bucky barnes and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad seventy years

[zymasoldat]

WHO: Bucky Barnes
WHERE: Fountain / Around
WHEN: Late afternoon, November 20
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Nothing yet. Will update as necessary.
STATUS: Open

---

It's far from the first time that Bucky suddenly comes to in a state of complete disorientation, no idea where he is, what he's been doing, or what year it is. Even after freeing himself from HYDRA and piecing those small, confusing fragments of memories together until they eventually told a semi-coherent story, it still happens. All it takes is a nightmare, or a too-vivid dream that may be a memory or may be a fabrication, and he'll find himself waking up without his bearings. When it happens, he has to fight back that spike of panic in his chest, stay calm, and focus on the little things that help ground him. The familiarity of his bed (when he had one). The time on his watch. The day's date. The entries in his notebooks-- the newer entries, that is. The daily documentation of each day that's passed since he started journaling. Affirmations from himself that he's Bucky Barnes, and he's still alive, and he's making new memories, not just chasing after his past.

All of those little strategies are pretty useless right now, considering he's underwater and doesn't have time to try to think about how he got here or where here even is. He feels a push for the surface, and he goes with it, starts to swim, even though he can tell from the get-go that something's not right with the way he's moving. He's uncoordinated, using his legs more to compensate, because-- he soon realizes-- his left arm is gone.

That's not news, exactly. He lost his arm in 1945. But it was replaced before he was put in cryo for the first time, and he's had the cybernetic prosthesis ever since. It felt so natural to use, it was as if it'd always been a part of him.

But it's gone now. He's got nothing below the shoulder, and he doesn't know how it happened, but he can't stop or panic or dwell on it, so he doesn't. Soon enough, his head's above water, and he's grabbing onto the edge of a fountain, pulling himself out so that he can sit on the ground and cough up any water that he inhaled when he first woke up.

Now he can think, take in his surroundings and any clues. Bucky pushes his hair back and looks down at himself. He's wearing a backpack or something, and scrubs-- dark blue, almost black, since they're completely soaked-- which means... Hospital?

(Or a lab.)

He shrugs the backpack off, trying to piece together his memories leading up to this, but all he can remember is heroes fighting heroes, teammates and friends in an all-out brawl against one another because of him. But that was in an airport, and he had two arms at the time. Maybe he was captured by Stark's team and brought back to justice. Maybe he was placed in an institution. It'd explain his outfit.

Or maybe somebody else found him and said the words and took his mind from him again. There's a painful twist in his stomach at the thought, and he tries to shift his focus, instead, on the contents of the backpack. The insignia on it is nothing he recognizes, and all it contains is clothes. He huffs out a sigh and zips it back up. Putting it over his shoulder again, Bucky stands.

There's no way he's going to sit around and wait. He needs to figure out where he is and what's going on. First step: explore his surroundings.

Comments

[overdraws]

The suggestion that they shake hands, considering their situation, is so weirdly absurd that she stares at him openly before laughing. Whatever the tension had been between them-- it was still there but it felt a little lessened. She hadn't realized how tense her shoulders were until they dropped, and she lets out a small sigh.

"I think we're good," she says in return, reaching up to brush some of her hair out of her face. "We kinda blew past that line a couple minutes ago."

Her gaze lingers, for a second too long, on his arm (or lack thereof), snapping her eyes away when she realizes she's staring. Something horrible happened to him, and when she looks back at him, there's a little more empathy in her gaze.

"Where are you from?"

[zymasoldat]

Bucky hasn't had very many chances to laugh since 1945, so when Allison starts, he's surprised to find himself doing it, too. At least it serves to break the awkward tension hanging in the air. He makes an amused little sound in his throat in agreement, though once Allison's staring becomes obvious to him, he tenses up again. It's not that he's self conscious about his scarring, or the metal, or the lack of an arm past the shoulder, so much as he's not sure if she's about to pity him or turn the conversation to subjects he doesn't want to talk about.

Instead, she asks where he's from. It should be easy to answer with 'Brooklyn' without another thought, but for a moment, he hesitates, the false psychiatrist's words echoing in his head. Then, he pushes past it, forcing a brief smile. "Brooklyn. What about you?"

[overdraws]

The hesitation isn't lost on her. She feels guilty, like she's prying, but he answers after a moment, and his smile, she thinks, is nice. He should do it more often — he doesn't look like he does. At least it's not as awkward as it had been, but she can't help but think, even as she answers, that it would probably be less awkward if they had done this with their clothes on.

"Beacon Hills. It's in northern California. Before that, San Francisco, and before that, Minnesota, and before that, North Carolina." She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, slipping a little further into the warm water.

"My dad, um. Is a private security consultant, and he also sells firearms to law enforcement agencies, so we moved around a lot."

[zymasoldat]

With that much moving around, he would have thought military. But the explanation makes sense. Since his arrival, Bucky's been trying to find common links or points of interest about the others here, reasons for why they've all been selected for this... whatever this is. It can't be random. Likely, her father taught her some skills that would be beneficial here. The scars, too, point to a life that wasn't idle or cushy.

"I don't think I ever left New York until I joined the army," he remarks. At least, he's pretty sure of that. Hard to say for certain, all things considered. Bucky splashes some more water onto himself, scrubbing at his skin with one hand-- and wishing he had soap or a washcloth or something on-hand. He watches Allison curiously. "Were you involved in your father's work?"

[overdraws]

She's about to answer his first comment — that's she's never been to New York, but her best friend as — when he asks the question, and Allison goes stock still, the chill in the air suddenly getting to her. She's a terrible liar, always has been, and she tries to brush off his question. Nothing like talking about werewolves and werewolf hunters to make the (admittedly really hot) guy you've busted in on naked to think you were crazy.

Even more so than just what busting in on him while he's naked would do, anyway.

She smiles, reaching up to brush hair that wasn't in her face in the first place out of her face, shrugging again.

"Sometimes. He liked to hunt, and he always wanted me to be educated about the weapons we kept at home. For safety reasons."

It's not a total lie, at least.....!?

[zymasoldat]

Seriously, Allison? If not for that deer-in-headlights moment, not to mention the awkward body language, her lie would have been reasonable enough. Still a bit suspicious-- those scars don't look like typical hunting scars, for starters-- but not obvious in its falsehood. Bucky may not outright call her out on it, but there's definitely some skepticism plain on his face.

"What game did you hunt?"

[overdraws]

Uh. "Deer. What.. what part of the military were you in?" Change of subject, ahoy!

He's got her number, that much is obvious, and she's pretty sure she can see the frown on her dad's face (not to mention the disapproving look of her mother, clear as day), because she's doing a terrible job of this. But you don't tell people. You just protect them. And even though he's clearly capable, even though he's clearly been through something, if those scars on his chest and the lack of a left arm is any indication (and her mind supplies that maybe he was attacked, maybe he knows, because there's no way anything natural gave him those scars), you just don't tell people. Because that's the easiest way to keep them safe.

[zymasoldat]

All right, good to know. Allison is really terrible at lying. At least that means he can more or less take her at her word when she's not being squirrelly. 'Deer'. Sure.

"Army," he answers. "I never hunted any deer. Nazis, on the other hand..." Ha. Ha. Sniper humor? He says it with more casual flippancy than he actually feels, like he's trying to channel Sgt. Barnes of the Howling Commandos. Normally, he wouldn't offer that information unprompted, but he's testing the waters by offering a little bit more honesty to see how Allison will react, if she'll respond in kind.

[overdraws]

He gets the deer in headlights look again, but this time it's more or less because she understands what he means when he says he fought Nazis — hell, she just got done (more or less) learning that the new girl's mother was a 900 year old fox demon who, interestingly enough, was involved with a soldier before everything went to shit. It gives her a chance to pause, because now it's her turn to test the water. If he's really 90 years old, then... maybe her assumption was correct. Maybe he knows.

"You look really great for being 90," she says with a small smile, eyes narrowing just a little as she sizes him up again. "Or do you mean Neo-Nazis?"

[zymasoldat]

"Real Nazis." Bucky glances down, a bit of a smile on his lips, as well, as he adds, "And it's closer to 100, actually." Yeah. He's old. Though he did spend most of the past 70 years in cryofreeze-- but that's not information he'll volunteer without prompting.

His smile wavers a little just thinking about it, and he looks at Allison again, eager to focus on the positive things before his mind can pull him down into bad memories. "But thanks. Good to know I'm well preserved."

[overdraws]

Her eyes get a little wide at his admission — but only because he actually admitted to it. Kira's mother hadn't until she'd had to, but the situation had been dire. Allison's fairly certain none of them would know anything about kitsune if the nogitsune hadn't shown up.

But he gets a smile in return, and she snorts a little in laughter.

"My best friend would have something to say about that, like.. well preserved is putting it lightly, or something."

And, okay, she's not trying to flirt with the 90 year old Army vet, but. But. Lydia's disapproving smile is firm in her mind. You're alive, Allison, it says. Live a little.

[zymasoldat]

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, more out of amusement than any attempt at encouraging flirtation. But his response comes easily, almost like he's riding a bike here. Like the past 70 years didn't happen. "Oh, really, that's what your friend would say?" That teasing way he says friend... Yeah, he's on to your flirting, Allison.

...though he also has no intention of reciprocating. But it's nice, at least, to have something resembling a normal, casual conversation for once. He hasn't had one in so long.