From One Fight To Another

An indie Bucky Barnes RP blog. (Multi-verse, multi-ship, semi-active.)

[lone-sole]

@buckygetyourgun cont from im on mobile and can’t link it.

Seeing him on the phone, she carefully ducks out back into the small hallway leading to the bedroom -that Bucky probably didn’t sleep in- and bathroom. Back pressed against the wall she listened to him intently. She had been the nosiest out of all the kids growing up.

‘Adopted’ brought tears to her eyes. He… needed advice… because he brought her in. Adopted her. There is something a little bit weird about that, it seemed like it was only yesterday that she was instructing him on how to kill the dogs.

Slowly moving to sneak past him, she tried not to alert him as she moved into the kitchen. Slinking around was something she was good at. Slinking and being nosy, like some sort of spy…

[lone-sole]

buckygetyourgun​:

Bucky took a deep breath and paused, listening.

“I know they need food. Everything needs food, Clint. But I don’t even have forks. I–yes, I’m serious. I’m starting from scratch, here.”

A small sound in the hall betrayed Amanda’s presence, but Bucky didn’t acknowledge her yet. She clearly didn’t want him to know she was listening, anyway.

“What? No, I’m–Just send me a list, okay? I don’t have the energy to debate ceramic vs. copper cookware right now.”

Clint laughed at him and hung up. Which, in hindsight, was about as well as things could have gone. He sent the list a stunning 30 seconds later (or at least it was stunning until Bucky saw the “first apartment necessities” header and realized that Clint had just copy/pasted a list off the internet).

It was long.

Still scrolling through the list, Bucky called out to Amanda, who was still trying to be sneaky.

“You need something, kid?”

She had gotten half way to the kitchen by the time she hears him call out to her. Shoot! “No!” is her immediate answer, with a following “I'm fine!” that ended with a “I just-” Its clear she’s nervous as she puts her fidgeting hands in the pockets of her cargo pants (the only pair of her own clothes that wasn't totally ruined by the machine grease)

“I was just thinking that we can go to the place i was staying. Make sure nobody stole my stuff? then maybe go to... a place... that sells home stuff?”

She offers to the other, nervous to an extent, trying not to offend him by saying he doesn't have much, because that ‘not much’ was so much better than what she had previous. She couldn't risk getting kicked out. 

Some of the nerves came from the fact that she was lost as to where to source things in this city. The duplex that she lived in was fully stocked. The overseer only went out and sourced everything. She wasn't allowed on the outside but with dad.... missing, Joseph dead, and her next on the docket she hadnt had the chance to think about it. she was on the outside now and that was that.

---

Moving through a hole in the wall that could fit both of them, aptly marked with spray paint “Troll Hole”, led entrance from the main vestibule of the empty foyer into the theater itself, full of rubble and moss and decay. She had slept most nights with some sort of face covering just to dampen the smell, and this is where her pressure to not fuck this thing up came to being. she’d be back here if she fucked up. 

Quickly climbing up to the stage she goes past the dilapidated red curtain, still leading her compatriot to the backstage area, where they finally found the military pack marked with the name badge “WALKER, J” that she quickly put on one shoulder, and grabbed the accompanying water jug.

“Home sweet home.” She chuckles  

[buckygetyourgun]

"You're sneaky, kid," Bucky conceded, "but you're not a spy."

He checked the time. Not too early, not too late. They'd probably be fine.

"Lead the way," he said, then paused.

"Or tell me where we're going so I can get an Uber."

---

So far as hideouts went, this one wasn't half-bad. Dramatic, with the crumbling walls and busted-out seats and the remnants of heavy red curtains trailing from the top of the stage.

It also stank of decay, which both added to the mood and made Bucky want to spend as little time here as possible.

"You actually lived here?" he asked, trying not to sound too appalled.

[lone-sole]

@buckygetyourgun cont from im on mobile and can’t link it.

Seeing him on the phone, she carefully ducks out back into the small hallway leading to the bedroom -that Bucky probably didn’t sleep in- and bathroom. Back pressed against the wall she listened to him intently. She had been the nosiest out of all the kids growing up.

‘Adopted’ brought tears to her eyes. He… needed advice… because he brought her in. Adopted her. There is something a little bit weird about that, it seemed like it was only yesterday that she was instructing him on how to kill the dogs.

Slowly moving to sneak past him, she tried not to alert him as she moved into the kitchen. Slinking around was something she was good at. Slinking and being nosy, like some sort of spy…

[buckygetyourgun]

Bucky took a deep breath and paused, listening.

"I know they need food. Everything needs food, Clint. But I don't even have forks. I--yes, I'm serious. I'm starting from scratch, here."

A small sound in the hall betrayed Amanda's presence, but Bucky didn't acknowledge her yet. She clearly didn't want him to know she was listening, anyway.

"What? No, I'm--Just send me a list, okay? I don't have the energy to debate ceramic vs. copper cookware right now."

Clint laughed at him and hung up. Which, in hindsight, was about as well as things could have gone. He sent the list a stunning 30 seconds later (or at least it was stunning until Bucky saw the "first apartment necessities" header and realized that Clint had just copy/pasted a list off the internet).

It was long.

Still scrolling through the list, Bucky called out to Amanda, who was still trying to be sneaky.

"You need something, kid?"

[lone-sole]

buckygetyourgun​:

Watching somebody else get questioned by the feds wasn’t something Bucky got to experience often. Usually it was him in the hot seat–or he’d booked it long before the interrogators showed up. The kid was a tough one, clearly, but Bucky was also glad they were doing this more or less by the book. Less scrupulous agents might have called in more extreme measures to get her to talk.

They stopped trying after an hour, which was also a relief. Not that he assumed this was the last time they’d interrogate her, but the fact that she was released to his custody–his custody–meant that they didn’t think she was an active risk.

“We can get a ride to my place,” he said. “It’s not much, but there’s hot water and electricity.”

He paused, then cracked a small smile.

“Feel free to grease up the car seats. It’s the Feds’ car anyway.”

she chuckled at that idea, feeling they concurred on their hatred of the feds. The drive there was wordless, and she basically just made a b-line to the restroom as soon as she got into the apartment, not taking any time to take in the spartan décor - or lack of it-

Hot showers were a fucking blessing in disguise. there wasn’t any way for her to get one as easy in nyc than on her way to the city from dc. She had been spoiled by the 75 cent for 5 minute truck stop showers. People here really cared who or what you are before giving you any sort of grace.

It took a long time for the water to finally run clear, the oil slick of the machine being very stubborn to get off the skin. She was thankful, so blessed, to not be doing this in a bodegas restroom sink, because that does take forever.

changing into the spare clothes put on the counter, the shirt and pj pants almost comically to big for her, despite being bulkier than most women her age. she did have to cuff the pj pants, rolling them near three times before padding out of the bathroom barefoot. Looking to the man she gave him a soft smile, letting out a sign of relief 

“You do not know how much you’ve saved my skin today.” she states, moving to sit on the small loveseat infront of the tv “i uh.. i dont know what to do to say thanks.”

[buckygetyourgun]

While the kid cleaned up, Bucky set about taking stock of his supplies. Cupboards were pretty much bare aside from coffee and instant noodles, but everybody delivered nowadays, so he could get something a little more substantial in a couple hours.

It only started to sink in that he was now responsible for another human's wellbeing when he started looking through the boxes that contained his wardrobe for something that wouldn't fall off of the kid. She'd need new clothes, and shoes, and a toothbrush, and--

Bucky carefully squashed the panic and left the clothes out for Amanda. She was done soon after, and when she stepped out into the living room looking like a small child trying on her parents' clothes, Bucky managed to forget about the panic entirely for a moment while he suppressed a bark of laughter.

"All in a day's work," he said instead. "Just don't try to kill me or steal anything and we'll call it even."

[lone-sole]

buckygetyourgun​:

Of course the nuclear cleanup guys were Stark Industries. The corporation was basically a monopoly by now, but nobody wanted to be the one to tell Tony Stark’s estate to break it up. At least they paid their employees well. The bright yellow haz-mat trucks were already pulling up before Bucky could finish giving orders. Prompt, as all nuclear cleanup guys should be.

Bucky gave the head of cleanup a quick rundown on the situation and was on his way to 51st thirty seconds later (no, he really could NOT stop to elaborate; everything would get sorted out after the mess was contained anyway). As expected, civilians had been cleared out, but cops were swarming like flies. Looked like the hospitals would be full of dumbass irradiated cops in a matter of hours despite his best efforts.

He spotted the girl as she was approached by two cops in haz-mat suits. His radiation alarm went off again as he got closer, and he waved the cops away “before you hurt yourselves.” Which didn’t go over too well, but he was way past caring at this point.

“Everybody and their mother’s gonna want a statement from you, kid,” he said to the girl once the cops were out of earshot. “But don’t worry; I’ll stick with you until we’re sure you’re safe.”

Safe from whatever unleashed those robot dogs, but also safe from “disappearing” in the government’s custody. Whatever she’d been a part of, there were definitely gonna be some agencies looking to keep things under wraps.

And speaking of–

“Shit, here come the Feds.”

Christ. Did they really have to wear those stupid sunglasses? Bucky grit his teeth and waved hello.

“Good to see you, fellas. We’ve got everything under control.”

The moment the cops got shooed away she let out a breath of relief. She hadnt been around guns before, and even her old 50′s bb rifle made her a little nervous, but guns on the outside were so… intimidating.

She listens to him intently, a frown pulling on her face when she heard that people would want statements. and as soon as he said feds were coming her anxiety peaked and she pulled her mask back down to conceal her face. Gladly seeing through the mask wasnt hard, but they looked like those guys from the movies the adults would watch sometimes. like, morally grey. bad. dudes.

Amanda decided to just not say anything, acting mute wasnt particularly hard for her, since for a long while as a child she only spoke to her dad and her best friend, but the feds didnt take it well. after maybe a hour, they figured they were talking to a brick wall and prompty stopped, but man was that hour stressful.

soon, the radiation crews were getting set up and police and feds were filtering out. with a sigh, she moved to lean her -not grease covered- shoulder on her saving grace, the guy that amanda was so thankful for.

“This is one of those days where i wish i had money for a hot shower…”

[buckygetyourgun]

Watching somebody else get questioned by the feds wasn't something Bucky got to experience often. Usually it was him in the hot seat--or he'd booked it long before the interrogators showed up. The kid was a tough one, clearly, but Bucky was also glad they were doing this more or less by the book. Less scrupulous agents might have called in more extreme measures to get her to talk.

They stopped trying after an hour, which was also a relief. Not that he assumed this was the last time they'd interrogate her, but the fact that she was released to his custody--his custody--meant that they didn't think she was an active risk.

"We can get a ride to my place," he said. "It's not much, but there's hot water and electricity."

He paused, then cracked a small smile.

"Feel free to grease up the car seats. It's the Feds' car anyway."

[lone-sole]

buckygetyourgun​:

“Pull its guts out. Got it.”

Bucky never understood why people who made evil robots always seemed to build a weak point into them right over the power source, but at least this made things simpler. He spared a second to glance back at the stranger before heading back to the park, mentally calculating the necessary height and propulsion he’d need to get to the dogs’ torsos.

On the way, he passed a police car, which contained two very gobsmacked police officers staring out the windshield at the chaos. Bucky rapped on the top of the car to get their attention, and the one closest to him rolled down the window.

“You see those things?” Bucky said, pointing at the remaining active death dogs. “Those things are radioactive. Make sure people stay FAR. AWAY. And call–call whoever it is that does nuclear clean-ups.”

The officer nodded mutely and reached for his radio.

“Good man,” Bucky said, and continued toward the park.

Running in the opposite direction, heading towards 51st street, she puts her gas mask back on before exiting the alley, sprinting only ten minutes untill she got to the epicenter there. 

Seems like the cops got the memo, there was no one there and tape cornering the place off, it was even a little hard to get past them but finally finding a suitable roof top, she moved to hook onto the larger of the two, quick to disassemble the bigger ones battery and hook onto the second before it fell and crushed her. Honestly the dogs were the easy part, dealing with the cops was the hard part. 

Holding her oil soaked hands up, she stood stock still, eyes searching for and actually finding her ally in the crowd. As the agent makes his way onto the scene, she stutters out 

“H-Hey dude!” she calls “Tell these guys not to shoot, please!”

[buckygetyourgun]

Of course the nuclear cleanup guys were Stark Industries. The corporation was basically a monopoly by now, but nobody wanted to be the one to tell Tony Stark's estate to break it up. At least they paid their employees well. The bright yellow haz-mat trucks were already pulling up before Bucky could finish giving orders. Prompt, as all nuclear cleanup guys should be.

Bucky gave the head of cleanup a quick rundown on the situation and was on his way to 51st thirty seconds later (no, he really could NOT stop to elaborate; everything would get sorted out after the mess was contained anyway). As expected, civilians had been cleared out, but cops were swarming like flies. Looked like the hospitals would be full of dumbass irradiated cops in a matter of hours despite his best efforts.

He spotted the girl as she was approached by two cops in haz-mat suits. His radiation alarm went off again as he got closer, and he waved the cops away "before you hurt yourselves." Which didn't go over too well, but he was way past caring at this point.

"Everybody and their mother's gonna want a statement from you, kid," he said to the girl once the cops were out of earshot. "But don't worry; I'll stick with you until we're sure you're safe."

Safe from whatever unleashed those robot dogs, but also safe from "disappearing" in the government's custody. Whatever she'd been a part of, there were definitely gonna be some agencies looking to keep things under wraps.

And speaking of--

"Shit, here come the Feds."

Christ. Did they really have to wear those stupid sunglasses? Bucky grit his teeth and waved hello.

"Good to see you, fellas. We've got everything under control."

[buckygetyourgun]

@myownmvse

Bob the Bodega Guy isn't his usual self when Bucky stops by to pick up lunch on a sunny Thursday afternoon. He rings up Bucky's purchase with a positively dejected air, barely making eye contact, and there's no music playing from the portable speaker behind the counter.

"You okay, man?" he asks, because they've talked enough by now that he'd feel weird if he just let it go.

Bob sighs.

"It's cool. I just, uh, gotta miss a show tomorrow because my dad's eloping with his girlfriend and they want me to be there." He sighs again."Can't say no to family, right?"

"Congratulations to your dad, I guess?" Bucky replies. "Too bad about the show, though."

Bob stays silent, and Bucky starts to pick up his bag, but suddenly, Bob perks up again.

"Hey, do you want my ticket?" he asks. "Show's tomorrow at 7 at that little club I told you about above that art gallery."

"Uh, sure. How much do I owe you for it?"

Bob takes the ticket out of his wallet and hands it to Bucky, shaking his head.

"Just take it. Think of it as thanks for saving--"

"Jesus Christ, Bob, don't say it again."

"Sure thing, man. But--"

Bucky hurries out of the shop before Bob can finish his sentence.

[myownmvse]

There was something so exciting about New York, they hadn’t been to a city this big in a long while and by the time they come back to the hotel with hot tea in hand they feel like they’re on cloud nine. What a beautiful day! What a beautiful city!

They spend most of their time cooped up in their hotel room, frantically trying to get out their final papers up to grade. A lot of people didn’t understand how the musician toured and was getting a degree, and to be honest, muse didn’t understand it either. Didn’t stop them from being an A+ student.

Sound check went well, their voice was warmed up and ready to go… and then the start of the show. A sheer curtain, them sitting on a stool harp stings playing a beautiful yet somber melody, their voice warbling in the background as a high note crescendos the curtain drops and a flood of cheers overtakes their voice as they go into the very first song, backup musicians now adding in their song.

[buckygetyourgun]

This must be the place. A crowd of young artist types milled around outside the gallery, smoking and chatting with one another. Bucky kept his gaze down and skirted past them into the entryway, where a set of metal stairs wound around a slightly decrepit-looking elevator up to the venue proper. The opening act was already playing, some experimental thing that he was pretty sure included literal bicycle bells and slide whistles, but by the time he made it up the stairs, they'd finished the set and disappeared.

The place was pretty crowded already, mostly with college-age kids, and the flood of patrons coming in behind him signaled that the main event was about to start. Bucky took a spot along the wall with a clear view of the exits, because old habits die hard. A couple kids gave him Looks, but not the kind of Looks that indicated they recognized him.

Was he doing the Thing again?

Shit, yeah, he was definitely doing the Thing again.

Bucky deliberately relaxed his posture and leaned against the wall, gloved hands in pockets. He couldn't tell if he'd managed to soften his expression, too, but the kids stopped glancing at him, so it was probably fine.

The music started soon after, and Bucky understood immediately why Bob the Bodega Guy was so bummed about missing out.

[buckygetyourgun]

@myownmvse

Bob the Bodega Guy isn't his usual self when Bucky stops by to pick up lunch on a sunny Thursday afternoon. He rings up Bucky's purchase with a positively dejected air, barely making eye contact, and there's no music playing from the portable speaker behind the counter.

"You okay, man?" he asks, because they've talked enough by now that he'd feel weird if he just let it go.

Bob sighs.

"It's cool. I just, uh, gotta miss a show tomorrow because my dad's eloping with his girlfriend and they want me to be there." He sighs again."Can't say no to family, right?"

"Congratulations to your dad, I guess?" Bucky replies. "Too bad about the show, though."

Bob stays silent, and Bucky starts to pick up his bag, but suddenly, Bob perks up again.

"Hey, do you want my ticket?" he asks. "Show's tomorrow at 7 at that little club I told you about above that art gallery."

"Uh, sure. How much do I owe you for it?"

Bob takes the ticket out of his wallet and hands it to Bucky, shaking his head.

"Just take it. Think of it as thanks for saving--"

"Jesus Christ, Bob, don't say it again."

"Sure thing, man. But--"

Bucky hurries out of the shop before Bob can finish his sentence.

[retrocognznt-a]

buckygetyourgun​:

Bucky tried not to move too much when a bark of laughter escaped him.

“I can imagine. Though it used to be even harder to get imported music–or so the cashier at my local bodega tells me.”

That kid could go on and on about vinyl. Honestly, it was a little much sometimes, but Bucky appreciated the mundane-ness of it all. And he sometimes got good music recommendations out of it, too.

“They’re not Korean, but you ever listen to Babymetal? Girls dressed like dolls singing heavy metal. I thought it was a joke thing at first, but I guess a lot of the old metal guys like them, too.”

Bodega guy had been surprisingly enthusiastic about them, and about the “old metal guys” inviting them on tour. Bucky didn’t have any of their records (assuming anything they did was even released on vinyl), but he’d found some digitally after the bodega guy burned a CD for him.

“You kids don’t know how lucky you are,” Bucky mused, “having all the music in the world at your fingertips like this.”

Yes, he sounded like an old man, but also it was true. In the 40s, he’d never have dreamed that people would have so much access to, well, everything. The shock had long since worn off, but Bucky did still find himself staring in wonder at his smartphone every now and then.

“oh my god fuckin bodegas how Brooklyn can you get?” she laughs. It did remind her slightly about working in NYC and how many bodega cats she got to pet during her time there. honestly, it was pretty sick.

“Yeah, I was listening to a podcast and they mentioned them. Its a weird blend of cute idol music and metal that’s a bit polarizing in the community. I find it Kinda eh. Day 6, The Rose, and Royal Pirates, and Dreamcatcher are pretty good Korean rock groups, but I guess they’re more to be taken seriously.”

She finishes the sketch, moving to flip the canvas upside down and fix anything that became more of a noticeable mistake that-way, before righting it and moving back to a small table near her with all the needed tubes of oil paint spread out before her.

“I can put on a playlist of it.” She suggests. “i think that would suit you more than heavy rap music. This playlist is called: Rebel Teen Jams For When You’re in Your Feelings, enjoy” she chuckles the last word as the guitar riff fills the small apartment and she mixes up paints and oils with her pallet knife.

[buckygetyourgun]

“Oh come on,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “I like to support my community, okay? And they have damn good food.”

Not that he spent much time in Brooklyn these days, but it was still home to him.

He nodded at the choice of music and, when Khloee was busy looking at her sketch, carefully flexed his metal hand to work out the stiffness in the knuckles. He still couldn’t decide if it was phantom pain or a sign that the arm needed a tune-up, but either way, he wasn’t going to bother the Wakandans about it.

“How’s your shoulder doing?” he asked. “You keeping up with the physical therapy?”

[retrocognznt-a]

“Bucky Barnes goes to farmers markets and cares about his local community caught in 4k.” Khloee teases as she finds the right shades of reds and oranges on her pallete.

At the mention of her physical therapy, she rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to move it as much as when I was fresh out of surgery.” She answered. “Therapy is a bitch but I go there like 80% of the time. Art school work, paid commissions, spoons medical bills, refusing government work, it’s all a lot to juggle. So sometimes I miss afew appointments.”

She stays quiet as she slaps down the blocks of colour, roughly sketching out which tones go where with the pallet knife before moving onto a bigger brush. She knew that if she started out with a detail brush she’d get carried away and end up making something ugly or unrecognizable and discard it quickly.

“You haven’t done this a lot, huh?” She chuckles. “You’re being more talkative than usual.”

[buckygetyourgun]

"Something about modeling turns me into a damn chatterbox," Bucky agreed. "Always has."

He'd chided Bucky, too, when his rambling made him forget to hold still. Usually, they could hold a conversation for quite awhile before it got to that point, but sometimes they got to ribbing each other, and the friendly insults would get a little less friendly. Those times usually ended with Bucky leaving the apartment on the pretext of looking for more odd jobs to keep them afloat.

Suddenly, he didn't want to think about those times anymore. He reached absently to rub at the juncture of flesh and metal at his shoulder to ground himself. It wasn't the 30s anymore.

And then he realized he was moving and let out a huff of frustration.

"Sorry," he said. "I, uh, I notice the scars more when I don't have something to focus on."

It was only sort of a lie.

"Let me know if you need help with Spoon's vet bills," he added. "They do pay me for my work, you know. I don't have much to spend it on."

[buckygetyourgun]

Listen, maybe she was overstaying her welcome. She didn’t wanna make anything go sour between her and him, only because she didn’t know how she would react to losing someone again. Waking up, she could hear him on the phone with someone, but didn’t know who or why. “I’m sorry, are you busy…?” - @thegood-fiight

Bucky's apartment was not suited to guests. To be fair, it wasn't well-suited to comfortable habitation at all, with minimal furniture and stacks of records and books lining the edges of the main room. He had no cookware, few plates and bowls, and most of his cutlery and flatware was plastic from take-out orders. He couldn't remember the last time he'd bought groceries that weren't noodle cups or coffee, and he was pretty sure he was out of the former right now.

But there was a kid in his apartment who had nowhere else to go, so he had to at least try to get his shit together. And the best person to ask for advice on this topic was--

"Clint? No, I know it's late and you're retired. I--Clint, come on. This is serious!"

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Look, I accidentally adopted a teenager and I need some advice, okay? You did fine with Kate--yes, you did! Yes, I know she caused an international incident last month. That's not the point. I'm way out of my depth here and I would REALLY appreciate your help."

[lone-sole]

buckygetyourgun​:

Of course this had to happen NOW. While Sam was off on some goodwill mission off-planet and Wanda was off with Strange who knew where in the multiverse and Parker was recovering from some surgery he’d been really cagey about and–FUCK.

Giant robot dogs were currently rampaging through Central Park dropping seed bombs that made a radiation monitor Bucky didn’t even know he had in his arm go ballistic. If he was reading the alarm correctly, they weren’t at “bury everything in concrete and enforce an exclusion zone” levels yet–

They were, however, solidly in the “cleanup will involve the removal of topsoil” category, which meant that in addition to stopping the death dogs ASAP, the evacuation of civilians was top priority. Bucky gestured wildly at a couple who sat on a bench some hundred yards away, but they seemed frozen in place. He cursed loudly and hurled a large rock in their direction, which clanged off of the metal bench between them and finally got them running.

And then one of the giant robot dogs tried to stomp on Bucky, redirecting his attention again. He leapt out of the way, and then the thing just.

Stopped.

Bucky registered a blurry figure falling from the robot’s belly, and the robot dog suddenly buckled, collapsing into the soft earth beneath it with a muffled but still thunderous thud.

“What the fuck–”

The figure landed with surprising grace and took off running. Bucky glanced back at the death dogs, two more of which were also down, and decided to chance a quick pursuit.

He followed the figure through several alleys until they reached a dead end. Expecting the figure to hesitate, Bucky was instead met with a right hook to the jaw that would’ve shattered teeth and bone alike in a regular human. As it was, Bucky stumbled back and felt his lower jaw shift disconcertingly to the side before popping back into place.

“The fuck was that for?!”

He grabbed the figure by the shoulder as they tried to climb a fence and caught what sounded like a muffled apology.

“You tell me what the hell is going on before I swing you like a fucking BAT at one of those things.”

Stumbling back on ground as he grabbed her, she moved to back away as much as possible in the small space before pulling off the probably-WW2 era gas mask, exchanging a stark, creepy silhouette for warm toned brown skin and round eyes. She was new to being considered something other than a teen and it shows.

“What do you mean ‘what was that for’ you’re the one chasing me!”

Sighing, she adjusted her pack on her back, currently heavy with the batteries she ripped from the machines, before starting again. 

“Listen, this is going to sound weird but i was born into this cult right- God that sounds weird- And they were all about the nuclear apocolypse and the earth returning to what it was like without sprawling human settlements and pollution and shit anyway my dad decided it was a great idea to leave without telling me and then i had to leave because they wanted to kill me so now theyre on the offensive and theydecidedtosendoutthemachinesmeanttoreturnstufftotheearth.”

there is a pause, like a beat and a half, where she pauses.

“listen i know it sounds like really crazy, but I’m also the only person on yousguys side that knows how to take them down and there’s one shooting those barbs into the concrete near 51st street that i need to get to.”

[buckygetyourgun]

“You mean there’s MORE of them?!”

Bucky had only spotted the ones in Central Park. And apparently absolutely nobody was keeping watch elsewhere in the city, aside from whoever the fuck this kid was. The whole “cult” part of her explanation didn’t hit immediately; his focus was instantly on the introduction of the additional threat.

“Shit, okay.”

He paused for a second to gather his composure.

“Tell me how to kill the robots before you run off,” he said. “I’ll get the stragglers here and meet you at 51st.”

[lone-sole]

“Yeah!” She seemed just a little annoyed, but only really was because she could only think of how much havoc the dogs were reeking on the general population both in central and at 51st street.

“I dunno how you’re going to do it, but you’re going to get on its belly, right, then like smack dab in the middle is this whit panel, it’s usually locked so punch it open, stick your entire forearm in there and around all the wires there’s going to be a handle, yank that out and you got the main battery out. Killed it.”

She is a very animated talker, talking through the instructions with a certain vigor that was both entertaining and endearing.

“Okay? Okay. Gotta run!” She checks before sprinting off in the opposite direction.

[buckygetyourgun]

"Pull its guts out. Got it."

Bucky never understood why people who made evil robots always seemed to build a weak point into them right over the power source, but at least this made things simpler. He spared a second to glance back at the stranger before heading back to the park, mentally calculating the necessary height and propulsion he'd need to get to the dogs' torsos.

On the way, he passed a police car, which contained two very gobsmacked police officers staring out the windshield at the chaos. Bucky rapped on the top of the car to get their attention, and the one closest to him rolled down the window.

"You see those things?" Bucky said, pointing at the remaining active death dogs. "Those things are radioactive. Make sure people stay FAR. AWAY. And call--call whoever it is that does nuclear clean-ups."

The officer nodded mutely and reached for his radio.

"Good man," Bucky said, and continued toward the park.

[lone-sole]

buckygetyourgun​:

Of course this had to happen NOW. While Sam was off on some goodwill mission off-planet and Wanda was off with Strange who knew where in the multiverse and Parker was recovering from some surgery he’d been really cagey about and–FUCK.

Giant robot dogs were currently rampaging through Central Park dropping seed bombs that made a radiation monitor Bucky didn’t even know he had in his arm go ballistic. If he was reading the alarm correctly, they weren’t at “bury everything in concrete and enforce an exclusion zone” levels yet–

They were, however, solidly in the “cleanup will involve the removal of topsoil” category, which meant that in addition to stopping the death dogs ASAP, the evacuation of civilians was top priority. Bucky gestured wildly at a couple who sat on a bench some hundred yards away, but they seemed frozen in place. He cursed loudly and hurled a large rock in their direction, which clanged off of the metal bench between them and finally got them running.

And then one of the giant robot dogs tried to stomp on Bucky, redirecting his attention again. He leapt out of the way, and then the thing just.

Stopped.

Bucky registered a blurry figure falling from the robot’s belly, and the robot dog suddenly buckled, collapsing into the soft earth beneath it with a muffled but still thunderous thud.

“What the fuck–”

The figure landed with surprising grace and took off running. Bucky glanced back at the death dogs, two more of which were also down, and decided to chance a quick pursuit.

He followed the figure through several alleys until they reached a dead end. Expecting the figure to hesitate, Bucky was instead met with a right hook to the jaw that would’ve shattered teeth and bone alike in a regular human. As it was, Bucky stumbled back and felt his lower jaw shift disconcertingly to the side before popping back into place.

“The fuck was that for?!”

He grabbed the figure by the shoulder as they tried to climb a fence and caught what sounded like a muffled apology.

“You tell me what the hell is going on before I swing you like a fucking BAT at one of those things.”

Stumbling back on ground as he grabbed her, she moved to back away as much as possible in the small space before pulling off the probably-WW2 era gas mask, exchanging a stark, creepy silhouette for warm toned brown skin and round eyes. She was new to being considered something other than a teen and it shows.

“What do you mean ‘what was that for’ you’re the one chasing me!”

Sighing, she adjusted her pack on her back, currently heavy with the batteries she ripped from the machines, before starting again. 

“Listen, this is going to sound weird but i was born into this cult right- God that sounds weird- And they were all about the nuclear apocolypse and the earth returning to what it was like without sprawling human settlements and pollution and shit anyway my dad decided it was a great idea to leave without telling me and then i had to leave because they wanted to kill me so now theyre on the offensive and theydecidedtosendoutthemachinesmeanttoreturnstufftotheearth.”

there is a pause, like a beat and a half, where she pauses.

“listen i know it sounds like really crazy, but I’m also the only person on yousguys side that knows how to take them down and there’s one shooting those barbs into the concrete near 51st street that i need to get to.”

[buckygetyourgun]

"You mean there's MORE of them?!"

Bucky had only spotted the ones in Central Park. And apparently absolutely nobody was keeping watch elsewhere in the city, aside from whoever the fuck this kid was. The whole "cult" part of her explanation didn't hit immediately; his focus was instantly on the introduction of the additional threat.

"Shit, okay."

He paused for a second to gather his composure.

"Tell me how to kill the robots before you run off," he said. "I'll get the stragglers here and meet you at 51st."

[lone-sole]

@buckygetyourgun gets another young muse to adopt

—

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Listen, ever since dad left, ever since she left, the people she called family became more and more radicalized, launching the dogs earlier than anyone could of predicted. Amanda was running as fast as she could away, the main battery component of the dog she disabled in her bag, her gasmask and high tech anti radiation suit on and clothes over it. She knew how it seemed like she was a bad guy, a radical amongst radicals, but she was at least trying to be good!

Seeing the winter solider making chase, she makes a little bit of sloppy decisions, ending in her getting stuck in a dead end. 

Fuck.

pivoting, she moves, fist connecting with jaw with some immense force behind it, nearly all of her weight, actually.

“Im sorry!” She apologized, her voice letting go the fact that she was young. “Youre really cool but i gotta go.” She states, moving to try and climb up the fence before the man yanks her down

[buckygetyourgun]

Of course this had to happen NOW. While Sam was off on some goodwill mission off-planet and Wanda was off with Strange who knew where in the multiverse and Parker was recovering from some surgery he'd been really cagey about and--FUCK.

Giant robot dogs were currently rampaging through Central Park dropping seed bombs that made a radiation monitor Bucky didn't even know he had in his arm go ballistic. If he was reading the alarm correctly, they weren't at "bury everything in concrete and enforce an exclusion zone" levels yet--

They were, however, solidly in the "cleanup will involve the removal of topsoil" category, which meant that in addition to stopping the death dogs ASAP, the evacuation of civilians was top priority. Bucky gestured wildly at a couple who sat on a bench some hundred yards away, but they seemed frozen in place. He cursed loudly and hurled a large rock in their direction, which clanged off of the metal bench between them and finally got them running.

And then one of the giant robot dogs tried to stomp on Bucky, redirecting his attention again. He leapt out of the way, and then the thing just.

Stopped.

Bucky registered a blurry figure falling from the robot's belly, and the robot dog suddenly buckled, collapsing into the soft earth beneath it with a muffled but still thunderous thud.

"What the fuck--"

The figure landed with surprising grace and took off running. Bucky glanced back at the death dogs, two more of which were also down, and decided to chance a quick pursuit.

He followed the figure through several alleys until they reached a dead end. Expecting the figure to hesitate, Bucky was instead met with a right hook to the jaw that would've shattered teeth and bone alike in a regular human. As it was, Bucky stumbled back and felt his lower jaw shift disconcertingly to the side before popping back into place.

"The fuck was that for?!"

He grabbed the figure by the shoulder as they tried to climb a fence and caught what sounded like a muffled apology.

"You tell me what the hell is going on before I swing you like a fucking BAT at one of those things."

[retrocognznt-a]

@buckygetyourgun cont.

[txt: 1:25 am] look at you mr therapy

[txt: 1:27 am] I’ll call you.

———

Who knew bathroom tile got so dirty. She remembers how bad the place needed a clean as she try’s to calm herself, applying the breathing technique that Bucky told her to, and shaking hands finding spoons fur grounding. Aswell as his presence. And how he laid on top of her. But then the little noise that indicates that the caller has picked up rings out and she is put back on the spot.

“Hey.” She croaks

[retrocognznt-a]

buckygetyourgun​:

She sounds rough, but she’s able to talk, which is good. Bucky pauses to check on the silhouette in the window across the street–it stands briefly, reaching for something, and sits down again–before he responds, making a mental note of the time.

“I won’t tell anybody if you cry,” he promises. “Don’t want to tarnish your reputation as a stoic badass.”

The silhouette stands again and moves almost out of view of the window entirely this time. Again, it returns to the desk after a few moments and resumes work. Getting up to refill a drink, perhaps?

“You at home?” he asks. “If you are, hang out with Spoon. Dogs are good for anxiety. Something about endorphins or serotonin.”

She lets out a breathy laugh. “Oh yeah... gotta keep that reputation up.”

“yeah i am.” She makes out between long breaths, trying to calm herself even more. At least her face wasn't tingling like before. “Spoon is with me, he’s laying his head on top of me and whining.” khloee moves the phone, catching spoons light whine as he breathes out. Moving to put the phone back up against her ear she sighs. “He is baby.”

[buckygetyourgun]

"Good boy," Bucky says, a little absently.

Because the silhouette at the window moves again, and something about it seems...off. Binoculars out, and yeah, something seems weird, here. The shape of it has changed ever so slightly, like the person has taken off a coat, or--

Shit.

"Uh, kid, I might have to go real soon. Nothing's wrong; just gotta take care of some, uh, business."

He checks his weapon and his ammo. This wasn't supposed to turn into a confrontation, but it's nothing he can't handle. He just needs to make sure Khloee doesn't wind up more panicked than she started.

A muffled crack, and a bullet shatters the window and buries itself in the wall behind him. A warning.

"Shit, okay, everything's f--"

The line goes dead.

"Well fuck. They're jamming comms," he says to no one in particular, because they are in fact jamming comms.

Time to get to work.

[retrocognznt-a]

@buckygetyourgun cont.

[txt: 1:25 am] look at you mr therapy

[txt: 1:27 am] I’ll call you.

———

Who knew bathroom tile got so dirty. She remembers how bad the place needed a clean as she try’s to calm herself, applying the breathing technique that Bucky told her to, and shaking hands finding spoons fur grounding. Aswell as his presence. And how he laid on top of her. But then the little noise that indicates that the caller has picked up rings out and she is put back on the spot.

“Hey.” She croaks

[retrocognznt-a]

buckygetyourgun​:

Depending on one’s precise definition, Bucky might have in fact been spying at the moment. But it was just routine surveillance, nothing with an objective beyond “establish patterns of movement” and the like. He had plenty of time to talk, situated in an empty apartment across the street from the target’s office where the silhouette of a man could be seen working at a desk.

And, well, panic attacks sucked. He didn’t get them too often anymore, but he remembered how they felt, and the awful desperate wish that he had someone to talk to.

“Hey, kid. Sounds like you’re having a rough night,” he said, still getting a feel for her current state. “What sounds good right now: me talking, you talking, or us trying out a conversation?”

Some sort of relief breezed by from hearing his voice. Khloee was finally radically accepting that Bucky was her friend, or mentor figure, or both. So she is taking his slightly rough baritone as a sign of comfort. Little things, at least that's what her government appointed therapist always said.

“Conversation sounds nice.” She’s able to get the words out, even though the tone is off and she sounds severely out of breath. Which she is. she hasn't been able to get any air down in the past hour, only until she tried bucky’s advice was she able to feel like death wasn't threateningly imminent.

“Im not gunna cry on this call, i promise, so dont try to make me cry ok?” Her voice is a little sped up, quick as if shes inbetween breaths.

[buckygetyourgun]

She sounds rough, but she's able to talk, which is good. Bucky pauses to check on the silhouette in the window across the street--it stands briefly, reaching for something, and sits down again--before he responds, making a mental note of the time.

"I won't tell anybody if you cry," he promises. "Don't want to tarnish your reputation as a stoic badass."

The silhouette stands again and moves almost out of view of the window entirely this time. Again, it returns to the desk after a few moments and resumes work. Getting up to refill a drink, perhaps?

"You at home?" he asks. "If you are, hang out with Spoon. Dogs are good for anxiety. Something about endorphins or serotonin."

[retrocognznt-a]

@buckygetyourgun cont.

[txt: 1:25 am] look at you mr therapy

[txt: 1:27 am] I’ll call you.

———

Who knew bathroom tile got so dirty. She remembers how bad the place needed a clean as she try’s to calm herself, applying the breathing technique that Bucky told her to, and shaking hands finding spoons fur grounding. Aswell as his presence. And how he laid on top of her. But then the little noise that indicates that the caller has picked up rings out and she is put back on the spot.

“Hey.” She croaks

[buckygetyourgun]

Depending on one's precise definition, Bucky might have in fact been spying at the moment. But it was just routine surveillance, nothing with an objective beyond "establish patterns of movement" and the like. He had plenty of time to talk, situated in an empty apartment across the street from the target's office where the silhouette of a man could be seen working at a desk.

And, well, panic attacks sucked. He didn't get them too often anymore, but he remembered how they felt, and the awful desperate wish that he had someone to talk to.

"Hey, kid. Sounds like you're having a rough night," he said, still getting a feel for her current state. "What sounds good right now: me talking, you talking, or us trying out a conversation?"

[buckygetyourgun]

[text 1:23 am] you awake

[text 1:24 am] why do panic attacks make you feel like you’re dieing?

[text 1:24 am] so either something is deathly wrong or I’m having a panic attack

- @retrocognznt

[txt 1:24am] your body's reacting to danger that isn't there.

[txt 1:24am] breathe. in for 5, out for 5.

[txt 1:24am] name 2 things you see, hear, feel rn.

[txt 1:25am] it sucks but it'll pass.

[txt 1:25am] not fighting or spying now if you want to call.

[retrocognznt-a]

buckygetyourgun​:

Bucky tried not to move too much when a bark of laughter escaped him.

“I can imagine. Though it used to be even harder to get imported music–or so the cashier at my local bodega tells me.”

That kid could go on and on about vinyl. Honestly, it was a little much sometimes, but Bucky appreciated the mundane-ness of it all. And he sometimes got good music recommendations out of it, too.

“They’re not Korean, but you ever listen to Babymetal? Girls dressed like dolls singing heavy metal. I thought it was a joke thing at first, but I guess a lot of the old metal guys like them, too.”

Bodega guy had been surprisingly enthusiastic about them, and about the “old metal guys” inviting them on tour. Bucky didn’t have any of their records (assuming anything they did was even released on vinyl), but he’d found some digitally after the bodega guy burned a CD for him.

“You kids don’t know how lucky you are,” Bucky mused, “having all the music in the world at your fingertips like this.”

Yes, he sounded like an old man, but also it was true. In the 40s, he’d never have dreamed that people would have so much access to, well, everything. The shock had long since worn off, but Bucky did still find himself staring in wonder at his smartphone every now and then.

“oh my god fuckin bodegas how Brooklyn can you get?” she laughs. It did remind her slightly about working in NYC and how many bodega cats she got to pet during her time there. honestly, it was pretty sick.

“Yeah, I was listening to a podcast and they mentioned them. Its a weird blend of cute idol music and metal that’s a bit polarizing in the community. I find it Kinda eh. Day 6, The Rose, and Royal Pirates, and Dreamcatcher are pretty good Korean rock groups, but I guess they’re more to be taken seriously.”

She finishes the sketch, moving to flip the canvas upside down and fix anything that became more of a noticeable mistake that-way, before righting it and moving back to a small table near her with all the needed tubes of oil paint spread out before her.

“I can put on a playlist of it.” She suggests. “i think that would suit you more than heavy rap music. This playlist is called: Rebel Teen Jams For When You’re in Your Feelings, enjoy” she chuckles the last word as the guitar riff fills the small apartment and she mixes up paints and oils with her pallet knife.

[buckygetyourgun]

"Oh come on," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "I like to support my community, okay? And they have damn good food."

Not that he spent much time in Brooklyn these days, but it was still home to him.

He nodded at the choice of music and, when Khloee was busy looking at her sketch, carefully flexed his metal hand to work out the stiffness in the knuckles. He still couldn't decide if it was phantom pain or a sign that the arm needed a tune-up, but either way, he wasn't going to bother the Wakandans about it.

"How's your shoulder doing?" he asked. "You keeping up with the physical therapy?"