revivalproject | 11 | Time is a valuable thing

Entry tags:

11 | Time is a valuable thing

WHO: the Soldier (

sinistral) and you
WHERE: Spaceport NG-102
WHAT: being a space celebrity is weird
WHEN: during the second phase of the Problems with Portals event; as for what actual order things are going on, what is time really
WARNINGS: n/a in top levels; will update if that changes in threads

SPACEPORT
→ A Hint of Recognition;

The first few days at the spaceport quickly established in the Soldier's mind that if deliberate design went into its layout, the designer must have been a heavy drinker. He could find no logic in the way anything was laid out. Perhaps there was no logic, expansions slapped on wherever someone had the whim, or could fill the needs of a quickly growing population. On the plus side, the almost chaotic nature of the place also seemed to give rise to a huge variety of shops and eateries and other facilities, a literal something-for-everyone, no matter what shape anyone took.

Diversity at its finest. And most unusually shaped.

While the Agrii had sent their He Rows on a specific mission, the Soldier also recognized the opportunity to search out some personal wants: clothing, small tools, maybe a few items for the shelter Billy wanted to build. His wants had to come second to anything that was needed for repairs to the Agrii ship but seeing what was available certainly couldn't hurt. In his time in the Fleet, the Soldier had been no stranger to taking on odd jobs at their various stops to gain funds or barter for goods; he planned on taking that approach here as well. He only had to find out what price the shop would ask for the item that had caught his eye in this particular establishment; knowing the price, he'd try to exchange labor for its cost. It was with that plan in mind that he approached what seemed to be the sales counter.

What happened when the alien standing behind the flat counterspace turned around surprised him.

"Bucky Barnes!" the clerk exclaimed, weirdly heavy, elongated accent on the long E sound, and followed by a burst of something in another language. "Bucky Barnes, from Drifty Fleet!"

The Soldier blinked, looking uncomfortable for a moment. "I used to be there, yes," he finally answered, clearly a little surprised at the recognition. He looked around, a brief, furtive motion. Had anyone overheard?

→ What's in a Name;

By the end of the first week the Soldier started to realize that to make any sort of positive progress at the spaceport, he'd have to embrace the man he was back in the Fleet, the man he'd all but abandoned since the Agrii decided to bring him into their collection of He Rows (or kidnapees to put a different and still accurate perspective on it). He'd taken care of some small personal upkeep items — a haircut, obtaining better shaving supplies, tools that would be useful in maintaining his prosthetic — and had taken to walking around with the metal arm uncovered, shiny and gleaming and very recognizable.

And he was recognized. Sometimes simply walking down the thoroughfare, sometimes perusing a shop or standing in line at an eatery; aliens of all shapes and sizes not only recognized him, but called him by the old name, the name he'd used in the Fleet and given up when another had wanted it: Bucky Barnes. After a few attempts at correcting the latest crowd — and agreeing to photos on the weirdest looking alien cell phone things he'd seen yet — he assented to the name though it felt awkward, like a jacket cut to fit someone else. He answered a few more questions before finally being able to excuse himself (not without a second coffee pressed into his hands by a winking barista, if it was even called winking in an alien with a single eye).

"For your Day of Birth!" it chirped at him; he groaned inwardly. The Soldier preferred not to celebrate it but there had been that one party in the Fleet, a shared affair that had seen a long talk with Wanda. Apparently alien cultures placed as much emphasis on celebrity birthdays as humans on earth, and he didn't want to seem rude or make a larger scene by refusing the gift. Best to make a hasty exit.

Turning away from the counter he made his way toward the entrance, having to jockey both cups into one hand to open the door. Or perhaps someone beat him to it, opening it on the way in while he was making his way out. Either way the Soldier né Bucky Barnes met the eyes of another of the Agrii's He Rows, giving a brief, tight nod. "Thanks."

→ It's Only Popularity;

In a way, being in the spaceport was easier than being on the Peanut Party or on the Agrii ship. There were many, many more aliens about in the spaceport, and the Soldier knew how to get lost in a crowd. Even if he didn't have the most anonymity given the apparent popularity of the Drift Fleet broadcasts, it felt easier to be among strangers than among the people from Temba or Sh'Ka. And given that popularity seemed to give him certain advantages, he'd started to cast off some of the reclusive nature he'd adopted over the past years. While he would never have the tolerance to be a social butterfly he had certainly been more approachable, back on the Starduck. Pulling on that attitude was like pulling an old leather jacket out of storage: stiff and uncomfortable at first, becoming more comfortable with a little wearing in.

He had caught a transport close to where the Peanut Party and Glitter Food were docked; the ride passed uneventfully. Disembarking however proved to be interesting; he hadn't anticipated the approach of a gaggle of aliens who were either giggling, or communicating in a way that his own Atroma-given implant couldn't translate. He shook his head and tried a few words in English, then again in Russian and in German, but nothing came close to any of the sounds these particular aliens made. From the point of view of an onlooker though, the encounter looked like exactly what it was: a group of fangirls who had just run into their celebrity crush.

Save him? Mock him? Something else?

STUDIO
→ Before Class;

The Soldier — Bucky, he had to be Bucky here — could have easily just stayed aboard his ship and avoided the whole popularity thing entirely. But they — the Agrii and their "He Rows" — needed the supplies that could be bought on the station, and his popularity put him in a good position to capitalize on it. Really, he could do exactly what he did in the Fleet: teach self defense classes. Finding several facilities willing not only to let him use the space but pay him to instruct said classes had been surprisingly easy.

Almost too easy, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on that.

Mats filled this particular space, the kind found in martial arts of gymnastics facilities and meant to cushion against falls to prevent injury. Various other pieces of equipment could be found at the perimeter of the room, though the Soldier didn't plan to make use of any of it in his classes. He stood near the front of the room as students filtered in, dressed simply in black tactical pants and a maroon tee; the shiny silver of his prosthetic arm practically gleamed in contrast, a deliberate choice. Looking up, he saw a fellow He Row at the door and waved the person over.

"Here as a student or to observe?" he asked, when the other person came within conversational range.

→ After Class;

With class ended the Soldier stayed long enough to answer questions from the various students, sometimes demonstrating a move again and sometimes having to promise to visit one establishment or another. It took him a few moments before he could extract himself from the last conversation, looking up to see a fellow He Row near the entrance and using their presence to move the encounter to its close.

"I didn't notice you in the class," he said as he approached. "Were you looking for me?"

ELSEWHERE
→ Those Are Great Starters, But...;

You'd prefer a scene leading up to one of the situations above? Your character saw an interaction and would rather approach a few hours later? Make some tweaks and leave me a starter and I'll roll with it.

→ Wildcard;

Have another idea entirely? Come at me here, plot with me here, or hit me up at

sometimesamuse or via PM. Want a more specific starter for your character? Let me know, I got you. Want to handwave something? I'm fine with that as well, let's hash it out; there's a lot this guy can get up to given his Drift Fleet past and I am all about the shenanigans. And as always, while I write starters in prose I'm happy to match brackets if that's your preference.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The change had been...strange. Good strange in some ways, though Billy worried about the strain it might be causing Soldier to see him acting out a part. But maybe it wasn't all acting? Billy found himself wondering how much of this persona was inside the Soldier he knew, waiting for it to be safe enough to reveal more of itself and how much was just him trying to play the role of Bucky Barnes?

Even without speaking the language, certified fan boy Billy Kaplan could recognize fans by their body language alone, and he watched the encounter with an amused look from a distance before coming in to try and rescue him.

"I gotta borrow this guy-" he interjected, and when that didn't work he racked his brain for a moment before miming taking a photo. Somehow THAT seemed to be universally acknowledged of all things, and Billy magicked up an instant camera using photographic proof that they'd met one of their idols as leverage to lure them off.

"Someone's popular," he teased lightly, a little overwhelmed himself. "Not that I can blame them."

A quiet day around the shops, maybe a meal. That had been his original plan, before practically getting moved outside the transport. The Soldier wasn't even aware that Billy had slipped from his side until he suddenly came back, thankfully with the skill to disperse a small crowd.

"I didn't ask for this, " he murmured, quietly enough that it shouldn't be overheard. The crowd had dissipated anyway thanks to Billy's quick thinking, a small miracle. "There are others who would undoubtedly enjoy the attention more."

It was wasted on the man who was convinced his only use to the Agrii was as an assassin, deployed to missions of which he had no memory.

"I know," Billy answered gently, and he smiled, leaning into Soldier's side and giving his hand a squeeze. "You're like the last person who would ask for this. Which makes you pretty much a Saint or whatever for how calmly you handle them," he noted with a proud hum.

"Come on, we'll find somewhere where you don't need to play at Bucky Barnes, you can just be you," he promised, not entirely sure how he'd fulfill that declaration yet, but determined to give Soldier a break.

The Soldier's hand withdrew a little, but only enough to shift his grip to interlace their fingers. He still didn't feel entirely casual about touch but he had picked up on little behaviors that seemed to give Billy comfort or reassurance, or that Billy seemed to like. He had no problem adjusting his behavior to meet those wants. And Billy's presence alone was a comfort in navigating social situations that he couldn't have anticipated.

"I don't know how much of it is playing," he admitted quietly as they walked. "I was a different person in the Fleet."

"Yeah?" Billy pressed gently. Soldier didn't talk too much about his time in the Fleet. Everything Billy did know had been pieced together slowly over time.

"Nothing wrong with that. People change all the time." There was a careful pause. "...are you feeling better about the person you are now?"

"Yes," he replied, but walked along in silence for a bit longer. The whole situation tied greatly to the idea of identity, and that wasn't the easiest for him to explain to someone else.

"I am what I've needed to be." Barely a person, just a tool to be used when the Agrii needed his skills. Just a tool for Beck to use when he got his hands on the book. Heck, even Tony had assumed that the Soldier attacked Cal when he came upon them in the bowels of the Agrii ship, not that the Soldier was trying to help his friend when Cal collapsed. It said something that someone could stick to the belief of violence over the truth of the interaction. "And what people have wanted me to be."

Forced community here, like the Fleet, but not at all similar. There the Soldier had the space to see what he could be. Here he forced himself into the shape others expected.

It wasn't exactly the answer Billy was hoping for, but he was glad that Soldier didn't just tell him what he wanted to hear. He frowned softly, wishing he knew how to make any of this easier on Soldier.

"What do you want you to be?" he asked, trying to put his focus there rather than the more selfish question of whether Soldier was just being was he thought Billy wanted as well.

He'd probably end up disappointing Billy quite a bit throughout the conversation. Billy wasn't the problem; the Soldier knew that he was broken.

"Free," he eventually said. "Allowed to decide what I am for myself, rather than have others define it."

And allowed to be imperfect, less than whole, because some pieces of himself still remained blank to him.

That was the problem. Thinking he was broken.

His answer earned a bit of a sad smile. Billy wanted that for Soldier too. "That's a good answer," he said, "What can we do to help you feel that way more often? Or- what's making you feel like you aren't?"

After a beat he added- "...it's a pretty normal feeling. The pressure from the outside world and wanting to be what people or loved ones want..." Most people didn't have the added baggage of Soldier's past, but he thought it still might help to know he wasn't alone in this feeling.

Except maybe he was broken, at least somewhat. Possibly not as much as he believed, but certainly not whole either.

"You don't need to do anything." He wasn't refusing Billy's help; he simply felt comfortable around Billy in a way he didn't feel around most others. "I don't want you to change."

Everyone else? Well, he considered Cal a friend who didn't have unrealistic expectations. Steve was Steve but even that had the familiarity of predictability. Few enough others though. And how many people saw him exclusively as the one who helped Beck?

There was a flush and a grateful laugh. "Well that's something. Um...what do I do that's different from anyone else? Maybe that's a place to look? Or what can we do excluding other people all together that might make you feel safer to be...you?"

He saw that look of recognition in an approaching group, and with a subtle wave of his hand they were suddenly blocked by tumbling boxes, long enough for Billy to change their route down a new path.

"You're you." A simple answer, one that said nothing and everything all at once. It wasn't like they had a lot of shared trauma either. But they both had it and it didn't need to be comparable to still identify with each other. "You came to me willing to let your expectations go when I didn't live up to the image you had."

He found that most people couldn't do that.

"And you cause box avalanches," he added, having seen that twitch of the fingers. "Though I'll keep your secret."

"Heh." Ducking his head, Billy found that answer surprisingly touching. And yeah, they had very different lives but weirdly wound up with similar traumas. This one at least Billy could understand a little. Wanda expected him to be her son. Destiny apparently wanted him to be the freaking Demiurge, and all while Billy was still trying to figure out who Billy was. He thought he had a bit better understanding of that now. "I like the guy I found instead a lot better. He's you," he added, echoing back Soldier's words.

"No one got hurt, right?" He giggled with a slightly guilty grin. "We can go back to the ship if you want to avoid people all together? Or we can do the grown up version of that secret spy mission you took me on," he teased, remembering how kind Soldier had been to his kid-self.

It's Only Popularity

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