02. | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

[sinistral]

Who: (Winter Soldier) Bucky Barnes (sinistral)
Broadcast: No
Action: Yes; SS Starduck, SS Iskaulit, B'lire
When: From the start of the post-calibrations drift to visiting the new planet

---

SS STARDUCK
→ Reacclimation;

The time spent aboard the Marsiva had been uncomfortable, to put it politely. Bucky still doesn't believe it, not really, when they're returned to their own ships; it comes with staying awake for the first twenty-four hours just to make sure this isn't a dream or a trick of the mind. Considering the state of his mind, he's not entirely convinced, but it does seem a little bit elaborate to just be a part of the Calibrations.

And if this is truly the ship, if they are truly back to what passes for daily life around here, then it has to start with checking over everything. Maybe he's taking the whole idea of Security a bit too literally but now that he's had some time to think about it, he can only conclude that his presence and assignment here is due only to what he is. What HYDRA turned him into has made him valuable; if he performs his role well, perhaps the switch inside his brain won't be flipped. So for that reason he's combing all of the ships nooks and crannies, looking for anything that might be out of order or out of (what passes for) the ordinary. He won't enter a crewmate's quarters without being asked to do so though; he sees it as too much an invasion of privacy.

When he's finally satisfied and no longer has that activity to occupy his mind, Bucky heads to the workout area in the cargo bay. He doesn't know which former crewmembers had seen to the upgrades of the equipment there, but he's thankful to be able to take advantage of it once more. And, judging by the force behind his punches, to do his best to attempt to break it. There's a lot of frustration to work out, enough so that it's definitely palpable. Call him out on it? Try to keep up? Pity the amount of protein solid he's going to have to consume to compensate for all those burned calories?

SS ISKAULIT
→ Work It Out;

Bucky really only has one goal in mind in coming to the Iskaulit: to push himself in a way he can't with the limited facilities on the Starduck, to force the body into exhaustion since the brain won't accept any other sort of quiet. That it's not the healthiest pursuit doesn't matter. As long as it works, it's fine. And he'll make it work.

He tries to choose odd hours if possible, hours that coincide with the times he'd expect most people to be sleeping and the facility to be empty. It doesn't always work in his favor but as long as there's a heavy bag or a speedbag available he stays, alternating time spent against the bag with weights. And if the facility appears too busy for his liking, he simply leaves with the intention of returning later.

→ Art Appreciation;

Though most of his time spent aboard the Iskaulit is spent in the gym, it's not the only reason Bucky visits. He hardly appreciates heavy-handed attempts at steering his actions but whether it had been the Vision, or the Atroma acting through the Vision, the scene he'd been shown of the mural aboard the Iskaulit has not faded from his memory. That in and of itself is significant enough for him to seek out the mural he'd been shown, to find its location and maybe figure out why it's so important.

Seeing it doesn't bring him any answers.

It's a nice enough work of art he supposes; he's not one for appreciation of the arts, and he's got no skill in them himself. He can draw a rough map though, so the next time he visits, he brings along a journal and starts copying down that section of the wall he was shown aboard the Marsiva, mapping it out in rough lines on the paper. It's not a good drawing, more a diagram than anything else, but it's good enough for his purposes, good enough for him to write down his thoughts (questions, mostly) on the next few pages. And it's a good enough place to sit quietly, back against the wall because even here, in a place that's supposed to be peaceful, he's defensive and closed off more than anything else.

PLANETSIDE
→ Hunting;

It's more than a literal breath of fresh air to get off the ships and onto solid ground again. It's not that Bucky doesn't do well with being cooped up; it's more that the close quarters with others — even his shipmates — and the happenings on board the Marsiva have him feeling like a caged animal. And like a caged animal, his first instinct is to lash out; fortunately, the punching bags have held up against such expulsion of energy. So far, anyway.

Fortunately, this system's planet seems well suited to his kind of stress relief.

He's a regular in the wooded areas both for the exercise of hiking and the action of hunting. Ghosts or supernatural beings or whatever, he'll keep an eye out for them just fine, but it's the more substantial creatures that he makes his prey. People are willing to pay both for pelts and for the meat from carcasses; it seems a good use of his time.

→ Shopping;

Man certainly can't stay in the woods all the time and while Bucky's no stranger to wilderness survival, it'd be foolish not to take advantage of the offerings available via trade. And not all goods are physical; there's certainly something to be said for the pursuit of information, even though little enough of it seems to pertain to anything outside of this world's particular customs. Still he asks, here and there, unsatisfied by the answers but unwilling to stop trying.

He's examining wares at a particular establishment, carefully testing the weight and balance of a hunting knife while keeping half his attention on the conversations of the building's other occupants. It's when he overhears stories of a metallic man that he decides to take his leave; local legend or not, it definitely sounds like something he'd rather avoid being tangled up in and he's glad to have kept the habit of wearing long sleeves and gloves when going planetside. It's just easier to avoid the questions that he doesn't want to answer.

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

Did we discuss something and I forgot? Have another idea? I'm open to almost anything, hit me up via PM or at sometimesamuse and we'll figure out out. I do write starters in prose but if you prefer brackets I'm happy to match.

Comments

[sinistral]

He's not unaware of someone entering the gym. A glance up between punches tells him who it is, but therein lies the problem: who it is. Bucky knows the face, of course. He even knows the name, having memorized what he could of that Smithsonian exhibit (and written it all down besides). But that doesn't help. Logically, he knows who this man is supposed to be. But he's not, because Bucky isn't James Buchanan Barnes, not really. He looks like him and sounds like him but he can't be someone he has no memories of ever being.

On the plus side, he's already in the gym. If the punches and kicks he lands on the bag become a little fiercer, well, this is the place for it. And there is the unspoken gym code: don't start conversation with someone who's deep into his workout. Simple.

It's a punch from that left arm that does it, the plates rippling with a quiet hiss as they shift with the force Bucky puts behind it. The bag finally splits, swaying on its chains; with a grunt, Bucky steps away from it, rolling that shoulder, his right hand braced against the pectoral for support. He'll deal with replacing the bag in a moment.

[brooklyn_boy]

Steve just about starts punching his own bag when he can hear the telltale fabric scream he knows so well. He doesn't have to look to know the bag succumbed to serum-powered punches. Steve regularly stacks a few of his up on bad days to save him time between replacements.

Knowing Bucky is in the gym means he's got four in a pyramid beside him.

Steve turns for a second and makes a decision. The top bag gets hoisted onto his shoulder and flopped off to the side of where Bucky is working out. Feral cat being offered a bowl of milk, his mind supplies before Steve banishes it. Fucking Vision.

"You alright?" He sees the rolling and besides, he feels like he needs to say something. "I can swap 'em if you need?"

[sinistral]

Punch; hit. Punch; hit. It's rare that the equipment here fails; he's been informed that it's made with enhanced individuals in mind. Bucky supposes that's the polite term for it. So either this bag had a fault (likely its age), or it's one of the ones meant for more normal people, and had been hung here on accident. It doesn't matter to him which it is, not really. He broke it; he'll see it's disposed of properly. A simple mission all things told, but no less important for its simplicity.

What isn't simple is the gaze he can feel on him. He takes a deep breath in, counting slowly on the exhale. Something tells him that words are not far away.

"I'll do it." He doesn't need the help, not strictly, and he's eyeing that replacement bag warily — unfair to the bag maybe; its role is nothing more than innocent bystander. The other question is ignored. He's functional. That's all that matters.

[brooklyn_boy]

Palms up in instant acceptance, Steve walks back, giving Bucky room to get the bag and to hang it up. He doesn't leave, though. Probably pushing his luck but the periphery of Bucky's space holds him as he watches and thinks to himself. It wasn't a 'fuck off' or a gunshot to the stomach. That's at least a mild improvement. He can celebrate that, at least, later on.

Unless he manages to fuck it up in the meantime. 50/50 chance.

Especially when the next thing out of his mouth is the stupidest, most easily answered question in the entire world. He's had the answer since he knew Bucky was here and hadn't answered his broadcast. Since the only thing he's said to him so far is 'I'll do it'. But still, Steve apparently can't help himself:

"Do you know me?"

[sinistral]

He doesn't hang the bag right away; instead he runs his right hand along its seams, testing them, and presses on the canvas to feel its resistance. Only after it passes inspection does he hang it, though he doesn't take his place in front of it. He's done for the night.

The tension in the air is near palpable. It's his fault of course. He's broken. But it isn't exactly something that can be fixed, and he doesn't fell like explaining that the thing he knows the clearest about the man in front of him is the order to kill.

"Steven Rogers," he replies simply. "The world's first super soldier." He'd only needed one afternoon in the museum to memorize the words on the exhibits, and he'd written them down afterwards. They still don't mean anything, but he knows them.

[brooklyn_boy]

"Steve," he corrects lightly. Bucky calling him 'Steven' is just too strange to let pass. He hates the lump it puts into his throat but that's something to indulge at another time. Right now he's too conscious of showing any weakness; he tries to not even blink as he stands off against this man that had once been his friend. "No one calls me Steven. Except maybe my ma when she was about to yell at me." And Hux. But he's new.

Steve clears his throat just slightly. He can feel the tense moment between them just like he can feel the years and years he has that Bucky doesn't. The distance between them is so much greater than the few feet Steve can cross, here. In his time, Bucky had come closer on his own and they'd met further in the journey. Here the path hasn't even been charted and it's not Steve's to plan.

He looks down and exhales the breath he was unconsciously holding.

"Look..."

He doesn't actually know what to say. That he's here for Bucky? That if he wants to talk, Steve will be there? That he misses him? That he doesn't blame him? None of it would matter to the Soldier. He doesn't matter to the Soldier and neither does anything he has to offer. Steve shakes his head.

"Good luck with that bag," he decides on as he turns around to go back to his corner of the room. "I'll see you around, Buck."

[sinistral]

"Steve." He takes the correction and makes a note of it. Steven, not Steve. Is it familiar? He can't be sure; the exhibit had used both. The media uses Steve though, but uses Captain America more often, and sometimes Captain Rogers. So many names for just one person and it makes him frown a little bit. He has a name now too — or again perhaps — but it doesn't feel like he owns it.

Then Steve says to look and he follows the gaze down, trying to determine what it is exactly that he's supposed to observe. A moment or two of it has him realizing that it had been neither request nor suggestion, and his eyes return to Steve's face when he starts to speak again.

His gaze skates over to the downed bag, the one he'd ripped. "I'll dispose of it." The Iskaulit seems to have cleaning robots or mechanisms or something but that certainly doesn't preclude handling it himself. It seems the right thing to do: make a mess, clean it up. At least it's not blood. This time, his mind supplies.

He frowns though at the casual way his name is truncated. Something should be there and isn't, and his mind simply cannot supply any clues as to what. He knows this man; logically, he has read the information about the two of them and he knows that a connection is supposed to exist. But it simply doesn't outside of vague impressions, and Bucky doesn't trust those like he doesn't trust so much of his own mind. "Stay out of rivers," he offers eventually, quietly, and there's a little hesitation in his voice.

[brooklyn_boy]

He's not expecting anything from Bucky after he turns away. Maybe a short noise as he slips out of the room or maybe not even that. Steve's not expecting a response, at all. Definitely not the one he gets. But it's a relief more than a surprise. Proof that Bucky remembers something about him, even if it is just their last meeting. At least it's something.

Steve turns and looks at Bucky for a moment before a small smile crosses his face and he laughs. "Yeah, well. Don't shoot me and I'll see what I can do."

It feels like the sort of tease they'd throw back and forth when they were friends. Just this time Steve's not expecting anything coming back at him. Really, he doesn't even have confidence Bucky will know his comment was a tease at all. The man here isn't his friend, after all. Not as he knew him.

Loki had told him to focus on who is here now, not who he was. Steve's trying. There's a lot to learn for them both.

[sinistral]

Another small frown crosses his face at those words and at how they're accompanied by, of all things, a smile. He'd shot this man several times in fact. He wouldn't hesitate to do so again, should it be necessary. He doesn't see how it's amusing. But it does at least confirm the reality of that interaction, that the memory isn't false. He hadn't thought it was, but having the confirmation thereof is important.

Failing to find a verbal response himself he chooses to pick up the broken bag instead. Disposing of it seems the best course of action right now, and leaving the other man to his exercise. Whether or not he runs into him again before he leaves the Iskaulit remains to be seen.