Just Clone Or Something More?

Secret SHIELD base, Pennsylvania, a suburb of Pittsburgh. Five hours later. Sam Wilson sat in the small room, staring blankly at the wall before him. Wilson could not give an intelligible answer if the former test pilot were asked how long he had just been sitting and looking at one point. So much anesthetic was injected into him that he could hardly pronounce his name clearly for the first few hours. But now, the effect of the medicine was slowly fading away, and the hot pain and poisonous despair that burned the man’s insides were returning to replace it. He looked down at his bandaged hands and tried to bend his fingers with great difficulty but hissed at the sharp pain. With these hands, he tried to pull the SHIELD agents out of the blazing HYDRA hangar. Save at least those few not torn apart by the planted explosives, which exploded as soon as the agents stepped outside the dark and empty hangar. Sam hovered in the air and saw the building literally fly into the air, spreading flames for hundreds of miles around and a hot shock wave that threw the Falcon to the side. Of the thirteen people, only he survived. He managed to pull five agents out from under the rubble, trying to contact Rogers or Stark by radio, but they did not get in touch. So, Wilson red-lighted Hill, and seven minutes later, the first helicopters appeared on the horizon, hurrying towards the vast fire that Richard Fisk’s people had set up as a farewell. Two died before the first helicopter landed, and another agent expired right in Wilson’s arms, wheezing and gurgling, twitching severed limbs, and staring at Sam with huge, frightened, uncomprehending eyes. Charlotte., was the name of one of the two rescued who were dragged into the helicopters and died on the way, right in the air. Sam remembered her because he winked at her only the day before yesterday and persuaded her to drink a cup of coffee someday. And she just laughed, removing her light curly curls from her face, and said that she would agree, but not in this life. Two hours ago, the last surviving SHIELD agent died on the operating table. Seventy-two percent burns, almost nothing left of the guy’s face and legs. Maybe he was lucky; Maybe they were all lucky. Someone entered the room, but Sam didn’t immediately raise his head, still seeing the explosion before him as if in slow motion. — Sam, how are you? — Steve Rogers’s voice helped Wilson return from the blazing past to the gloomy present. — Bad, Captain,” he replied flatly, shaking his head. Steve sank heavily into the chair next to his partner. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft crackle of electricity in the lamps on the ceiling. — How is it you? — I’m fine. Hey, stop blaming yourself, you hear? — I had to do something. My fault, Cap; I am responsible for their deaths. — It’s not your fault,” Steve replied, ready to repeat the phrase. — Your task was air cover. I sent people there. If someone is to blame for what happened, then only the one who gave this order. Sam Wilson chuckled against his will. It would be time to get used to the unconditional stubbornness and blind self-sacrifice of his friend. But Sam kept wondering every damn time. — In general,” Rogers continued, sighing heavily, — self-digging will not help. We still have a lot of work to do. Fisk will answer for what he did, but first, we must catch him. A meeting was to be held in the main hall, and the companions slowly moved down the corridor, again plunging into oppressive silence. Rogers stopped abruptly with a thoughtful expression and then moved towards the elevator. Sam Wilson stared at the Captain’s receding for a few seconds and then groaned: — Oh no, Steve. Again? *** Rogers stood near the thick bulletproof glass, looking thoughtfully at what was behind him. Sam crouched against the far wall, scowling at the Captain, nervously tapping his heel on the floor. Behind the glass was a cell containing a kind of chair made entirely of lead, with wide, powerful handcuffs capable of holding back perhaps even Dr. Banner in his fit of green rage. The same stranger with strange make-up was placed in this chair, and now she, clad in iron, deprived of any opportunity to move, looked in front of her, monotonously clenching and unclenching her hands. — She’s been doing this for 4 hours already,” whispered one of the operatives assigned to this woman. He stood beside Rogers, looking warily through the glass, and is silent.— Creepy woman. She couldn’t see them; the glass was one-sided, but for some reason, it seemed to Steve that the woman was looking straight at him. This made it creepy. — I have a question,” Wilson finally spoke up. — Why is she still alive? Rogers tore his eyes away from the woman behind the glass and looked reproachfully at Sam. — We are not savages, and certainly not HYDRA,” he replied and then added. — Moreover, she can give us information about Fisk’s whereabouts. — Yeah. She hasn’t uttered a sound in all this time. What makes you think the lady will suddenly be happy to tell you everything you ask her? Steve didn’t answer, turning back to the glass. The white paint on her face was almost everywhere erased; there were black stains under her eyes, and burns were reddening on the woman’s temples, reminiscent of Romanoff’s secret tricks. All the time, she didn’t utter a word, didn’t ask for anything, didn’t say anything, just stared ahead of her, occasionally closing her eyes for ten or twenty minutes as if sinking into a quick sleep. — She shouldn’t be here,” Wilson continued, looking at the woman with undisguised hatred. — She broke Romanoff’s arm, almost disabled Stark, almost killed you. And you still want to talk to her? — We’re not murderers, Sam,” Rogers snapped, peering into the eerily calm and seemingly serene face of the captive. — We don’t know anything about her. Maybe…she didn’t have a choice? Falcon just rolled his eyes tiredly and moved towards the exit, not intending even for another minute to stay next to this crazy woman, whom he indirectly blamed for what happened in the second hangar. With great difficulty, Steve Rogers forced himself to follow, continuing to look at the mercenary, mentally asking himself the same question that had haunted him from when Steve recognized this unfamiliar woman as his missing friend Bucky Barnes. — How is that possible?” *** No one seemed to dare to speak first. There was a tense, oppressive silence around the wide round table. Steve looked off to the side, propping his head on his hand, mentally still in the cell from which he had just returned. Maria Hill, who after the collapse of SHIELD went to Stark Industries, but at the same time continued to lead the little that remained of the previous organization, thereby helping the new director of SHIELD, whose name for many was hidden under a veil of secrecy, was darker than a cloud. Such a terrible loss of almost all of her agents undoubtedly took its toll on her, although the woman tried to keep her usual calm and confident. Anthony Stark was surprisingly silent. Perhaps his condition was affected by a concussion and a swollen, blue right eye. Barton also shared the general frown and wariness, feeling, in a way, his guilt, as did Sam Wilson, who sat next to him, again looking at his bandaged and burned hands. They were tasked with guarding and preventing the enemy from attacking from behind. But they couldn’t help anyone, which weighed heavily on both men. Natasha rested her broken arm on the table’s surface, throwing sidelong glances at Dr. Banner, who was sitting in the farthest corner with an expression on his face as if everything that happened today was his fault. — They knew what they were getting into,” Hill suddenly spoke up, causing everyone present to flinch and look at her. — What happened is… terrible, but we need to move on. We can’t give up, or all these deaths will be in vain. — What do we have? From what Tony and Natasha could find at the base? Steve asked, letting go of thoughts of the prisoner. Maria is right. We need to move on. — Jarvis scans electronic files,” Stark croaked. It seemed that even talking was unbearably painful and hard for him. — but there was only rubbish… nothing valuable or important. They erased everything. But I’ll try to find traces, to get… at least something. — Tony, leave that to your supercomputer,” Rogers replied. — You already got it; rest, gain strength. Stark turned to the Captain and looked at him with one good eye, clearly about to spit out another barb, but Natasha interrupted him. — Analysts are engaged in papers, but so far, too, not a lot. Is there anything from the surveillance cameras? — No, they erased everything. All that remains is the footage of Fisk loading the files into the cars and leaving safely. — That was a message,” Steve said, and everyone turned their sullen looks on him. — For us. The whole thing,” he twirled his finger in the air in a sort of circle, — was a trap. Silence again reigned in the hall for a few minutes. Everyone thought the same thing: they underestimated Richard Fisk. This man has trump cards in his sleeves, and he presented one of them to them, thus showing that the Avengers are not a hindrance to him. — What about that… skeletal woman?” Maria Hill was again the first to interrupt the musings of the assembly. — Silent. She didn’t even ask for water,” Romanoff replied. — Natasha,” Clint said, wrinkling his forehead and looking intently at the spy, — Remember, a couple of years ago, you and I were in Colombia, in a pleasant place called Manizales?” It was still swarming with Colombian mafia bandits, and then your contact sold us for thirty? Romanoff grimaced but nodded affirmatively. Then he and Barton barely got away, catching a bullet each and staying in hiding, a small, shabby room in a cheap motel on the edge of town, for five days before the SHIELD people could get them out of there. Meanwhile, Barton continued to speak in a tone that seemed to recall how they visited his family for Thanksgiving. — Do you remember what this venal one told us? About Santa Muerte? The Russian spy instantly stared at him, arching a thin eyebrow. Barton just nodded, leaning back in his chair. — Well, it would be nice if you explained what you are talking about for us, mortals,” Stark spoke with slight annoyance. — because then you didn’t invite me for a weekend in Colombia. — Somewhere in Latin America, but most of all, of course, in Mexico, there is a legend about a certain woman, a deity who comes for the recalcitrant and takes their lives. Almost no one has ever seen her, and those who have seen her can hardly be trusted, judging by their stoned appearance; — Clint looked at his hands with an expression of complete carelessness, but it did not escape Rogers how Natasha nervously shrugged her shoulders in the time of Barton’s story. — This deity comes in the form of a female skeleton. It is called Santa Muerte, which translates as Holy Death. Everyone silently looked at Barton, not understanding whether he was joking or saying serious, truthful things. — She is mainly known in gangster circles,” the archer continued, — but some ordinary people have seen her wringing the necks of people from this or that cartel as if opening a juice can. As I understand it, according to that guy, she lived somewhere in Mexico. And everyone was afraid of her. Everything. Ordinary residents, bandits, barons, police… If anyone knew about this woman, they spoke in a low voice and with fear, as if they were afraid she might hear them and become angry. — Where does such vast knowledge come from, Barton?” Stark chuckled, but his smile was not cheerful but forced. — After returning from Colombia, this story haunted me,” he honestly admitted. That’s why I was gathering information. But all this was just rumors, fairy tales up to this day. The Captain and Natasha caught the creepiest creature in Mexico. Well, after the Chupacabra, of course. — But she’s a Fisk person,” Hill said slowly and lazily, looking at Steve incredulously as if seeking confirmation of her own words from him. She’s from HYDRA. What do the Mexican cartels and legends about deities do with it? Clint just shrugged, showing that he had already told everything he knew. — What do we do? Gasped Dr. Banner, who had been tensed and sweaty by all these tales of a ruthless, murderous skeleton. — We’ll interrogate the bastard,” Wilson said. “We have at least one spy here who knows a thing or two about this sort of thing,” and the man glanced at Romanoff meaningfully. *** Stephen Rogers seemed the only one who wanted to see the prisoner alive. Therefore, only he protested against the new lotion Romanoff. A kind of collar for a delinquent dog, for whom it is impossible to feel compassion, but only vicious contempt, wrapped around the prisoner’s neck, bringing her obvious discomfort. Only Natasha and Steve entered the cell. Straight to her. Clint, Wilson, and Stark lined up behind glass, ready for the show Romanoff was about to put on. Hill was too busy to participate in this, and Dr. Banner, still frowning, said something about cruelty and hurried away on his important business. — Natasha, don’t. Banner is right; this is cruel,” Steve said pleadingly, watching the spy, with a slight smirk on her lips, twirl a small black remote control with a single button in her good hand. — You can leave at any time, Rogers,” she replied. — If she’s more talkative, I won’t have to press the button.” The woman didn’t even raise an eyebrow, as if she didn’t hear or understand Natasha’s words. — Can’t you see,” Rogers whispered, grabbing Romanoff’s arm just above the elbow and pulling her closer to him — how much she looks like him? Look! Take a closer look! The red-haired spy rolled her eyes but still turned to the captive. The green eyes narrowed, the spy’s plump lips twitched, and that was enough for Steve. — Let me talk to her,” the Captain continued to whisper, " something is wrong here. — How will you talk to her if she doesn’t open her mouth? Rogers did not answer; turning sharply to the captive and coming closer to her, he asked: — What is your name? Silence. Only gray eyes looked at him coldly. Steve sighed heavily, glancing sideways at Romanoff, who was watching him closely, fiddling with the remote in her hand. He wondered if a spy, out of personal revenge for a broken arm, could neglect professionalism and use a collar? — Do you work for Richard Fisk? Are you from HYDRA? Steve didn’t hesitate. — You’d better start talking; it’s in your best interest.” It seemed to him that some semblance of a smirk trembled on her lips, but at the exact moment, her face was distorted by a grimace of pain. Captain Rogers shuddered and turned to the spy, who immediately removed her finger from the console, looking innocently at the dumbfounded man. — I checked if the collar worked,” Natasha shrugged her shoulders and, turning to the mercenary, spoke in a colder and more commanding tone. — Will you keep quiet? Or shall we repeat? — Natasha… — Steve, calm down. My discharges in Nevada did not kill her; she is certainly not in danger of dying here. — It’s inhumane. — She’s a HYDRA mercenary who almost killed us. She did more inhuman things than we do now. And if she is Santa Muerte,” the spy noticed from the corner of her eye how the prisoner twitched slightly and looked incredulously in their direction — then it would be better for everyone if this woman turned out to be dead. Scream. Steve closed his eyes. A woman’s scream, full of pain, cut him from the inside, tore at his eardrums, and crumbled his spine into fine rubble. Romanoff’s face didn’t even flinch. She watched dispassionately as the mercenary twitched. Natasha has already managed to get used to such a picture; this is not the first time she has used a collar. Good thing Rogers doesn’t know about this. The captain generally knows little about what happened and is happening outside the walls of the SHIELD organization. And if I ever found out, I would be horrified. The symbol of the Nation is too kind-hearted and soft, while Romanoff and many other agents know firsthand what human cruelty is for a common goal. Agent Romanoff silently counted forty seconds, then removed her finger from the button. The screams stopped abruptly, and ragged, hoarse breathing filled the room. Steve looked at the mercenary. Her body trembled, and large drops of sweat ran down her face. She clenched her snow-white teeth until she gnashed, glaring at Nat and breathing heavily. — Shall we continue to play silent? Natasha asked; however, again, not receiving an answer, she nodded instead to herself and pressed the remote again. Steve could have sworn he was starting to smell burnt flesh. Surprisingly, the stranger did not scream or shrink from pain this time. This time, Natasha did not remove her hand for long; it seemed to the man for an eternity. — Yes, who are you that you don’t scream from such a thing? — Natasha, please stop,” he shouted when he noticed the mercenary was about to lose consciousness. When the electric charge stopped, the woman lowered her head and limped. But now, a very quiet, almost invisible muttering was added to the wheezing. Steve leaned closer, crouching across from the woman, trying to listen and understand what she was whispering. Natasha did not let her catch her breath normally, turning on the electricity in the collar often, each time increasing the procedure time. — Stop immediately! At first, they did not understand that this voice did not belong to themselves but to the captive. Natasha and Steve looked at each other in surprise, and Romanoff immediately stopped. The woman gasped for air, grimacing and shaking her head as if trying to throw off her damned collar like a dog. — Oh, you can speak; that’s good,” said the spy after a short pause. — Will you answer questions? The prisoner was silent again, but more likely because she could not find the strength to answer and not because she decided to play silent again. — Shall I continue? — Natasha symbolically put her finger on the button so the captive could see it. — Listen, you can’t kill me with a regular discharge, so stop intimidating me and take off this damn collar!” the woman croaked, shaking her head weakly. — Will you speak? She nodded, letting out a low wheeze. But when Romanoff came closer to her, she suddenly shook her head. — Not with you,” her voice was like the grinding of metal on metal — with him,” Gray eyes stared at Rogers, who looked at the prisoner in surprise and bewilderment. — Why with me? He asked softly, rising to his feet and folding his arms over his chest. — You don’t have a button. — some semblance of a smile appeared on her face, more like a grin. Romanoff placed the damn remote in his hand as she left, looking meaningfully into the Captain’s blue eyes. — No matter who you see in her,” she whispered, — this woman is still dangerous. Remember this. They were left alone. Steve stumbled uncertainly at the exit, glancing at the silent mercenary, who lowered her head again. The captain twisted a small remote control in his fingers, knowing he would never use it. — They call you Santa Muerte,” he began. Steve considered where to start first. All this vague and unpleasant story around a particular Mexican deity, which Barton spoke about, haunted him almost as much as the very appearance of this woman. — Alex,” she croaked, raising her head. Santa Muerte is not here. — What does it mean? The woman calling herself Alex turned to Rogers and, with a slight arch of her dark eyebrow, said: — If they turned on the Santa Muerte mode, you and your partner would already be dead. The captain frowned. Her words sounded strange, even too strange. He squinted at the mirror, wondering what people on the other side were discussing or thinking. — Do you work for Fisk? — He gave the order. — What order? She didn’t answer, continuing to look at Rogers. He felt uneasy. And it was not that he was facing some famous and terrible killer. Those eyes, lips, face, movements — Bucky Barnes glided through it all. — You know who I am? — Stephen Grant Rogers, born July 4th, 1917. A native of Brooklyn. Father — Joseph Rogers, mother — Sarah Rogers. Among the diseases of Stephen Rogers were rheumatic fever, epilepsy, and heart murmurs. The pedigree included cases of cancer, diabetes, and frequent strokes. In the forties, he was a student specializing in the field of fine arts. Until he agreed to the “Rebirth” experiment of Dr. Abraham Erskine, who developed the Super Soldier serum, her voice sharply became confident and strong. She straightened up, and her eyes stared straight ahead as if she were reporting to her superiors. Since that time, Stephen Rogers has become known as Captain America… — Enough! Rogers blurted out, clutching the remote control, which made a slight, indignant crackle in his powerful but sweaty palm. — Do you know where Fisk is? She shook her head, closing her eyes. She looked exhausted and tired; however, in the absence of Romanoff, the woman became a little more relaxed. — Who are you, Alex? Are you a HYDRA agent or some kind of… — Weapon? She opened her eyes again, looking at Rogers. He nodded, and she continued in a calm, iron tone. — I won’t tell you anything, Captain. You can try to ask me for days. Steve glanced at the glass again, then walked over to the captive, squatted down again, causing the woman to look surprised, and whispered: — Bucky Barnes, do you know him?” She frowned, looking into a man’s crystal-clear and bright eyes, with such childish hope drilling into her. — I don’t know who it is. — James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant James Barnes. Come on. — No. — Winter Soldier. Her face twitched; there was a sparkle in her eyes, just for a second, but Steve almost screamed, realizing that this Alex knew Bucky after all. — No,” she replied, colder than before. — You’re lying. You know… You know him.” Steve spoke louder, straightening up and pulling a folded photograph from his trouser pocket, which he had taken on the way to the interrogation. Rogers unfolded the photo and held it close to the woman’s face. But she didn’t look at the picture. Her gaze was riveted to the agitated and flushed face of the Captain. — This man is Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier, as they call him.” Steve shook the photo, urging Alex to look at it finally. The woman rolled her eyes sighed heavily, but still glanced at the photo. — I do not know him. — I do not trust you. The captain felt himself begin to tremble with anger and despair. He was still clutching the remote in his other hand, and the thought of using it was pounding harder and harder against Rogers' skull with every second. — These are your problems,” Alex replied with an ironic and malicious smirk. — You look like. You are awfully similar. How is this even possible? The door swung open, and Maria Hill and Natasha stood in the doorway. Hill’s face showed she was unhappy with what was happening in this cell. — Captain, that’s enough,” she said, fixing Rogers with an icy gaze. Steven glanced disappointedly at Hill, then at Romanoff, who just nodded, urging Rogers to calm down. He shifted his gaze to the captive, who pursed her lips slightly and then shrugged her shoulders to show that nothing was to be done. — We’re not done yet,” Rogers told her, carefully folding up the photo of his missing friend. — I’ll be waiting for the next meeting, Captain,” Alex answered with bile in her voice, and then Hill and Natasha looked at each other in surprise. — When I left, she wasn’t so talkative,” the spy drawled gloomily, looking incredulously at the mercenary, who followed Steve with her eyes until he left the cell. *** — Why not ask Thor? Does he seem to know a thing or two about divinity and all that crap? They got together again, this time in Dr. Banner’s laboratory. Everyone was tired, exhausted, exhausted. Tony Stark sprawled languidly at the table, brushing aside any word that the genius should go and rest. Natasha and Clint sat next to Stark, glancing at Bruce Banner, who was adjusting something on an electronic panel that looked more like a super flat-screen TV. Steve, Wilson, and Hill also scattered around the lab, wearily watching the doctor, who seemed to be the only one with any reserve of strength. — Oh, if you have his number, then give it! I’ll call, — Natasha ironically answered the words of Tony Stark. — We’ll manage without him. What’s the matter, doctor? Why did you bring us together? Banner looked up from the panel, rubbing his hands together, and looking around the audience, he said: — I, with Maria’s permission, have decided to examine our prisoner thoroughly. While she was unconscious, my laboratory assistants managed to take samples and a blood test, as well as attach sensors to her that monitor her internal state. Stark leaned forward a little, fighting back the nasty pain in his head and the nausea. He admittedly enjoyed watching Romanoff electrocute this crazy, painted woman, remembering how she had hit his head several times on the keyboards and monitors at the HYDRA base in Nevada. Only the yell of Rogers, sharply sounded somewhere in the corridor, seems to have saved Stark’s life. The woman in the strange make-up stopped hitting him, turning towards the hall, then hit him again so that the man couldn’t call for help or otherwise give it away, and quickly moved after Rogers, leaving Stark lying on the floor unconscious. Every time Tony closed his eyes, a white face with black eye sockets appeared. The damn skeleton that almost killed him. He still felt fear as he stood behind the thick layer of bulletproof glass, watching this woman tightly clad in lead beams. — Well, as we all probably guessed, her physique is above the average, not only for women, even for men,” Bruce continued, pacing back and forth in the laboratory as if lecturing first-year students. — I would say that she is equal in strength to Captain America. Steve inhaled noisily through his nostrils as he heard Sam clear his throat next to him. It’s true, he wasn’t there; he didn’t see how easily she threw Rogers over her, how much pain each of her blows gave him. — Super soldier serum?” Natasha drawled. — Not really. A dull sigh swept through the lab. This was to be expected, but when it sounded out loud, each present felt an unpleasant chill on the skin, from which goosebumps immediately ran away. — In the body of a soldier, there is a thing much more potent than a serum, some clot of energy that even I don’t know. — But that’s not the main thing,” Bruce put on his glasses and walked over to the screen. Everything that has happened in the last few hours has been undeniably terrible. Bruce thought more than once about how the outcome of the operation would have unfolded if he had been there. If I had not been afraid, I would not have been afraid to let the beast out. Who knows, maybe he could have saved all those agents by taking the blast on himself? True, the doctor tried not to delve into this, realizing that such thoughts could stir up a creature that, for the time being, was peacefully dozing inside Dr. Bruce Banner. Therefore, he plunged into the study and study of an unusual woman that came to them, which, as Captain Rogers said, the name is Alex. And Bruce also thought that what he was about to say now would greatly alarm and discourage Stephen. — I took a sample of the deoxyribonucleic acid of our… Alex and, with the help of Jarvis, ran her DNA through the database. We hope that somewhere in the system, we can find her data. After all, a person cannot simply exist and never shine anywhere. — This is HYDRA,” Rogers drawled, covering his eyes with his hand, — They clean up everything well after themselves.” — Is there a registration of deities? Tony said, trying to hide his evident excitement behind another joke. — She’s not a deity, Stark,” Hill replied. — Dr. Banner just proved it to us himself. — Well, I would not be in a hurry to call her a human, from the point of view of science,” Bruce grimaced, and everyone turned at once in his direction, perplexed, interested, and frightened, staring at the doctor. — What does that mean, Bruce? Natasha breathed out. — Did you find anything about her? said Rogers, straightening up in his chair. — I received only one result per request. One person, but this is not the woman who is in our prison,” Banner hesitated a little, watching the puzzled faces of his colleagues and friends.— Alex’s DNA is identical to that of an old friend of Steve’s, James Barnes. There was a tense, humming silence in the lab. Everyone stared at Dr. Banner, and he steadfastly endured those shocked and confused looks. He also was shocked when he got the result. While Natasha and Steve were interrogating the prisoner in the cell below, Bruce was racking his brains and trying to put together at least a small part of that puzzle called Alex, which fell into their hands. — How. Rogers spoke first, though it sounded more like a groan. — I cannot answer this question. I hope so far. But, you see, she’s not exactly like him. She is his copy. 100% identical, except that she is a woman. — I don’t understand,” Barton said uncertainly, rising to his feet and walking closer to the screen behind the doctor, where an image of the DNA double helix appeared. — No, I’m certainly not a Doctor of Sciences… but… is it possible? — Did Barnes have any relatives? Sisters? Aunts? Sam asked a gloomy Rogers, who, as if spellbound, was watching the spiral on the screen. — Look, it’s not even a sister or an aunt.” Banner, immediately turned on, like any man of science, by a riddle that he thought he was about to solve, jabbed his finger at the screen. — Identical. This can only be… — Twins,” finished Tony Stark, who, following Clint, went to the panel and began to look at the data and vital signs of the mercenary Fisk. — Bucky’s never had twins in his life,” Rogers' voice made even Maria Hill cringe. — Apparently, we just discovered it,” Bruce replied, looking into the man’s blue eyes, full of incomprehension and pain.