Matt had a good point in all of it; if it hadn’t been for the Avengers, there could have been countless acts of murder committed. If it hadn’t been for Steve… well, Bucky wouldn’t have been here, wouldn’t have been free from the clutches of HYDRA. He mused the thoughts over in his mind and took another sip of his diminishing beer before speaking, “You have a point, Murdock. Superpowers and metal arms help though.”
Bucky chuckled, “I do have military training. Ex-sergeant of the 107th. Veteran of World War Two. I was captured by a rogue Nazi division and experimented on. They gave me the arm and delayed aging through a serum and cryostasis.” Simply spoken it didn’t sound too bad, but the horrors of reality swamped his mind and made Bucky take another sip of his drink.
“The world’s gone to shi- It sucks.” Bucky was already having a hard time suppressing his constant cussing, but he would do it out of respect to Matt. He was a good man.
Even if he strained to hear it, Bucky couldn’t hear the bed creaking and he was thankful for the fact. “I know the feeling. The arm can be useful, but other times it’s just… just a reminder of the things I’ve done.” He contemplated the lying aspect, understanding that lying wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “Some people lie to protect others. Other times, well, they want to protect themselves for a change.”
“Me?” Bucky paused to consider exactly what he wanted to say to Matt, but he knew the risk of altering the truth. “I’m an ex-assassin. Well-practiced sniper along with plenty of hand-to-hand combat. I used to box in the old days. Nowadays… I just exist I guess.”
“Of course they do. But it’s not the superpower that leads up to fight for the things we believe in. A superpower is a tool. It’s the spirit, the drive within—that’s what leads us to fight.” He gave a snort after taking a sip, discarding the empty bottle in the trash, “The lawyer in me is coming forward.” The blind man flinched at the coolness of the floor beneath his bare feet and he stilled.
“The world now- it must be terrible to be here, after what you’ve been through. We have all of these advances in technology—it must have been overwhelming, in the least. How are you managing? And at least Steve is with you, you know?”
A smirk broke out on Matt’s features, “I heard that. But yeah, it has. Things have changed from your time. Things are ever-changing. Kinda off-putting.”
The blind man zoned out his hearing, and instead—focused on touch, focused on other senses. But the scent of sex filtered into his nostrils and he found himself cringing. Memories of the past flittered in the back of his mind—El, others. Pain splintered in his chest, too—the shambles of a once-broken heart. One that had been repaired with glue and faulty staples. “I hate when I’m reminded… of things.” Of people. Matt nodded, laughing bitterly, “Claire—a friend of mine—she told me that one day… I’ll end up bloody and alone. I would prefer to help others instead of myself. Maybe—maybe I need to protect myself for once.”
An eyebrow quirked and the blind man found a smile crossing onto his features, “My dad—he was a boxer. You probably didn’t know him. Battlin’ Jack. Can you box with your arm?”
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