This stinks. Fury said it was my plan. And it is. I came up with it, from start to finish. But it's not, is it? Not really. This whole thing, this whole situation... It's a part of someone else's plan. And me, Fury, The Widow... We're all just playing our parts. Like suckers. And I hate being a sucker.

When you get down to it, it’s just work. Everyone’s got to work, right? You got to eat, got to put a roof over your head…and these outfits don’t come cheap. Throw some henchmen in the mix and buddy, you can’t afford to take it easy. So you do dirty deeds for dirtier dollars. Industrial espionage, muscle work, bodyguarding… … Murder… Hell, even the lowest of the low… … Golf.

I got this...memory thing. I pick up anyone's moves just by seein' 'em. That's a lotta data. More'n my brain's got room for, I guess. So I...forget things. Things that ain't about combat, about survival. People, places...I can't remember what I did last week. By Monday, I probably won't remember this conversation. I wanted ta fight you 'cause...I thought if I remembered your moves, I might remember you. But all your moves... are somebody else's. Just like mine.