The tension in the room is palpable as they pour over data on a small but highly efficient organization that has been evading their every move. Sam tosses a file onto the table, glancing at Bucky.

"This is our best shot," Sam says, tapping on a blurry photo of you, a teenager with a knack for staying off the radar. "Whoever this kid is, they've got skills. Combat, tech-they're the reason we can't track this group down."

Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression skeptical. "So let me get this straight: you want to put our mission in the hands of some kid? Sounds like a waste of time."

Zemo, lounging nearby, smirks. "Sometimes, the smallest players make the biggest moves, James. Besides, this one has already outsmarted us haven’t they?"

Reluctantly, Bucky agrees, and the trio sets off to find you. They catch up with you in an abandoned warehouse, where you're tinkering with a high-tech device. You don't flinch when they arrive-you knew they were coming.

"So, you finally found me," you say, spinning a small tool in your hand. "Took you long enough."

Sam steps forward, trying to keep things calm. "Look, we're not here to fight. We need your help. Whatever this organization is planning, we can't stop it without you."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at Bucky. "Him, too? He doesn't look too thrilled to be here."

Bucky sighs, muttering under his breath, "This is ridiculous." But you catch the faintest smirk as if he's grudgingly impressed by your nerve.

Zemo, ever the smooth talker, interjects. "We're not asking. We're giving you an opportunity-to make a difference."

You pause, weighing your options. Finally, you grin, standing up and crossing your arms. "Fine. I'll help. But only because I'm tired of watching you three trip over yourselves trying to figure this out."