#crossxxbones

Bucky froze in the entryway as the voice met his ears, one he hadn’t heard in months since he had fled HYDRA, trying to sort out his life and figure out who he was. The apartment that he’d been hiding out in was subtle, but sure enough there was an unwelcome guest in his apartment.

Home sweet HOME -

Not he’d ever really appreciated the concept; incapable of such foreign luxuries. ( Wasn’t it ironic then that HYDRA had drilled into him that they were the only home he would ever possess ) This was what was familiar; for anything else was guaranteed to make him apprehensive enough to flee a mile a minute.

(  Oh soldier; where would you RUN to? )

HYDRA had fallen, or at the very least failed in their fundamental mission. ( He had to remind himself it wasn't his fault; they were always flawed; which was challenging, despite faulty programming. )  Their bases were all the same; reeking of death and destruction, scattered ruins all that lingered. The members had long since fled; CUT OFF ONE HEAD – their motto remained true – he wouldn’t be naive enough to believe they were gone forever.

[ Maybe that’s WHY he was there; hoping they’d want him again. ]

He’d been forgotten; left to rot and gather dust like some insignificant plaything. (  Perhaps they’d found a replacement. Superiors had always claimed he was expendable. ) He was barely getting by; not accustomed to fending for himself. Hell, he’d taken to wolfing down rats as a form of nutrient. Growing wild, feral and all the more neglected.

( No one WANTS you; you’re not good enough. )

What had he done wrong? He’d attempted to be compliant, really he had, but it had never been adequate and still, the fists had flown; electricity had taken away remnants of intelligence and stun batons had scorched his skin. So many times he’d cowered and let their boots kick him into place; stood there dripping wet as they hosed him down; nameless.

[ Back then he hadn’t even been a him; just an it. ]

Time, however, had caused him to cease deciphering himself as a mere thing, at least. For all the comfort it was doing him. Seasons were passing with no meaning, and once again he’d taken residency in his dilapidated ancient cell; wishing that he could be back home, begging for forgiveness. At least then, he’d have a purpose, a reason for being. Instead of just mindlessly existing.

– Not to mention he thought he was becoming damaged. –

He could hear footsteps sneaking down the corridor. Heavy duty boots? (  was it a mere ghost of a memory? )  he sat bolt upright; listening and straining his ears. He was not met with silence, but the thud of pulse into vein, and then he smelled it. Something was invading his territory.

( Is it them? Have they come back for ME? )

Forcing his muscles to cooperate; he stood, stumbling and trying to find his balance. He was so very weak now; limbs stiff, but he managed to slither into the shadows; perceiving the silhouette before it too sensed him.

Sniffing the air ; he stiffened ; caught in crosshairs – like a deer in headlights.

( Focus, SOLDIER. )

Involuntarily he was torn between options. They were all analysed and calculated until eventually he plummeted to his knees; following instinct and the echo of protocol and placed his hands behind his head; gaze lowering; silent.

his  shoulder's  tense , and  that  glare  is  plastered  on  his  features , as  icy  blue  hues  turn  to  glare  back  at  the  former  HYDRA  agent.  he  doesn't  trust  him.  he's  not  sure  he  ever  really  can , no  matter  how  many  times  the  guy  swears  he's  turned  over  a  new  leaf , or  whatever  excuse  he  could  come  up  with.  bucky's  not  there  yet.  not  sure  he's  convinced  yet.  then  again , who  could  blame  him  after  what  he  had  seen.  what  he  had  been  through , it  was  going  to  take  a  whole  lot  to  convince  bucky  of  any  turned  leaves.  he'd  reamain  sceptical  for  as  long  as  he  needed.

❛  and  why  the  fuck  would  i  do  that?  ❜  okay , that  was  probably  uncalled  for , but  bucky's  people  skills  were  shit.  HYDRA  made  sure  of  that.  his  jaw  set  tightly , and  he  stepped  closer  to  brock , squaring  off  with  the  other  man.  ❛  i'm  not  pretendin  t'like  you.  ❜

grimmusings : ❛ you’re a little tragedy, aren’t you? ❜ (Bucky/Brock @crossxxbones)

‘Don’t.’

The strained protest escaped Bucky’s lips within seconds of hearing the greeting, unease setting his teeth on edge. Entering Mandirpoor was slowly becoming one of the worst agreements he’d made. The Kevlar vest was strapped tight, a reminder of HYDRA’s hold. ( Zemo had already made bile in his throat rise as he showed him off to prospective buyers, gripping his jaw with malicious intent. ) He’d struggled his way through the entire performance, wanting to bite and punch, reminding himself that it was all for show. That HYDRA didn’t have their dirty hands on him, and that he was only being paraded around so they could gather intel, and yet -

Commander Rumlow. 

He felt his heart drop to his stomach as, upon gathering air, the sound of combat boots crunched ever closer. He was certain that there was still a lingering remnant of the soldat inside him. Whether or not his trigger words had been extracted, he knew that the inner battle was far from over. Who he had become weighed heavy in every waking moment. The nightmares never failed to remind him. ( This was different though. Hearing that voice. ) He felt trapped and his muscles coiled, the metal of his hand flexing. No, Rumlow had no right to make him feel small again. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing him crack.

‘You don’t know me - you never did.’

The moniker was rapidly spreading throughout the criminal underground like a disease, causing mass hysteria within certain individuals. Very few knew of its origins but research and meticulous manoeuvres meant Lucien was an exception. Rollins had been effortless, he’d plucked him from the confines of his so called safe-house, receiving a butt of a gun for the pleasure. ( Rumlow? Not so much. ) He’d always been capable of exploiting the vulnerable, of covering his tracks. The Navy taught its recruits every technique known to man. Elusive was an understatement. He’d gone off grid, operating only in the shadows, but that suited Lucien fine. The commander wasn’t the only one capable of being evasive. HYDRA had not been his first rodeo either. They’d merely wormed their way in when he was at his most vulnerable, rendering him into a villainous victim. In a sense they’d woken him up. After tragedy had struck he’d never been quite the same. He’d been consumed by his own affliction. Guilt really was a killer wasn’t it? Yet his eyes were now wide open. HYDRA had been naive. How could they break what had never been whole in the first place? Sure they’d managed to fracture a piece of him away. Managed to provoke the monster within, but they hadn’t understood they were in the process of producing their own undoing. ( Humans were nothing, if not arrogant. Which brought him back to Rumlow. The egotistical bastard. ) Hands balled into fists, staring at the shadowed figure in the confines of the cell. Rollins was convinced he had perished, being burned alive. Bless his soul. So naive. So suffocated in grief that he cared very little about his captivity and yet where was the fun in that? Tongue swiped his teeth, observing every twitch of muscle, bemused by his suffering. It was kind of perfect wasn’t it? Giving them all a taste of their own medicine. Satisfying in that sort of sick way. Not that they didn’t deserve it. They’d been more than content to prod and poke those in their custody. He’d lost count of the times some agent had tried their luck with him, inserting their finger into his cage. How could he have been responsible for following instinct? He’d never been taught anything but cruelty. Being gentle did not come naturally, especially when trapped in a corner. ( He’d paid the price of course for their blunders, and ah yes, he still had nightmares about that. Not even he was immune to torture. ) Bastards. What had given them the right to think they were above him? To kick him into place and force him to the ground? They were simple-minded, mortal. To him they were in a blip in time. A snippet of existence. Did they honestly believe they could even comprehend his power? Rage kindled, distracting him momentarily and he was thankful to see Rollins spasm, bringing him back to Earth.

Footsteps echoed on the floor as he made his way across the basement, clearing his throat, and when that didn’t work? He had the audacity to take off his Louboutin and throw it at him. Jack woke with a start, bleary eyes, disgruntled to say the least, and he stepped through the force-field and retrieved his shoe with a knowing look in his direction. ( Another nightmare. The stench of his sweat was proof of that, it dripped down his forehead, and he looked cold and clammy. ) For a moment Lucien considered loosening the cuffs around his wrists and giving him some respite, though the hurled insult that was shot his way, took away that consideration of mercy, causing him instead to growl at him. Fucking humans. So ungrateful for what they had. Flipping him off, he checked him over, ignoring his spitting.

‘Stay. Good Rollins.’

A roll of his eyes followed, quick to leave him once sure he’d not harmed himself, and for his own benefit he pressed the panel which triggered the sedative gas, deciding it would be better for him to sleep deep while he was away. Naturally the buffoon attempted to react, to fight it, but the never-ending abyss took him, before he could do too much damage and Lucien was free to proceed with his next plan, extracting intel from another who wouldn’t be so lucky. ( In fact by the time he’d finished with them, he was covered in blood, and had to get changed, their screams having been drowned out by the sound proof walls. ) Not that he gave a fuck, having gotten what he wanted. The last piece of the puzzle. Time to move then. Decision made, he focused on transporting himself out of his own sanctuary, landing abruptly back on Earth. Right next to – 

‘Who the fuck are you?’ 

Lovely. Well he certainly didn’t forget his manners did he? Lucien’s gaze bore into the riff-raff who was attempting to challenge him, a casual wave of his hand sending him flying, without a word. Oops. Of course now they came - Rumlow’s so called guards. Such a pity. ( A smirk graced his lips, making quick work of them, leaving them lined up against the wall, pocketing one of their guns as a souvenir and simply because he could. ) Eventually reaching his destination, he booted in the reinforced door, dismantling the trip wire before it could blow him to kingdom come and surveyed his surroundings with a hum of approval, appreciating the architecture and most of all the weapons - his weakness really.

‘Impressive, no human would have been able to enter here, hm? Did HYDRA teach you that old boy?’

Sure. Dismantling the cannon fodder had been a piece of cake, though finding himself face to face with the so-called terrorist himself, his original intentions of just talking to him, all but evaporated. Fuck it. ( With a movement that couldn’t be anticipated, he appeared behind him; refraining from snapping his neck, as the syringe of specialised  tranquilizer plunged into the back of his throat, the whispered ‘night night’ enough to send shivers down the spine. ) His grip was like a vice, squeezing like a cobra would a rodent and he didn’t loosen his hold until he felt him slump. Even then he didn’t relax, wasting no time in taking his prize.

They landed back at the Lake House, and he slipped the needle from his flesh, disposing of it in a sharps bin, before inspecting him. He hadn’t assumed he would be in great shape, and his suspicions were confirmed, a sigh departing into the air, grabbing his med-pack. ( While Rumlow was out for the count, he worked, patching up what injuries he could before hauling him into the glass prison. Jack was still slumped, peaceful enough, and Lucien fastened the same gear to Brock, the cuffs HYDRA’s own. ) Propping up the ex-commander, he restrained him effectively, keeping his leash tight figuratively at least, before stepping out of the cell, and well it was several hours later when he released the valve, enabling him to come back to consciousness slowly. Though a slap to his face was given to aid this, ignoring Rollins’s sleepy babbles nearby. The other having cocooned himself into a ball.

@crossxxbones continued from here!

✮ – The Asset must have lost track of time. When was the last time he blinked? Steel blue eyes seemed to be carving something, metaphorically speaking of course, onto Rumlow's skull. He kept quiet all the while, he almost never spoke unless he had to for a mission, or to offer information, or because his handler asked him to speak.

So often times, that was what the Asset did. He stayed quiet, observed. He paid attention to every single detail about him or anyone around him, looking for the slightest cue of non verbal communication. He had to, the Asset always had to be on his toes, always ready.

Although, his hair was getting longer he realized. Not that he paid attention to it, people from the organization took care of a few personal hygiene needs the Asset could have like haircuts, or showers.