ sent: 👔 // from hermine :3 → AGGRESSION   //   SEXUAL  TENSION 

She’d disarmed him early in the fight, forcing Zemo to go on the defensive. Thus far he’d managed to evade her blows, but she was faster and stronger than him by far. There was no way to outrun a super soldier and no way to overpower her. That left very few options.

Zemo ducked under a punch, darting past her and making a leap for the gun where it had fallen. He was too slow—she slammed into his side, sending him crashing down just out of reach of the weapon. Just as quickly she was on top of him, grabbing his coat collar with both hands and dragging him roughly forward. He grasped her wrists, attempting to remove her grip, but it was futile.

This close, he could clearly see her dark eyes behind the black and red mask. He expected the anger he saw there, but there was something else in her gaze—a tightness at the corners of her eyes that belonged to an emotion he couldn’t place. He braced himself, ready for the blow that was sure to follow.

Ruby was used to being threatened by random thugs, but this was different. This wasn’t some asshole trying to prove himself. This was serious. 

One minute she’d been cleaning up her office, the next she was accosted. Four men, one of which knew something about her abilities - “Cover her hands, don’t let them get too close” - had her on the ground before she could do anything about it. The rest was a blur, and she didn’t come to until she was already locked away and helpless. 

Helpless. She hated being helpless. She tried to force her way through the door, tried to scream for help. Nothing worked.

Her stomach turned. She tried to connect this to someone she’d healed, a gang with a grudge - but deep down she knew. She hadn’t been kidnapped because of someone else - but because of what she was. She’d kept that fear at bay as long as she could, but it was bound to catch up with her eventually. Someone was going to hear about the healer in Hell’s Kitchen and have her eliminated. Or worse, weaponized.

The dull thud against the door broke her away from visions of her dismal future. If she’d been less concerned with her demise, she would have noticed that he was surprised to see her. But she didn’t. Instead, she heeded his words and followed him out. 

They didn’t make it far before they ran into another guard. The idea of being recaptured didn’t sit well with her, so she grabbed the guard’s exposed wrist. He turned to her, clearly shocked she’d escaped, but before he could call for backup he collapsed. 

She followed his instructions without a word, following him quickly through the doorway and not even blinking at the fallen guard. Gesturing for her to follow, Zemo headed back in the direction he’d come, following the path he’d laid out in his exit plan. He badly wanted to learn more about who she was and why she was here, but it was neither the time nor the place for questions. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed their captive was free, and Zemo intended to be far away when that happened.

They turned a corner and were forced to stop short, nearly cashing directly into the guard stationed there. The man stared at them with wide eyes and both he and Zemo reached for their weapons, only to be interrupted by the woman grabbing on to the guard’s wrist. A moment later he fell to the floor, unmoving.

Ah. That was... interesting. Whether the man was dead or incapacitated, Zemo couldn’t tell. He debated checking, but time was against them as it was, and if he was pretending to be freeing her it was in his best interest to act as though he was aware of the extent of her abilities. Instead he gave her a nod of approval before wordlessly continuing on, rethinking his earlier assessment.

Not just someone valuable, then—she was definitely in the dangerous category as well. Some type of enhanced, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet. She wouldn’t be defenseless if it came to a fight, but if he didn’t play his cards correctly it was entirely possible that fight could be with him. At least she was on his side for now, and giving him a good opportunity to assess her abilities.

For a moment, Heike felt his hand relax and thought that he might have finally realised that she was not an imposter. Her hopes were dashed when he tightened his grip a second later, she grimaced slightly at the discomfort. He clearly believed that she was some exact copy of his wife who had learnt to speak their native tongue and got a hold of an exact copy of her wedding and engagement rings. She wasn’t sure if that was any crazier than the idea that she was in fact alive.

“I’m not working for anyone.” She assured him, still speaking in Sokovian. She searched her brain for the right thing to say, her heart squeezing when he begged her not to make this anymore painful than it had to be. Perhaps she should not have come, perhaps she should have let him stay in ignorance and allowed him to achieve some peace. “I know this is hard to believe, and I will explain everything but I am Heike Zemo.”

She needed some evidence, something only they would know. That was simple enough, they had lived together for years, shared many secret moments. She licked her dry lips and thought hard for something that would convince him. Something nobody would know.

“The last time I saw you, you told our son that we would go hiking in the mountains when you got back from the city. He wanted to see where the river started and you promised that you would show him.” She began explaining lowly. Heike chose the last time they’d spoken because if he was anything like her, he’d turned that exchange over a million times in his mind.

Hard to believe? It was impossible. She even acknowledged the ridiculousness of it and was still trying to convince him. His anger was getting the better of him, he knew; he would have the truth from her, whatever he had to do to get it. He was only moments away from doing something drastic when she spoke again.

The details of her story... Zemo couldn’t help but close his eyes, throat constricting with emotion at the memory her words brought to mind. How many times had he thought of that conversation, wishing he had only decided to stay with them? How many nights had he been kept awake by the image of Karl’s face, so excited at the idea of spending more time with him? It was the last memory of something perfect, which time and pain had made unbearable. And try as he might to come up with a way for anyone to know what he had said in his final goodbyes to his family, there was no logical explanation. There was no one left alive from that conversation but him. And... her.

He let her go, slowly moving around to face her. This close, there was no mistaking her hair, her eyes, the shape of her nose and the curve of her lips. It was the version of her that lived in his memory, changed ever so slightly by the passage of time. She was like a ghost. No—like an angel. So perfect and unreal it hurt to look at her, the ache in his heart intensifying the longer he traced each detail of her beautiful face. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek but stopped himself, suddenly unable to bring himself to touch her. 

if what he was saying was true, that meant nevaeh didn’t have to worry for the moment. but she had no way of trusting that he wasn’t lying just to save himself & wait until gaining her trust to kill her first. it was this fear creeping into her mind that kept the girl from lowering her gun, though she did relax her finger on the trigger as she really didn’t want to use the weapon in the first place. it was the kind of weapon that ended her parents’ lives & since that day she’s hated them. 

“it better be for your sake.” she muttered with as much confidence as she could muster despite the anxiety that refused to leave her as the weapon remained in her hold. “i know about you, trust me. there’s not a lot that gets by me & i wouldn’t be his friend if he threatened me with that shield of his which shouldn’t even be in his possession. now answer the question; why are you here?”

Zemo didn’t lower his hands, given that the gun was still pointed at him, but he did relax somewhat at her clear reluctance to actually use her weapon. She wasn’t convinced—smart. Blind trust didn’t get anyone very far in a place like Madripoor. It was interesting to hear that she knew of him, though how much of that was her bluffing he couldn’t quite tell. At the very least she seemed to know a fair bit about Walker.

shaky hands kept the gun aimed at the man whose features she watched carefully, almost as if waiting for him to do something that would make her pull the trigger. nevaeh wasn’t a killer & would never shoot someone if there was an alternate way to resolve things, but she was hoping her target wouldn’t know that. if he knew her weakness, he might just take advantage of that & end her life instead. 

“you got a gun in your face & you’re gonna tell me how to hold it?!” the girl gave him a skeptical look, unsure of why he was telling her such a thing when he was the one in danger of being killed.it didn’t make sense to her & she let out a  scoff with narrowed eyes. “i know you’re working  with walker, you & those other two guys. now you’re here in my hideout, why? you wanna do to me what that bullshit captain did to that innocent man? maybe i saw too much & now you wanna silence me for good.” 

There. She was talking. Zemo listened patiently as she explained the thought process behind her threat, hands still raised and unmoving. With the way hers shook, it was clear she was unwilling to follow through with her threat. Not after the bounty, either. Good. That simplified things.

Rumours spread quickly in Madripoor, and it was minutes after the death of Selby that Heike first heard the stories about Baron Zemo, the Winter Soldier and Falcon killing her and then disappearing into the night. Before she’d really comprehended what she was doing, she had made her way to the club they’d been rumoured to be hiding at. Part of her expected them not to be there, for this to all be a dream or a trick. How did he escape? What did these Avengers have to do with it? She thought as she weaved through the crowds, looking for those telltale eyes.

When she spotted him, she almost turned around straight away, fear filling her veins. This was too much, she thought, she was being stupid. What did she think would happen here? That he would be happy to know she was alive and to spend maybe a few hours with her before he was captured by the authorities or killed by Power Broker thugs? If she believed that, she would have found a way to let him know years ago. And it had been eight years, they were much changed without one another..

It was too late, she realised a moment later, he had spotted her. They shared a second of eye contact before her view was blocked by one of the many dancers on the floor and she had time to think. She tried to keep herself looking aloof, wondering what he was thinking. She sipped the bottle of beer in her hand and continued to dance to the music, casting her eyes around for her husband’s companions. They were no where to be seen.

She finished her drink, which gave her the perfect excuse to move towards the edge of the dancefloor headed in the general direction of the bar. Heike was only turned away for a few moments when she felt a hand gripping her arm and something sharp at her back. Well, she thought, he clearly did not think she was Heike.

Heike stayed still as commanded. It was odd after only knowing soft touches to be on the receiving end of her husband’s wrath. “You say the most romantic things, my love.” She returned in their native tongue. Heike slowly raised her hands, as if to assure him that she didn’t have a weapon herself but with the intentions of letting him see the two rings on her left hand. He should recognise them, he put them there.

Despite his best efforts to remain in control of his emotions, Zemo’s breath hitched upon hearing her speak. There was a pain in his chest like someone had reached inside to grip his heart and squeeze. It had been a mistake to engage her directly, he realized. The resemblance was too close, too perfect, for him to stay objective. My love. How many times had he hoped and prayed he would hear that voice again?

Her hands moved, slowly rising into his line of sight and drawing Zemo's attention to the rings adorning her left hand, the metal bands flickering in the light. The sight was like another physical blow, and he found himself struggling to breathe once more. They were hers. Even in the dim light he could tell that they were genuine. How? How could that be possible when he’d spent so long searching for her, wearing himself to the bone searching through rocks and debris hoping he would somehow find her miraculously alive. Eventually he had been forced to accept that there was no way she could’ve survived. But now... could it be possible? The pain in his chest receded with the thought, and his hold on her arm relaxed just a fraction.

No. He tightened his grip again, harder this time, his hand shaking from the force of it. Heike alive? In Madripoor, of all places? It was a fantasy. The perfect fantasy, too good to be true. If his wife was alive, he would know. Even without a way to communicate with him in prison, Oeznik would have informed him of her fate. She would have been on that jet, waiting to reunite with him. He didn’t know how this woman had acquired Heike’s rings, but whoever had engineered this deception was going to pay. Dearly. 

wheeze my brain is doing that self sabotage thing slowly working through it but that’s why I haven’t been around here