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thedarkplume · 3 years

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They'll get you anything with that evil smile

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!reader x James ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Word Count: Over 15k!!!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, blood, gore violence, death, character death,, smut, hand jobs, drug use (marijuana and cocaine), profanity, slightly dubious consent.

AN: So, I did a thing and here we are! I want to give all my thanks to @georgiapeach30513 for not only being my Beta for this story, but for encouraging me to get back into my writing and spit balling ideas with me. I also would like to thank @foxgloveprincess @luxeavenger and @autumnrose40 for inspiring me with their amazing works! Thanks to @nix-akimbo for her gorgeous edits. Just looking at them helped bring this story to fruition.

Songs used: She’s A Rainbow by The Rolling Stones (1967), I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith (1998) & Union of the Snake by Duran Duran (1983)

Disclaimer: The characters within this story are the property of Marvel Comics, Disney, and Rian Johnson. I only own my OCs and Pocket the Cat. No copyright infringement intended.

p.s. I DO NOT consent to have my work posted on ANY third-party sites or apps!

Another café, another evening of a barely listening audience who is over my belting of Christina Aguilera classics. Oh, well, I thought to myself. At least the drinks were free while I performed. It still felt strange to be on a stage without my band at my side, but that’s what happens when you fuck the lead singer who neglected to tell you that the finances behind the band came from her fiancé. The song finishes with an impressive piano rift. I ended up receiving a smattering of applause for my efforts. Thank you and good night END OF THE LINE Café.

The closing barista, Justin, had my iced mocha and a giant M&M cookie waiting for me. “Cookie’s on the house.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose, smiling with those full pouty, pink lips.

“Was I that pathetic tonight, Justin?”

His cheeks tinged pink as he shook his head resolutely. “No, you were amazing as always.” He slid the sugar-laced snacks across the counter. His soft fingers linger atop mine a beat too long. “I have tomorrow off. Maybe we can do something?”

Justin’s hopeful expression turned the sour disappointment of my musical aspirations into an acidic form of guilt that almost made me chuck the mocha in the trash. “Not tomorrow, Justin. Some other time, okay?” his shoulders hunched disappointedly, and it was a gift from above that my cell phone started ringing. “We’ll talk later. I promise.” I turned away before he had the chance to respond. Justin was a sweetheart with a Mommy Kink that I would enjoy had I not been so deep in my own downward spiral. He deserved someone in the headspace to nurture and indulge his needs to the fullest. It would be selfish of me to take advantage of him when my thoughts revolved solely around my own problems.

The number calling my phone was one I didn’t recognize. Maybe it was my mom calling from her extended honeymoon in Jamaica with her rich husband to tell me she was extending it for another month. Again.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up!”

My eyes narrowed as I exhaled deeply. This should be good. “What do you want, Penelope?” the last thing I needed was to hear the voice of my ex-bandmate and girlfriend for all of two minutes.

She sighs sadly on her end. “I know you’re still mad at me. I would be mad at me, too, but I’ve talked it over with the other girls and they really want you to come back.” It didn’t surprise me. The other three Black Widows took to me quickly. They were the sisters I always wished I had growing up. I probably should have listened to them when they warned me against fucking Penelope because she came with the worst kind of baggage. My dumbass thought it might have been an STD. You know what though? An STD would have been preferable to what she did have attached to her ass.

“Yeah? And what does your fiancé have to say about that? The last time I was in the same room with you he fired me and promised by the time he was through I would only be singing on the streets next to the homeless begging for spare change.”

“Ransom did not mean that.” I scoffed, ready to hang up and block this new number alongside the others. “He didn’t! He says a lot of shit he regrets when he’s angry and, well, he did catch me sitting on your face. But he’s had time to calm down now and he sees what your absence is doing to the band and how it’s affecting me. He wants you to come back, baby.”

I could almost let myself believe her words. Of course, believing her words would mean purposely forgetting the messages and pictures Ransom started sending me earlier this week. They started off mean, telling me that Penelope would never leave someone like him for someone like me. Then the videos started. The first few were about the length of Snapchat videos, mostly of her kissing him and telling him how much she loved him and only him while he stared smugly into the camera lens. Those hurt the most. Seeing her draped over his body atop their shared bed, trading soft kisses and whispering sweet nothings to one another. It was the type of intimacy I always wanted for myself. Then they grew progressively worse. Longer, nastier videos of her sucking him off, riding him, letting him bend her over the bathroom sink. Finally, they started featuring just Ransom jerking off, moaning MY name, and whispering all the filthy things he wanted to do to ME. I’m not proud to admit that I got myself off to every video he sent.

“Don’t you mean he wants me to come back so that he can watch us fuck and have a turn himself?” I could understand the appeal of Ransom. He was tall, muscular, dressed well, and blessed downstairs compared to the other guys I’ve dated. He could provide for her, and she would never want for anything. Why she wasted both our time is something she still refuses to answer.

“So, what if he does? You’ve been in a relationship with a couple before!”

I could almost see her pretty lips pouting on the other end, but what she said confused and slightly pissed me off too much to veer down that avenue. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was Penelope’s turn to huff. “Do you really think Ransom just let you in the band without vetting the shit out of you first? Hell, he found out everything about you! Even that time in the third grade when you slapped that fifth grader so hard with a lunch tray it knocked out one of his front teeth,” she snorted a laugh.

“He punched a fourth grader hard enough to split her lip because she told him she liked someone else,” I answered distractedly. “What do you mean Ransom let me into the band? You contacted me after seeing my YouTube and Tiktok videos of my singing.” Her silence spoke volumes. “Did you come to me because you wanted a plaything for the two of you? Penelope?!” her regretful sigh was all the answer I needed. “What the fuck? What gives you assholes the right to play with people like this?”

“Oh, don’t start playing the victim! The two of us fucking was always going to happen, I just kept it from Ransom in the beginning because I wanted you to myself a little while longer. Besides, you could have told me no at any time.” She took a breath to calm down. “I don’t want to fight with you. We all want you to come back. Will you at least think about it?”

“No.”

“Are you really going to let your stupid pride get in the way? Ransom has us auditioning for Universal next week. If they like us, we’re getting signed on the spot and we get three songs on our first album written by Diane Warren! You would turn that down to keep playing in cafes and shitty dive bars?”

“If that means keeping your fiancé’s Murder Dick away from me, then yes.”

“BITCH, HE WAS ACQUITTED!” It brought me a perverse sort of pleasure making Penelope lose her shit mentioning Ransom’s murder trial. Acquitted or not, he was guilty, and everyone knew it. Why the hell else would he settle that civil suit with that poor woman’s family out of court and pay an obscene amount of money to force them to fade quietly from the public eye? “I’m not talking to you when you’re like this. I’m going to give you a few days to come to your senses. Unless, you know, you lied and really want to keep living off your stepdad’s dime.”

Penelope hung up before I could respond. She could be a vindictive bitch at times. Probably the reason she and Ransom fit so well. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was another picture. This time from Penelope. She had cut her hair since I last saw her. It fell in delicate curls around her ears. Her glossed lips curled in a coy smile as she dipped her fingers down the front of her panties. She was not naked this time, but nearly every inch of her gorgeous reddish-brown skin was on display. She picked my favorite black lace lingerie set that did nothing to hide the shape and color of her hard nipples and widespread areolas.

Penelope sent another message, but I didn’t bother giving her the satisfaction of knowing I at least left it on Read. The one thing Penelope hated more than not getting her way was being ignored. Something I was all too happy to do. I felt eyes on me and saw Justin standing behind the counter twisting a towel anxiously between his hands looking like he wanted to come over and say something. I gave him a half smile and shook my head, knowing he would get the message. The way he smiled back and kept looking over at me every few minutes almost had me reconsidering my decision to not spend the next day edging him until he cried for me.

Shaking the thought away, I picked my phone up again and resumed my 1980s playlist. Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train began to play. Fitting. I sipped on my mocha and nibbled on my cookie, resolving to put Penelope and all her bullshit in the back of my mind. I grabbed my beat up, barely held together copy of Naomi Novik’s Uprooted. It was a gift from my great-granddad on my mother’s side. Every Saturday, he took me to the bookstore and let me pick two books. He would buy the same books for himself so that we could read and discuss them together. No one ever encouraged me more to always be whoever and whatever I wanted to be no matter what anyone else thought more than my granddad.

I had some time to kill before returning to the penthouse apartment I fought my mom and stepdad tooth and nail to not buy for the sake of my own independence. I remembered one of my stepsisters shrugging off my concerns. Dad’s always doing something like this. Has he started randomly depositing money in your bank account yet?

It took me no time to lose myself in Agnieszka’s first days in The Dragon’s tower. But then I felt someone watching me again. This time it didn’t feel like Justin. A tall man wearing a pair of Raybans sunglasses dressed immaculately in a Tom Ford tailored suit stood before my table with a briefcase in one hand and a steaming coffee in the other. Oh great. Is Ransom trying to sue me now? I was reluctant to close my book and stop my music, but this guy didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Can I help you?”

“You sure can, honey. Mind if I sit?” he sat down anyway. “My name’s Tony Stark and I have a proposition for you.”

He seemed like he was waiting for some sort of reaction to his namedrop. The corners of his mouth dipped down in a mix of disappointment and offense when I continued to sip passively from my cup. The little I knew of Tony Stark was that he was supposedly this mega genius who was probably going to die as the world’s only trillionaire. How he made his money was a topic for debate because he never seemed to commit himself to one venue. Some people said his wealth came from engineering. Others, those who personally hated Stark, and his popularity said he gained his money in the blood of the third world nations he willingly sold weapons to. The simpler, and somehow more insulting belief was that he simply inherited everything his parents worked their lives for when they passed. Either way, I didn’t see any reason for Tony Stark to want to offer me anything.

“Christina Aguilera, huh? And not one of her chart-toppers.”

“I chose the song to showcase my vocal range, not to get the crowd singing and not listening.” My mood was quickly regressing to agitation and aggravation. “If you’re looking to book me for a private concert, my starting fee is $750 and $100 after the first hour. If you want cover songs, then that’s an extra $50.” Truthfully, I don’t need the money, but I want something of my own without it being undercut by my stepdad who figured the only way to bond with someone was to throw money at them.

“And that would all be perfectly reasonable if that was my purpose today.”

“Then what is your purpose, Mr. Stark?”

An odd shadow seemed to pass over Tony Stark’s face. Suddenly, I had the urge to end this conversation. To refuse whatever it was he planned to offer me. It was a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach impossible to ignore.

In a blink, the shadow was gone, and Tony Stark was his jovial self again. “I represent a band who is in dire need of a backup vocalist and is looking to bring a different sound to their music. Between your voice and piano skills, you are exactly what my guys need.” He popped open his briefcase retrieving a jewel cd case. “I know, CDs are nearing antique territory now, but the guys have a thing for nostalgia.” His eyes sparkled like he was telling a private joke.

“The 107th. Never heard of them.” Still, I opened the case and removed the glossy booklet. The album had eight tracks, all of which were war and military titles. “How long have these guys been around?” I noticed that the 107th’s label was, surprising, Universal along with some offspring company bearing Tony Stark’s name.

“Long enough,” he answered noncommittally in between bites of my pilfered cookie. Stark noticed my look. “Fine, I’ll get you another one. Actually, I should probably bring some back for the guys.”

There were five members in the band. Thor Odinson the lead guitarist, Clint Barton the rhythm guitarist and backup vocals, Natasha Stark bassist and backup vocals, James Barnes the drummer, and finally Steve Rogers as lead singer. The names seemed so familiar to me but try as I might I could not place them. Stark returned to the table with a brown bag loaded with three boxes of cookies and other pastries for the band.

They were all uniquely attractive dressed in their leathers with varying degrees of tattoos and piercings. I found myself studying Steve and James the most. Steve seemed to always have a shadow of a smile on his face as if he knew something no one else did. James, on the other hand, seemed angry, angry, and barely holding it in. In all the photos displayed in their album booklet, they seemed to always be beside one another, just shy of touching. Interesting.

“Performing is tough work, as you know.” I missed everything Stark said up until that point. “So, you ready yet, honey?”

“…ready for what?” I questioned, cautiously.

“Ready to meet the band of course! I told them I was bringing you around tonight.”

I looked down at myself. I had no plans to meet anyone after this gig. An orange Bardot knitted mini dress and matching Windsor block heels was not exactly the type of outfit you wear to a rock concert.

Checking the time on my phone, I realized the café was just about an hour from closing. I shot a quick text to Justin.

This guy sitting with me is TONY STARK. He’s taking me to meet his band. Not sure where, but I’m keeping GPS on my phone turned on. Should be fine. Save this message jic!

“Group texting your friends and family to make sure they know who to find in case you turn up missing, honey?”

I didn’t find that as funny as he seemed to. “No, but I did text my sister to stop by and check on Pocket since I’ll be coming back later than I thought.” I packed my book back inside my satchel and kept my phone in my hand as Justin shot me an incredibly concerned look from behind the counter. I smiled back, silently telling him everything would be fine. Hopefully.

“And who or what exactly is a Pocket?”

“Pocket is my cat.” Like any loving Cat Mom, I opened my photo gallery and showed him the latest picture of my beautiful Bombay. I had to laugh. The last picture I took was of us cheek to cheek with me smiling the biggest smile. I loved my baby.

“Cute. Didn’t peg you for a Cat Mom though,” Tony remarked offhandedly.

“What did you think?” I asked, curiously.

“You seem more like the type to have this really elaborate aquarium system and just sit with the lights off, listening to music, and watching the little guys swim around.”

“Who says I can’t have both?” I had to give it to Stark. He had a relentless personality that made it difficult to be wary of him or designate him to the list of classist assholes who run the world.

I followed Stark outside of the café to his car. Usually, I would just walk back home because I lived down the street. He drove an Audi because of course Tony Stark would never be caught driving anything less than an Audi.

“So, what is a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist doing managing a band?” I asked him, settling in the passenger seat with my bag across my lap.

“Thought I might change up my career a little. Don’t get me wrong, I would probably go crazy if I had to spend weeks at a time away from my lab, but Natty loves music and thought it would be a good investment so here we are.”

“And Natasha is your wife?” I glanced at the ring on his left hand. But then Stark made the same wet noise in the back of his throat Pocket makes whenever she hacks up a furball. “Stark?”

“God, no!” he visibly shuddered. “My wife’s name is Virginia. Natty is my sister, baby sister.” He shook his head a little as if to dislodge the disgusting thought from his mind. “Here, open the glove box. I thought you might have questions, so I prepared a small presentation.”

Shrugging, because how much weirder could this get, I opened the glove box and grabbed the only thing inside, a pearl white iPad Pro. As soon as I turned it on a PowerPoint Presentation began detailing a brief history of the members of the 107th.

Steve and James grew up together. Their mothers were best friends and when Steve’s mother passed away, the Barnes family took him in. They both enlisted in the Army after high school. I skimmed over the major battles they fought and skipped over to the other members of the band. Clint Barton was also a member of the military, Special Ops, specifically and was set to join the CIA. The story gets a little vague from there as to how he ended up in a rock band. Thor Odinson’s story was a little surprising. He was a highborn member of a royal family in Sweden, but he fell in love with a woman who was not of royal blood. The Queen, Thor’s mother, flipped her shit when she discovered her only son wanted to make a commoner his wife. Thor’s biography went on to say he renounced his birthright and left for America to start a new life. Oddly enough, there was nothing in the slides about Stark’s sister.

“I still don’t understand why you or the band for that matter, would want to add an extra member. You’re already near capacity with five—”

“It worked for Foreigner,” he muttered

“—adding me would only cut into their profits.”

“Or increase it,” Stark countered. “Besides, it would be more an exchange rather than an addition.”

“Who’s leaving?”

“My sister.” There was a story there, clearly, but Stark turned on the stereo before I could ask. “This is the first album they recorded.” The record opened with a deep voice speaking in…Russian? Nine words in Russian. It sounded pretty good, if not a little odd. “That’s Steve.” Then an answering voice, different than the one before, angrier, answered back. “And that’s James.”

“What’s he saying?” I asked, softly, not wanting to miss any of the haunting melody from the first few chords of the guitar.

“Ready to comply.”

I expected Stark to drive us to a concert hall. Or a stadium. Maybe even a nightclub. Instead, he took us to the train station. There were dozens of cars already parked and a line almost to the ticket booth. I tried to busy myself by checking my reflection in the visor vanity mirror. My riotous curls held up well in the beige wrap keeping it off my neck. I adjusted my black choker a little, checking to make sure the locket hanging at the base of my throat was secure. The last thing I needed was to lose it in a place like this. I had my piercings in—eyebrow, Monroe, and a stud in my nose—a perk I could finally enjoy again after leaving the Black Widows. Ransom always said my alternative look didn’t fit the image of the band he was crafting.

I glanced over at Stark to find him already watching me. That was just a little bit creepy. At least I always carry a little backup in my bag.

“You look like you’re getting cold feet, honey.”

“There’s no point in that now,” I shrugged. “We’re already here.” Stark’s hand caught my arm in an easily breakable clutch. My eyebrows lifted. “Stark?”

He licked his lips a little anxiously. “Are you sure? I mean, I…I can just tell them that you weren’t interested, and we can just find someone else.”

It sounded a lot like he was trying to tell me something else. But the music was still playing in the stereo and even if I was a little nervous and on the edge of dreading what was coming next, I said, “we’re already here. Might as well see if me and the band mesh.”

That strange look returned to Stark’s face. This time it was a mixture of relief and frustration. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Stark made me wait in the car for him to open the door for me. It was ridiculously chivalrous and helped put me at ease even if it was only a little bit. He disregarded the line completely, taking me three or four cars down. Stark seemed to notice my apprehension. “We thought you might have a better experience watching from the VIP car.”

That made sense. Listening to the band on the way over piqued my interest. It would improve the overall experience of seeing the 107th live without being surrounded by their screaming fans.

“Just one question,” I stopped, not allowing Stark to lead me on the car. “If I step on this train, I’m not going to end up in the middle of a fight to the death between the tail-enders and front enders, right?”

Stark snorted a laugh. “You’re funny. I suppose that makes you a Chris Evans fan, huh?”

“I enjoy his work,” I answered easily, following him up the steps to the car. “Are you?”

“God, no. The man’s a menace. He has the charisma of Jim Jones and the physical appeal of an early 30s, pre-Scientology Tom Cruise. At least we have Dodger,” he lamented.

I wanted to be offended that Stark could even conceive comparing Chris Evans to Jim Jones, but I suppose us fans were something like a cult following to him and his body of work.

“So…does that mean you’re a Sebastian Stan fan?”

Stark groaned. “He’s even worse. I’ll tell you who’s a phenomenal actor. That RDJ. Man’s a genius. You ever watched Less Than Zero? Greatest piece of cinema to grace the screen in the last thirty years.”

The car we entered was decorated in ornate reds and golds with lavish, glistening cherry wood walls. There was a minibar, a plush red loveseat, two armchairs, and a television set covering the window facing the sofa. Stark made a beeline for the bar, leaving me to settle on the sofa.

“When are they going to start?”

“Should be in a few minutes. Have to give the fans time to board.”

“Yeah, but the car they’re all going in is only so big. There’s no way all those people we passed are going to make it on.”

“No, but they’ll be the first to board for the next show.”

My forehead crinkled as I replayed his words. “Hold on, does the 107th always play on this train?”

“Yes. It helps with crowd control, and you would be surprised how much money that saves instead of having three or four tour buses.”

“But—”

“Hey, hey! I brought tacos!” a tall, wisp of a man dressed in ripped blue jeans, a pair of black converse sneakers, and a black and white long-sleeved 107th baseball shirt, nearly danced in the room carrying four Taco Bell 12 pack boxes. “Ooohh, she’s pretty. Are we finally going to have some class in this goddamn place?” he set the boxes of tacos on the table and sat down uncomfortably close to me. So close I could smell the faint scents of sweat, Calvin Klein cologne, and weed.

He was grimy and everything about him screamed roadie and drug supplier, but I felt more at ease around him than I had since the moment Tony Stark approached me. “We’ll see how the show goes,” I smiled.

He smiled wide, bright white teeth gleaming beneath the light. “Scott Lang,” he offered his hand. “Roadie for the 107th and your friendly neighborhood supplier. Just tell me your poison and I’ll hook you up.”

I shook his hand with a laugh, telling him my name. Scott was still staring at me expectantly. Oh, what the hell? I was technically at a rock concert. “I’m not into the heavy stuff, but I’ll take some weed.”

Scott clapped his hand and rubbed them together. “Coming right up!”

Stark brought over a tray with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a charcuterie board with a mix of cheese, crackers, meat, and fruit. “You kids play nice. I’ll be back later.”

I glanced up from the board watching Stark walk away. “Hey, don’t disappear. You’re my ride, remember?”

Tony Stark turned back to me. He gazed at me in an eerie silence for a long time. Then Scott nudged me to pass a freshly rolled blunt and lighter. “Don’t worry, honey,” Stark finally said. “I won’t be far. Enjoy the show. And Scott? Don’t forget to show her that thing when it’s over.” He rapped his knuckles once on the door before pulling it shut.

Scott clicked on the tv and opened the boxes. “Now tell me, hard, soft, or DLT?”

“Any nacho cheese flavored?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then DLT me.”

Scott kept up a nonstop flow of chatter in between bites of tacos and the cookies Stark brought back from the café. He told me how the guys took a chance on an ex-convict and made him a roadie for their band. He mentioned he had a daughter who was about as intelligent as Stark and would be starting her first year of college in the Spring. Scott was almost too easy to talk to or maybe it was the joint we were sharing because I started telling him exactly why I was kicked out of my previous band.

“What an asshole!” Scott exhaled. “It’s not like that with the 107th. Fucking is optional, not mandatory.” I was biting my third taco when the crowd roared a deafening scream when the band walked onstage. “These guys are great, Sissy, you’re going to love them.”

The lights went down until only the stage remained visible. I hardly knew where to look when James twirled his sticks with one hand, signaling the start. Having Stark play their music in the car left me vastly unprepared for the raw talent and synergy of the 107th. Each member complemented the other, and Jesus, Steve had a beautiful voice. Natasha’s accompanied vocals weaved around Steve’s in an ethereal symphony that I could never hope to match. I suddenly felt like that ten-year-old kid performing in front of the entire school for the talent show. I would be completely out of my depths with the 107th. At least with the Black Widows, Penelope and Brittany were the showstoppers. My only job was playing the piano and concentrating on harmonizing low enough so that the crowd did not hear me over them.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Scott playfully nudged my shoulder, helpfully pouring me a glass of wine. “You wouldn’t be here if Stark thought you might disrupt the flow of the band.”

I scoffed, gulping down the wine and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand when he poured me another. “I don’t know how any of you can possibly know that.” The heavy burn in my chest helped stave off the sudden bout of anxiety blooming in the pit of my stomach.

“You sure you don’t want something a little stronger to ease the tension?” Scott offered, producing enough bags of coke and pills, probably X, to get us both buried under the jail.

“Nah, my dad spent most of his adult life on and off drugs. I’m not going down that road.”

“Then this is going to have to do.” Scott passed me a fresh joint.

We kept smoking and drinking and eating tacos and cheese until I was able to let myself go and enjoy the concert. Thor had two guitar solos and damn if he was not the best I’ve heard in years. He was as good as Eddie Van Halen at his peak, maybe better. If Thor was Eddie Van Halen, then Clint was without a doubt the second coming of Hendrix.

By the sixth song, my anxiety disappeared completely, along with four blunts and two boxes of tacos split between Scott and myself. Scott’s body sunk laxly into the sofa, his feet on top of the coffee table. At some point I can’t recall, my legs ended up across his lap with my shoes off and Scott mindlessly rubbing my feet.

“The show’s coming to a close soon. The guys are going to clean themselves up a bit, but then they’re coming back here.”

The weed and wine kept me calm. “Audition time?”

“Something like that.”

“Any advice?”

“Barnes is the one to sell it to. Everyone else trusts Stark’s picks, but if Barnes says no, they say no.”

There was something about this conversation that felt off to me. Not only was this an odd scenario for a band audition—no one I knew wanted to hear an appeal from a prospective member after a concert—the location for the concert was off. Why a train of all places?

“What about Natasha?” I asked, hoping to shake off the rising uncertainty. “She’s leaving the band, right? She doesn’t care who replaces her?’

“Hell no!” Scott snorted. “She’s been as ready to get away from all this as she’s ready to leave Steve.”

My eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “Natasha and Steve are together?”

“As together as two people can be who despise one another. They’re married,” he blurted out (un)helpfully.

“Stark didn’t mention that his sister was married to Steve.” In the grand scheme of things, it probably didn’t mean as much as I was making it. Still, the longer the night went on the stranger this whole band business felt. Ugh, my head was starting to hurt.

“You’re thinking too hard again, Sissy. Hey!” he yelled, almost making me flip off the sofa. “I’m supposed to show you the thing.”

“The thing?”

“The thing.”

“What’s the thing?”

“The thing!” Scott stumbled off the couch and started feeling along the wall across from the minibar.

“Uh, Scott…?”

“Hang on, it’s here somewhere!”

“You look like my cat when I turn on the flashlight,” I snorted, standing with a stretch.

“Oh hush, just give me a sec.”

Flickering my gaze back to the tv I could see the band winding down. They were closing the show with a drum solo. Whoever was recording or operating the camera zoomed in on James. I found myself drifting closer. He looked so focused. Even the crowd grew enraptured as he hit each note with precision and ease. Watching the drummer just lose it like they’re playing for no one but themselves was always my favorite part about going to band concerts. James’s eyes suddenly lifted and stared right at the camera. I bit my lip looking away, feeling ridiculous as I did so. It’s not like it was at all possible for him to see me. He stared unflinchingly as he worked the drums as though they were a mere afterthought. James really was handsome with his pouty pink mouth and glimmering nose ring. I wondered for a moment what he would think of mine. A slow smirk danced at the corners of his mouth. It was all the warning I had before James opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out below his chin like Gene Simmons. Although, seeing Gene Simmons’s tongue never left me so warm and restless.

“Found it!” Scott’s loud, happy voice scared the shit out of me. “It’s right here.” He pressed a spot on the wall like it was a secret switch. But then the panel slid up and behind it was a— “What do you think? Feel like playing something?”

It was a white baby grand piano. A Steinway. James and his impossible stare down became a distant memory as I drifted by Scott to the piano. “It’s so beautiful.” I don’t know why I was whispering. Maybe it was because the last time I played on a piano that nice was in my great-grandmother’s living room. My uncle sold it when she died and promised he would buy me a better one with the money. Still waiting for that to happen. Or maybe it was because I was stoned off my ass. Whatever Scott had was better than what my guy sold me. My finger lightly pressed one of the keys, giggling absurdly over the sound it made. “Is she mine, Scott?”

“She could be. Ooh! I know! Play something by the Stones!”

Scott’s excited jumping up and down almost made me dizzy. I choose to believe I sat down gracefully on the bench rather than falling on my ass. I exhaled lightly placing my hand on the keys. The man wanted The Rolling Stones, that’s what I’d give him. Scott started singing after barely a minute of me playing.

“She comes in colors everywhere

“She combs her hair

“She’s like a rainbow

“Coming, colors in the air

“Oh, everywhere

“She comes in colors

I closed my eyes, tuning out Scott’s offkey wailing, and continued playing. This was the only thing I wanted to do. Play my music, make people happy and want to dance when they hear it, maybe write the occasional song or two, but with the horrendous state of music, that dream was looking less and less likely. Being rich or world-famous meant next to nothing compared to my music.

When I played the last note, something felt different. The very air around me grew thin and colder. Even Scott was suddenly quiet as a mouse. That was the most alarming realization of all. Exhaling sharply, I turned around on the bench. The band, the 107th settled around the room as if they had always been there. Two of them, Clint and Thor, were seated on the couch munching on cold tacos giving me huge smiles. Natasha stood by the door watching me unblinkingly. She did look a lot like her brother, but the sometimes jovial, mostly somber look Tony Stark held most of the evening I spent with him, was absent in Natasha’s eyes. She stood amongst her band with no other reactions other than the desire to stare me down. Did Stark mislead me? Did Natasha really not want to leave the band? Slowly, she started to clap. The rest of the band joined in applauding me and it was like I could feel that weight of self-doubt and weeks of mounting anxiety fade away.

“I can always count on Anthony to come through when I need him.” Natasha seemed to glide to me, or maybe it was my inebriated fumbling to stand that made her look so graceful in comparison. She had porcelain skin and apple red cheeks accentuated by the crimson painted across her lips. Her hair was the color of chestnuts, long and curled, tapering at the small of her back. She had her brother’s almond eyes that didn’t shine as brightly as they could. Unlike the rest of the 107th who wore all black leathers, Natasha wore a white lace bodysuit cleverly disguised as a top by her cutoff jeans, white zippered booties, and a lace choker. “You’re a perfect fit.”

I shook my head trying not to smile like that overeager girl invited to her first party by one of the cool girls. “You haven’t heard me sing yet.”

“Oh, there’ll be enough time for that soon.” Natasha’s smile shriveled. Her fingers tightened reflexively around mine before sidestepping Steve. He paid her no mind, clearly used to this behavior. He took my hand in a surprisingly gentlemanly move for someone so tall and burly. “I’m Steve.”

He smiled at me, and something fluttered in my belly. I’ve never seen someone like Steve in a rock band before. He had the face of the all-American quarterback the football dads argued and started fights about in the bars…at least from the neck up. Perfectly coiffed blonde hair, plump red lips that put Justin’s to shame. Baby blue eyes that were more wicked than pure and still looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. From the neck down, Steve had a sleeve tattoo on his right arm and more intricately colored swirls on his left. There were more tattoos on the left side of his chest, but the writings remained obscured by Steve's unbuttoned leather vest, which showed off his delicious abs and blonde happy trail peeking over the button of leather pants. I knew I was staring too long at the unmistakable bulge behind his zipper when he pressed his finger under my chin to draw my eyes back up to his.

“Let me introduce you to the rest of the guys.” Steve thankfully chose to ignore the embarrassment I was dying from. “Thor,” he pointed to the hulking blonde whose smile brought cute crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Clint,” the shorter member of the band smirked at me before snorting one of the lines Scott cut on the coffee table. “And our leader.”

Up until then, James had hung back foot against the wall and arms over his chest. His bare chest with pink pierced nipples. I pinched the back of my hand so I wouldn’t start staring at James the same way I had with Steve. These were my future bandmates! I had no business objectifying them like this. But James seemed wholly unconcerned fishing a pack of cigarettes out of those tiny leather shorts. He lit a cigarette, tossing the pack and the lighter to Thor, who had his boots propped on the table watching us like he was watching a show. James inhaled and exhaled slowly. His eyes flickered to mine the same way they did during the concert. The rest of the room seemed to dissolve into white noise around me as James crooked his finger, beckoning me closer. Like a puppet on a string, my feet carried me to James who’s gaze languorously roved along the dips and curves of my body. In the far recesses of my mind, I knew I was already doing the one thing that cost me my place amongst the Black Widows, thinking with what’s between my legs rather than what’s on my shoulders.

He pushed off the wall, startling me in place. “So, this is the little songbird?” he paced slow circles around me like a predator moving in for the kill. “When Stark said he’d found someone for us, you’re not at all what I expected.” He tilted his head away from me, blowing a puff of smoke from his lips that obscured my vision of the others in the room. “I thought as an ex-Black Widow you would be all pink outfits and white boots.”

I tried and failed to hide my grimace. Ransom’s vision for Penelope and the group was reinventing the girl groups of the 90s, complete with bright colors and straight wigs. It was stereotypical and racist to a point, but I held back my complaints and followed his directives thinking with his backing I would at least get a record deal out of the shitshow he was creating.

“That’s what the manager wanted.”

“Why did you go along with it then?”

“I just wanted to play my music.” James bit his lip, surprising me by wrapping his arm around my waist and drawing me flush against him. I could feel how hard he was beneath his leather shorts. “James.” My nails dug into his shoulders as he ground his hips. His skin was oddly cold for someone who just spent hours performing. He was so pretty up close. His eyes were the most startling shade of gray. I had too much weed in my system. I needed to stop. But then James started kissing and sucking on the special spot on my neck. My panties were getting sticky as James angled his hips just enough to put pressure on my aching clit. “We shouldn’t.” I tried and failed to regain perspective on what we were doing. The band was still there, and I could feel them watching us.

“But we’re going to anyway.” James grabbed my thighs wrapping them around his waist, carrying me back to the wall. His mouth covered mine, swallowing my objections. “Knew you were the one when Stark showed us your videos.”

“James!” I moaned, feeling the heat spreading quickly through my body.

“Go on, songbird,” he huffed, grinding harder. “Make a mess on me.” My teeth clamped down on his shoulder as I came harder than I ever had from dry humping. James’s fingers gripped my thighs harder as he groaned into my neck, finishing in his shorts. He pulled back after a moment, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. Nose kisses. Cute. “You should get cleaned up. Stark will be back with a copy of your contract.”

“I’ll take her.” James stiffened against me when Natasha spoke. He turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder. I only saw about a fraction of the look on his face, and it was enough to give me chills. “Oh, don’t be that way, James,” Natasha purred. That sweet disposition from earlier had twisted into something a little cockier. “She is to be my replacement after all, and it’s only right that I gift her with my experiences of being surrounded by four swinging dicks on the daily.”

My eyes widened at the animosity that was simmering beneath the surface of this band. Scott laughed a little uncomfortably. “Yeah, right, never thought how it might feel from a woman’s POV.”

I wiggled a little in James’s arms until he set me down. My fingers touched his chiseled jaw. “It’s okay. She’s not going to say anything that will make me leave this band.”

James turned back to me, a little smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Oh, songbird, even if she did, we would never let you go.”

I could only blink at him as he sauntered away to the table, dropping to his knees to snort lines off Scott’s mirror.

Natasha looped her arm through mine. “My mother tried to teach me to play the piano. It never worked out.”

________________________________________

The high from the wine and blunts was diminishing at a rapid rate. I carefully perched myself on the edge of the bed, thankful the lamplight was hiding the ominous shadows this train seemed to draw. My quick trip to the washroom brought me a little more clarity. I accepted a ride from a virtual stranger onto a train in the middle of nowhere to join a band I’ve never heard of then gorged myself on weed and wine and let the drummer of said band dry hump me to orgasm in front of the other members of the band. And to make things worse I was hungry again.

Natasha sat across from me. Her lit cigarette burning idly as her critical stare burned through me.

“This is my room,” she said, softly. It was a full bed taking up the car's back end with a desk and two chairs.

“It’s nice,” I said, trying not to let my discomfort show on my face. Natasha was beautiful, but not my type. “Steve must get a lot of writing done in here. Or do you write the songs?”

“I said this is my room. Steve has his own somewhere else on this train.” She took a puff off her cigarette. Her eyes flickering sideways to the Howard Miller ticking on the desk. 11:45pm. It was late. I needed to get home.

“Would you call your brother for me? I have to get home.”

“Don’t you want to know why Steve and I don’t share a bedroom?” her dark eyes glittered with contempt and exhaustion. “Surely, you have a few minutes to spare to the woman you’re replacing.”

“I, I’m not trying to replace anyone,” I said, guiltily. “Stark said you were leaving. He didn’t tell me why or anything about you and Steve being…estranged.”

Natasha’s beautiful laugh had a sharp tinge. “Estranged? Is that what I should call it? Huh.”

“Natasha—”

“I met Steve after he was discharged from the Army. He was suffering from PTSD and depression. I didn’t know that at the time, but looking back on it, I don’t think it would have made a difference. I was working out in the gym and this asshole guy kept hitting on me. I tried ignoring him and then he started getting physical with me. Steve came almost out of nowhere. I think he broke the poor bastard’s jaw. It was a hell of an ice breaker.” She smiled, but there was no joy or happiness in her eyes. It was almost an involuntary reaction. “I asked him for coffee after our workouts. It was the least I could do when everyone else seemed to ignore that guy practically assaulting me. Steve was so different from what he is now. He still had this boyish charm and was the last true gentleman in the world. Anthony hated him on sight. He even had his people perform a full background check on him. That was the first time my brother and I ever had a real fight. He believed Steve had too many issues to fully commit to a relationship with anyone. I didn’t look at the file myself because the things in Steve’s past were not my business.” Natasha glanced at her left hand. Looking at her wedding ring seemed to bring her more pain than happiness. “He proposed to me six months after that coffee date. I thought it was a little soon, but Steve, he told me, why should he wait? He already met the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And stupid me,” Natasha said, with a watery laugh. “I never dreamed he was talking about someone besides myself.”

I wanted to leave. God, I wanted to go home and curl up next to Pocket and pretend this night never happened. We could watch Guardians of the Glades together. Bands be damned. I could take the ridiculous amount of money my stepdad deposited into my account and take a road trip to New York. I could take Justin with me. I’ve always wanted to visit Max & Mina’s. Or maybe The Comfort Kitchen. Who wouldn’t want the option to have Thanksgiving dinner year-round? But another part of me wanted to hear the end of this.

“We had three weeks left until the wedding when Steve received a phone call about one of his military buddies. Bucky.” Natasha’s lips curled in a snarl.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” I asked in spite of myself.

“Steve never spoke to me about Bucky, but from what he didn’t say, and all that Anthony tried to tell me, Bucky went missing on a mission and was declared dead. Turns out he was captured by the enemy and tortured for over a year. Steve blamed himself for leaving him behind. He started having nightmares again. He would wake himself up screaming Bucky’s name. The work he was doing with the VA started to lapse. He would spend hours away from home, each time he came back looking more lost than when he left.” She paused again, looking like she would start crying at any moment. “My Stevie was changing before my eyes. I begged him to let me postpone the wedding, but he was adamant about marrying me as soon as possible.”

“Natasha. I really think you should call your brother now.” The hysterical edge that crept into her eyes and reverberated in her voice scared me more than I had ever been scared in my life.

“The wedding was everything I hoped it would be.” She opened the top desk drawer and retrieved a beautiful photo frame. It was vintage gold decorated with different color pearls. The wedding photo was black and white. Steve and Natasha stood face to face, him kissing her hand as he stared deeply into her eyes. She wore a gorgeous white wedding gown with long lace sleeves and Steve adorned a handsome tuxedo. He looked at her with so much love and awe. How could it go wrong? “I let myself think that this thing with Bucky was over. After the reception, we were supposed to take Anthony’s plane to the Amalfi Coast. Steve had other plans. He said that he wanted to try something different. So, he brought me here!” the fine hairs at the back of my neck began to stand. The longer Natasha talked, the more deranged she sounded. “It was odd sure, but I just thought he was being spontaneous and romantic, carrying me over the threshold of the train and bringing me to this room. We made love on that bed.” Natasha took the frame from my hands laying it face down on top of the desk. Enough was enough. I eased off the bed determinedly. If she was going to keep stalling on finding her brother, I would just do it myself. “And then he slit my throat.”

My lips parted as I struggled to find something to say. Steve tried to kill his wife? I found myself staring at the lace choker around her neck. Was it hiding Steve’s shameful act? What the hell had Stark dragged me into?

“Look, Natasha, if Steve really tried to kill you, that’s something you should be telling the police. And probably not starting a band with him.”

Natasha laughed harshly. “Is that what you think? Steve tried to kill me? Steve didn’t try to kill me. Steve did kill me.”

“M’kay. I guess you might have gotten into Scott’s stash before the concert. So, I’m going to go find your brother and thank him for reaching out, but this is not the band for me.” My bag was still in the viewing car. Along with my phone and my 22. I just had to run back there and grab it and get the hell off this damn train. But the door to the car slid shut on its own before I could leave. “What the fuck?” the lamp flickered off beside me bathing the room in darkness. “Natasha.” The car lurched forward, making me lose my footing against the wall. “Is the train moving? What the fuck? Natasha, turn on the light!”

A series of bone cracks filled the silence of the bedroom. “Turns out that when Bucky’s old team realized he was still alive, their newly appointed captain decided to lead the rest of them into a raid to find him.” It was still dark, and I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.

“Natasha, turn on the light.”

“Bucky’s captors found out Steve and his team were coming and left his body as a gift.” She sounded closer to me. “Steve was the one to find his body. He was never able to accept that Bucky was gone. So, he did the unthinkable.” Her voice sounded thicker. Was she crying?

“Natasha, please. Turn on the light and let me out of here.” It was taking everything in me to stay calm. Her story was starting to sound completely insane. Either she really was high, or Stark came to me to get her out of this band and away from Steve before she lost her mind completely.

“He found these old books on spirits and demons and these witches that can raise the dead.” I stopped struggling with the car handle. My great grandparents on my father’s side were root doctors. They knew and often practiced voodoo. I even read a few of their books. The books all agreed on one thing. You NEVER bring back a soul once it has crossed over. “He needed three things to complete the ritual. A physical vessel,” the train. “A host,” Bucky’s body. “And the blood of a willing sacrifice,” Natasha boarding the train without force. “Steve had it all planned out. But the thing he missed in all his planning and researching, every ritual requires a sacrifice from the practitioner. Now, he’s like the rest of us.”

“Let me out, Natasha. Let me out right now!”

“I’m going to give you the most important thing Steve took away from me. A choice.” The lights clicked on almost blindingly bright. I had to blink a few times just to be able to see clearly. This can’t be real. And when I did…Natasha looked exactly as she did in her wedding photo, except her beautiful white dress was stained with the blood pouring from her opened throat. This can’t be real. “You’re not leaving this train. I’ll make it quick and then you will never have to worry about Steve and Bucky getting their hands on you.” Natasha hefted a bloody axe above her head.

I dived out of the way mere moments before she brought the axe down where my head would have been. The blade sunk into the door with a loud whack! Natasha grunted, the bones in her body making that awful crunching, like trying to straighten out a body in the stage of rigor mortis. While she struggled to pull the axe from the door, making headway as pieces of wood fell to the floor, I desperately searched the room for any sort of weapon I could use against her.

The photo frame!

I grabbed it, swinging back as hard as I could, bringing it down across her temple. She fell long enough for me to pull open the door and run into the hallway. I had to get the fuck off this train! The hall was empty. I needed my phone, but I couldn’t go back to the viewing car. If what Natasha said was true about Steve and whoever the hell this Bucky was, then the others, Thor and Clint had to be ghosts as well. And what the hell was Stark for that matter? He knew what his sister was and what Steve did to her. Why did he pull me into this madness?

“Fuck, if I just find the way we came in—jumping from a train is crazy, but it’s either that or get axed to death by the bride from hell!”

Wait.

What was that?

Something moved in the distance. Something with three heads?

Clint stepped forward, but that thing was not Clint. “What the fuck?”

“This too weird for you?” the three heads of Clint on a dog’s body asked in sync. “No, this isn’t too weird for you. Scott says you’re cool.” His tail wagged behind him like a happy puppy. A happy puppy with huge paws and three heads filled with sharp teeth. “I know, I know, we’re supposed to leave you be, but it’s been a while since I’ve been with someone I didn’t eat afterwards. Why don’t you come over here, pretty, and let me take a bite? Just a little one. You’ll barely feel it.”

Clint’s tail wagged a little faster when I started backing up. He was going to chase me. He wanted to chase me. A low chuckle behind me left me reluctant to take my eyes off Clint the Cerberus, but I could feel the danger at my back. “Let’s not be hasty, Barton. Perhaps the lady prefers one head.”

Clint snorted a growl. “And one eye.”

Thor stepped from the shadows and, Jesus, was this entire train full of goddamn monsters? Thor looked even bigger and wider. His long hair streaked with blood and…one eye centered on his forehead. Thor moved closer, herding me back towards Clint. I could feel his three noses snuffling against the back of my thighs and biting at the hem of my dress.

“Please, please, please,” I hated how powerless I felt in between them. “Please let me go.”

His large blue eye stared at me unblinking. Pityingly. His towering frame curled forward so that instead of his abs at my eye line, my face squished against his chest. “That’s not possible, love.” Thor’s hand rubbed my back consolingly. My hands gripped the lapels of his jacket as I choked out a fearful sob when all three of Clint’s tongues pushed underneath my dress. “The less you fight the easier this will all be.”

“Thor, why don’t we just take her for ourselves?” one of Clint’s heads suggest while the other two kept snuffling and biting at my dress. “They brought us here and they never let us keep any for ourselves!”

“Take care in how you speak. They are our brothers.” He swayed us back and forth to a melody only he could hear. “I’m sure in time they will be willing to share.” Thor pressed his nose to my hair, breathing deeply as he squeezed me a little harder. “But you are right. She smells divine.” His large wet tongue flicked against my neck, and I could feel just a hint of his teeth against the fragile skin there.

“See?” Clint danced in place with an excited yip, his three heads panting with his tongues lolling out. “We both know once they have her, Stark won’t give a damn about us anymore. He’ll bring the fans, but we will never get another chance like this again.” I squeezed my eyes shut when the nose of his left head nudged the seat of my panties. “But I could do it. Right now. One bite and it’s all over.” Clint’s middle head pulled back with a canine whine. “She smells so good, Thor! I haven’t smelled anything so good since that one time in Budapest!”

“I said, no!” Thor growled, throwing me aside just as one of Clint’s heads almost bit my leg.

I landed hard on the floor, dazed, but only for a moment because Clint was running towards me, all three jaws snapping and teeth glistening drool.

“BARTON, STOP!” Thor boomed, wrapping one large arm around Clint’s necks drawing him back from me.

I had to get away. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, ignoring the snarls and growls behind me. I had to get away. I ran until I made it to a different car, sealing the door behind me. Thor’s shouts and Clint’s growls faded until blissful silence surrounded me. Several doors lined each side of the car. It looked more like the hallway of an apartment complex than a train car. I tried opening all of them, hoping that if none of them led me to outside then at least one would have a weapon.

None of the doors worked. I knew I had to keep moving. Maybe I would find the engine car and stop this haunted train.

I stopped moving, hearing something. A voice.

Was that someone singing? Offkey?

“And I don’t want to miss one smile

"And I don’t want to miss one kiss

"Well, I just want to be with you

"Right here with you

"Just like this

Scott.

Wearing white AirPods.

Wailing Aerosmith at the top of his lungs offkey while he…

Oh, God. I doubled over vomiting up every taco I’d eaten earlier in the night. Scott was in the train car that must have been where the concert took place. Now there was nothing but pieces and limbs and organs of bodies on the floor covered in an inch of fresh blood.

Scott was still oblivious to me hacking my lungs up as he pushed the broom around the bloody floor, using the handle as a makeshift microphone. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I stood back up. I didn’t have a weapon to really confront Scott with, but the funny thing about anger and adrenaline, it made you feel like fucking Superman.

Scott spun around, pausing mid-verse. He stood frozen, gaping at me so wide I could see the whites of his eyes. He let go of the push broom, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. “Hey, Sissy! You’re alive!” he backed away as I charged forward. “Not, not that you wouldn’t be, b-because you’re strong and smart and—!”

Grabbing handfuls of his shirt I shoved him into the wall. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

“Uh…” he was either scrambling for an answer or stalling for time. “Oh!” he smiled happily, and I braced myself for whatever bullshit he was about to say. “Sissy wants to know what’s going on. Marko, what’s going on.” My lips parted. There was no way he was— “I don’t know. What’s going on, Paul? Wait a minute. Who wants to know? Sissy wants to know.” He stared at me expectantly.

“Fucking Natasha just tried to axe me to death!” I shrieked, shaking him. Not by much. For a lanky Paul Rudd, he was pretty sturdy. “And you’re standing here quoting fucking Lost Boys to me?”

Scott frowned. “I’m sorry, Sissy. Natasha was not supposed to hurt you. She was supposed to be getting you ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Scott’s shoulders sagged. “To take her place. Look, I’ll level with you. One, because I like you, and two, because I really want a break from cleaning up this shit while my high comes down. This train will not stop until your heart does.”

Tears rose to my eyes as I stubbornly blinked them away. “Then I’ll hurl myself off it and let what happens happen, Scott.”

Scott’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “Hell no! It’s not worth that!”

“Scott,” I said, my voice so calm it unnerved even me. “Clint turned into a fucking three-headed dog and started sniffing under my dress. Thor is a cyclops and had it not been for his clearly misplaced loyalty to Steve I would have been in the center of the most insane threesome anyone ever thought of.”

Scott winced sympathetically. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a downer.”

“Scott, please. I just want to go home.”

Whatever little humor he was holding on to vanished. “That’s all any of us want. But once you willingly get on this train, you’re never getting off.”

“But my mom, my family, they’re not going to—”

“You’re already gone from their memories. It’s the malevolence of this place.” Scott slid to the floor, settling in the only semi blood-free spot. I fell heavily beside him, clutching his arm. “I don’t know exactly who conducts this train, but I’ve heard the rumors. It’s supposed to be this witch from centuries ago. She was the daughter of the most powerful witch to ever walk the Earth. When her mother ascended to Divinity, she was meant to lead the coven and her daughter after her and so on. They even had her betrothed to the son of the coven’s familiar.”

“I thought familiars could only be animals or reptiles.”

“Nah, that’s just J.K.’s bullshit to make her witches stand out from the others. The witch’s daughter was content to follow her coven’s plans for her until she met the guard that would protect her, her husband, and whatever children they had together. They fell in love and even after she married her betrothed, she still maintained a hidden relationship with him. But when she gave birth to her first and only child, that’s when the coven realized it’s not always sunny in Philadelphia. The baby was a half-orc. All green skin and tusks and the loudest cries you’ve ever heard from a newborn.”

It occurred to me at that moment that while Scott may not be a monster like the others, he was definitely not human. Instead of asking him about this, I said, “the witches used orcs as their guards, why?”

“You’ll never find a more fearsome, battle-ready clan of monsters than the orcs. Her mother was furious and even more embarrassed that her pride and joy would lower herself to lay with filth. The worst thing a witch could do was give her body to the beasts. Even pretty fauns were a big no-no. They planned to sacrifice the baby in a ritual that would cleanse the witch of her sin. Didn’t work. She flipped her shit and used her magic to slaughter every member of her coven until only her mother remained standing. While this was going on, her orc lover took their baby and fled. Now there were no witnesses to the daughter’s sinful union, but on the other hand, there was also no coven left. No one knows why, but the witch was said to have trapped her daughter on this train. Bound her magic to its engine to keep it running until the natural world returned to the fire from which it was created.”

“Why the monsters?”

“The daughter, mostly. The only ones she wanted near her were the monsters that reminded her of her orc lover and her child.”

“Then why the music? You all could pose a front as literally anything other than a rock band.”

“Sex, blood, and rock and roll. What could be better?”

I hugged my knees sobbing softly. “It can’t end like this. I never,” I had to keep breathing to stop myself from hyperventilating. “I never told my dad I forgive him for being weaker than his addiction.”

Scott’s head dropped against my shoulder. “I never got the chance to see my little girl grow up. Stark brings pictures sometimes when he boards. Her mother remarried. Stark said he’s a nice guy. Cop. Bit of an asshat.”

I laughed a little, sniffling. I wonder if his daughter has his sense of humor. “What does she think happened to you?” I turned to Scott who started sniffling too.

“Overdose. Thinks that I spiraled when I realized her mother wouldn’t take me back so we could be the family she deserved. God, it was probably like that really sad movie Chris Evans made. You know the one.”

“Yeah, where he was the lawyer. I cried when they found his body.” I closed my eyes, wishing I would be back in my apartment when I opened them. “Do you even get to see movies on this train?”

“Sure! Well, DVDs anyway. It is a ghost train after all.”

“Scott, is James a zombie?”

“Bucky’s more like a ghoul actually. He likes the warmth and blood, but only after they’ve been dead a while.”

“If I had anything left in my stomach, I might have spewed it all over your lap.” I wiped my eyes, letting my head fall back against the wall with a thump. “So, James is Bucky. I should have seen that coming. How was everyone able to hide themselves as human?”

“Just a part of the curse. They can change back and forth at will, but once midnight strikes, the change happens involuntarily, and they stay that way until sunrise. It’s why they reacted to you the way they did. The feral part of them takes over.”

“Oh. Can I just wait here for them to come and do whatever it is they’re going to do?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly.

“Are they going to hurt me, Scott?”

His hand wrapped around mine. “Yeah, I think they are.”

“Can you…can you give me something to make it easier? Please?” I turned to Scott whose lips thinned looking more serious than he had all night. “Scott?”

“I can try.” He pulled me up from the floor, little flakes of dried blood chipped away from my thighs. He led me towards the same way I came through, glancing down at my sick that was drying on the floor. “Dude, come on!” he whispered.

“Like you didn’t vomit the first time you saw a person ripped to pieces and eaten alive!”

“No, I didn’t because I was full of narcotics at the time!” he bickered back. “Just shush and follow me!” He glanced down both sides of the car before pulling me behind him. I didn’t waste time asking where we were going. Hopefully, it was somewhere with enough drugs to knock me out until it was over.

“SCOTT!” I grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back just as Natasha swung her axe, embedding it into the walls where his head was.

“Goddamn it, Natasha! You’re not supposed to kill her!”

“Why should Steve get his happy ending?” she wrenched the axe from the wall, her dark eyes wide and livid. “If I can’t kill Bucky, then I’m going to take away their little plaything!”

Scott reared back and punched Natasha in the face before she could swing again. “Scott!” I hissed, punching his shoulder. “You can’t hit her; she’s a girl!”

“First of all, ow,” he complained rubbing his arm, knowing damn well it didn’t hurt. “Second of all, that girl not only insulted you, she tried to chop your damn head off and would’ve taken mine if I stayed in the way.”

He was right. Of course he was right. “But still.”

Scott rolled his eyes. He grabbed my waist and lifted me over her prone body with two hands like I was a bag of flour. “Come on. She won’t stay down for long.” We went through two more empty cars, and along the way, I could feel eyes watching me. I squeezed Scott’s hand, making him glance back at me. “Ignore them. It’s just the souls of everyone who died on this train.” Because that’s not unsettling. He pulled open a random car and ushered me inside. He turned the locks and made me sit on the bed. There was a Pink Floyd poster on the wall next to Motley Cruë and Led Zeppelin next to that. He kneeled by my feet, lifting the mattress and retrieving a wooden jewelry box with a crescent amethyst jewel embedded in the center of the box beside a tree of life. “If you put a drop of this on your tongue, Steve and James won’t be able to change you.”

The handle to the car started to shake.

“SCOTT, COME ON BUDDY, WE HAVE TO FINISH THIS.” That was Steve. “I THINK IT’S SWEET THAT YOU TWO ARE BONDING, I REALLY DO, BUT TIME’S UP.”

“LITTLE MAN,” Thor rumbled. “LET THE WOMAN OUT SO THAT WE CAN PLAY.”

“YEAH, MAN!” Clint panted, scratching at the door. “I MIGHT’VE GOTTEN A LITTLE EXCITED IN THE HALL EARLIER, BUT IT’S ALL GOOD NOW. PROMISE.”

“SCOOOOOTT, I CAN SMELL HER IN THERE WITH YOU. SHE’S TERRIFIED. HER HEART KEEPS POUNDING BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! SHE KNOWS THERE’S NO WAY OUT. YOU KNOW THERE’S NO WAY OUT. OPEN THE DOOR.”

“Scott?” I whimpered, fearfully. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready to face whatever horrors those monsters had waiting for me.

“I need you to listen to me, Sissy. I never gave this to anyone on this train because I never really cared what happens after they board. That makes me an asshole. I know. But you have to take a drop of this.”

“What is it?” it looked like a potion bottle you could buy from Etsy. It even had a label that read Veritaserum. Yep, good ole Etsy.

“It’s a witch’s bottle.” He uncorked it, huffing at my gagging. “I know what you’re thinking. Elaine had one in that movie that she made from piss and menstrual blood from a tampon. Probably Mint.” He shuddered in disgust like mint was the problem in that scenario. “But I’m seventy-five percent sure that this is NOT piss and menstrual blood?”

“Scott, when this is all over, remind me to kill you.” I closed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. I coughed and gagged. The taste was bitter and rank like spoiled milk and snot.

“YOU BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE DOING, SCOTT!” now it sounded like Steve was ramming himself against the door.

“AWW!” Clint whined, his paws carving into the door. “WHY DOES SCOTT GET TO PLAY FIRST?”

Scott hurriedly shoved the bottle back inside the box. “HEY, ASSHOLES, STOP DESTROYING MY DOOR! YOU’RE SCARING HER!” He pushed the box back under his mattress. “Are you alright?” he whispered to me. I could only nod, still coughing as chills swept over my body. “Good.” A painful pinch struck me in the left side of my throat. I wobbled feeling dizzy. Scott gazed at me sadly. The syringe dangled loosely from his fingers. Betrayal coursed through my veins alongside whatever drugs Scott injected me with. “It won’t be so bad being with us. You’ll still love tacos. We can shop together on Etsy to make this place more luxury hotel and less Horror Express. And you’ll get to meet the pets. James has the cutest cat.” The door burst open behind me as I fell to my hands and knees. Why was I so cold? Was this what dying felt like? “Eventually, thinking of your old life won’t hurt so bad.”

“The m-memories,” it was getting hard to speak and keep my eyes open. I could faintly hear Clint’s nails clicking against the floor as he padded towards me, sniffing me all over. God, I hoped he wouldn’t try to pee on me. “Do they ever…ever go away?” I fell on my face, too weak to keep holding myself up. Someone turned me over and I could not see who it was. My vision blurred as everyone crowded around me.

“I remember all of them.”

Just before I passed out, I saw Natasha in the doorway. She was no longer holding the axe and her bloody wedding dress was gone, replaced by a pink sundress. She smiled at me looking relieved, happy, and so sorry. It started with her feet and then progressed up her body. Her body disintegrated into dust before my eyes. She was free.

There was something under me. Something soft and warm. It felt like fur. The only furry thing in my apartment was Pocket and I would sleep on the floor before I ever slept on top of her. I was still on the train. Cold fingers caressed the side of my face making me hiss.

Hiss? Wait.

“There she is!” he cooed softly. “Welcome back, little songbird.”

“James?” it was so hard to open my eyes. Everything ached. Even my eyelashes fluttering from James’s soft breaths made my nose twitch in irritation.

“Bucky, baby, call me Bucky.”

“Steve murdered Natasha for you, Bucky. I’ve never seen someone in so much pain.” The fur beneath me started moving. I groaned. “Am I laying on top of Steve?”

“You sure are.” I could hear the grin in Bucky’s voice.

“Mmm, no. I’m too heavy.”

Steve snorted beneath. “You’re just barely heavier than a blanket.” I could feel his nose pushing through my hair to my neck. It felt wet.

“Oh, no,” I groaned, wiggling on top of Steve, wanting to bury my face in his fur and sleep for fifty years. “Are you a dog like Clint or something?”

“Or something.” Steve’s hot tongue licked my neck from below my earlobe to the top of my collarbone. My fingers gripped the, no, his, fur beneath me. The heat of his tongue felt too good to worry over what sort of monster could have a tongue long enough to do that.

“Stevie did go a little crazy,” he said so glibly I braved the pain to frown. “But love makes you crazy sometimes.” This was why summoning a soul from its eternal rest was expressly forbidden in the magical world. Whatever comes back is only a shadow of who they were before. Bucky’s cold fingers moved down my face to my arms to my sides. “I was a little upset with Scott for giving you the serum. I was looking forward to changing you like me but damn, doll. You were gorgeous before. You’re perfect now.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” I realized. “I—I can’t feel my legs. Why can’t I feel my legs?” through force and gritted teeth that ground together in an odd way, I made myself open my eyes. James—Bucky leaned over me. His kohl liner was still impeccable. His hair was still sleek and silky. The only obvious clue that Bucky was a ghoul was the glowing red eyes and the blue veins spanning all over her face. “Sshh,” he whispered leaning over me until I could see nothing but his eyes. “Do you feel this?” his cold fingers touched something that made me gasp and arch, brushing my lips against his. “Oh, yeah, you feel this.” His fingers stroked harder, little slick sounds taking up the silence in the room.

“You in there yet, Buck?” Steve asked. His tongue and sharp teeth pressing into my skin just shy of drawing blood. Two huge golden paws cupped my breasts, rubbing my pierced nipples.

“Not yet, Stevie. You got to use two fingers.” The wailing sound I made when his two fingers pushed inside of me would have embarrassed me if I were not chasing the wave that was surely crashing towards me. “There you go.” Bucky nipped and sucked at my lips before pushing his tongue in my mouth. He tasted of blood, soil, and a tinge of something sweet. Steve pried one of my hands free from his fur and brought it down the length of Bucky’s naked torso until my fingers wrapped around his hard cock. He was warm there, so warm. “Aah!” Bucky groaned throwing his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbing just so. I wanted to bite it. “Just like that, doll.”

Steve guided my hand, teaching me the ways Bucky liked to be touched. Behind me, Steve nuzzled Bucky’s hand, growling softly. I turned a little watching them kiss. Steve did a horrifying thing to his wife and caused countless deaths just to get to this point, but watching them like this, ghoul and werewolf, I wondered if anyone would ever love me enough to do the same.

I came with a loud cry, tightening my fingers around Bucky who spilled over my hand and Steve’s, while Steve finished with a room-shaking howl against my back. We lay tangled together more on top of Steve than the actual bed since his hulking frame seemed to take up most of the mattress. A part of me wanted more from Bucky and Steve. A part of me wanted to close my eyes and let sleep drag me under.

But I could neither because I still needed to know, “why can’t I feel my legs?”

Bucky and Steve exchanged looks over my shoulder silently communicating. They must have come to some agreement because Bucky climbed off the bed, completely naked. The blue veins covered his skin. They looked nice. Steve carefully eased my body off his. He stood beside Bucky. He was so beautiful. He was a werewolf towering at least eight feet tall. He was even wider than his human form and his fur, his fur was the same beautiful blonde color as his hair. His big bushy tail swayed ever so slightly behind him. As thick as his fur was, I could still make out the colorful ink of his tattoos. It was amazing how much he did and didn’t look like himself. I reached out wanting to touch his warm, soft fur again.

But then I saw my hands. My claws.

“Hey, hey, sshh, sshh,” Steve says, kneeling before the bed, cupping my face between his paws. “You’re fine. Everything is exactly the way it should be.”

“Stevie’s right, songbird.” Bucky digs through the closet across the room. He had more tattoos on his back. Tattooed over his spine was a picture of a dead tree with broken branches filled with ravens and a full moon at the back of his left shoulder. “The serum is different for everyone. That’s why there are no two of the same monsters here.” He finds a bonze accented floor mirror. He purposely keeps the mirror turns towards himself as he drags it over. Bucky passes the mirror to Steve who still keeps it turned away from me. “We’re going to let you see who you are now. I don’t mind if you cry because tears make my cock throb,” he says plainly. “And your tears mixed with the scent of your fear,” he takes a lock of my hair between his fingers rolling his eyes into the back of his skull so easily it would even make The Undertaker jealous. “Fuck. We don’t have to show her right now, Stevie.” Bucky starts stroking his leaking cock in front of me. I should be disgusted, but I sit up, forcing myself to not look at the problem below my waist. “Look at her. Look how bad she wants it.”

“BUCK!” Steve growled irritably. “We have all the time in the world for that. She needs to see.”

Bucky pouted at Steve, grudgingly releasing his cock that seemed to be pointing at me.

“Honey,” Steve called to me, nose and ears twitching in humor. “Focus, please.” Satisfied that he had my attention, Steve continued. “This is going to shock you. Probably sicken you, but no matter how you feel, you really are beautiful, honey.”

Steve flipped the mirror towards me. My eyes scanned every inch of my reflection in the mirror. I was still myself, but completely different. At some point during my transformation, the guys stripped me of my clothes. I could see everything.

“I’m a snake.”

“You’re a lamia,” Bucky corrected me.

“A lamia,” I echoed, softly feeling numb. “That explains why I can’t feel my legs.”

My face looked the same except for the red, orange, and yellow scales where my skin should be. My eyes were alarming. They were completely black save for the red slits in the center. Thankfully, my nose was still normal, so I didn’t have to slither around looking like a female Voldemort. My lips were still mine. Curiously, I opened my mouth. I startled myself when my fangs unsheathed. They had to be at least four inches long. My tongue was as I feared. Forked. Forked, long enough to brush against the top of my breast, and about an inch and a half wider than a normal snake's tongue. My fingers were longer and narrower with two-inch razor-sharp nails curling downwards. I brushed my hair back, looking at my ears. They were pointed and wiggled on command. My breasts were bigger, at least a full cup size more. They still felt soft as I squeezed them in my hands, ignoring the dual groans from Bucky and Steve. My purple and blue butterfly tattoo was still on the left side of my stomach. It stood out even more against the scales. From under my chin and down the length of my body resembled the underbelly of a snake, white scales that felt rougher than the others. Where my legs should be was a long snake’s tail. There was a thin slit exactly where my pussy should have been.

“It’s still there,” Bucky says gruffly. “Do you want me to show you?”

The way Bucky was looking at me mirrored the same way Steve looked at me. It was overwhelming and exciting and frightening.

“Voices in your body coming through on the radio

"The union of the snake is on the climb

"Moving up it’s gonna race it’s gonna break

"Through the borderline

I was spared from answering when Scott ripped open the door serenading me with Union of the Snake of all songs. Thor and Clint shuffled in behind him. Scott’s big smile faltered seeing Bucky’s angry red eyes focused on him and Steve’s lip curling back in a terrible snarl.

“Too soon?” he asked me.

“Yes, Scott.”

Clint’s heads sniffled purposely. “Smells like a good time in here.”

“Your new form suits you, my lady,” Thor admired me with his unblinking eye.

“Thank you, Thor. What are you all doing here?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Bucky huffed, hands on his hips. Still naked. Still hard.

“I come bearing gifts!” Scott announced happily. “Some clothes for your change back.”

“When is sunrise?”

Scott checked his watch. “Forty-five minutes from now.” He held up a black and white sweater dress that would cover my slit. “And a surprise gift, but only if you show can me you can handle your new tail.”

I didn’t think I could, but Scott’s eyes shined with concern. I bit my lip, ignoring the fact that I apparently have fangs now, and imagined my tail was my legs. The tail slowly unraveled from the bed and hit the floor with a low thump.

“You’re going to need to work on that. Silence is your best friend when we’re hunting food.”

Right. Because that’s what humans were now. Food. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This body was new, but it was still mine. I stood up and slithered, actually slithered, to Scott. Maybe a little too fast when I accidentally crashed into him.

“Whoa! Okay, Sissy, that was mildly terrifying,” he laughed nervously. “Even if you look like a pretty corn snake.”

“I’m sorry, Scott. I think it’s going to take me a little while to navigate my speed. I don't even like snakes,” I felt myself pout.

Scott's eyebrows lifted, clearly not believing me. "You must have at some point for the serum to give you this form."

I huffed, folding my arms across my chest, distantly grateful my hair was long enough to cover my naked breasts. "I may or may not have taken a garden snake as a pet in secret for three days when I was little. Then my mom found out and screamed so loud she scared the neighbor's dog."

"The serum never lies," Scott said ominously.

"Oh, yeah?" I challenged. "Then what about you?"

"Ah, that is a story for another time. Maybe I'll tell you when I show you the library car."

"You have a library here?"

"WE. WE have a library here. Go on."

I reached for the dress then stopped. It was moving in his hands. “What the hell?” my eyes flickered up to his unsurprised to see mischief shining back at me. “What’s going on, Scott?”

“Tony dropped off some new things for you along with some other stuff from your apartment. Go on.”

I trusted Scott. Sort of. The thing wiggled even more the closer I got to it. I pushed back the last layer of the dress and— “Pocket!” I gasped. She stretched her little body blinking up at me before freezing. “Oh no. No, baby, please don’t be scared of me.”

“She’s not scared,” Bucky assured me, being a cat owner himself. “She just needs to reorient herself with you and your new scent mingling with your old one.”

I’ve never been happier to see that Bucky was right. Pocket rubbed her small body against my hand, purring like always. Pocket was the last link to my old life. My parents, step-siblings, friends and enemies, and even my old lovers will have no memory of me now. Pocket and the guys were all I had left.

“You’re tired,” Thor said idly, sensing my growing sadness. “Last night was a long and difficult one for you. You should rest.” Thor nodded once and left the car.

Clint’s mouths stretched open, showing off his impressive teeth and pink tongues following Thor out. “I could use a nap, too. Then when we wake up, we can get to work on recording that new album Stark’s pressuring us for.”

Scott watched them leave, carefully taking Pocket from me. “Anything you want when you wake up?”

“Tacos,” I answered, surely. “And make sure Pocket has plenty of milk, water, and cat food. Purina Pro Plan wet and dry. And don’t let Clint eat her.”

“I’m offended, babe!” Clint called from the hall. “I eat people, not pets.”

Scott put his hands on my shoulders, ignoring the growls from Steve and the death glares from Bucky. “It’s a rough start, but everything will be better now. Besides, we got a show in three days!”

“Right, this is still a band.”

The others laughed already having gone through the strange disorienting experience I was having. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring the music later with your tacos. I already have three new songs I need to write. See you soon.” Scott pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, laughingly dodging a swipe from Steve’s claws.

I admired my dress a little longer before carefully hanging it over the chair by the desk. Steve and Bucky were still watching me. I slithered towards them, my glide surer than before. I reached Bucky first and used the end of my tail to wind around one of Steve’s legs to urge him near us.

“Bucky? Steve?”

They surrounded me then. Steve’s fur warm against my back and Bucky’s cold bare skin against my front. Steve nibbled on my neck drawing a thin trickle of blood that pooled in my collar bone and slid through the crevices of my scales. Bucky's glowing eyes watched my forked tongue flicker through my lips with rapt attention.

“Yeah, doll?”

“Show me.”

Steve picked me up, his monstrous strength daunting and arousing, and put me back down on the bed. He stroked his heavy, leaking cock in front of my face, making my mouth water. My tongue flicked out tasting his weeping tip. He growled in pleasure, muzzle vibrating when my nails dug into the meat of his thigh. He fed me his cock, inch by inch until my wet slurps and Steve's growling pants echoed around the car. Bucky crawled up my body, his cool breath hitting my quivering, wet, slit.

“Do you remember what we said, earlier about singing?” his lips kissed and sucked softly on my nub peeking out from my pouch. I hissed and mumbled some sort of answer, mouth still full of Steve. Bucky chuckled darkly. “Good, now sing for me, songbird.”

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