(no subject)

[disassembling]

Character: James "Bucky" Barnes &
Time period: Post-CA: TWS
Warnings: Obsessive Bucky on the loose.


At first, independence had seemed like one of his better ideas, but he had begun to revise his opinion once he had verified certain truths, taken noted of the factions searching for him, and realizing that the world was a wide landscape where a man could get lost. After he had rearmed himself from the bodies of two Hydra agents, a drug dealer, and a gang banger, he had come to realize that slipping away, hiding, being nothing at all was very easy, too easy.

He had been built on the foundation of a command structure for more than seventy years. Even before the blurred vagueness of falling, he knew order and military command. Aside from mashed up images, feelings and impressions, he knew that he had to have some manner of structure in his life. With no more commands down the line, he loitered, slipping through the shadows on Washington for awhile, finding the unsavoury places and people, leaving a few bodies in his wake and not particularly caring that they were found and televised either. A weapon bared he moved through the chaos at first because it was all he knew, listless for anything but the violence he had played a role in for so long. It lost it's purpose without the trigger of structure.

His world stagnated as he avoided those who hunted him, and he cared little for the lives he took when they found him. They came to command him because they thought he would simply bow to old standards, that he would go back to being his code name if they applied even electricity to his brain. They hadn't earned the right to command him. They were weaker than he, hadn't even survived a single encounter when he decided to throw his weight back at them. They were weak men, lost in words and hiding behind guns and dying in the shadows of buildings and trees.

Slowly, resolution began to form from the ashes of his lost command structure. He decided he would allow himself to be commanded again, that he yearned to be commanded by someone with the strength of both character and body to overtake him or at least bow him slightly with respect. Pierce had been like that, he reflected. The man hadn't needed to physically harm him to command his respect, though he remembered well being struck when he required the prompt. A few others had commanded a similar reaction deep in his guts, and his attention snapped over to them. One at a time, he decided. One searched, the other could be found if he looked.

He had been lost for a few months, considering leaving to go to Brooklyn for more pieces of an old puzzle, but he was drawn back into Washington because beating information out of a SHIELD agent had satisfied him that he would get what he wanted. As a ghost story, he knew that the only way to get proper attention was to do something not only obvious but dramatic. His depth of dramatic no doubt would be very different from others that he knew existed, but like a well-trained dog returning to his master, he knew how to get the attention that was needed to invite a recall command.

Hydra agents were not easy to find in large quantities in Washington anymore, most arrested or underground and hiding. It took him two days to find a nest of the vipers, using the old underground tunnels that he knew well. He'd ended them to prove he might not be under command, but it was something worth earning given his skills. Their bodies were left in obvious Hydra uniforms and symbols and piled high in front of the Smithsonian. As if the symbol of his loyalty degradation wasn't enough, none of the corpses had heads, and he had piled them in such a way that he could sit atop the whole mess and lounge there as obvious as the start of a new day.

Media and police were one thing, not that interesting, but he let them think they had command of him for a moment. Let them show his face around for SHIELD and Hydra and them to know he was here. Meaningless orders were ignored, people's reactions only earned a turning of his cheek in dismissal before he knew that the police presence would be a problem to slip away from. Instead he slipped from his lounging perch to ignore warnings and breaking into the Smithsonian because it suited him there. It seemed a fitting place to bow to the command of someone worthy.

Comments

[waypastasking]

To say that Steve was having a bad week, or a bad year would be an understatement. He was not even taking into account everything that happened in New York. He was more thinking about recent events, and he was really disillusioned and burned by life at the moment.

He hadn't really given a shit that he was breaking the law. He had busted his way into the Smithsonian, and made his way to his exhibit. He stared up at it. It felt weird to be standing there with his shield. The last time, he had been in disguise.

This time it didn't ease the pain. Everything he thought to be the truth was in fact a lie, and he didn't know what to do with that.

His hearing picked up the slight sound, and he turned quickly, his shield ready.

this got long and sucks i blame you for this so take responsability

[eleutheria]

Her choice to go after Bucky hadn’t been a hard one, or a surprising one. It was only natural for her to go after the man that had such a key and integral part through most of her life, to find a way to help him since she refused to believe her friend was totally and completely lost, he had left her alive for a reason after all. But she had looked for him for months and still the only glimpse that she still had with her was his retracting back after he pulled her out of the Potomac, she was always too late when she thought she was catching up with him and it was clear he didn’t wanted to be found, maybe it was another sign.

Since clearly all the things that had happened to her since she found herself in this century, from her confusion and adaptation to it, the incident in New York in which she got a quite painful realization that there were more sources of danger for all them, then the re-emergence of Hydra, finding out her best friend was alive, the fact that she had been lied and used and finally culminating with the dissolution of SHIELD were probably signs that made her think it would have been better to remain in the ice they had found her.

Maybe that was why she hadn’t fought when Sam had suggested them to stop, after ending empty handed again, and to go back, it had hurt but she had agreed and ruefully gave up since there was nothing she could do if Bucky didn’t wanted to be found. And so she had returned to DC and decided to stay with Sam for the time being, her apartment had been wrecked after all and to be honest she hadn’t felt like being alone, and tried to ease into normalcy, gone back to visit Peggy (even if it hurt as hell to be fully reminded that the two people she loved the most, didn’t even remembered her) and waited for time to just pass.

And then Bucky had appeared again and she clearly couldn’t ignore it, could she? Not when it was done like that and the irony of the location. And now here she was, having broken into the Smithsonian with Sam’s help and then ordering him and whoever else might have been in the building to leave, wearing the new uniform Coulson had so proudly presented to her once and her shield strapped to her back, waiting for him and see what he did before going straight into attack mode against him.

[capwolf]

Yeah. A bunch of bodies wearing Hydra uniforms in front of a museum was not subtle. It wouldn't have been subtle, even by Steve's standard (he was only vaguely familiar with the definition of the word, and only in theory), even if Steve hadn't literally been able to smell Bucky.

He wasn't in disguise and he wasn't in uniform. He was wearing jeans and a jacket, and he didn't have the first problem entering what Bucky had already broken into. It was dim, eerily lit because of the exhibit spotlights, but it was good enough for his purposes.

"What are you," he asked what looked like empty air, "a cat?"

Dropping prey on the doorstep?

[cloneororiginal]

Every Hydra agent went into hiding. No one safe from the police, Captain America or from him. The man who was a living ghost, capable of finding any of them in their sleep and killing them. He was the thing that children were taught to be afraid of. Sarah wanted to track him down, not as an agent of Hydra but as her own person. She wanted to see if he gone insane or see if he had any information on the scientists that created her and the other clones.

A lot of people would consider her plan to be a suicide mission. No one willingly walked into the den of a lion.

It hadn't been easy to track him down, but he made his presence known by the lovely display of dead Hydra agents. She slipped into the Smithsonian, sticking to the shadows as she looked for him. There was a chance in hell he might still be around, wanting to see people's reactions to his body pile.