07 | We All Have a Face That We Hide Away Forever

[sinistral]

WHO: the Soldier/the Winter Soldier (sinistral) and you
WHERE: Sh'Ka
WHAT: after helping Beck escape, the Winter Soldier was sent off-world for a mission; he's physically returned but mentally there's still a battle...
WHEN: conspicuously after Calibrations ended, for which he was conspicuously absent
WARNINGS: possible violence (please don't make me write a fight scene I'm not good at it); possible mention of violence; possible mention of mind control and actions performed without consent

---

SH'KA
→ Δ; Delta; Closed to Billy;

Sh'Ka. Or what appeared to be Sh'Ka; the Winter Soldier recognized that his current location didn't match his previous, but in trying to catalog the details of that previous locale he found he couldn't clearly capture them. It frustrated him, one of the few emotions he could feel. He needed to focus though; he didn't know how much time had elapsed since his last visit, or even since the start of the day. His main concern was shelter: hidden and defensible, and unknown to others.

He had equipment here in the city. Supplies. None of that could be trusted. No one—

He rolled his shoulder, the motion causing a ripple in the plating all down his left arm, and rose from his crouch behind a half-collapsed wall. He could still manage for half a day without sustenance, making the search for a place to shelter the highest priority. Enough of Sh'Ka was rock and rubble, grey and green and red—

Red red blood on the rocks on his hands on his face and it should be warm but all he knows is cold, cold, cold—

Red but not blood; the flutter of fabric on a breeze and a body wrapped in (impossible!) stars, a figure so viscerally real it hit the Winter Soldier as a physical blow.

→ η; Eta; Closed to Reeve;

The quiet hours of twilight and predawn, with the night in between, felt the most comfortable to him. The days seemed too unnaturally long; the alien sun had too piercing a gaze. Night harbored the dangerous things; he belonged to it.

Night let him slip into the greenhouse when he needed food. Not enough for his metabolism to truly be satisfied but enough to remain functional, especially supplemented with what he could gather from the trees. The big house seemed to hold some amenities but too much in activity; he ruled it out quickly. That left the fountain— or—

He sat on the lip surrounding the basin. The fountain, or something related to it, was important for some reason. He didn't know why, or to what part of him it pertained. Water, but that didn't feel right. Power, but again it didn't resonate completely. Something of a sense of watching, but also of physical work. That he really couldn't reconcile.

Too soon he finished eating the meager meal — and not soon enough, as true morning was nearly upon him. He still needed to secure a place to rest, and to perhaps attempt to sort out the new confusion sitting by the broken fountain caused.

→ ε; Epsilon; Open;

It didn't matter which personality had control; both were highly skilled in moving covertly and Sh'Ka's landscape certainly aided that pursuit. When the Soldier didn't want to be found he could evade most people, and right now he didn't want to be found.

Except—

He shook his head and pressed his right hand to his temple; the migraine from this morning showed no signs of abating. Add to that the feeling (paranoia?) of being followed; he committed to a circuitous route to his temporary shelter and already cursed the distance. But a straight path would lead his pursuit right to—

Boots on pavement; harsh voices; crisp winter air. Training exercise, training exercise, training accident——

A sharp inhale; the exhale a curse emphatically muttered in Russian. Look right, look left, step—

And whirl around, knife in hand to meet the threat.

→ μ; Mu; Wildcard;

Open to other ideas. Please reach out to me at sometimesamuse or via PM for plotting needs. As always while I write starters in prose I'm happy to match brackets if that's your preference.

Comments

Δ; Delta;

[wearingthestars]

"-nttofindSoldier-"

A flash of blue made that figure a reality, eyes fluttering open from his desperate chant to finally land on Soldier, a desperate relief washing over him as he'd finally managed to track him down.

"Soldier-"

He abruptly threw himself forward, arms around the man in a desperate hug, too relieved to worry about the personal space he usually tried to grant him.

"You're really here, I found you-" he murmured against his chest.

Delta: a finite difference; a difference operator

[sinistral]

Another phantom, nothing more than that. Not broken or bleeding this time but not real either; it hadn't been real since the storm, an arm slung around a scared Billy's waist to keep him from floating away. He doubted even the reality of that; the senses could be fooled.

But this phantom had pressure and weight, the squeezing of arms about his midsection, the pressure of Billy's face against his chest. It felt more solid than many of the phantoms that haunted him of late; that shocked him into a moment of inactivity.

But just a moment; the memory of an attack from behind, the burn of drugs in his veins, made him throw himself back, automatically pulling a knife from its sheath and crouching defensively.

[wearingthestars]

Oh-

Billy flushed with guilt, eyes briefly flicking to the knife before back to Soldier's face, and he held very still, slowly showing his palms (though those were weapons in a way themselves).

"M'sorry- I shouldn't've-" he fumbled apologetically, brow creased, thinking he had just triggered a defensive response to too abrupt/intimate of a touch.

"I was just so worried about you, and thought maybe you were hurt, or they'd sent you home, and I couldn't find you, and then they forced us back inside that place but you weren't there, and-" he explained all in a rush, finally silencing himself with a wince.

"...are you okay?"

[sinistral]

Eyes flicked from his surroundings to Billy's face to the landscape again to Billy's hands and back to the ruin around them. If he gave off the impression of a feral cat it wasn't far from the truth; had he a tail he would be lashing it angrily. He couldn't resolve the figure before him: alive, but he saw the death; not hostile but perhaps the most dangerous to the Winter Soldier.

The battle likely showed on his face, mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to reply. He shifted back, still crouched and scanning the air for Beck's drones, but finally managed to shake his head. Even that hurt, fighting against his orders not to tell anyone of his compromise; he practically shook from the effort of it.

[wearingthestars]

Watching that battle play out, Billy was still, breath a little too quick to be as calm as he was trying to make himself appear as he waited. He had always been easy to read, and even with the lessons Soldier had given him this was one area he'd likely never improve much with, features betraying his worry and care for anyone to take advantage of.

His heart ached at that gesture, but he was simultaneously relieved, sure that Soldier hadn't wanted to act Felwinter from the start, but taking that shake as all the proof he needed.

"...Will you let me help you?" he asked carefully, "Whatever you need- I can- ... can you tell me what you need?"

(frozen comment) ε; Epsilon;

[thestaremaster]

He was met with his mirror image. Bucky's own knife poised in an almost identical pose, eyes locked with Soldat's, staring deep in an attempt to see which mind he was dealing with in that moment.

"...Soldat," he began cautiously, body tense and ready to spring into action, but praying he didn't have to.

(frozen comment) Epsilon: a random error in regression analysis; the absolute value of an error

[sinistral]

The question of which mind did not have an easy answer, even for the man who struggled with it every day. Who was he now? Caught somewhere between the man and the weapon, even he couldn't define what he was anymore.

"Nyet," came the reply. He didn't lower his weapon but neither did he move to attack. "No. I am not yours."

(frozen comment)

[thestaremaster]

"You're not mine," Bucky confirmed, repeating the words back to him, similarly holding still, stare probing. He kept the emotion from his voice, speaking firmly, and to the point, knowing intimately the structure that broken mind might be craving in this state. The struggle that came from thinking for yourself when you had been conditioned to only follow orders.

"...how long since your last maintenance?" he pressed. It might have meant many things, but in this instance it should be clear what he was really asking. The hold of the words grew weaker the longer they went without reinforcement. It left him splintered...mind fractured, and 'recovery' still a long ways off, but it was preferable to him still being caught up in Mysterio's web.

(frozen comment)

[sinistral]

The shoulders dropped slightly at the repetition of his own statement, though it was the only lessening of the tension in his posture. The mirror of their faces, bodies and even some of their experiences made this interaction simultaneously easy and one of the most difficult things he'd done.

His mouth twisted into a frown before he resumed his usual blank expression. "Unknown," he admitted. He couldn't be sure of the passage of time, or even how much maintenance he'd undergone when he wasn't here. He didn't even know what he'd been doing, just had the lingering feeling that he'd been deployed.

(frozen comment)

[thestaremaster]

Hmm. Bucky frowned faintly as well, but nodded in approval. It was still an answer. Information was information, even if it wasn't was he had been hoping for.

Unknown would have meant too long under HYDRA.

He considered a moment, that personal insight both helpful and a hindrance as his mind tried to get ahead of itself by filling in blanks without Soldat's input. Bucky had to pause, forcing himself to pull things back to the basics.

"...If I had your handler here- would you stop me if I hurt him?" he asked, testing the hold Beck (presumably) still held over him as best as he could with 'what ifs'.

η; Eta

[plate_builder]

Helping Bucky search for a book was not enough in the end. Reeve could not accept that he couldn't help his friend more personally, and so he had decided to be more active. Sh'Ka was where his friend often retreated and functioned, so Reeve had packed up some supplies, his materia, and Mini to head to the other city.

And, of course, after a moment of consideration, he had gone to the replicator as a just in case effort.

Perhaps it was that trip which now granted him luck. Tired as he was, he'd been searching. He'd arrived in Sh'Ka the day before, searched until darkness had come, and then had set himself to rest. But his sleep had not come well, so Reeve had set out once more to search. And so he came upon the fountain and was that perchance a figure?

"My friend, is that you?"

His free hand, the one not focused on keeping Mini's head shoved down in his bag so the doll wouldn't smart off, reached into his pocket to lightly grip the fire materia there. All the better to defend himself with, if he must.

Eta: efficiency; the learning rate in machine learning

[sinistral]

Tired he must be, fighting himself, to allow another to sneak up on his position. Too focused on unimportant details; not enough focus on his surroundings.

"No."

He stepped cautiously away, keeping some of the curve of rock between them. This man — scientist but not, researcher but not — gave him a headache, the two sides of him disagreeing about friend versus threat. A target, a train — but which train? And which target?

"You are not safe. With— for me."

[plate_builder]

Yes, he didn't much care about that. Reeve rolled his eyes and continued toward the fountain.

"I have known many dangerous men in my time, Soldat. Some far more dangerous than you. This has not stopped me from offering my hand in friendship before. And, given what happened with Tony when that vile little man who hurt you attempted to end him, I expect attempts you might make would not end as darkly as you fear."

Don't make him circle, Soldat, he is very tired.

"I brought plums."

[sinistral]

Very Tired seemed like it was a way of life in this place. Certainly the man who was and wasn't the Soldier felt tired — tired enough that he hadn't noticed the approach until Reeve was uncomfortably close. Granted, uncomfortably close was anything inside of a mile, but still.

"You can't be sure of that." He didn't need to kill people, to hurt them badly. Sometimes pain could be worse than death. And for how quickly he could act, there existed the possibility that the Agrii might not be able to stop him. He didn't want to put it to the test.

"You shouldn't spend your replicator cycles on me," he replied, though the words slowed and trailed off. Had they engaged in a similar conversation before? He couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. At least he'd stopped retreating.

[plate_builder]

"I choose to be sure of it," Reeve said, his voice firm as if to say the world would not dare prove him wrong.

Which it of course could and likely would. But he didn't care.

"Think of it less as spending some on you and more as repaying a kindness. Friends do that, though usually not so one to one."

E is for eikooc that's good enough for me

[deal_me_in]

"Well! Nice to see you're still on point!"

For someone finding themselves greeted with a knife, the Soldier's current company sounded almost jovial. Once he saw who it was, it probably wasn't all too surprising. Cayde had his hands up but his metal features still bore something of a smile, however possible that was, and yet you couldn't deny it.

"Heya Soldier, find any good tracks lately?"

I'm now singing the cookie monster song. And I want cookies.

[sinistral]

Also, on point, excellent use of the pun. A+.

No matter what personality was in charge, the metal face wasn't easily forgotten. Metal and durable and somewhat carefree, or so went the impression he had. And somewhat of a wildcard.

"No tracks," he replied cautiously. "What do you want?"

XD

[deal_me_in]

Cayde gestured at the knife. "You can put that away now," he reminded. "And what, can't a guy stop and say hi? Feels like I haven't seen you in forever. You lucked out you know, we got stuck up in that dumb cave again, except this time they didn't even let us bring anything!"

He paused. "You did notice we were gone, right? Or at least you noticed I was gone?"

[sinistral]

"No one does that without a reason." Even before Beck, no one paid social calls to him, and he didn't much engage with the community at large. Someone dropping by for a visit never happened without a motive behind it. Surely this would prove no different.

"I wasn't here," he replied eventually. "There was nothing to notice."

[deal_me_in]

To be fair, it was hard to pay a social call on someone who had the tendency to move around if not just be off the grid.

Cayde gasped, clasping a hand over his chest. "Ouch! -wait, hang on, what do you mean you weren't here? Where were you then? You weren't in Calibrations because I would've known when I pulled everyone's beds out into the hall. But you weren't here either?" Pause. "You're not pulling my leg, are you?" Because the Soldier is such a kidder.

Epsilon: also an arbitrarily small positive quantity in mathematical analysis

[usedtobesmoller]

Steve didn't have a purpose out here, really. He knew Bucky had been travelling around when he thought he didn't notice and any and all secrets had the potential of being dangerous. Steve needed to at least know what was going on and a conversation didn't seem like the best way to achieve that.

Still, he didn't know where he was headed and moreso didn't know what he was looking for. It was a stupid mission, honestly, and Steve was about to head back after an aimless hour. Which was when he saw something familiar.

Steve used his small size to try and be hidden. Quiet. After Calibrations he thought that the man he was following looked familiar. But it was only once he spun around, knife drawn that Steve had confirmation. A horrible memory now alive and real.

Steve didn't even flinch. He was too stunned to move.

"...Bucky?"

He knew as soon as he said it that, no. No, it wasn't."

Also the empty string, which is its own kind of fitting

[sinistral]

The Soldier was both tired and high strung, fighting his own mind as much as anything else. Sometimes he was in charge. Sometimes he wasn't. They struggled constantly against each other, making him somewhat more distracted than he normally would be. And making it somewhat easier for another person, or even an animal, to sneak up on him.

He would have preferred the animal, even the predatory ones that crept through the outskirts of the ruined city.

Outwardly, the threat was minimal. It would take little effort at all to subdue the slight figure looking up at him. But the presence hit him almost as hard as a physical blow, a dull throbbing at the base of his skull that threatened a rough time ahead.

"No."

He flipped the knife back into its sheath and turned to go. There'd be nothing but a migraine if he stayed.

Lol Bucky plz

[usedtobesmoller]

The answer was mostly what he expected. Nothing about the man in front of him reminded him of the one he knew. It was like seeing a puppet after a show and realizing, without the performer, it was cold and still. Only the bare bones were left behind. Familiar and not. Emptied of something it shouldn't have been.

Steve didn't know what to do as the other not-Bucky walked away. But something told him he shouldn't leave him alone.

"What...what should I call you, then?" He followed a few steps behind with a distance his shorter stride would only increase unless he jogged. Since a knife had been pulled on him just for walking nearby, Steve decided against anything that could be construed as chasing.

"Do...you know who I am?"

I knew you'd appreciate that

[sinistral]

A puppet might be a more apt analogy than anything else. An empty shell; a weapon to be pointed and fired, nothing more. And as Beck clearly demonstrated, no sense in trying to be anything more.

"I don't have a name," he answered. Persistent, something told him; he probably needed to prepare himself for the inevitable follow up questions.

He looked back over his shoulder: still following, while still answering questions. Was that typical? Something about following, yes, but not like this. He didn't know; trying to think about it made his head hurt. "Does that matter?"

[usedtobesmoller]

"Everyone has a name," Steve argued automatically. Probably not the best course of action here, but this was uncharted territory for him. Probably for the man before him as well. Steve considered the second comment a bit longer before responding and closing the distance between them just a little bit.

"And I'd say it matters. I'd like to know if the person I'm talkin' to knows who I am or if I haveta introduce myself. My ma raised me with manners..." He tried to say all that lightly, like a joke. For all the good that might do him.