He got sloppy. Got too cocky, thought he could take the whole world and he ended up being caught by some secret outfit, S.H.I.E.L.D, heâs pretty sure theyâre called if the patches on their shoulders were any indication. All he wanted was access to what they knew, he asked nicely at first, citing heâs Soldier Boy, All-American Hero and that they owe him one for winning the war⌠Of course, that didnât fly with them so, as usual, they opened fire.
Now, gunfire hadnât bothered him since the 40s. Artillery strikes such as the Howitzer only staggered him and tanks? Well he could just flip those. What he didnât know was how these assholes thought about using Novichok of all things, that was a thing that only the Russians had thought about, so it was concerning to say the least. So, they knocked him out, put him in a cell or a big see-through box and then⌠She showed up.
Heâd had enough time to get used to all the new lingo, though that didnât mean he liked it. He needed to know where these assholes had put his shield, he needed it, if anything it made smacking heads a bit easier. âDarling, this ainât cosplay. Itâs the real deal, doesnât get any more real than this.â
His green eyes met her blue. He had more than enough practice with interrogations, he knew the standard procedure up to what was used in the 80s. This wasnât that different.
âIRA? What a load of bullshit. The KGB, please, those assholes wish I was with them. I donât know who or what the fuck Hydra is but I ainât with them.â Those names rang a few bells in his head.
âStart askinâ better questions, doll. You ainât got that much time, do you?â A small grin appeared on his face. âHavenât you cracked open a history book? Soldier Boy, thatâs me, I donât work with krauts or the soviets.â
  Soldier Boy? What an adorable name indeed, it was if he was trying to desperately display his desires to be Steve Rogers... but the man known as Captain America wasnât a walking cancer hazard, unlike the man sitting before her now.
  His pet names drew a clinch to her fist, she had grown quite familiar with the concept of men underestimating or patronizing her; it was always incredibly infuriating all the same, âBetter questions, huh?â her gaze shifted into one of firmness, almost as if a dagger was being tossed at the man, âWould you like to talk? Or would you rather I just throw you from here all the way to Dubai?â Carol truly didnât have time for games, not even due to later arrangements that she had but rather just because she couldnât stand to be in the same room as him for longer than she needed to.
  âWhy would I ever need to open a history book to learn about you? Everything I need to know is right here...â the blonde would slap a manila folder down onto the table, â...youâre a walking, talking, Fat Man; only instead of threatening the innocent people of Japan, youâre pointed right here at the United States.â she would slide the documents over for him to read, photocopies of scientific test results that had been ran while he had been incapacitated, âWant to start by explaining that, private?â after all, if the man insisted on referring to himself as a soldier without sporting any indicator of rank... what else was Carol to do besides referring him by the lowest rank achievable?Â
  There was another stare down between the two, as Carol sipped at the bottled water that had been provided to her and her alone... no courtesies for enemies of the state, âOr how about we start with something simple?â the ex-pilot leaned in, âWhatâs your name, private? You have one of those?â her tone was condescending in some capacity, as if almost trying to provoke the man to lose his cool and spill all the details she sought after.
  Krauts, Reds, or neither, it didnât matter... she was going to get to the bottom of this.
