driftfleet | 01. | You're as cold

Entry tags:

01. | You're as cold—

Who: Bucky Barnes (

sinistral) and YOU!
Broadcast: No
Action: Yes; SS Starduck, SS Iskaulit, planetside
When: from Bucky's arrival through what's left of December

SS STARDUCK
→ Acclimating;

If waking up on the Marsiva had been unexpected, doubly so is the teleportation to a new ship entirely. On the plus side, there are at least more people here than had been aboard the host ship. On the negative, Bucky still isn't entirely comfortable around people, and he's already on edge from the circumstances as it is. He's not outwardly unfriendly, but he is wary of everyone and everything.

But he's here in the capacity of a security officer and that means— Well, he's not entirely sure what it means. Oh, he knows what his duties are, just like he knows where he is and why, but the strangeness of it still nags at his brain. He figures at the very least that he should spend some time in exploration, in assessment of the ship that's now his home. As such he's attempting to explore every inch of it and to learn the names, responsibilities, and routines of those with whom he's now living.

SS ISKAULIT
→ Exploration;

It's strange, he thinks, the way this ship is laid out. It's much different from his assigned vehicle, and nowhere near as sterile as the Marsiva. For all that he's been told what it is, seeing it is another thing entirely. So the exploration he does is part curiosity and part reconnaissance, learning the layout of the hallways and establishments as much as he's still trying to wrap his head around the existence of the space fleet in the first place. Movement helps at least, the steady cadence of footfalls on the floor interrupted here and there when he pauses to examine the outside of an establishment that catches his eye.

Though he's not one to make the first move to seek out conversation or company, he doesn't steer away or try to avoid it if he's approached.

→ Gym;

It'd taken him a few days to get used to the whole spaceship thing, including the idea of intership travel via shuttle, but Bucky's just firmly putting it in terms with which he's more familiar: the ships are buildings, the shuttles cars. And there's a certain freedom of movement in the allowance of taking a shuttle to visit another ship. For him it's exclusively to the Iskaulit, and minus the exploration of his first visit, is exclusively for the purpose of utilizing the gym facilities. Working out is the closest thing he has to any sort of regular routine, at least right now, and it's something to which he's going to remain faithful.

It's gratifying to find that the facility has been constructed in such a way that some of the equipment caters toward the physically enhanced; it means he doesn't have to pull his punches and that he can work out to his full abilities. And that settles the mind a little as well, just thanks to the pushing of the body to its limits. He'll still step aside quietly though, in order to offer the equipment to anyone who looks like they might be waiting for it.

PLANETSIDE
→ Working;

A search for laborers attracts Bucky for two reasons: it's physical activity, something to engage both the mind and the muscles, and there's the hope that working alongside people will give him a chance to learn a little more about where they are and why. While there's been plenty of the first, it's the second that's got him a little frustrated. Everything he finds out slots in so seamlessly with what he just knows, but he has no idea how he knows it. But he's so certain about it, while at the same time so uncertain of who he is. He feels like he can't fully trust his own brain and that's not a comfortable thought at all.

But physical labor? That's easy enough, even though the work itself is hard. It keeps him moving and earns him money, and he can't complain about either of those things — especially when it offers a chance to be out of doors. The ships are nice but they're enclosed spaces, and he doesn't have the best experiences with closed spaces. He much prefers being outside like this, even with the cold, and when he sees the signal from the group leader to start packing it up, he'll pass that signal onto the person closest to him. "Looks like it's time to go."

→ Ice Caves;

The problem with being strung so tight for so long is that when there's a moment to relax, Bucky finds it hard to do so. Idleness isn't welcome, and he's not sure if it's the unease of being suddenly drafted into the Fleet or if it's the fog that he can still feel clinging stubbornly to his brain. But whatever the case, he'd rather spend his free time doing something. Fortunately, this place seems to offer plenty to satisfy that urge.

The castle tour is a little disappointing only because, while history and architecture are momentarily interesting, it still doesn't mean anything to him. Hiking is better, dressing against the cold to explore the surrounding landscape and the caves. Sure, the ice makes the footing a little treacherous, but it's nothing he can't handle. And apparently, he's not the only one. "Excuse me, just passing through—"

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

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sometimesamuse. Open to wherever, whatever, and though I write starters in prose I'm more than happy to switch to brackets if it's your preference.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The technique is simply described as: Hit bag with fists. Repeat. There's a little bit of remembered fluidity, muscle memory that hasn't been entirely stamped out. There's a lot more of HYDRA's training, the absolute command over the body and singular focus on the goal. But it's tempered by awareness and choice both; there is no need to push the body to its absolute physical limits, no need to ignore pain for the completion of a mission. There's no team of scientists and engineers waiting to put back together whatever he's broken — or to break again what shreds of his mind he's managed to regain.

"I was finished." Untrue, but close enough to being finished that he doesn't mind truncating the workout. Bucky steadies the bag before stepping away, hands tracing the leather to make sure he hasn't strained or split it. He's not sure where the habit originates, only that it feels natural to do this small, potentially preventative task before turning around to fully acknowledge the other person.

He stops when he does, because he does recognize her. Target confirmed, part of his brain reminds him, but he pushes it aside. He doesn't do that anymore and HYDRA, he has been informed, does not exist here. And of course he can't miss that little catch of her voice, but Bucky isn't entirely sure how to process it. "It's all yours."

She sets her things down, keeping him in the corner of her eye but not staring on him. Non-confrontational. They don't need to fight, not here or now, though she's well aware of the potential. That awareness raises every hair on the back of her neck.

"Didn't take you long to find your way here," she observes, the words smoother. She doesn't start her workout immediately. "Did you find it yourself, or did someone give you the tour?"

Neither of them are staring, but Bucky's quite sure that his companion is as aware of him as he of her. There's observation happening here, a noticing of how weight is held and balanced, of the economy of movement. He's not sure if her being here is entirely coincidental or not.

"Didn't realize it should." He's not even really sure what her statement means. Long is relative he supposes, and he's already been recognized. It stands to reason that recognition could extend to more than one person. And right now there's a tension in the air, something that's not a fight but still seems somehow volatile.

"Alone," he answers eventually. It answers both the spoken question and the unspoken inquiry: is he here alone?

Her lips twitch toward a dry smile, a grimace dressed up as something more gracious. His posture, his answers, support her suspicions that it hasn't been long since DC for him. Not nearly as long as it's been for her. But he's still sharp, quick. He follows the implication.

And he answers it.

She doesn't let herself get too optimistic about it.

"You're on a ship. You have a crew. I'm sure they'd help you out, if you ask. Most folks around here are eager to help a stranger." A sideways glance, measured. "More so someone they recognize."

There's an implied question there too. More than one, actually. What he takes from it would answer other questions. How much he recognizes her. How many people have recognized him.

"I know." And they had helped out, as much as answers could be given to the questions that most bother him. It's how he had found out about this ship after all, though the decision to explore it had been fully his own. Even so Bucky is still less than comfortable with the idea of community: of relying on it, and of integrating with it.

He doesn't miss that glance, of course he doesn't, and he most certainly doesn't miss the implications therein. She knows him. She knows him and it's more than just the recognition he has for her. His mind briefly flickers to an earlier conversation with someone who claimed to know him, and the awkwardness that had ensued. Perhaps he should have asked for more in detail to facilitate navigating these conversations, but it's not something he'll allow himself to regret.

"Can't stop people recognizing me," he says, cautiously neutral. Maybe in some ways being here is a blank slate, a starting over, but he's not entirely sure he can trust that idea either. "Even if it's smarter that they don't."

A life on the run, a life of anonymity, is too hard to simply give up overnight.

"No, you can't." A predicament she's familiar with. Not a good thing in her line of work, and it was a problem at home and here. Not a situation she ever wanted to be in and she can sympathize with him a little.

More than a little.

That sympathy inclines her to give him space, as much as they can afford to give him. That's not her only concern though. Barnes is here now, and there's certain realities that come with that. She can't tell everyone who might recognize him that he's not the same man they knew. What she will do, well, she's still working that one out.

Natasha's quiet a moment, tapping the bag with her fist idly. "There's a lot of people out there that don't do what's smart, for one reason or another."

It’s a mixed bag, what they have. Recognition on both sides and it does little enough to help, but perhaps doesn’t need to hinder. Perhaps their arrival here truly is the great equalizer: in space, in this fleet, she’s not SHIELD and he’s not HYDRA. Neither organization exists, but knowing what they’re not doesn’t necessarily help in figuring out what they are.

Still. It’s a start. And Bucky supposes that he’s just going to have to get used to people he doesn’t know recognizing him. At least he’s had practice with it; tragically and unfortunately so.

“And you?” There’s nothing in the statement but a mind curiosity, and Bucky’s expression is carefully blank. He definitely needs some time to sort out his thoughts about everything, not just meeting her here.

"Oh, I rarely do the smart thing." It's a joke, and also a dodge. The joke is mostly for her own benefit. She might consider herself a smart person, but the past years have pushed her further and further into making choices no one could call pragmatic.

And she's never been as good as all that about putting her personal safety first.

"Don't expect I'll start now."

Of course he doesn't fail to notice the evasion of her answer. But despite her words and her light tone, it is the smart answer. Committing while not committing; she knows him, and would therefore know that he knows something of how capable she can be. He can't help wondering what game she plays now — if a game it is.

"I'll keep that in mind." Bucky steps to the side, giving more room for the bag, more room for her workout. It's not a dismissal and it's not a retreat. But it is another way to test the waters, to see what reaction follows his action.

There's always a game. It's too much a part of who she is for her to give up easily. It took her months to open up to Barnes the first time, and put on the back foot by his reappearance, she falls into old habits to protect herself, a shell game to keep her feelings out of sight while she decided what to do about Barnes himself.

How she can help him.

When he gives her more space, she throws a few more punches, settling into a rhythm. The position puts her at a disadvantage but she's fairly confident he's not going to start a fight. "You have questions?"

Idly he notes the way she moves, slotting it into the brief but clear memory of her that he does have. Two targets, level six. She's not a target now, doesn't need to be a target, but Bucky doesn't know that he'll be able to forget the habits that HYDRA hardwired into his brain. He doesn't know how much he wants to.

"Nothing that I think you can answer." It's said matter-of-factly, and not meant as an insult, especially as it's followed immediately by what he's asked of almost everyone he's met thus far: "Why are we here, really? How? What's the true purpose of this fleet? What beings are able to generate the power to bring people here?"

He shakes his head a moment later with a brief, rueful laugh. "The answers thus far have been creative, I will say that."

"I wish I could answer all of those, believe me." Delivering a more solid punch, emphasizing her honesty. Her eyes train on the bag, but she keeps him in the corner of her vision. "I could speculate, but at this point that's all it is. Some of it based on more evidence, some less."

She wonders how much she should tell him, how much here and now. It's a lot to take in and process and he's only just scratching the surface. Another punch, then two, three.

"If you ever want to compare notes, I'm on Vanquish. There's a few other people who'd be happy to include you on what they know or guess."

"I won't hold it against you." Everyone he's talked to thus far has been in the same boat. Or the same space ship, to use a more appropriate comparison. But at least there are people who are thinking about it, which Bucky finds preferable to complacency.

He pauses at the invitation, weighing it. It would put him into her territory, an unknown. He doesn't read a threat in the offer, and nothing of subterfuge, but that's also her line of work, isn't it?

"I'll consider it." Careful, and neutral. Not a full acceptance, but neither is it a denial. It's probably more than she should offer him and Bucky makes the choice to offer something small in return. "I am assigned to the Starduck."

Natasha chuckles at that. Of course he is. A little shake of her head accompanies the laugh. "Starduck. Good to know." She already knew, but she doesn't tell him that. The fact he told her is more important than the fact he needed to know—there's a big difference between checking him telling her where he is and her snooping the information out of the ship rosters. "It's a good ship. I've known some good people over there, though I haven't visited recently."

Not since Sam left.

"Or half of it. It used to be the Starstruck. Then they combined it with another ship. Happens sometimes."

He's not sure what's so funny about that, save that it is kind of a funny name for a ship. And sounds pretty funny when said allowed. But this is probably something else, and he's not sure if he wants to ask. Not sure if he wants to build those ties of camaraderie yet or not.

"It seems like a good ship. Not that I have much experience judging these things." Somehow his training hadn't covered the possibility of being kidnapped by a strange intergalactic reality show.

And what is this, a Lego fleet? Bucky just shakes his head. "Does it now? They, uh, left that detail out. How often does that happen?"

Natasha pivots back into information. It's a currency she's comfortable with, one she knows how to use, and it's reassuringly impersonal. It's also a way she can help him that he might be able to accept.

"Not often. Usually when the ship crews get too small. The fleet used to be bigger, but since I got here it's been slowly shrinking." Her punch lands hard. "I think since before I got here. One more puzzle to try to work out. Or maybe it doesn't mean anything. We still have new arrivals coming."

The brokering of information suits them both. Bucky is much more comfortable with a more impersonal conversation, and while he doesn't wish to dwell on how he knows Natasha, he does acknowledge that she's very good at what she does.

"No. It's hard to believe all of this would really be that arbitrary." He shifts back, enough to give the bag the room it would need to swing if she decides to up the intensity even more. It doesn't bother him; he knows that she knows that a swinging bag certainly isn't enough to hurt him, but it's a courtesy to not interfere in someone's workout.

"We're essentially kidnapped. That implies value, even if the value is something so small as needing crew to man their ships." If that's even the reason at all and not just a convenient side effect of having people available and giving them a purpose to distract. "If the Fleet is shrinking, it could be that what our keepers need is found in fewer but more capable bodies."

"It's possible." She's not sure if it's that simple, but she can't rule it out. Most of her skepticism comes from instinct. There are parts of that she can work with, at least. "The ships fly themselves, but they evolve depending on the crew. Doubt that's built into the system. That said..."

Her mind goes back to a party and a heist. The message that the Atroma had shared with them after they removed all of that data the fleet's crews had managed to steal from their hosts and, more importantly, the AI. She'll keep the details of that for later. Barnes has enough on his plate without dumping the whole history on him in one conversation.

Besides, James had been her date that night. She'd rather put off explaining that before it's necessary. Given a little time, she could tease the narratives apart, but on the fly it's safer to stay vague. "They have definitely used us to their ends before. Assuming at least that the deception doesn't go deeper than we know and the whole thing isn't staged."

"But it's possible." A piece of the entire picture maybe, but they're trying to fit together a puzzle with no idea of the final image. Still it speaks to something pretty advanced that the ships don't technically need their crews to operate. It's not a welcome thought, especially as he sees a danger in it: with ships that can fly on their own if necessary, would that not breed complacency?

He rolls his shoulders, runs a hand through his hair. They're small movements, nonthreatening and an attempt to settle into his own skin. There's so much needing consideration, so much needing to be pulled apart and put back together in various configurations to see if one makes any more sense than the others. His smile though when she says that is wry. "Would it surprise you if it was?"

Playing a part, being used to advance the agendas of others. It wouldn't be the first time.

Instead of answering simply, Natasha starts to brief him on something, a visit they had previously. "There was one system we stopped in. Half way through our visit, an asteroid was spotted hurtling toward the planet we were on. Just coincidentally, we were taking cruises and going shopping and suddenly the end of the world is days away. Too late to do anything but evacuate."

A glance his direction, though she's sure he's listening and she knows she won't see him show a reaction.

"We joined in, of course. Helped get people on escape ships, up to a space station. Allegedly, we saved their culture even if it was displaced. We watched as the asteroid hit and the planet went molten."

She manages to stay neutral as she says it. Not easy, even after everything else she's seen. Watching a planet destroyed was never got to be something comfortable. This is business, though, so she treats it like business.

"Then afterward, we here that the planet is stabilizing rapidly. It'll be habitable again quicker than it should. Not immediately, but still... maybe a generation, and everyone can go back. Resettle. What do you think the chances of that happening during the month we happened to be there are?"

So in other words, she'd be more surprised if more weren't staged than they know.

"Conveniently in the right place at the right time." He shakes his head. It's too convenient of course, and they both know it. But he doesn't need Natasha to say that of course there's no evidence thereof; there wouldn't be. "I bet that must have made a killing in ratings."

Hidden agenda and the disguise of the show they're supposedly a part of? A chance to play hero, at least in small part? Bucky is pretty sure that last piece would have attracted a good amount of people, at least from what little he's been able to observe of the Fleet thus far. The immediacy of an emergency is certainly a way to keep people distracted; it's a tactic he has employed from time to time.

Still, the idea of an entire planet nearly destroyed, but already well on its way to becoming hospitable again? It makes something cold and uncomfortable prickle at the back of his neck to consider the kind of power that would have to be involved in something so unnatural sounding. He can't ignore the thought that anything that could do something like that is certainly strong enough to keep a group of people here — and to do whatever it wanted with them.

If that even was the doing of their keepers and not something above even them.

"Imagine it must have." The ratings. That was always the reason, and it often made sense in a purely mercenary accounting. So much of what happened must have the audience holding their breath. Heroism. Comedy. Romance. Drift Fleet had all of it. "It's not exactly unheard of for reality TV to manufacture a little drama."

She shakes her head, her next punch carrying more frustration than the last.

"This must be a lot to have fall on you all at once. Especially for a guy who's been laying low."

"Or a lot of it. Or to hide behind it — and its monetary impact — as a convenient excuse." And again it all comes down to simple fact: they have no way of knowing if that is the case here or not. It likely is, he thinks, but it's not the entire case. Too many pieces, no clear image of the puzzle.

"It's an understatement," he allows, because she knows it is. They still don't know each other but they certainly know enough about each other to recognize these small things — and to recognize that they're hiding the larger picture from each other. It's not as uncomfortable as he would have thought, not nearly as confrontational. That says something. It also says something that she's comfortable enough to continue in her workout in his presence considering that the last time he saw her, they were most decidedly fighting each other.

But there's a question in there as well. A hint, perhaps. "As low as being kidnapped for an intergalactic reality show allows, I suppose."

The way he says that—that it's an understatement—tugs at something she'd prefer not recognize. She puts the feeling away for later. Or never, if she can get away with it.

There's more pressing concerns. She's quiet a moment as she works out.

"That's not very low. Not for long." Because he's probably already guessed that much, and he ought to know if he hasn't. "The Fleet has ways of dragging people into the action sometimes. Malfunctions. Messages getting misdirected. Augment glitches."

He's patient. They both are, partly because patience is a necessity in their line of work and partly because they're both dangerous. Of course they could both be dangerous in the outward threat sort of way, but this isn't quite that. This is something else, and Bucky's pretty sure that the gut feeling telling him that it's more to do simply with who they are is the correct impression.

That doesn't make it uncomfortable though — at least not any more uncomfortable than it was bound to be anyway.

He'd had a feeling, but hearing her confirm it makes it that much more real. And that much more uncomfortable. Sure, Natasha can lie as easily as she breathes, but he doesn't think she is. Not to him, and not about this. "Great. Things in our heads that mess with our heads. Some entertainment."

It touches on things that are beyond uncomfortable of course, and he has a feeling she knows it. Then again, it's because she knows it that she'd mentioned it in the first place, he's pretty sure.

01. | You're as cold—

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