#getinthefunvee

When the convoy that was transporting Tony Stark back to the US Air Force base in Bagram got targeted the entire world stood still. Stories (non-official) from the soldiers who had arrived first at the site described a scene nothing short of a massacre. The man assumed dead, body missing, until the Ten Rings released the hostage video. War in Afghanistan; war on terrorism was already bad. Somehow this made it worse; made everyone feel like they could be a target. Good thing? When someone that highly profiled is abducted; it’s all hands on deck. Bad thing? What was supposed to be a quick search and rescue wasn’t.

The senior officers set up a grid and had their soldiers trek through mountains systematically, starting out close to the abduction site; search caves, interrogate villagers. They sent in drones for surveillance and analysed satellite footage. Nothing. The process was slow. They were thorough; they had to be. The Afghan mountains are many and hold cave systems as old as time. There were no one giving signs of anything. The terrorists didn’t make new videos, and the civilians were as clueless as the rest of them. Tony Stark was gone.

Kandahar, where Schoonover and his devil dogs were situated, is a quite a few (near five hundred and fifty) klicks south of Bagram, were search division operated from. That didn’t mean they weren’t called in to make an effort like the rest. The marines were known for getting shit done – and people were getting impatient.

For Frank it was excellent motivation. Maria had passed a few months ago, and he’d barely been able to hold it together. He hadn’t even been there. But he’d felt her pain. Felt everything. He needed an excuse to go out, be savage – block those damned emotions, the intense void that having his everything ripped away from him left behind. Everything enhanced because of their bond of being guide and sentinel. Without Billy trying to fill some of that, he would have lost himself. Blown his own brains out. And he felt terrible about it; his kill count steadily increasing. But he was sane, they couldn’t kick him. He was effective too and was building quite the reputation.

People you should be following if you’re not already:

@isjustice

@shellheadtm

@outlawiism

@informaticn

@hopegained

@wcrldliar

fymarveluniverse

@getinthefunvee

|| @getinthefunvee || 

...After it became clear that Bucky had no part in killing Tony’s parents, and that most of the conflict during so called ‘Avengers Civil War’ has been orchestrated by one criminal named Zemo, for the sole purpose of bringing discord between friends and weakening the heroes, Tony Stark extends a hand to both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Within a few weeks, he is able to negotiate with Ross to grant the two amnesty and bring them back to the U.S, putting them in the Stark Tower for the time being. Unfortunately, Steve doesn’t appreciate Tony’s gesture as much as he probably should. Stubborn and impatient as always, he chooses to break out his friends imprisoned in the Raft on his own, regaining his criminal status. Bucky, on the other hand, remains in the tower. Though the brilliant scientist Shuri had been able to remove the triggering words from his head while putting him in cryo stasis, there still remains the problem of his metal arm - or rather what is left of it after the fight in Syberia. He’s refused a surgery to remove it, choosing pain over the nightmare of being in doctors’ hands again, but the stump keeps hurting worse and worse and Bucky is beginning to reach his breaking point...

June 23rd, 2016, New York

He was stuck.

Not only in this place, on the 20th floor of one of the tallest buildings in New York. Not only with one Tony Stark, the owner of said tower, a genius, a billionaire, a playboy (reportedly, at least), a philanthropist and the one and only Iron Man. Not only in the confines of this bedroom he’s been given, and the ensuite bathroom, which he only left at particular times during the day, when it was least likely he would come across said billionaire genius he was sharing the floor with.

No, he was also stuck in his own head, just like he had been for the past almost 3 years. Going over the memories of crimes done to him - and crimes he’s done to others. Stuck between anger for everything that’s ever been done to him, every blow, every wound, every wrong touch, and between guilt for everything he’s done, even if it wasn’t out of his free will.

But now there was a new way in which he was stuck on top of that too. Stuck in a vicious cycle of progressively worsening pain.

He’s had issues with sleeping ever since breaking free and running away from Hydra. It was in his dreams that his memories began to resurface - the good ones and the bad. He was confused at first, thought them to be nothing, just dreams his messed up and broken mind was conjuring. But after some time he began to remember during waking hours as well and those fit with the dreams like pieces of a puzzle. He had to concede and admit that both the rare moments of sweetness as well as the far more common nightmares were all things that happened to him in the past. He feared them and though he could go without sleep for a very long time, far more than a regular man, he had to sleep in the end. And it always ended with tears, be it of fear, pain or heartbroken longing. It made him feel weak and he hated it.

Now a new ingredient has been added to this already shitty mix - pain in what was left of his metal arm. Because it hurt, his nightmares were terrible, the worst moments of his life, the worst of the torture and humiliation. But when he refused to sleep, he quickly realised his exhausted nervous system was failing to cope with the severed bio mechanic nerves in the metal stump. It hurt worse and worse by the day Bucky felt more trapped than he has in 3 years.

He reached his breaking point one Thursday night. He was in bed, trying to fall asleep with gritted teeth. The pain in his arm was too strong and he wasn’t able to drift off anymore, no matter how many times he changes position or how many breathing exercises he did. There was just this constant burning in his stump, and further down where there was nothing now but his brain was more than capable of imagining it. It was beginning to be unbearable. And then it got worse.

He sat up with a surprised and pained shout, one that died down into a groan quickly, as his metal stump fritzed and sparked and the pain shot right through his shoulder and almost up to his very brain. When it passed after several seconds, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. This... This couldn’t go on like that for much longer.

Bucky knew exactly what he should do - what was the only thing he could do, really. He’s been putting it off for days, avoiding Tony just as much as Tony was avoiding him. It was awkward between them, understandably so. Tony blew his arm off thinking Bucky murdered his parents. Hell, back there, Bucky was scared he might have done it - he was still recovering some of his memories, after all. But even though all of that was a lie, even though there’d been apologies that were accepted, they just didn’t know how to act around one another - so they didn’t.

But not he had no other choice. There was no one else that would help him, or that could help him, and Bucky had to grit his teeth through the possible discomfort of it and go ask for help.

He dressed and asked Friday, where he could find Tony. He’s been talking to the A.I sometimes, after asking her if he was even allowed to do so. She was a surprisingly good partner for a conversation, human enough for it to feel real, yet not quite human either which for Bucky made it easier to speak his mind sometimes. He thought it was probably a bad sign he found it easier to talk with a robot - or a program, whichever it was - than with an actual human being.

                                                   roll your eyes , but there’s nothing really to it , too amused , honestly —— or , more terribly : charmed.  “ two outta three is gonna have to work , ‘cause i ain’t ever really liked wine. ”  

He was tired of feeling like a hunted dog. Between Steve, whose intentions were well meant, and HYDRA, who were much less so, it felt like it would be any day until one or the other found him. It only took one slip up on his part, and that would be it. One side or the other would find him, and he’d have to start answering the harder questions in life.