Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heismymission) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rekindleme2014-07-02 02:39 am
heismymission) wrote in rekindleme2014-07-02 02:39 am
time to bite the bullet
Who: The Winter Soldier and YOU. Later: Steve Rogers enters the fray.
Where: A) Outside housing building 1 and elsewhere; B) an alleyway in district 3; C) district 2
When: A) The last week of June, day or night; B) July 1, day; C) July 2, night
Summary: Bucky A) climbs out windows, B) has a bad flashback, and C) confronts Captain America.
Warnings: Possible violence, allusions to torture and amputation and stuff?? His life is awful basically.
The Winter Soldier was not having a good time.
For one, the past two weeks had been used getting accustomed to the fact that he was not only still not HYDRA's asset anymore, but that he was on an entirely different planet that somehow looked very much like his own from what he could tell, not to mention the aliens, the touch quota that he was largely ignoring, being both more and less noticeable in a way that made him uneasy, people trying to talk to him when he had no idea how to carry on a conversation, and fighting some asshole in a flying metal suit.
Oh, and there was the fact that whoever was in charge of assigning the newcomers rooms put him right next to Steve Fucking Rogers, otherwise known as the giant mess of memories and emotion he couldn't handle right now, or any time in the near future. It had been a miracle that he managed to avoid being seen when he first entered his room, and in the days after he learned the man was there, he listened carefully to his neighbor and for the most part, used his window as an entrance and exit. He didn't care about anyone else noticing him; HYDRA wasn't here. The mission was the only one whose attention he was particularly interested in avoiding. But at least he had the presence of mind to wear long sleeves and make his metal arm less conspicuous.
-
He'd done a bit of hunting, in the meantime; he was particularly good at remaining hidden when he tried, and had scoped out the people Rogers interacted with both in person and on the network, taking note of each and whether they were likely to share any information about the assassin, should they encounter him. Much to his irritation a few of those he'd encountered appeared to know Rogers, and though he hadn't observed them speaking to him about the man with the metal arm, it seemed likely to him that they would inform him of a local threat. As soon as he heard a description of him, certainly Steve would try to find him. So why had he seen no attempts to locate or contact him...?
As the days passed, he started to become more distracted by the increasing lack of mobility in his arm, which was thanks to the damage incurred during the only fights in his memory and the amount of time that had passed without maintenance; it put him at a major disadvantage. He wasn't about to trust any of the people who were involved in bringing him here, so he decided to search for anyone who might be able to repair it, clad in his long sleeved jacket and cap to help keep him from being noticed. But he wasn't certain if he would trust anyone to do it even if he did find someone.
The soldier was deep in thought as he made his way through a quiet, dark alley on his way to do some surveillance, wondering about his arm and if he'd ever had it in such a terrible state before. The technicians always did their work quietly, he was fairly certain, so he never knew much about the details. The most he could recall was shortly after they attached it--
"The procedure has already started--"
--how he came inches from breaking the man's neck, not caring about whatever he had to say about the way his new, gleaming arm functioned--
"You are to be the new fist of HYDRA--"
--and without knowing why or when he'd started screaming, or where his anger had come from, he slammed his malfunctioning fist into the brick wall, causing it to crumble. But the anger didn't fade, and the images didn't either. The recollection of a saw whirring and cutting into the remnants of his arm nearly caused his knees to give, and he fell back against the opposite wall to support himself before slamming his elbow into that and letting out another, shorter yell that ended almost like a whimper.
He was a short way from the main roads, but to say it was audible was an understatement. Unfortunately for him, he may have attracted some attention--hopefully attention that would either not startle him or that would be prepared for his volatile state of mind.
-
He realized the day after that he was malfunctioning both physically and mentally, and that he wasn't certain if he could keep moving forward like this on his own. As much as he hated it, he needed help. And the one person who could help him the most was hismission neighbor target--Steve.
He might have prayed that the man's claim that they were friends were true if he knew what praying was or trusted that any higher power would want to assist him.
Instead he prepared for the worst; he had no intention of meeting the man in either of their apartments or inside a building; it would be safest to meet him in some neutral ground, where he could possibly escape and remain hidden until... until he no longer needed to. He found the thought unpleasant, so he didn't plan very far ahead.
He sent an anonymous text message to Steve on the network in the early morning hours: 2200 hours d2 2 blocks ne of hospital. alone
The soldier found a dark place he could see the entire street there and waited, hidden.
[OOC: Make sure to tell me what option you'd like: either noticing him using a window like a door and what date, OR noticing the ruckus he's causing from the flashback and if you have a preference for a more violent Bucky or a more catatonic one.]
Where: A) Outside housing building 1 and elsewhere; B) an alleyway in district 3; C) district 2
When: A) The last week of June, day or night; B) July 1, day; C) July 2, night
Summary: Bucky A) climbs out windows, B) has a bad flashback, and C) confronts Captain America.
Warnings: Possible violence, allusions to torture and amputation and stuff?? His life is awful basically.
The Winter Soldier was not having a good time.
For one, the past two weeks had been used getting accustomed to the fact that he was not only still not HYDRA's asset anymore, but that he was on an entirely different planet that somehow looked very much like his own from what he could tell, not to mention the aliens, the touch quota that he was largely ignoring, being both more and less noticeable in a way that made him uneasy, people trying to talk to him when he had no idea how to carry on a conversation, and fighting some asshole in a flying metal suit.
Oh, and there was the fact that whoever was in charge of assigning the newcomers rooms put him right next to Steve Fucking Rogers, otherwise known as the giant mess of memories and emotion he couldn't handle right now, or any time in the near future. It had been a miracle that he managed to avoid being seen when he first entered his room, and in the days after he learned the man was there, he listened carefully to his neighbor and for the most part, used his window as an entrance and exit. He didn't care about anyone else noticing him; HYDRA wasn't here. The mission was the only one whose attention he was particularly interested in avoiding. But at least he had the presence of mind to wear long sleeves and make his metal arm less conspicuous.
He'd done a bit of hunting, in the meantime; he was particularly good at remaining hidden when he tried, and had scoped out the people Rogers interacted with both in person and on the network, taking note of each and whether they were likely to share any information about the assassin, should they encounter him. Much to his irritation a few of those he'd encountered appeared to know Rogers, and though he hadn't observed them speaking to him about the man with the metal arm, it seemed likely to him that they would inform him of a local threat. As soon as he heard a description of him, certainly Steve would try to find him. So why had he seen no attempts to locate or contact him...?
As the days passed, he started to become more distracted by the increasing lack of mobility in his arm, which was thanks to the damage incurred during the only fights in his memory and the amount of time that had passed without maintenance; it put him at a major disadvantage. He wasn't about to trust any of the people who were involved in bringing him here, so he decided to search for anyone who might be able to repair it, clad in his long sleeved jacket and cap to help keep him from being noticed. But he wasn't certain if he would trust anyone to do it even if he did find someone.
The soldier was deep in thought as he made his way through a quiet, dark alley on his way to do some surveillance, wondering about his arm and if he'd ever had it in such a terrible state before. The technicians always did their work quietly, he was fairly certain, so he never knew much about the details. The most he could recall was shortly after they attached it--
"The procedure has already started--"
--how he came inches from breaking the man's neck, not caring about whatever he had to say about the way his new, gleaming arm functioned--
"You are to be the new fist of HYDRA--"
--and without knowing why or when he'd started screaming, or where his anger had come from, he slammed his malfunctioning fist into the brick wall, causing it to crumble. But the anger didn't fade, and the images didn't either. The recollection of a saw whirring and cutting into the remnants of his arm nearly caused his knees to give, and he fell back against the opposite wall to support himself before slamming his elbow into that and letting out another, shorter yell that ended almost like a whimper.
He was a short way from the main roads, but to say it was audible was an understatement. Unfortunately for him, he may have attracted some attention--hopefully attention that would either not startle him or that would be prepared for his volatile state of mind.
He realized the day after that he was malfunctioning both physically and mentally, and that he wasn't certain if he could keep moving forward like this on his own. As much as he hated it, he needed help. And the one person who could help him the most was his
He might have prayed that the man's claim that they were friends were true if he knew what praying was or trusted that any higher power would want to assist him.
Instead he prepared for the worst; he had no intention of meeting the man in either of their apartments or inside a building; it would be safest to meet him in some neutral ground, where he could possibly escape and remain hidden until... until he no longer needed to. He found the thought unpleasant, so he didn't plan very far ahead.
He sent an anonymous text message to Steve on the network in the early morning hours: 2200 hours d2 2 blocks ne of hospital. alone
The soldier found a dark place he could see the entire street there and waited, hidden.
[OOC: Make sure to tell me what option you'd like: either noticing him using a window like a door and what date, OR noticing the ruckus he's causing from the flashback and if you have a preference for a more violent Bucky or a more catatonic one.]
no subject
Even now, she's looking for clues about his state. She's not quite sure what it is, not knowing what's available here, but she is sure he's coming down off a high from something.
Either way, this man could be from her world. It's enough to ensure she continues to use words rather than just knock him out.
no subject
At this point, having someone fix his arm wasn't an option. Especially not in his current state.
He finally manages to focus on Fortuna, and her horns and height catch his attention fairly quickly.
"What are you," he says, and though it's blunt there's no indication of disgust or shock in his voice or expression.
no subject
"Guess your world doesn't have trolls, huh?"
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"No." Though his lack of memory made it so he couldn't be sure, he didn't care enough at the moment to clarify. He glanced at the surroundings to reorient himself, his expression blank.
no subject
"Okay. Well. That's what I am." She takes a deep breath. Lets it out. She still has to get this guy some help, somehow.
"...Okay. Okay. Well there are a lot of robots here. Don't know if they'd be able to help you but if anyone would know about cyberlimbs it'd be them, they're all metal. There was a guy who made some pretty good robots, himself, but he's an ass, don't know if he'd help you." Plus she didn't remember his name or know where to find him. "As far as I know, those are your options. I'm not the most well connected lady in the city but I can point you there, at least."
She could also try to repair it, herself, but a thing directly attached to a person and wired to their brains was very different from one of her drones.
no subject
... But later. Later, when he wasn't double-checking his surroundings to make sure he was still in this weird other-world city and not in a bright hospital room or hidden vault somewhere.
His attention went to the metal objects behind Fortuna, taking them in properly this time. Though they appeared to be combat-capable, the troll appeared to be in control of them, and she hadn't shown any aggression so far. Even so, they made him cautious enough to not want to step towards them or turn away just yet.
no subject
"Like I said, the drones aren't active. They can only stay put or follow me, that's it. You don't have to worry about them."
Well, once she activated them they would benefit from having her reflexes, but she wasn't going to just attack for no reason.
no subject
no subject
"Hey! Don't you want help for that arm?" She paused. "...Need any help getting home, at least?"
no subject
He slowed his pace at the offer and turned back to look at her, glancing at her drones for a moment. If she was offering help...
Well, he could use an ally if he had the misfortune to encounter a certain asshole in a metal suit, considering the threat they'd parted with. The scratches still on his face were an irritating reminder of that fight.
The soldier nodded. "First building."
no subject
"So what's your name?"
no subject
"Buc--"
He choked back a noise almost like a cough and clamped his mouth shut before finishing, reminding himself that Bucky wasn't exactly a common name and would likely get him noticed by the person he was trying to avoid.
"James," he corrected himself. It was still the truth; it just made him less obvious. It was the safer option.
no subject
"Fortuna. Nice to meet you."
no subject