F̶ A̶ L̶ L̶ E̶ N̶ ‣

❛   well -- ❜ a cocking of his head, paired with a devilish grin. ❛   now i know where to look if my stolen stash gets stolen ... ❜ neither man - made weapons seemed to take seriously the approaching, incoming fight. both ignored the pound of boots hitting the dirt, the rumble of the ground trembling beneath their feet. TRAGIC really, how casual they both acted on the battlefield.

it wasn't confidence or arrogance, at least not from him. he did suffer from COTARD'S SYNDROME. he could not deny that. battle - ready was simply - familiar, a natural state - something history and humanity had engrained into his very existence. rough brooklyn streets, the second world war - and many of those in between ;; the battle to mobilize project insight, the run from old masters, keepers, and every government agency on the planet ;; civil war between comrades, the battle against thanos, everything after...

he had long since accepted that he was seemingly made to fight ;; to be a weapon ;; to be a soldier ... as much as he detested every second of it.

it was okay though. they made light of their traumas && tragedies through inappropriate humor and stupid jokes. it worked - and the soldier continued to smirk while loading another magazine into his gun, cocking his weapon to life. ❛   you just INCRIMINATED yourself. ❜

unfazed by the threat of a looming battle, he did tense when she reached out and grabbed his shoulder. the heavy huff that followed sounded aggrieved and slightly petulant. barnes was still not use to this phantom state ;; the process of phasing in and out still made him queasy. not that he liked to admit it or show it. it was certainly a LIFE - SAVIOR though, especially in LIFE OR DEATH scenarios, such as this.

immediately following his offer, bucky watched her body grow rigid with obvious skepticism, eyes sharpening with mistrust and suspicion. she was quick to apologize, to which he was equally as quick to dismiss, waving off her words - unnecessary. he did not take it personally, nor did he hold it against her. they were both damaged, wounded souls, having spent more time than not either being abused or manipulate - or both. if trust issues were the worst aftereffects to come out of years of pain && exploitation, they would get off lucky.

they were barely anything more than strangers - but still ... barnes felt a certain kinship with the female, linked together by an unfortunate commonality. both were results of the worst of what humanity had to offer. weaponized victims of experimentation and manipulation. in fact, he would encourage her to remain distrustful. keep those walls up and never let them down. it would keep her safe. overtime, scar tissue could become as hard as armor. there were downsides, certainly. peeling back skin to connect with others - friends, family, comrades - was difficult and oftentimes painful - but they were both driven by the proven consistencies of their past - and betrayal and cruelty had always been constants.

she made a point and he nodded, lips twisting with defeat - but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for with BRAWN. ❛   i'm pretty intimidating && good at tracking down a target. give me a list of names. i can get them into a room for you. i can make them listen. ❜

the weight of loneliness flickered across her expression, into the colors of her eyes - the way her shoulders slumped. he could be patient ;; he was good at listening - and he promised her that with a firm nod.

After, he'd filled sketchbooks with his face, desperate to remember it all right, only to find that he was utterly incapable of forgetting a second of it. His memory was damn near eidetic after the serum, every brutal and glorious moment painted in horrid, vivid clarity. A few years out of the ice, and he'd gotten out of the habit of drawing. It belonged to some other Steve, a softer one, not the Captain who was living his life from fight to fight with little in between.

Bucky's face was closed to him now. All the features were the same, but the meanings had shifted, his expressions and thought patterns unfamiliar and out of reach to him now. Still, he could tell the words had some sort of impact on him, and the length of that pause gave him hope. Something of Bucky was still in there, fighting to make itself known again. It stiffened his resolve, made it easier to hear his next words without despairing over them.

"That's not who I am here. I'm not a Captain, Buck. I'm just Steve. Your friend. The only side I'm on is yours." He'd ditched the shield and the uniform for this. Captain America, the Avengers, whatever was left of SHIELD-- none of it had any place in what he was doing now. This was about helping Bucky and, quite frankly, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself to do that right now. The HYDRA rot inside of SHIELD had thrown doubt over everything, and he couldn't guarantee that even the "good" side wouldn't want to toss him in a cell for things the Winter Soldier had done. He couldn't let that happen, and--per usual--Steve didn't care which parts of his life he had to burn down in order to see him safe. He'd never been exactly rational when it came to Bucky Barnes. He just used to be better at hiding it.

𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑯 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵, to get in touch with old friend - but don't you see, captain ? the more you pull james barnes to the surface, the more he will fall from your grasp ...

it was not the soldier's instinct to run. NO. the winter soldier did not run. the soldier BURNED with rare life at the prospect of worthy adversaries && steve rogers had proven himself worthy, indeed. the weapon preferred to meet his target head - on ;; to DESTROY them in a way that allowed him to stretch his muscles, flood his body with adrenaline, bloody his knuckles and make an IMPACT powerful enough that he could feel the reverberation of it tremble against his bones. the soldier feared nothing. he felt nothing, he desired nothing but the chance to move, destroy, complete his orders, and live through violence.

everything changed - his existence ;; his purpose - shattered, snapshots in time, seemingly ( cruelly ) running on repeat. that arbitrary day when captain gazed at him atop a burning bridge - whispering a name in breathless shock. again on top of the hellicarrier ( don't make me do this. ɎOU'RE MɎ ҒRIEṈD... ) after the fall of project insight, every time he allowed himself to contemplate the captain, the thoughts would send a splitting agony throughout his entire framework. even now - standing in his shadow - desperate pleas tugging at his back - emotion ( human emotion ) shook within him - rolling like a thunderstorm. uncertainty. hesitation. fear. the weapon did not fear, but this GHOST - this james barnes - his was a code drenched and dripping in HORROR && anguish.

as more time passed - the soldier freed from the chains of hydra, no longer subjected to the mind wipes which maintained the cloud of static - the amalgamation only worsened, programs clashing, colliding, fusing, and oftentimes stepping on top of the other, creating moments of uncertainty and deadly hesitation. the soldier was well aware things were not as simple as they once were. he was a mix of both violence and fear now, and unless he wanted to SERVE ( obey ) again [ HE DID NOT ] - he would need to learn to deal with the impulses of all the programs contained within him.

the influence of barnes was fleeting, and more often than not quiet. the sergeant very rarely liked to make it to the surface, disinterested in gazing out at the world, too busy spending his time burying grisly memories, horror, guilt, and pain beneath layers and layer of compact snow. nevertheless, the soldier's violent nature had become noticeable more tame. they existed now in an uneven state of basic dissociation, feeding both barnes' desire to undo the horrors in which the soldier had inflicted, and the soldier's thirst to move his body and stay free from the ice ;; a shaky balance that could tip without warning. the captain's persistence, his continued defiance, and the adept way he could incite panic inside this body - had truly begun to aggravate the solder. && barnes ' solution ' of simply running and hiding obviously was not working. he could not shake this stubborn tail of his - and that was a LIABILITY.

dőń't.

the captain's - steve's - words fluttered forward, a light reaching into the dark, warming the layers of ice beneath until they started to bleed. shared goals, is that right captain ? if the soldier had a sense of humor, he might have laughed. instead, he just found it irritating. he wanted barnes, but barnes did not want to surface, and no one wanted to engage him. the captain did not want to fight him. barnes did not want to fight the captain. they were at an impasse, running around in circles - and it was frustrating.

dőń't. đỗn't ệngậgệ hịm. plệậsệ. đỗn't ệngậgệ hịm.

the soldier cocked his head, defiant - and pulled in a slow, heavy breath - eyes closing briefly as the wave of APATHY washed dangerously over him. the mask he had grown to rely on to hide everything within started to snap in place - and barnes was begging. don't. listen to me. DO NOT ENGAGE HIM.

YOU WILL LOSE.

the soldier's instinct slammed down at the challenge. barnes' desperate voice faded into static ...

frame turned, dead eyes and empty expression finally coming around to face steve rogers. he skulked forward, into the light of the room like a deadly animal emerging from its hiding spot, eyes focused on its prey. the air around them grew heavy and dangerous - and it felt good. the soldier felt DEADLY && powerful. dark, sunken eyes were VOID of everything but perhaps a spark of hostile curiosity ;; certainly no sign of recognition or familiarity. he continued to advance until only a body's length separated them, and then - he lifted his arm and pointed his gun - aiming right for that soft spot between crystal blue eyes. he tipped his head, a warning.

❝ provalennaya missiya. vot chto ty takoye. ❞ ( a failed mission. that is all that you are. )

much to his dissatisfaction and aggravation, barnes was right. the soldier's finger was tight against the trigger, but rigid and unbending. the soldier would not be able to fire. the inability was seemingly embedded into james barnes' code, as strong as hydra's words within his own. it infuriated him. he demanded something and so, in a blur of movement, gun was lowered and replaced with a metal fist thrust forward. it slammed into the captain's chest with enough force, it sent him flying backwards. it was powerful, devastating but the soldier also recognized it was pulled ;; only 40% of what he was truly capable of .

❝ ne sleduy. ostavaysya vnizu. ❞ ( do not follow. stay down. )

𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 as 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒/𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 and 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐆𝐇 as 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐀 / 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐖

comes from here

Bob blinked, caught completely off guard. “Oh. Uh—yeah. No, totally. That’s fair,” he said quickly, holding both hands up in surrender before tucking them right back into his sleeves. “I didn’t mean to... linger. Or hover. Or make it weird.”

He took a small step back. Then a half-step forward. Then back again.

“I just—well, I noticed the blood. Not—not in a creepy way. Just, like… medically. You should probably scrub that.”

He gave a small, nervous laugh. It didn’t help.

“But yeah. I can go. Space is good. Space is important. Especially when you’re… you know… bleeding and mad.”

deep breath in - slow release. && now his frustration was with himself. great work there barnes. how about you go kick some sad puppies next ? it was such a strange contrast - seeing this version of bob. this was the profile he had met last, first coming into contact with the equally as soft - spoken but slightly more confident SENTRY and then the terrifyingly powerful VOID. it was odd to think of this person as meek when he knew first hand the amount of power hiding within. but it had been a few weeks since the disaster that almost consumed humanity in total darkness - and bob's personality had remained, surprisingly, consistent.

soft. timid. awkward. afraid ? it immediately yanked buck back from his own childish woes. he was supposed to be leading this ... team ( ? ) and even though bob was technically on non - active duty, he was very much a part of this team. yelena had made that undeniably clear.

❛ it's not you— ❜ he promised because it wasn't and he shouldn't be taking his frustrations out on - anyone really - least of all someone who did not deserve it ;; someone who was only trying to help. ❛ sorry. it's just ... ❜ another heavy sigh. ❛ i just got back from a mission with walker and ... ❜ he gritted his jaw. ❛ let's just leave it at, it didn't go well. ❜ he pushed back his hair and cringed feeling the sweat keeping it in place. ❛ he and i - we don't exactly see eye to eye. ❜ on anything.

“... I already talked to him and it went poorly.”

muted eyes remained fixed on the fidgeting man sitting before him, deeply assessing despite the appearance of indifference. barnes' expression remained composed and controlled, giving nothing in terms of a reaction away - neither sympathy or annoyance, pity or judgement. despite the soldier's looming silence however, it was obvious in his steady stance and lingering gaze that he was paying attention. he was patient, giving bob the chance to not only form his thoughts, but also finish conveying them.

barnes - more often than not - chose silence over dialogue, purposely careful and sparse with his words. the majority of his thoughts remained internalized, shadowed from others. an old habit from his days muzzled by hydra. when he did speak, he tried to do so with purpose. he wondered if reynolds had the tendency to do the same. it was not often bob's voice rose loud enough to draw attention ;; even less often his words depicting how and what he felt. but buck knew ( from unfortunate experience ) there was a world, A MAZE of endless rooms, that lived inside this seemingly meek man. if not for — THE VOID ... barnes might never have realized the depth circling beneath.

an awkward silence settled between them, marked by more uncomfortable fidgeting from the other man and continued silence from the ex - assassin. finally, bucky tipped his head to the side, brows drawn together in contemplation.