time to bite the bullet

[heismymission]

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 his mission 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.]

Comments

[heismymission]

"They might use you," he replies, thinking that some might take him as a hostage in exchange for something else. The soldier knows but doesn't remember he's encountered that sort of human shield before, despite never hesitating because of it.

"I met a girl here," he continues, thinking of another reason, "she said she knew people who hurt others just because they wanted to."

[smallspot]

"Do you think there are people like that here?" Diarmuid's frown deepens, "But everyone I have met has seemed nice! No one has tried to hurt me. They just try to help! Just because..." His voice trails off because he knows deep down that there probably are. After all, the stories he has grown up on have all kinds of bad people in them. He...just likes trusting people more.

"I wish people would stop hurting each other..."

[heismymission]

"It's a risk," the soldier says simply. The scratches on his face are indicative of the fact that there are others here willing to hurt people, even if he was the one to strike first in the last fight.

Things would probably be easier if no one hurt each other, but the soldier can't imagine a world where violence doesn't exist. He would have no place in that world, anyway.

[smallspot]

"But all of life is a risk. That is what Father says, and if you don't risk anything, you don't get anything," Diarmuid thinks on this a moment and then nods. "I am willing to risk getting hurt if my trust helps others. If there is a chance of making them happier then it's worth it!"

And this isn't just childish naivety talking. Even as an adult, Diarmuid will prefer to sacrifice himself to help others...

[heismymission]

He can't argue against that; no matter where you go, there's always the possibility of injury or death. But he intends to minimize that risk if he can.

Something about Diarmuid's outlook feels familiar. He can't place it, but... something tells him he should look out for the kid if he isn't going to look out for himself. He already intended to do something like that because he's so young, but... this is a stronger feeling.

It will probably be simple enough to do. Tracking people is one of his specialties.

He continues to follow Diarmuid, falling silent. His fatigue makes it difficult for him to come up with much else to say, and nothing seems important enough to talk about at the moment.

[smallspot]

Diarmuid doesn't try to push conversation after that, since just looking at James makes it clear how tired he is. Indeed, Diarmuid starts walking a little closer to the man again, just in case. Soon, they arrive at the apartment building and Diarmuid leads the way inside, only speaking once they get to the door.

"Let me go and tell the puppies to sit before you come in, okay?" Diarmuid pulls out his key and then opens the door for a moment so he can slip inside. If James listens closely enough, he will hear the boy order the puppies to sit and stay before the door opens again.

"All right! You can come in now!"

[heismymission]

Though they're heading towards a different building, the soldier feels it's probable he might be spotted by a certain captain if the man is heading in or out of his apartment. So he keeps an eye out, hunching over slightly and pulling the collar on his jacket up to help keep him from being conspicuous.

Thankfully they reach Diarmuid's room without incident, and he finds a kind of relief in that which he wouldn't normally feel. He waits patiently, his senses sharp enough through the tiredness that he can tell the boy is doing what he said he would.

The man steps inside when Diarmuid emerges and calls him in, and he takes in the details of the surroundings automatically despite not expecting any threats. Old habits are hard to break.

[smallspot]

What even a quick glance around the apartment will reveal is that it is definitely the home of two little boys and no adults. The kitchen table has several open bags of candy on it. Laying nearby is a pair of real, sheathed swords, and a practice sword. Slightly off from the living room are the bedrooms and a peek inside the first one will show a bed with several stuffed swans and a stuffed butterfly on it. There is also a green cloak resting on the foot of the bed.

The bedroom next door is closed, so it can't be seen into.

The kitchen counter has a couple of pots and plates on it. There are also several towels around and a chair pushed against the counter.

In front of the table is where the two puppies are sitting. The grey one looks similar to an Irish Wolfhound, while the white one looks much like an English Sheepdog.

"This is Grey and this is White," Diarmuid points to each puppy in turn, before going to stand by James. "Puppies, this is Lord James. He is going to borrow our house to sleep in, okay? Make sure you guys are quiet!"

[heismymission]

Something about the weapons and the haphazard way things are arranged makes him uneasy, and he can't pinpoint why. It isn't as if things aren't retrievable--everything that seems necessary is in reach. And they should have the means to protect themselves if need be, but...

It leaves a heavy feeling in his chest.

He does his best to ignore it as he focuses his attention on the dogs, and he thinks the names seem easy to remember. But he doesn't move to approach the couch and sit yet, despite the reminder that he came here to rest.

[smallspot]

Diarmuid seems to notice there is some kind of hesitation and he tilts his head in confusion, "Is everything okay? You can sit down if you like. Oh!" Something else suddenly strikes him, "Are you hungry? I said I would get you some food and something to drink!"

The boy turns and starts toward the kitchen, pausing near the table to grab one of the bags of candy. He then turns and returns to James' side, "Do you like chocolate? This is milk chocolate. It's the kind my brother and I like the best. We tried white and dark chocolate too, but we didn't like either kind as well."

It's probably obvious to James from his training that the boy is paying no attention at all to the weapons on the table. They aren't there because Diarmuid thinks he might need them for protection. They are only there because Diarmuid tends to use them everyday for practicing and it is a good place to put them so nothing happens to them when he's not using them.

[heismymission]

With permission granted, the assassin walks to the nearest seat and takes it, feeling more exhausted once he's sitting again.

He doesn't know if he likes chocolate or not, and he honestly doesn't remember what it tastes like, but it doesn't seem as if it's something that can help him get the energy he needs, so he shakes his head no.

He briefly wonders if those weapons have been used recently at all; Diarmuid said he was training to be a knight, but the fact that he doesn't carry his swords with him is indicative of the fact that he doesn't think others will hurt him.

[smallspot]

Oh, okay!" Diarmuid seems a little disappointed, but the expression is gone quickly. He sets the bag down near where James is sitting just in case he changes his mind and then starts back toward the kitchen. As he passes the bathroom, he sticks his head inside and calls out a hello to Lir. The horsea trumpets back from where he is playing in the bathtub and then Diarmuid makes his way to the refrigerator.

"Soup and tea. Or stew and tea actually! Stew is thicker than soup!" The boy opens the door to the refrigerator and rummages around, eventually pulling out a bowl of stew. He carries the bowl to the microwave and starts it warming up, before he moves back to the refrigerator to get some sun tea to pour into a glass.

[heismymission]

Feeling a little more secure thanks to the relative quiet (Lir appeared harmless when he first saw him, so he pays the Horsea no mind), the soldier leans back and tries to rest. He takes a slow, deep breath, watching Diarmuid retrieve the promised food. He doesn't have enough energy to pay any heed to whatever's bothering him about what he's seeing. He wouldn't begin to know where it came from anyway.

[smallspot]

While Diarmuid works on getting the food together, the puppies start getting tired of just sitting. White wanders off to eat. Grey sits for a while longer and then quietly walks over to where James is sitting. He looks up at the man with a curious look, before gently starting to rest his head in the man's lap.

Meanwhile, the microwave dings and Diarmuid mutters softly to himself that the stew is done. He finishes putting away the tea and then grabs one of the towels laying around to pull the hot bowl out of the microwave. It goes on the counter to cool for a moment, while the boy grabs a tray to put the bowl and tea on. Finally, he adds a spoon, some crackers and the towel to the tray and carries the whole thing into the living room.

"Here you go! It's not fancy, but I hope you like it!"

[heismymission]

He watches the dog approach but stays where he sits, not bothering to make any movements. It's clear that Grey isn't an attack dog or else he would have been aggressive from the start, and those are the only animals the soldier ever has a problem with.

It's only when Diarmuid enters the room with the tray that he leans forward to accept it, looking down at the offered food for a moment and trying to recall when, if ever, he's been served a meal with the purpose of helping him feel better. But he can't remember, so he simply nods, setting the tray down before he takes the spoon in his right hand to begin eating. His left hand is best used with less delicate things than holding spoons and cups, so it rests at his side, mostly unused.

[smallspot]

"Let me know if you don't like it and I will see about finding something else, okay?" Diarmuid crawls up on the couch next to James and calls Grey over to him so he doesn't bother the man while he is eating. Grey gives James a look and then trots over to his owner and jumps up on the couch, resting his head in the boy's lap.

"Did White eat all your food? Is that it, Grey?" The puppy whines at Diarmuid and the boy shakes his head, beginning to pet the dog gently. "Once James is settled into rest, I will get you more, okay?"

Diarmuid then turns to James and smiles, "How is it?"

[heismymission]

Despite the nod he gives Diarmuid, he has absolutely no intention of complaining. The fact that the boy is offering him sustenance and a place to rest is more than he would have expected, and weapons do not complain about the things they're offered.

Even aside from that, the stew is pleasant. He's not so familiar with appreciating things for their taste, but he can tell the difference between what's good and bad for the most part.

"It's," he says, then pauses for a moment to search for the right words to say in this situation. The most general one is all he can think of, so he uses it and hopes it's sufficient. "Good."

[smallspot]

"Yay! Did you hear that Grey? The stew is a success!" Diarmuid gives Grey a hug and the puppy doesn't waste the chance to lick his owner on the face causing him to giggle. Diarmuid then looks up at James, "If you are still hungry when you are done with that, I will get something else. Some for you and some for me. It will be a surprise, but it is one of my favorite things. I bet you will like it too!"

After all, who doesn't like ice cream?

"But if you don't like it, be sure to tell me. I can get something different to try next time you come visit. There are a lot of foods I need to try here that we don't have back home. You can try them with me!"

[heismymission]

By Diarmuid's reaction he thinks his answer must have been the right one.

"Okay," he replies to the offer, but he wonders if trying different food is something he needs to accomplish. It can't hurt, at least.

He returns his attention to the tray and continues to eat and drink silently, feeling himself getting more tired instead of feeling like he's getting more energy, and briefly considers the fact that HYDRA's way of feeding him seemed more efficient. He guesses that living in a way more like other people comes with its own set of weaknesses.

[smallspot]

Or...it could be that James really just needs some hugs...

Once it looks like James is getting close to being done with his stew, Diarmuid hops down off the couch and heads back into the kitchen. He doesn't even wait to find out if his guest actually wants more food. He just goes.

Out come two bowls and spoons. Those are followed by vanilla ice cream and caramel topping. He debates getting some nuts to go on top, but since James can't remember anything past the last month, there is no telling if he is allergic to nuts or not. The last thing he wants to do is make his friend sick!

After he is done putting everything together, Diarmuid carries the bowls out to the living room and presents one to James, "Your ice cream, Lord James. Enjoy!"

[heismymission]

The soldier still doesn't understand the purpose of hugs given to him, but he at least recognizes the benefit they have in a place like this.

He takes in a slow breath as he finishes his food, watching the boy as he retrieves more utensils and prepares the ice cream. He thinks he's seen something like this recently, but has no idea how it tastes.

Things directly offered to him like this aren't things he's ever really refused, he thinks, even when he was Bucky Barnes. So he doesn't even consider objecting and takes the bowl, looking at the contents briefly before digging the spoon into a scoop.

[smallspot]

For a moment, Diarmuid ignores his own ice cream and just watches to see if James likes what he has been given. However, his attention is drawn away from his friend's reaction when White sneaks up to his side and tries to stick her head into his bowl. Diarmuid makes a soft sound of surprise and then pushes the puppy's head away.

"No, White! You want until we are done! Then, you get to lick the bowl!" Not wanting to risk his ice cream any farther, Diarmuid crawls back up on the couch and settles next to James, before looking up at his friend to finally see if he likes the ice cream or not, "What do you think?"

[heismymission]

He watches Diarmuid as he eats, not concerned about the dog's behavior; Diarmuid seems to be doing his best to train them, and for the most part it seems they're loyal. He wonders if they'll protect him if need be.

"It's good," he replies with less hesitation this time, though he thinks the stew was more so. He isn't certain why his thoughts on it are relevant, but it's simple enough to answer...

[smallspot]

That is the idea anyway. Both boys hope that they can train their puppies to fight alongside them and for them, but that isn't going to happen until they are a little bigger. Right now, Diarmuid and Cu Chulainn are focusing on teaching them more basic commands like 'sit' and 'stay.'

"Yay! That's good. There are so many different types of food in modern day. I want to try them all!" Diarmuid digs into his ice cream and then giggles, "It's going to take a long time. I hope I get to them all! Hey..." Diarmuid looks at James, "Do you remember any specific type of food? If you do, I can try that next!"

[heismymission]

He knows, at least, that there are a lot of different kinds of food, partially from a vague feeling in his memory and partially because of what he's observed so far, so he nods in response to Diarmuid's idea that it's going to take a while. He isn't certain that anyone could try all the kinds of food there are in the world--or his world, at least. Perhaps there are fewer options here.

The soldier looks down in thought, but after a few seconds, he shakes his head. Nothing really comes to mind as far as food--none of it seems significant enough. "No."

He knows of a few different kinds that he hasn't tried, but he doesn't know the name of some of them, and he isn't sure if Diarmuid has already tried them or not. Best not to waste time guessing.