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

[ 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.]

[ Gently, ] It's a joke.

[ Laughter seems to be far from the worst thing this Bucky's been deprived of, but still it turns him sombre again. ]

Hey, can I ask one more question? [ he doesn't pause for an affirmative answer, he'll get one anyway. ] What did they say they'd do if you failed?

[He mulls over exactly how to present his answer, anticipating that it will not be well-received. He watches the plates in his hand shift as he clenches it before glancing back at Jim.]

..Just cryostasis if He's feeling merciful.. Correcting the malfunction that caused the failure. Find another interested party.

..I don't know for sure. Sorry.

[ Gentle, firm, ]

Don't be sorry. I asked you a question. You gave me an honest answer. I don't like it, that's my problem to deal with. It's not on you. Understood?

[ Correcting the malfunction. What the fuck. ]

[A nod in response.]

..Understood.

[He's conflicted. He can't recall a time before this place where he was talked to with-- what was it? Sympathy? Pity? The second, most likely.]

Good.

[ He sits back in the chair and rolls his shoulder, feeling a little strained. ]

Anything you want to ask me, Soldier?

out of one prison & into another

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