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MISADVENTURES IN PARADISE
xvi. THE GAME'S AFOOT

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   RILEY SOON PARTED WAYS with Sam and Bucky, leaving them to deal with the issue of the Flag Smashers and whoever was manufacturing the Super Soldier serum. Although both of those things itched the part of her brain that ruled over her anxiety, she was comfortable with letting them deal with that little issue (and John Walker, but she was mostly counting on her boys to handle it).

   Before leaving, she made them swear to call her if anything major happened, and she had a feeling they would abide by her wishes. Riley prided herself on the relationship she had with her team. It might be the one thing she was... satisfied with.

   God, she needed to get Sam out of her head. "Are you satisfied?" rang through her mind at least 12 times when she was cleaning herself up. Of course, she was satisfied! She had no reason to not be. And she had no time to waste thinking otherwise. She already had enough on her plate that she needed to oversee in the first place, including her date with Peter.

   The late afternoons were the busiest time of the day, no matter where you were. But there was something about the bustle of the city that put Riley at ease. She was used to this: chaos, noise, suffocation. It blended in her ears, endless white noise. It was the one thing that was powerful enough to tune out her loud, loud thoughts.

   Wandering New York while invisible was even better. She could observe life in its natural state, overhear conversations and take in the world in a way she wouldn't normally be able to with countless people watching her. Cracks in the pavement and conversations about dinner — they all fascinated her. It was nice seeing the world she fought so hard to protect exist in its natural state. It reminded her of everything she worked for: life.

   Riley liked being able to disappear, in every aspect. For now, she was nothing more than the whistling wind, warm sunlight, a shadow among buildings, a ghost. She wasn't a hero or a soldier or a symbol or the "Child of the Sun" or even a famous philanthropist. She blended and blended and pretended she didn't exist for a little white.

   She noticed people tended to censor themselves whenever they realized she was in the room. She still wasn't used to it. Growing up, people always told it like it was, unfiltered. But now, people cared about her and her opinion of them. Like she was some untouchable god. They often forgot she was much like them.

   She was peacefully walking when she noticed people abruptly stopping in the streets. Curious civilians crowded the pavements, each one pointing up in awe. Riley followed their gaze. Thin strings of web glowed with light as they latched between skyscrapers. The sunlight made them appear silvery and otherworldly in a magical, fairytale kind of way. The webs were pulled together into the shape of a heart.

   Riley couldn't fight her smile. That was definitely from Peter alright. Her Peter.

   A pair of teenagers squealed to each other nearby:

   "Oh my gosh, that is so freaking cute! You think it's for Valor?"

   "Duh! Who else would it be for? Iron Man?"

   "Well, it's not confirmed that Valor and Spider-Man are dating! I hope they are though!"

   Riley turned the corner into an alleyway. It was empty, nothing but garbage bins waiting for her. When she was certain no one was hiding in the shadows, she turned visible again.

   "Hellooo? Looking for a certain Spider-Boy...!" Riley called. She spun around in search of Peter. Part of her feared he would try to sneak up on her by climbing down the walls like the weirdo he was. He did that once before, and... let's just say, Peter's eyesight may or may not have gotten worse after she nearly blinded him out of shock.

   At the end of the alleyway, Spider-Man lowered himself upside down. "You called?" he greeted.

   Riley tried to approach him coolly, but her cheesy grin killed whatever casual demeanor she was going for. "You're upside down, Bugs," she noted.

   "Bugs? That's a new one. I think that nickname's already taken by my pal," Peter quipped.

   "Your pal... As in Bugs Bunny...?"

   "Uh-huh. He's mean and scary, so I wouldn't get on his bad side if I were you."

   "Are you telling me you're scared of cartoon bunnies?"

   "Hey, so what if I am?" he snickered. "So... Notice anything on your way here?"

   Riley tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, let me think. I saw Frank's hot dog stand is back. I'm sure the wife and kids are ecstatic. Oh! And I heard the Gap's having a sale next week."

   "Ha-ha-ha, very funny."

   Riley giggled mischievously. "I'm teasing you. I loved it." She could perfectly picture Peter's face underneath the mask as he perked up even more.

   "Really?"

   "Yes, really. The world's slowly figuring out you're the corniest person to ever exist," Riley mused. She gently pulled his mask halfway down before kissing him. Peter nearly lost his grip on the web that was holding him up, causing her to giggle again. She tugged his mask over his face again, her hand lingering. "Give me a hand?"

   Peter pulled the two of them up, taking her to the rooftop of a building. They were so high up that no one could see them unless you just so happened to be a bird or the tallest guy in the world. A blanket was laid out, pillows fluffed on top. In the center was a plastic bag that contained their go-to orders from Mr. Delmar's Deli & Grill. A picnic in the city with the world's best view. It was perfect.

   Peter used to worry about how he couldn't offer Riley the most extravagant things, but he finally realized this was all she wanted. Peace and quiet. For the next hour or so, Riley and Peter tuned out the world and let themselves get lost in each other's orbit.

   "No, no, I swear, I'm getting better! I'm telling you, I'm gonna be fluent in Portuguese before you know it!" Peter swore. He laid flat on his back, and his face was freed from his mask, allowing him to comfortably look up at Riley as she laughed uncontrollably.

   "I appreciate that you're trying, amor, but you barely speak English fluently," Riley taunted, squeezing his cheeks lovingly.

   "Hey, I can carry a conversation and everything now! Give me a chance!" Peter defended. He sat up and cleared his throat as if to signify that he was getting serious (his goofy smile said otherwise). "Oi, brilho do sol. Como você está?" Hi, sunshine. How are you?

   Riley's face heated up as she replied, "Olá, Peter. Estou bem. Eu tive minha bunda entregue a mim por um Super Soldado hoje, e agora estou percebendo que há uma pequena possibilidade de eu ter uma concussão." Hello, Peter. I'm fine. I had my ass handed to me by Super Soldiers today, and now I'm realizing there's a slim possibility I might have a concussion.

   "Uh..." Peter's eyebrows scrunched together. "That's... nice...?"

   Riley eyed him. "Is that your final answer?"

   "Why are we suddenly on a game show?"

   Riley shrugged, leaning closer to his face. "Why not? I'm trying to make you nervous, Petey."

   Peter was trying to look serious to prove his point, but he was hopelessly failing. He was paralyzed, somehow feeling lost yet at home as he looked into her eyes. Just being around her still made him feel... things. Butterflies, electricity, heart palpitations, whatever the poets call it these days.

   "Yeah, I have no idea what you just said," Peter mumbled. "But you should talk in Portuguese way more often."

   Riley pulled away (to his dismay) and laid down. "I said I got my ass handed to me by Super Soldiers, and there's a solid chance I might have a concussion. Yeah, I know, super hot."

   Peter chuckled. "Oh, definitely."

   He laid beside her, watching how the setting sun illuminated her entire being. There were people who sunbathed, and then, there was Riley. Maybe it was the sun magic in her DNA, maybe it was just her. Her skin glowed gold, her brown eyes melting into the light like fresh honey. This was her natural state. In his eyes, she was one of the secret wonders of the world.

   And yet, she always looked kind of sad.

   He always meant to ask why that was, but he never knew how to bring it up. He always assumed his eyes were deceiving him. After all, she seemed genuinely happy when she was with him, and that was enough to tame his concerns. But when the light hit her the right way, he always saw Riley for who she was: valiant, magical, yet almost... empty inside. Maybe empty wasn't the right word for it. Restless, unfulfilled. Like something was imbalanced in her world.

   Peter didn't need to worry about Riley. He knew that. But he did anyway. He couldn't help himself.

   Thinking back to what Riley told him about her strange day, Peter confessed, "I hope I never have to meet that John Walker guy. He seems like the kind of dude that'd save a cat from a tree, then offer to autograph it."

   Riley snorted. "You always have the weirdest, yet most accurate thoughts," she noted. "I feel bad for Sam and Bucky more than anyone else, honestly."

   "Yeah, it must've been weird seeing someone else hold the shield. That's like if I ran into Iron Man, and Mr. Harrison walked out of the suit instead of Tony," Peter joked. He paused. "Are you... okay though?"

   Riley's head flopped to the side to meet his gaze. "Why wouldn't I be?" she returned.

   "Well, you were kinda in love with Steve, so—"

   "Shut up!" Riley stood up right away, cringing. "Ew! Ew, ew, ew! I can't believe you! I should've never told my deepest, darkest secret!"

   Peter leaped after her, cackling. "Hold on, you're an international superspy, and you're telling me your darkest secret is that you had a crush on Captain America? Uh, we all did! Hey, get back here!"

  THWIP! A string of web reached out and grabbed Riley, pulling her back to him. She leaned against his chest, his arms snaking around her waist practically out of reflex. She pressed her face against his chest, which vibrated as he laughed at her.

   "You know, you can't just do that whenever you want," Riley said.

   "Do what?" Peter innocently asked.

   "You know," she urged. "The whole... spider thingy with the... the web thing."

   "You have such a way with words," Peter teased. "Hey, say something in Portuguese again."

   Riley tilted her head back and peered up at him. She liked the way the wind brushed through his curly hair, how the redness of his cheeks never seemed to go away. She was fond of his eyes and lips and even the crease between his eyebrows when they were furrowed. She always thought he was so... pretty. Not just handsome or cute. Pretty. Like he came straight out of a book or something, carefully sculpted by endless pretty words.

   She smiled and mumbled, "Acho que estou apaixonado por você, mas estou com muito medo de te dizer." I think I'm in love with you, but I'm too scared to tell you.

   "What'd you say?" Peter wondered.

   "I said your hair looks nice today, and you should kiss me," Riley cheekily said. He didn't seem to think she was lying (he had no reason to think so). His hand trailed past her cheekbone, tucking her hair behind her ear and gently kissing her.

   When Peter pulled away, Riley asked, "Is now a bad time to bring up the fact that we should probably start working on the whole New York power outage thing?"

   "Is now a bad time to mention that I'm already ten steps ahead of you?" Peter retorted. He took her hand, leading her back to their picnic spot. "I know Ned's supposed to be our Guy-In-The-Chair, but I had some time to kill. I've been analyzing the dates of the power outages and turns out, there's a pattern to 'em. Not only are these power outages happening once a month, but they happen every full moon."

   Riley gasped. "Holy shit, are we fighting werewolves? Because that's on Roman and I's bingo card for this year."

   Peter faltered. "Bingo card?"

   "Yeah, after the whole Westview thing, we made a bingo card predicting the weird shit that might happen this year," she explained almost too casually.

   "Weird, but that doesn't surprise me," Peter admitted. "Anyway, I've also been cross-referencing calls made to the NYPD on the same night as the power outages. Took forever since people seem to think they're supposed to call the police when the power goes out for some reason."

   Riley took one of the pillows, hugging it in her lap. "Find anything interesting?"

   "Uh-huh, found a bunch of calls reporting bank break-ins. It's never the same bank, but it happens at the same time once a month like clockwork," Peter revealed. "It's weird though. Nothing gets taken. The police show up, the robbers vanish, and everything goes back to normal. It's like they're breaking in for fun."

   "Weird," she said. "Any witnesses?"

   "Zero. The power outages make it impossible to get security footage. They're completely screwing with the NYPD. I just can't figure out why," Peter said. "Got any ideas?"

   "Hm..." Riley contemplated it, running through the possibilities to herself. "Maybe these guys are just assholes? People have been extra ballsy since the Blip. But... if that's the case, then why haven't they stolen anything? They're clearly capable of breaking in without a trace, so what's their deal...? Unless..." Her eyes flickered upward. "Unless it's not about the money."

   Peter tilted his head to the side. "Huh? Then what's their motive?"

   "Well, think about it. Their methods seem kinda flashy, right? So maybe the break-ins aren't the final goal," Riley suggested. "Maybe they're trying to make a statement? Or they're trying to get someone's attention?"

   Peter whistled. "Man, you're good. But what's the statement? And who's it for?"

   "That, I have no idea. Maybe it's for the public?" Riley guessed.

   "Like how the Flag Smashers are making an anti-nationalist statement to the U.S. government," he realized. "That's a good point. The power outages affect the entire state, the break-ins prove they're capable of doing whatever they want. They've definitely got everyone's attention."

   "Exactly," she agreed. "Everything they've been doing affects the public."

   "But if it were for the public, wouldn't the NYPD have said something about it? Like, if these guys left behind a message, they'd tell the public, right?" Peter asked. "It'd be all over the news."

   "There's always the chance that they're withholding information until they know more," Riley countered. "It's kinda messed up, but it happens all the time. They wait to tell the public until they're certain they can solve the case without any problems. And if they can't, they try to bury it and keep it under wraps. But if someone with a reputation for saving the world offered to help..."

   "They'd spill everything," Peter realized. "So, we just need to get the cops to tell you what they know."

   "That's assuming they know something, which I'm willing to bet they do. We have until the next full moon to figure out who these losers are and stop them," Riley said.

   Peter sat up straight. An eager gleam twinkled in his eyes as night dyed the skies. "Alright, Watson, I'd say the game's officially afoot!" he chirped.

   There was a pause. "Huh?" Riley asked.

   Peter deflated. "Watson. Like, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson! Come on, I know you were sheltered, but you have to know who they are! They're the greatest fictional detectives of all time!" he exclaimed.

   "No, no. I get the reference," Riley assured, throwing her pillow at him. "I just can't believe you think you're Sherlock!"

   "Hey, give me a break!"

○ ○ ○

   The next day, Riley dragged Roman to as many NYPD precincts as they could find in hopes of obtaining any useful information. Peter tried to convince her to let him tag along, but she turned him down and forced him to go to school. She felt guilty about it at first, but considering Spider-Man's odd relationship with law enforcement, it made more sense if Riley and Roman handled this side of the mission anyway.

   Unfortunately, they weren't having much luck.

   Staring up at yet another NYPD precinct, Roman stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "What number is this? Six?" he wondered.

   Riley couldn't hold in her sigh. "I think seven."

   Roman kept his gaze trained on the building as it shined in the daylight. "You know what I think?" he started.

   "No, but I don't really care if I'm being honest."

   Ignoring her, he went on, "Let's just drop this investigation, pack our shit, and migrate to a planet where electricity problems aren't a thing. Seriously, I know a guy from Vanaheim. I bet he could give us the hook-up." Cars zipped past them, but even their enthusiastic honks couldn't shake their boredom. "Why'd you drag me into this again?"

   "Because I'm exploiting your powers," Riley simply said. When Roman shot her a look, she defended herself, "Hey, I let you test all your new powers on me for months! You owe me!"

   Roman snickered. Fair enough.

   Although Agatha Harkness was a royal pain in the ass and brainwashed him (without his consent, by the way!), Roman had to admit that the witch taught him a lot about his powers and what he could truly do beyond Soul Searching and Soul Possession. For example, he learned how to Astral Project his soul into the stars, which allowed him to teleport and communicate with others anywhere in the universe.

   "And you're sure these dickwads are gonna tell us what we need to know at some point?" Roman queried. "We've been at this for hours, and everyone's clueless."

   "That's why I need you. Everyone knows about your powers, so people are less likely to lie if you're in the room. All you have to do is stand next to me and look pretty," Riley teased. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, I've got a good feeling about this one."

   As aforementioned, afternoons are always hectic, and when you're a police officer trying to uphold peace in a post-superhero society, the chaos feels endless. Fortunately, today was one of those rare days where not much was going on. The 101st precinct was tranquil, hushed chatter hardly pervading the building, which smelt of coffee and Clorox. All conversations halted once the sun and the star walked in, all eyes naturally finding them.

   The good thing about being famous was that people seemed to know what you wanted before you even said it. Soon enough, they were shaking hands with the Chief of Police, Chief Paxton.

    Well, Riley was shaking hands. Roman was trying to not make fun of everyone's ridiculous uniforms.

   Yeah, he still refused to properly assimilate into "earthworm society", as he called it.

   After the Avengers explained the situation, Chief Paxton revealed, "I understand you're investigating this on the Governor's behalf, but unfortunately, our knowledge is as limited as yours. Trust me, I wouldn't want to hide that kind of thing from you, of all people. The Avengers have saved my family countless times, so I want to pay my respects whenever I can."

   "I'm confused," Roman cut in. Under the fluorescent lighting, his skin gleamed oddly. "This has obviously been an issue for a while. How come no one knows anything about this?"

   "You two are freelance agents, right? That means you have more freedom to do whatever you want to complete your jobs. Jurisdiction runs differently for officers," Chief Paxton elucidated, tapping the badge pinned to her uniform. "Whoever the culprit is, they're smart. They haven't taken anything from the banks, you know? So, we can't exactly drop everything and investigate because they haven't directly targeted or harmed the public."

   Riley ignored the eavesdropping ears as officers purposely walked back and forth near the office. "What about the mass power outages? Those affect the public," she pointed out.

   "Right, except the power always comes back after a while, and since it affects the entire state rather than certain neighborhoods or boroughs, we can't necessarily pursue them. We can't even really investigate the banks because the culprits vanish without a trace," Chief Paxton elaborated. "It doesn't matter how long they do this for. As long as no one's being harmed or targeted directly, the situation is out of our hands."

   Riley frowned. "And you've questioned the workers at these banks?"

   "We tried, but the CEO of Belmont Banks, Andrew Belmont, shut down all of our interrogations. You won't find that in any of the reports. He said it's bad for PR if his banks are associated with this crap," Chief Paxton revealed.

   "People can pay to edit police reports?" Roman interrogated. "Is that legal?"

   "Anything's legal if you have enough money," Riley dismissed, which made her sound too much like Tony. "But, hang on, I thought all of the banks that are being targeted were chosen at random?"

   "Sort of. They're chosen at random, but all of the banks being targeted are part of the Belmont chain," Chief Paxton clarified. "They're trying to keep it on the down-low because no one wants to get on Belmont's bad side."

   Riley glanced back at Roman, who silently nodded. Once again, they were on the same page.

   When Chief Paxton couldn't offer any further relevant information, they parted ways.

   Stepping outside again, Roman said decisively, "So, whoever's behind this has a problem with Andrew Belmont." As he spoke, he stole Riley's sunglasses off her head and slid them onto his face. "Why's it always the rich dudes that are responsible for making everyone's lives terrible?"

   "I wish I knew. But I don't think they're working against Belmont," Riley confessed. "Whoever's breaking into these banks is doing it without a trace and always leaves without taking anything. If Belmont was the target, the break-ins would impact him more."

   "So, you think he's being used to advance the culprit's ulterior motives?" asked Roman.

   "Bingo. The culprit's clearly got some kind of leverage if they can access the power grid and Belmont Banks," she added.

   Roman slowly nodded. "We should regroup with the others later. Maybe they have classmates with parents who work for Belmont or something," he suggested.

   "Exactly what I'm thinking," Riley said. "When's the next full moon?"

   Roman didn't respond right away. His sunglasses slid down his nose, revealing his narrowed eyes. "Why do you expect me to know something like that?" he hotly demanded.

   "Um, you're a Stellite, you worship Asteria, come on. Why are you looking at me like that isn't a completely normal assumption?" Riley dismissed, waving her hand.

   Roman huffed. "I want to be offended so bad... but the next full moon is on April 26th. Happy?"

   "HA!"

   "Yeah, yeah, shut up."

   Smiling brightly, Riley declared, "We've got about a week to come up with a plan to catch these guys. Otherwise, we'll have to wait another month."

   As Roman agreed, a buzzing sound came from Riley's pocket. Her phone screen flashed with the words: UNKNOWN CALLER. She eyed it, contemplating whether she should answer it. She figured she shouldn't in case it was a spam caller, but she also knew that Natasha Romanoff had a history of calling her on burner phones. Riley's heart fluttered at the thought of talking to Natasha again, as it'd been a while since their last call (and since they last saw each other — must've been last summer). So, she answered it.

   Of course, it wasn't Natasha.

   "Riley Stark? This is John Walker," the caller greeted. Roman raised an eyebrow when he noticed Riley's demeanor drop. "I was just calling to inform you—"

   "How the hell did you get my number?" she interrupted.

   She didn't like how John chuckled in her ear. "Well, we all have our connections, don't we, Stark? Anyway, I was just calling to let you know that I've been informed that Baron Zemo has been broken out of confinement in Berlin," he revealed. "I'm calling to ask what you know about the situation and how we should proceed."

   Her face paled, and her heart fell into her stomach. She demanded, "What!? No, I don't know anything about this. I've been... entertaining another affair all day." That probably explained why her phone was blowing up all day. She honestly hadn't checked because she assumed it was Peter asking her for play-by-play updates every 20 minutes. Now, she was a little irked because she should've been checking her phone. It was what Fury would've done, probably. "Do we have eyes on him and the jackass that broke him out?"

   "Not exactly, but you should know that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were present the same day he broke out," John added.

   There was a distinct smugness to his voice that wasn't present the first time they met. Like a kid tattling on his siblings to a parent, almost. But even though Riley could put the pieces of what happened together, she wasn't going to turn on Sam and Bucky so easily — no matter how stupid they were. And she certainly wouldn't give John the satisfaction of knowing she was enraged with them, even if she didn't have any confirmation on what she believed they did behind her back.

   Riley inhaled deeply. "I see. I'll check in with them and get their alibi then. Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it." She didn't give him another minute to reply, hanging up right away. She turned to Roman, who looked puzzled as to why she was suddenly so irritated. "I need a favor."

   Long story short, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were very alarmed when Riley's soul was astrally projected to the aircraft they were currently aboard — which, of course, included none other than Baron Zemo.

   The aircraft was more like a private plane, which was rather cramped. Riley wondered how they managed to have one at their disposal, considering they had to borrow one from the Air Force the last time they went on a little "field trip". She hadn't a clue where they were in the world, but glimpsing out the window, she could see it was nighttime.

   Flinching, Bucky shouted, "GAH! HOW...? HOW ARE YOU—?"

   "HOW AM I? Thank you so much for asking, Bucky, because I'm actually extraordinarily fucking pissed off!" Riley snapped. Her figure was semi-transparent, as her physical body was back in New York with Roman, safe and sound. No one could touch her, nor could she touch them, no matter how desperately she wished to smack both Sam and Bucky. "How DARE you break Zemo out of prison!"

   Sam gripped the seat nearest to him. "How did you find out...?" he apprehensively queried.

   Riley's eye twitched. "Oh, I don't know, Samuel! Because I KNOW EVERYTHING! We've been over this! Am I the only one who remembers how much shit this greasy dirtbag put us through!?"

   Zemo sat comfortably in the back. He raised a hand, finger waving almost too casually. "Actually, I—" he tried to say, but Riley interrupted him with a fierce, "SHUT UP!"

   "I know it looks bad, but—" Bucky defended.

   "The Avengers split up because of him! I almost lost everything because of him! The fight against Thanos would've gone completely differently if it wasn't for him!" Riley went on, puncturing every consonant sharply. Smoke practically spewed from her ears. "I have half the mind to summon a goddamn beam of energy from the sun to destroy this stupid plane and kill all THREE of you!"

   The men were too stunned to speak. They always knew Riley had connections and relentless ambition. Her perception combined with her ability to act accordingly was what made her such a keen spy. But this... astral projecting her soul halfway across the globe just to scold them... was on a level no one was prepared for.

   "I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed," Riley finally confessed. She was feigning a calm demeanor. It wouldn't last.

   "Oh, come on," Sam complained. "You're gonna hit us with that?"

   "YES, SAMUEL!" Riley yelled. "Because while you two were breaking Zemo out of jail to frolic in the fucking flowers, John Walker was tattling on you! What the hell am I supposed to tell him? All of the evidence points to you two breaking Zemo out of prison! I don't understand! Why? I thought you hated him! I thought we all hated him!"

   Bucky warily rose from his seat. "Because I believe Zemo has connections we can use to our advantage. Zemo's the number one person who stands against Super Soldiers. He wants to help us put an end to the Flag Smashers. We have a deal." He held his arms out as if he was taming a wild animal. "You think this is easy for me? It's not. But this is the only lead we have."

   "It's honestly quite hilarious. I never thought the day would arise where the so-called Avengers would come begging for my help," Zemo butted in with his stupid accent and his cheeky smirk. He still looked like shit, even after all these years, which was somewhat satisfying to Riley. "I see you've grown up, Valor."

   Riley balled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "If you don't shut up, I swear to God, I'm gonna rip your balls off, castrate them, and feed them to you through a fucking straw! Don't speak to me, don't look at me, and don't even think about breathing near me!"

   Zemo held his hands in the air. Whether he meant it condescendingly or not, Riley didn't care. She couldn't stand looking at him. He was the reason for so many disastrous things occurring in her life. He was the reason she had to choose between the people she loved at such a young age. She hated him.

   If it wasn't for him... everything would be different.

   "Come on, Riley," Sam encouraged. He chose his words carefully, concealing the faint fear creeping upon him. "It's... not ideal, but Bucky's right. This is the only lead we have. Trust me, I was upset, too. But it's already been done. There's nothing we can do to change the past, right?"

   Riley clenched her jaw. Almost unwillingly, she agreed, "...Right."

   "Hey, listen. We're sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't want to go behind anyone's back. You know I wouldn't have done this if it wasn't an emergency," Bucky said.

   "Oh, I'll show you an emergency—"

   "Riley," Sam interrupted. The teenager shrugged, folding her arms. "Look, can you cover for us while we figure this out?"

   "OBVIOUSLY, I was going to cover for you! I'm not a snitch!" Riley groaned, rolling her eyes. "But if this gets out of hand—"

   "You'll what?" Bucky challenged.

   Riley's jaw dropped. It was no secret that Bucky and Riley got on each other's nerves often. Their entire friendship was built upon bickering and fighting — sometimes physically. He found enjoyment in pushing her buttons, especially when she was already in a mood. She knew he enjoyed it because she did it to him, too, for all the same reasons.

   Riley promptly recovered, standing tall again with a puffed-out chest. "We'll play Hide and Seek next time we train together," she said decisively. Bucky and Sam's faces fell.

   Zemo's face twisted with uncertainty. "What...?"

   "You don't get it," Bucky said, grimacing as the memories came back to him. "The kid's got all these weird training rituals from her effed-up childhood. And we aren't allowed to skip out on them. Ever."

   "Last time we played, my wings had so many holes in them that I couldn't fly for a week," Sam grunted.

   "Exactly," Riley proudly said. "Listen to me very carefully. I don't want to hear about you doing anything illegal from anyone else. It's gonna put me in a compromising spot, and I'd rather not throw your asses in jail because John Walker ratted you guys out to me again. I'll deal with Walker if I need to, but stay out of the spotlight. Keep me updated, and keep a close eye on your pet fugitive. Got it?"

   Begrudgingly, Sam and Bucky muttered together, "Got it."

   With that, Riley's soul vanished, returning to her body once again. Meanwhile, Sam, Bucky, and Zemo sank into their seats.

   "She's intense these days, hm?" Zemo chimed in after a moment.

   Bucky sighed. "You have no idea."