o1. spider | audio; both courts.

[debts]

I keep thinking of this story.

[ There's nothing particularly guarded about the way Natasha sounds. Lazy, maybe; a little mildly amused. ]

Once upon a time, there was a proud and warlike tsar— [ A short pause, then a correction. ] —a ruler. His name was Dadon. When he was young, he invaded and destroyed neighboring lands, taking them for his own. When he grew older Dadon wanted peace, but now his enemies sensed his weakness and it was their turn to wage war on him. He asked for help from his court magician, who gave him a golden cockerel. If any enemies approached, the bird would crow, and because the tsar was pleased he promised that he would give the magician anything he asked for.

Dadon's people lived peacefully for two years. The bird did its job whenever there was danger. One day, the golden bird cried out louder than ever before, so the man sent a great army under the command of his eldest son. Eight days passed. When the bird crowed again, his son and their army weren't back, so he sent out his younger son and another army. There was no news again for eight more days.

He was worried. The bird crowed again, so he went to go investigate this personally, with an army of his best warriors. After several days, he came across a battlefield where both armies and his two sons lay dead. At the edge of the field, he saw a tent with a woman of stunning beauty inside. Her name was—

[ A beat. ]

—you know, I don't think I remember. Her title, though, was the Queen of Shamakha. She invited him inside his tent and Dadon fell in love with her. He took her home, back to his kingdom.

When he did, the magician was waiting for him at the gates. He asked the tsar to pay for the golden bird by giving him the Queen of Shamakha. Angry with the request, Dadon hit the magician with his sword, wounding him fatally. At that moment the bird swooped down and pecked Tsar Dadon to death. And the Queen of Shamakha disappeared, as if she had never been there.

[ Natasha huffs out a laugh. ]

Sorry. Maybe that was too obvious a moral. [ And just like that, the audio abruptly ends. ]

Comments

[wipedclean]

[It's a simple order, a request for an assessment. He can do that.]

The tsar didn't fulfill his promise.

[He's quiet for a moment.]

But it was probably a trap anyway.

[debts]

True.

[ But it's a moralistic point rather than a story about the cost/benefit analysis of war tactics, Bucky. ]

Dadon learned too late where the most dangerous enemies come from. And this place, the people here—

[ She's not implying that most of the people here are dangerous.

She's definitely implying something about trusting the heads of the courts, though. ]

[wipedclean]

[Morals mean very little to him.

But he understands what she means now.]

I see.

private.

[debts]

Do you?

[ Not so much mean or cruel as it is-- sharp. The cousin of curiosity, if Natasha wanted to blunt it, but she's more concerned with results. A beat for the lock to switch over, then: ]

Do you know why I broadcasted this?

private.

[wipedclean]

[He frowns, though she can't see it. A moment, then--]

I can guess.

[Because he doesn't know, and he can't lie.]

You're gathering information.

private.

[debts]

In a way.

[ It's the most obvious route and, to be fair, not inaccurate. ]

How much do you know about operations security?

private.

[wipedclean]

[Hmm. He considers.]

In what way?

private.

[debts]

Opsec. [ A beat; a huff of a laugh. Wry. ] I doubt HYDRA included you on their social engineering briefings.

I'm expanding my web a little. [ She hums. ] It's not always about information, but in this case it is. A lot of people knowing pieces of things.

private.

[wipedclean]

[His role isn't usually one of information gathering. At least, not of the kind Natasha's talking about. The information he finds is situational--wind speed, direction. How many civilians are in the area. The combat ability of the target. How much force it will take to force a door.

Though as he thinks about it, methods of information retrieval from subjects involving force enter his head--which points on the body will produce the most amount of pain with the least amount of damage.

He realizes that at some point in his life, he tortured people. He just can't remember doing it, or who he was doing it for.

He blinks, shakes his head.

Focus.]

Anything useful?

private.

[debts]

[ Distance. More than that; silence. Natasha doesn't need a videofeed to understand what a silence entails -- she can't parse it out, but it's notable that it happens to someone like James Barnes, who operates his life based on a divide he can't conquer in the first place. She gives him the time. She waits.

Steve, she thinks dryly, would be proud of her. She's grown as a person. ]

Yeah. Mythology. Operations. Public perception on the monarchy, which amounts to not a lot, considering our lack of an actual civilian populace. [ The words come out thoughtful, a little rote. ] Things to help me do my job.

private.

[wipedclean]

[He considers this for a moment.]

What's your job?

private.

[debts]

[ Her answer works better with perspective. A little honesty, too, but she's not sure if she's ready to let that up, so she asks a question instead. ]

Tell me what yours is.

private.

[wipedclean]

[He swallows.]

I don't know anymore.