03. | When everything's meant to be broken

[sinistral]

Who: the Bucky Barnes who no longer goes by Bucky or Barnes (sinistral)
Broadcast: no
Action: yes; SS Starduck, Lyndia
When: throughout the visit to the Bix star system

---

SPACE
→ SS Starduck;

Once, far enough back in Earth history that no one would likely truly remember it, some sarcastic jackass responded to a challenge with two now infamous words: Watch me. And while it's more likely than not that the Soldier had been in cryo for said occurrence, he certainly seems to embody the spirit thereof. He's been told, by several different people at several different times, that his life is his to live as he wishes. It's invariably followed up by recommendations, and even at times objections when his wishes do not conform to the path they'd imagined. He can't, shouldn't, withdraw from everyone and everything, they say.

Watch me, his current behavior replies.

He's stopped visiting the Iskaulit, save for a single afternoon to memorize a document. Most of the Starduck's crew keeps to themselves, making the avoidance of casual conversation easy. He keeps appointments to train in the gym space in their cargo hold, still makes his own rounds of the ship to check its safety and integrity — and to check that nothing new has been planted on board without their knowledge. He checks, re-checks, and re-checks again the upgrades to their systems. He trains himself, choosing odd hours, times during which other members of the crew aren't likely to observe the way he uses — abuses — the punching bag. It's not solving anything, his brain supplies. It's not answering any questions.

Watch me, his fists beat into the bag in steady cadence. Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.

PLANETSIDE
→ Sun's Rest;

A desire to surround oneself with physical beauty seems simple enough, right? He recalls a conversation, one in which the other person had told him that the aesthetic appreciation of a thing need not be based on extensive knowledge or experience. The words were meant as a kindness, he thinks, and they're what sends him to see the glowing grove when he hears of it.

If a single word must describe the place, he supposes that beautiful is the one most would use.

Thankfully it also seems quiet, which is a small miracle. He directs his thanks to the flora and fungi of the planet; were it not for their apparently aggressive allergens, it's likely that there might be more people wandering the paths to enjoy the sights — or wandering off the paths to enjoy other activities. Put in that context, the relative emptiness is a blessing. Still, it apparently doesn't stop all of those with amorous intent and on hearing rustling and moaning (and a sneeze or two) from a particular cluster of bushes, he'd been quick to abandon his exploration of the weeping, flowered branches of a tree, not having any desire to know any more about who's in those bushes or what, exactly, they're doing together.

He stops by the edges of the lake, watching the glowing forms of the fish swimming underneath the water. There's an imagery there for which he doesn't have words. But as he sinks to a sitting position at the edge of the lake, he supposes that he doesn't really need them either. For a little while at least.

→ Kenn-Tellnic;

At least this planet is relatively high end, as far as supplying oneself is concerned. Proper combat knives are a requirement and most people would probably scoff at how much of a morning is given over to the pursuit of obtaining just that, but he's picky. He needs to be picky when it comes to something that needs to feel like an extension of his own body and needs to be just as reliable. It's a process that takes him through several shops and half the city before he finds something that meets his standards and specifications; he realizes the time once he's left the shop with purchases secure in their sheaths and decides that the cafe caddy-corner to his current position will do. It's glass and brushed aluminum and streamlined — apparently this planet's high-profile coffee chain — and even the short line of customers moves efficiently.

It's too good to be true.

There's certainly something to be admired in the efficiency of the operation that is taking an order, accepting payment, and fulfilling that order. It's clean. Impersonal. Exactly the way things should be, and the entire thing grinds to a halt when the cashier looks him in the eye and asks, in that distinct retail blend of perky-yet-interested-in-moving-the-line, for his name. It's an uncomfortable moment, made worse by her follow up, the slight slowing of two syllables: "name, sir?"

"Nothing. Never mind," he says, turning away from the counter to move for the door. He doesn't spare another glance for the girl left standing behind her register, nor for the other patrons of the shop. No coffee in the universe is worth answering that question right now.

→ Jungles;

Being around people has become increasingly uncomfortable. He knows it's all internal, all him; he was designed to be a weapon, not a person. At least out here he can put that reality of his existence to good use: there is game to hunt, and he's nothing if not a hunter. And the creatures here are certainly big enough and strong enough to provide a challenge.

When they don't, there's always the escape of pure physical activity, running and hiking and climbing, if he can find it. Anything that presents a challenge; anything that pushes the body to its extremes, that elusive point of exhaustion where the brain finally quiets and nothing exists outside of pushing the muscles to achieve more. It's a luxury in every sense of the word: to have a body that can perform on such a level, and to have not only the freedom to exercise it, but a place that presents enough challenge to do so.

He's being reckless, he knows. But as it's not endangering others, he just doesn't give a damn.

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

Did we discuss something and I forgot in the hell that has been final projects and exams? Have another idea? Want to go steal some Flouds? 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

[seeingscarlet]

Do you want to go flying?

[sinistral]

Do you have the time?

[seeingscarlet]

I have the rest of the day to myself. But we can pick another time if today doesn't work.

[sinistral]

Today is fine. Where should I meet you?

→ Kenn-Tellnic;

[sassy_assassin]

[ Sara caught sight of him during one of the knife-shopping stops and decided to see where he ended up, if only because she figures he's probably pretty discerning about blade quality and she's also on the hunt for knives. Her League of Assassins training positions her to be an expert tail, but game can probably recognize game. At the last shop she drops the stalking to study the wares. These are the kinds of blades she's been looking for. ]

[sinistral]

[He's not unaware of his shadow; as the saying goes, it takes one to know one. But if the intention had been malicious, then it wouldn't have taken so long to act. As it is he's apparently just being observed and that truly doesn't bother him.

Apparently the offerings in this latest store are more interesting than staying hidden from him though; he acknowledges her with a brief meeting of the eyes before turning attention back to the blades at hand. The craftsmanship here really is of very good quality.]

[sassy_assassin]

[ she offers a small, wry smile ]

Definitely your best shop choice so far.

[sinistral]

Glad you approve. [Which does of course confirm that she'd been following him, but he doesn't think he minds.] You've got a discerning eye.

sun's rest

[theladyofwinterfell]

Sansa has never seen something so beautiful as Sun's Rest in all her life. She's drawn to it, just as she's drawn to beauty in other ways, and she and Lady explore the beautiful forest for a little while before she sees a familiar face. He's alone and Sansa doesn't want to be a bother, so she decides to leave him be but Lady has no such scruples; Bucky is someone she's fond of and she heads over, nosing at his right hand for pets.

"I am sorry," Sansa says, closing the distance between them to reclaim her wayward direwolf. "I was going to let you enjoy your time alone but Lady doesn't have my manners. She had other ideas and I do believe most of them involve rubs behind the ears. She's a traitorous creature and will leave me at any moment for you."

[sinistral]

The first time he'd met Lady had been interesting. But since then he's come to see that the direwolf has perfectly fine manners — most of the time anyway. She's rather insistent when it comes to attention but since she's also rather protective of Sansa, he can't even mind it at all.

He shakes his head as she approaches; the apology is unnecessary. "She's not imposing. Neither are you."

[theladyofwinterfell]

With the invitation extended, Sansa draws closer and gives him a bit of a smile. She always likes to spend time with Bucky down on planets because it seems...safer, somehow, as if the Atroma cannot watch them as closely. She ruffles the fur behind Lady's ears and gives him a soft look.

"Direwolves aren't naturally trusting creatures, you know. I raised mine from a pup so she considers me her mother but in general, they aren't pets. She's taken to you, though, and seems to have deemed you safe. It's an honor, in her way of doing things."

[sinistral]

"Predators recognize predators." It's the truth; Sansa may have raised her wolf, and trained her, but she's still a predator. Bucky might be one of the closest things to another predator that she encounters on a regular basis. "Some of it may honestly be that."

Or, it could be the ear rubs, considering that he hasn't stopped the motion since she approached.

Kenn-Tellnic

[outstandingbalance]

It isn't that Natasha intended to catch Barnes getting coffee—or not getting coffee, as the case might be—but she's had an eye out for him since James came back. She'd messaged him at the time and was satisfied enough with the outcome, but since then she hasn't seen much of him. So it's not entirely coincidence that she catches him when she does, in line for coffee.

But it's not entirely planned either. It's luck she catches sight of him when she does.

Otherwise, she'd have got two cups of coffee.

Natasha follows him when he leaves, carrying her half finished drink with her in a travel cup. Her approach is careful, deliberate, but not hesitant. She assumes he knows she's there by the time she catches up with him, but she still makes a point of letting him see her, clearing her throat before she speaks.

"Hey. Forget your wallet?"

[sinistral]

He does know she's there by the time she catches up, but he appreciates the consideration. No doubt they could make a rather interesting time of pitting their skills against each other, but he doesn't think it'll be at all productive for either of them. Some questions don't need answers, and some answers don't need confirmation.

Nevertheless his eyes skate over her before replying; old habits die hard.

"Changed my mind," he says, carefully neutral. He doesn't know if she'll pursue it or not.

[outstandingbalance]

She's not sure herself at first. Looking at him, she does want to know what's going through his mind. She wants to help if she can. On the other hand she doesn't want to force him.

Whatever trust she's earned, Natasha realizes it's delicate.

She sips her own coffee.

It's a convenient way to buy time.

"Want to get something else?"

[sinistral]

He really should just walk away. There had been far too much to unpack there after Calibrations, and he’d chosen to ignore it. Now there’s even more and his first choice is still willful ignorance of it. Far easier to compartmentalize things that haven’t been unpacked, right?

Well, maybe not. But he’s not going to stop any time soon.

Curious, he thinks as they walk. Both of them know how to be completely silent, yet they’re letting their footfalls be heard. It’s far from stomping or stamping, but it’s enough to be audible. That probably says something.

He shrugs. He should probably find something, but the idea of it doesn’t quite overcome the desire to remain anonymous. And it’s not like she needs to look to him for a dining companion. “Eventually, I guess.”

kenn-tellnic.

[coinstability]

It's a popular district of town, when it comes to weapon shopping. Connor noted this the first time he visited, and he's noted it each day since that he's had to come back to the firearms shop for more paperwork. While the locals are perfectly happy to sell blades with minimal checks, apparently guns require a lot of red tape. That's fine, he tells them. He can be patient. They had been dubious at first, but they weren't aware of just how much patience for stupid paperwork an android designed to do policework could have.

Connor's on his way back to the same shop for the final round of sign-offs when Bucky exits the cafe right in front of him. "Oh, Bucky - hello," Connor says, noting the other man's intent to hurry past in the midst of it. "Are you heading somewhere?"

[sinistral]

Having endless patience for tedious paperwork is an important skill and Connor should be proud of himself! Seriously where can the rest of us get some of that? But he almost doesn't notice the other man, focused mainly on putting distance between himself and the shop; it's the greeting that finally registers, and somewhat uncomfortably so.

Well, this isn't the first time he's going to have to have the conversation.

"Nowhere in particular," he answers, because it's true. He's got no exact destination in mind. "It's not Bucky anymore."

[coinstability]

Connor nods, but the second part of what Bucky says makes him pause, a quizzical tilt to his head.

"...I see," he replies, though not without uncertainty. "Have you changed your preferred name?"

He knows that Bucky hadn't much liked Connor's use of 'Mr Barnes' when they first met, so he had gone with the other man's stated preference. It's unusual for that to change after this much time, however.

SS Starduck

[appletart]

Escha's usually asleep at this hour. Tell that to the spinning thoughts in her head, or the odd and restless energy that's keeping her awake for whatever strange reason. She knows she should sleep - there might not be much to being a captain of a ship in this Fleet, but there's still some level of accountability, and even besides that she just wants to be able to support the others on the ship. Can't do that on no sleep, right? If only brains listened to logic...

She's tired of lying in bed, staring at her pocketwatch and getting all nostalgic and sad about things, so she ends up pacing through the ship's hallways - no destination, not even really intending to check in on anything. But the rhythmic, heavy sound of repetitive strikes from the cargo hold catches her attention. She pokes her head inside.

Yes, the Starduck crewmembers tend to keep to themselves - not in a bad way, it's usually a very comfortable existence, and it seems to suit everyone just fine to leave it that way. But something about the way he swings at the bag, with hyperfocus and intent in every impact, is enough to let her know that things... probably aren't okay.

"Can't sleep either?"

Her voice is quiet, but calm, as she steps a little ways inside. She has no idea if he'd even want to talk to her - or if he even needs to talk at all! Maybe she's completely wrong! But what's the worst that could happen, honestly? No harm in asking.

[sinistral]

He doesn’t know much about other ships in the Fleet, how they’re run, how their crews interact. But that doesn’t matter because nothing, no ship, can be better than the Starduck. There’s privacy, as much as he wants of it, and that alone makes this the best ship. It also means he’s not expecting anyone to drop into the cargo bay, especially at this late hour, and he’s so focused on his workout that he doesn’t hear Escha’s approach. He catches the flash of her colorful hair out of the corner of his eye though, and catches the bag on its rebound instead of throwing another punch.

He’s sweaty and gross but she looks a little sleep rumpled (or sleep attempt rumpled anyway), so neither of them is at their best, clearly. But it could probably be worse.

“Captain, ma’am.” He steps away from the bag, hands running through his hair to free it of its tie and re-do the ponytail his workout had loosened. “I hope I’m not what’s kept you up.”

[appletart]

Yeah, sleep rumpled is a good word for it - and almost on cue, she stifles a small yawn before speaking.

"Not at all." She shakes her head. "I didn't even know anyone else was up until I started walking around. For a moment, I was afraid I might have woken you up! But it looks like you've been at it a while."

She glances at the bag, then back to him.

"Does it help?"

Kenn-Tellnic

[twosoul]

Sitting at one of the tables at the coffeeshop, Lorden found his attention caught by the Winter Soldier. There aren't too many people in the Fleet who move like that - like someone who's always got an eye out for danger, who looks for escape points in a room first, who assesses others unconsciously for their threat levels. Lorden imagines the only reason he hadn't registered immediately on the other man's radar is because he's seated and not in motion. And so when he freezes up after being asked for his name and exits the coffeeshop, Lorden gets up and follows.

Not too closely. He's not stupid. But if Bucky looks back, he'll see a follower with power armor and a rifle strapped to his back, moving easily through the crowd.

Once the other man is a few storefronts away, Lorden calls out. "Hey. There's vending machines up ahead if you want coffee without the hassle."

[sinistral]

A poor assassin he’d be if he wasn’t aware of a follower. He doesn’t pinpoint exactly who it is right away but he’s certainly got it figured out by the time the other man calls out. What he can’t reason is why. What has captured his attention so much to trail him, especially since this doesn’t feel like being hunted.

He turns around finally, letting his gaze settle on the armor and armaments before the face. “Changed my mind,” he says simply, because there’s no point in denying that he’d been in the cafe. What he can’t figure out is why he’s been followed.

[twosoul]

Curiosity? Boredom? More of the former than the latter, really. That and it's not every day he sees someone who sets off his hey, this person looks like Guardian material instincts.

"Aw, too bad. The stuff they got here's way better than what I'm used to." He leans back against a stall casually, curiosity evident in his expression. "Field rations, you know?"