driftfleet | out of one prison & into another

Entry tags:

out of one prison & into another

Who: Bucky & You
Broadcast: ?????
Action: From the Marsiva
When: 7/28

[Consciousness came slowly, like climbing out of a fog. Before he opened his eyes, he knew something was amiss; the familiar noises that accompanied him waking up were absent. There should be some sort of noise, be it the hiss of the cryostasis chamber, or the bumbling gait of the scientists that aided in mission preparations.

Nothing.

Blearily opening his eyes, he was startled if not perplexed. This wasn't right. His mission, he--
Head whipping around, his vision darted rapidly for the windows and all points of entry. No sign of anyone else around. Captain America- that had been his mission, but this was...impossible.

Getting off the cot, the joints of his bionic arm creaked as he pushed himself to stand. The large window caught his eye, the view of the stars impressive. They invoke some sort of feeling in him, though he's not sure exactly what.

The lack of any sort of life around is concerning, though not unwanted. Being alone is something of a treat, and the gentle hum of the station itself helped quell the noise in his brain for now. It also helps that he's got a basic comprehension of where he is, though it doesn't particularly calm him.

Despite the freedom to move about, he can't shake the feeling of being snared, like there is something he is missing just out of reach. While there is no one in the immediate area, they could be close, and he opens his mouth to speak.]

..Hello?

[The single word is slightly hoarse, scratching at his throat from disuse, but perhaps not unheard.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A captain? Something scraps just at the outskirts of his mind, demanding recognition and he reaches for it. It's not quite far enough, but he wills it closer.

He's quiet for a moment and he shakes his head when nothing comes. Not that the other could hear it.]

Asset.

[Not so much a name as a title, but that's the best he knows he's got.]

[ Asset. Like a tool. Like a thing. He's grateful this is voice, and he has time to compose himself. ]

I, ah. I don't think I can call you that. Do you have a name you like? A codename, even?

[He's only ever been called a few things to his face- though there were always some choice words overheard. Not that it mattered one way or the other. He'd been indifferent.]

Winter Soldier?

[It feels like he's betraying some sort of secret, but the words are sour in his mouth. Like he tries to live up to the title, but doesn't seem to fit. Though he wants to.]

[ Not for the first time, the world ends. He looks down at his left hand, which has always been steady and reliable when the rest of him's slipping sideways, and finds it shaking. The Winter Soldier is a ghost, but Bucky knows he's real. His Natasha has told him the story. Showed him the scar. He's fast. Strong. He speaks Russian. He's the one that got away. Ghosts never stay buried, she said, and he hadn't pushed farther. The fact that he was allowed that snippet of her life said enough about her trust in him that he didn't want to take more. ]

[ The hand is still shaking, and Bucky closes it into a fist. He's not just afraid, he's terrified. It's the living, liquid terror that wakes a body up and forces it to feral fight or flight. He should be running for his life right now. Anyone who can make Natasha Romanoff afraid — she's the bravest, strongest person he knows alongside Sam — what chance does he stand? ]

[ But this man just sounds lost (could be a trick, if Nat's that good it stands to reason there's others) and once upon a time he remembers being a man who gave others the benefit of the doubt. ]

[ Rough, ] Do you want me to use that? Really?

[For a brief moment, he wondered if the other man--Jim-- had hung up or left. It made that feeling in his gut worse, though he couldn't figure out exactly why.

It was a completely normal thing he'd seen his handlers do, leave after a conversation. Maybe this just meant they were done and he'd had enough.

He was almost surprised when he heard the voice, though there was a great deal more strain than there had been before.

Who was this man?]

Call me what you think is best.

Edited (coding wtf) 2015-07-29 04:49 (UTC)

[ He nods, absently, forgetting the Winter Soldier can't see him, and inhales in a soft breath. ]

Okay. I'll use your codename for now, and we can think about a proper one.

[ A pause, and he switches to video. If this operative is up here... well there's no better target than Captain America. Why else does he wear a star over his heart? ]

Hey.

[ He's clean-shaven, hair neat, wearing the black jumpsuit. The left arm's the same, the star's white, enclosed in a blue circle. His eyes are keen, searching, and after a moment his expression softens. ]

It's nice to meet you.

[He detects the shift, changing the way he held the communicator as he finally gets a face to the man he was speaking to.

Quite the opposite of his counterpart, his own hair hangs limply around his face, and his unshaven face makes him look a bit more unkempt. The pallor is quite a bit different, very much a man with no idea how to care for himself. Not that he'd been given the autonomy to do so himself.

He's still wearing what he'd been on his mission, though there is a pristine quality he hadn't noticed before. Like he hadn't just gone out on a mission.

He offers the barest hint of a nod in greeting, waiting for some sort of instruction.]

Code name is adequate.

[ For tense seconds he just doesn't speak, taking in what's in front of him. (Natasha had looked at his left arm, she hadn't wanted him near here). There's more lines on his face, a blankness in the eyes. Combat fatigue (or they call it post-traumatic stress now, though he doesn't understand how it's post when you live through it every fucking day) was never something he showed much of. He got tired, he brushed Steve off. There were bad days. It happened to all of them. This — he rubs at his mouth, unable to conceal the open worry. ]

All right. I'm on the Heron, if you want to talk to me without this thing in the way, that's where you'll find me. They'll give you a ship in a coupla days. Tell me where they send you, understood?

[ There is a part of him building a gale force wind, all the unrestrained rage of an oncoming blizzard. He will find who did this, and he will end them. He always knew how to shoot straight, the mission soothes away what's uncontrolled. ]

[He's no stranger to being inspected, so he remains quiet, eyes flicking away after a moment. Whatever Jim sees, he doesn't like it, so he'll have to improve the next time.]

I will take it into consideration.. I will inform you of my coordinates as I get them, sir.

[He looks back to to the camera with a solemn nod. An order was an order.]

[ He thinks, maybe, Steve might've balked at being called sir by someone who's been conditioned to assess and reply like this. He's not Steve. He woke up out of the ice angry and lost, and it was only when Natasha gave him a set of parameters that he felt he could engage with something. Maybe this man's the same. Maybe he isn't. All Bucky can do is try and see what works. ]

Good.

[ He nods, and gestures. ]

There should be a shower on your left. Mess hall down the corridor.

[He tries not to look relieved, but his shoulders sag at the blatant order. Nutrients and a shower he could do.. Those should be fairly easy, right?]

Understood, sir.

[At the very least, he can attempt to keep in his good graces before his appraisal in-person. That was an entirely different scenario. Sometimes things were better in theory..]

[ He accepts the suggestion of food now, when he'd said not hungry before. Bucky notes it means wasn't told to eat. Out of view, his flesh hand curls into a fist. ]

I have a few more questions for you, Soldier, but they're not urgent. I'm going to hang up now. Call me when you're done. Acknowledged?

[He initiates video contact again once he'd managed to eat...whatever that had been considered in the mess hall. He was not fond of the texture, that was certain. Then again, preference didn't matter so long as the order was followed.

He'd showered, as well. Hair still dripping in dark tendrils sticking to the side of his face. Admittedly, he had hurried getting dressed again, since the Captain had needed to question him again.]

Reporting for interrogation, sir..

[ In the intervening time he's managed to shift to his office, a more private area in the ship, and set the communicator on the table so it shows the upper half of his body and much of the background. He smiles, warmly, when he sees his alternate looking -- not better precisely, but cleaner than before. And hopefully, fed. ]

Good to see you again.

[ There's a joke he has, about how he should get a comb and dry his hair, that Mary Barnes would box her son's ears if he went out looking like this. But this -- some horrible dream -- think Barnes. What would Sam Wilson do? ]

What's your current assignment?

[He frowns at the comment, unsure of whether that was meant honestly or if it was a trap. He didn't appear to be anything but genuine, but people were good at hiding intentions under a mask.

..But it felt good following orders again.

His assignment..The one Pierce had entrusted him with for a second time, apparently.. Though he couldn't recall the first- a repaired malfunction had been mentioned.

He didn't recall having been injured, though his arm had undergone some sort of repair. It wouldn't have done well to argue it, they know best.]

Current ongoing mission is to locate, subdue and eliminate Captain America and all who oppose Project Insight at all costs. Failure is unacceptable.

[ Oh. ]

[ Oh, God. His jaw sets, face a calm, stoic mask. He can't telegraph anything or he's not going to get the answers he wants. (Natasha. Borrow from Natasha. Stay focused.) But his shoulders move like there's knives under them. ]

[ They did this and they want to send him to kill Steve. ]

Who's deploying you?

[That small motion is enough to set him on edge, and his eyes harden a fraction.

...Calm. No one is here to reprimand whether he answers or not. Although he can't not answer. The compulsion is far too great. Once he completes his mission, it won't matter.

Or if he gets a new one..]

HYDRA.

[ Borrow from Natasha. Pull the skin on quick like it fits. Borrow from Natasha. Oh, fuck. ]

I see.

[ His expression is raw grief now, he hurts so badly for what's happened — the fate worse than death. Oh, he knows the story. In that other world, he dies and Steve lives, as it should have been. But the Nat here knew him, and if the Winter Soldier's records are the same he's been active since 1962. Who else lives through a century barely ageing except a supersoldier? ]

[ And if Bucky crashed the Valkyrie and fell asleep in the ice.... what happened to his Steve? ]

I'm sorry to inform you there's no Project Insight here.

[ He rubs at his eyes, like he's trying to get some dirt out of them. ]

Your mission has to be delayed. [ Or you know. Aborted. But he has to tread carefully. This is a field of land mines. ] Are you all right with waiting?

[His own expression crumples into one of confusion and of guilt. For some reason, he wants to open his mouth and apologize, but he was simply fulfilling his duty. As was his intended use.

No missions meant idle time, and idle time meant being back in the cryotube. While it may be different in this place, he doesn't have vast knowledge of all of his surroundings. He's running blind.

No Insight here.. So it would be waiting for him when he got back.. whenever that was. Waiting seemed to be something of a necessity, but it still filled him with anticipation; like a tightly drawn bowstring.]

..I understand.

[Thankfully Jim doesn't seem too mad, though he is upset. Perhaps a reprimand won't be too swift, and he offers a single nod in compliance.

He's not Pierce or Rumlow..but another handler. Nothing he's not used to.]

[ Roughly, ] Good.

[ He rubs his nose and leans back in the chair. Has to remind himself to breathe. It's not this man's fault. It's — the anger has nowhere to go. ]

What do you usually do, while waiting? Play cards? Smoke?

[He watches Jim almost warily like he'll strike out at the screen. Not that would physically harm him, but there's enough emotion there that it could.

His brow furrowed again at the question, looking to Jim for help. He's not sure how to answer that question.

What did people do? Whatever it was, he could imitate it if it would make him satisfied.]

Is that what you do here?

[ His attention snaps up at that -- does the Soldier expect he'll be attacked? For what? Bucky shifts his body seamlessly and deliberately into something neutral, giving the question the thought it deserves. ]

We do a lot of things here. There's plenty of objectives to complete. You strike me as a poker kinda guy, but I better not teach you. I'm shit at poker. [ gesturing to his face, he smiles, warmly ] I telegraph everything.

..Oh.

[It sounded easy enough, especially if there was any sort of strategy incorporated into it. He learned things rapidly, so it wasn't unreasonable. Especially if Jim was offering to show him..]

I could do that.

[ He can't help himself; he grins boyishly. ]

Okay, I promise to teach you, and you promise not to rob me blind.

..Why would I rob you?

[That frown is back again, though it never leaves for long.]

out of one prison & into another

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