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, he’s pretty sure they’re 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 he’s Soldier Boy, All-American Hero and that they owe him one for winning the war… Of course, that didn’t fly with them so, as usual, they opened fire.
Now, gunfire hadn’t bothered him since the 40s. Artillery strikes such as the Howitzer only staggered him and tanks? Well he could just flip those. What he didn’t 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.
He’d had enough time to get used to all the new lingo, though that didn’t 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. “Darling, this ain’t cosplay. It’s the real deal, doesn’t get any more real than this.”
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 wasn’t that different.
“IRA? What a load of bullshit. The KGB, please, those assholes wish I was with them. I don’t know who or what the fuck Hydra is but I ain’t with them.” Those names rang a few bells in his head.
“Start askin’ better questions, doll. You ain’t got that much time, do you?” A small grin appeared on his face. “Haven’t you cracked open a history book? Soldier Boy, that’s me, I don’t work with krauts or the soviets.”
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 wasn’t 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, “Better questions, huh?” her gaze shifted into one of firmness, almost as if a dagger was being tossed at the man, “Would you like to talk? Or would you rather I just throw you from here all the way to Dubai?” Carol truly didn’t have time for games, not even due to later arrangements that she had but rather just because she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him for longer than she needed to.
“Why would I ever need to open a history book to learn about you? Everything I need to know is right here...” the blonde would slap a manila folder down onto the table, “...you’re a walking, talking, Fat Man; only instead of threatening the innocent people of Japan, you’re pointed right here at the United States.” she would slide the documents over for him to read, photocopies of scientific test results that had been ran while he had been incapacitated, “Want to start by explaining that, private?” 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?
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, “Or how about we start with something simple?” the ex-pilot leaned in, “What’s your name, private? You have one of those?” 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 didn’t matter... she was going to get to the bottom of this.
