August Catch-all

[worthallthis]

Who: Bucky Barnes (AKA the dude who doesn't have a proper name right now) and OPEN
When: August catch-all
Where: ADI headquarters, ADI apartments, around town
Summary: Just working, training, and being quietly creepy
Warnings: Internalized depersonalization


I. Patrols - ADI headquarters, ADI apartments

Working security is not entirely mindless, but it's close. Patrol around the outside of the ADI building complex, patrol through the buildings, prod the occasional air vent in the ceiling or panels in the wall just in case there's someone hiding in there, then repeat. It's familiar. It's comfortable. It's not quite mindless, but it's close enough to let him settle into diffuse focus where he doesn't have to worry about lack of orders and going home to not having anything to do there, either.

He's not averse to company on the job, but he's not... exactly chatty.

Sometimes he gets restless and repeats the process around the ADI apartment complex, too. Spot him at night, whether shortly after dinner or in the small hours of the morning, walking at a regular pace around the apartment complex fence, eyes alert but tired. He might be more chatty now-- maybe, a little-- looking over anyone who approaches and nodding in greeting.


II. Keeping or Offering an Edge - ADI headquarters

A lot of his spare time is spent in the target range and training rooms at ADI headquarters. Patrols are easy, but they don't keep you sharp. And he needs to keep sharp, especially as he's found his strength and speed... a little lacking, around here. So he can't depend on it without maintenance. Plus, maintenance helps with the pain from the arm.

So he maintains. Strength exercises, shadowboxing, practicing his aim with guns, flipping and throwing knives.

And if he sees anyone in either room looking lost or clearly struggling, he drifts over. Clasps his hands behind his back and ducks his head. "I can help train," he offers.


III. Exploration - Around town

He doesn't want to be taken by surprise by any path he'll be asked to take for ADI or for a person who needs rescued or killed, or ever be unaware of ambush points, so he does a lot of exploring around town, too. Poking his nose into shops, prowling around suburbs and apartment complexes, and looking up at trees in the park. He doesn't ever sit down in a restaurant or on a bench, but he loiters outside the former and watches the latter like he expects them to bite him, though someone could possibly convince him to try either one.

More than once he gets the cops called on him, because he does most of his wandering around in his full mask and goggles, face comfortably obscured. It helps him feel stronger, for some reason, and it means he doesn't have to deal with making eye contact or controlling his expression. Fellow ADI transplants might find him staring in stony silence at a well-meaning police officer stammering through a warning to stop hanging around residential areas.

Wanna help out?

Comments

III

[henchgal]

Meredith spots the officer trying to reprimand Bucky as he lingers outside a restaurant and decides to intervene, walking up with her cane and putting on her work persona like a well-fitted dress.

"Excuse me, officer, we'd appreciate it if you left Mr. Dellinger's personal security detail alone while he enjoys his lunch." The name she picked was a local politician, someone she'd read about in the newspapers since arriving. "We'll be moving on to the opening of the new animal shelter shortly, but Mr. Dellinger would prefer to feel safe while he finishes his sandwich."

The officer seems startled by the professional persona Meredith is invoking, and considers the Soldier in a new light, huffing and turning red, before walking off.

[worthallthis]

He looks sidelong at Meredith, though it's hard to tell behind the goggles. He looks for a long time, trying to shake off some kind of uncomfortable familiarity.

"Who is Dellinger?" he asks after a long pause, voice only slightly muffled by the mask.

[henchgal]

"Local politician. His was the first name I could think of that would carry enough weight--first person who might have a security detail. But we'll want to move along before the nice policeman figures out I was bullshitting him. Right?"

She gestures down the street, hoping he'll come with her.

[worthallthis]

There's another long pause, as his eyes dart between the retreating officer and the restaurant door and Meredith herself. "One more minute," he says. "Until the nice policeman--" He says it awkwardly, mimicking her rather than using a phrase he's remotely familiar with. "--is back in his car and around the corner."

It wouldn't do to walk away while the man could still see them.

II

[bossyboiler]

It has recently come to her attention that she is mostly defenseless. That fact is what had brought her down to the training rooms. She is currently throwing jabs at a punching bag.

On her own world, Kate had not considered all that her advanced healing rate did for her. It had been taken for granted. She never got sick. She never felt tired. Life's tiny maladies never seemed to have effected her. Kate had never been bothered by such a thing as a minor injury.

Now that it's gone, she misses it. That night on the docks, when she had been sent to retrieve a baseball for ADI, she had been sucker punched. It had been a one-two blow, the first to her eye and the second to her stomach. Whereas she normally would have been able to deflect one of those blows with a forcefield, she felt each of them.

Where are her abilities? It doesn't feel safe to ask about them because she's heard no one else asking the same question. If more people had them, Kate assumes that there would be more chatter. It seems like a logical assumption. More people would have mentioned it, she thinks. Maybe she's the only one? Should she ask ADI about it? No.

Kate's head tilts to the side and she pauses in throwing punches. She will not tell ADI about it. She will not tell anyone else about it. It doesn't solve her problem and in fact may create more. Kate is going to do what she does best, bury it. (And have it possibly blow up in her face at a later date but that's okay. That's a problem for future!Kate!)

At first, she throws proper punches at the bag. Her form is good. Kate has taken several kick-boxing lessons and practices it but she is so keenly aware of how ineffectual it really is. It makes her angry. She could have been studying something useful instead of using it as an excuse to buy coordinated workout gear and look cute. Then her punches turn irregular. She hits the bag with the fleshy side of her balled up fists.

"I can help train," Winter offers and Kate nearly jumps out of her own skin. Her entire body twitches as though it is going through a malfunction in deciding between flight or fight. The noise she makes echoes that same malfunction. Kate shudders, her dignity in ruins. WHERE HAD HE COME FROM?

"Winter, didn't hear you. Been there long?" She doesn't know why she's trying to play it cool now. Better late than never?

[worthallthis]

"I come here after work every day," he says solemnly. Which means: yes. He's been here for at least half an hour. He wasn't watching her the whole time, but from the weight machines on the other side of the room he could certainly see her if he kept his head tilted the right way.

Hence the offer. But she doesn't seem happy to see him, and it looks like maybe he'd startled her. So he adds, "Sorry."

[bossyboiler]

It's not that she's unhappy to see him. She is embarrassed. It shows. Her posture is a little off and there is a slight redness creeping into her cheeks. He scared her and now she feels awkward about it. If these two people had been anyone else, they might have laughed about it.

"It's okay. I didn't hear you approach and you startled me." She reaches up and brushes her bangs back and smiles a little. It's not his fault. Kate really should have heard him.

"If you're offering, that would be great."

i. patrols

[carmesi]

Although the information she received upon her arrival was clear and easy to understand (at face value), there is still a lot that Wanda isn't willing to just let be. She keeps the questions to herself, goes about settling, and tries a little bit of exploring to get a lay of the land—see what this is really all about.

She isn't the type who knows how to keep a low profile outside of what she had previously learned from Romanoff, but Wanda has at least equipped herself with a hoodie, an old baseball cap, and neutral colors. Should make it easy to get by unnoticed, right?

Not altogether familiar with the curfew for the ADI apartments, she thought it would be easy to stroll in, at some time past two in the morning—hey, a girl can't sleep—and peek around to see what she's missing out on, living in the flophouse. The sound of approaching footsteps keeps her from attempting to put her hands on the fence links (even if just to keep her hands occuppied), turning instead to the man walking towards her.

"Hey," it's casual, it's friendly. She shoves her hands into her cardigan's pockets, angling her head downwards to shield her face with the cap's bill. "Can't sleep, too?"

Maybe she should actually just come around in the morning when it's less suspicious and less bound to look like a delinquent's job. She steps away from the fence.

[worthallthis]

The longer he's out from cryo, the worse the dreams get. He got maybe three hours, this time, before they drove him out of bed, out of the apartment, and into the open air. He prowls around the inside of the fence, making sure it's safe. Even though he knows security is tight, he still has to see for himself.

Twice. Three times.

And now there's a woman outside looking in. He slows, but continues his approach. There's no mask, not this late at night, but his head stays down, watching her through the fall of his hair. Kind of the same way she's using her hat. "Yes," he agrees. "Are you stuck outside?"

He doesn't recognize her, but that doesn't necessarily mean she doesn't live here. She could be new.

[carmesi]

And she is, certainly, very new. Unfamiliar enough with the place that she is bound to consider her every move, walk with a little less confidence in her step; in this world, she doesn't have Steve to back her up nor Natasha to teach her the ropes, so it's best to play it safe with a little honesty.

"Not really," there's a fence between them. It's fine. "Just curious about the building."

Wanda rubs at one of her eyes with the back of her thumb and steadies her face to look at the man, thrown aback by a sudden familiarity she can't quite place. She tries to, frowning in thought.

"Do I know you?"

I

[graveyounglady]

"It's you!" Mercy's just heading in with some grocery bags in her hand. There's a slight limp to her walk, but she stops on her way across the grass when she sees the man. Of course he's someone with ADI, but... well, somehow, she'd missed seeing him since everyone had got back. She'd swum away after they'd saved that other seal and stopped the kelpies so she could help others. At least until one of the kelpies had bitten her and Caduceus had to pull her out of the water.

Her face breaks into a smile. "Oh, it's rightly good to meet you when I can talk, sir. I'm Sister Mercy. I was one of the seals you helped out in the swamp. I led you to them kelpies."

[worthallthis]

He speeds up to come hold the door for her, frowning at the limp, sure there's something he could be doing to help beyond just holding a door. "I remember the seal." He doesn't offer a name, back, but he does say, "You were helpful."

[graveyounglady]

"You were more helpful than I was." Her smile turns rueful. "Say, you wanna come back to my rooms with me? We got a nice little sitting space, and I just bought some fancy tea to try. Wouldn't mind doing it with a friend."

This man saved her life. This man is now her friend.

Around town!

[sorser]

The breeze picks up, rustling the leaves of trees casting shade overhead. It’s an idyllic sight, this park—if one ignores the circumstances that have brought him here—though there is one thing that stands out. Stands out like a sore thumb, really. A masked, sore thumb, one glancing upwards at one of these aforementioned trees and pointedly ignoring the bench placed conveniently under it.

It certainly isn’t even close to the oddest sight he’s ever seen; but there is a sparking familiarity that draws him closer, still in his sorcerer’s garb but minus the bright, crimson cloak. (He supposes he’s not the only unusual sight in town.)

“You can sit, you know,” he tries, speaking up as he walks closer. “Trees cast shade even if you’re not staring at them.”

[worthallthis]

The masked face turns a little Strange's direction. Not fully, but a little. This isn't someone he recognizes, which doesn't necessarily mean it's not someone from ADI or another world, not with an outfit like that.

He considers whether that requires an answer. He's expecting he needs to stay on the right side of other ADI people; they're not quite like HYDRA, but they still give him orders. So he finally goes with a very careful: "I am not here to sit."

[sorser]

“No, I guess I can see that,” he replies, Stephen’s brow arching. Really, he shouldn’t stick his nose into this—except he has a tendency to stick his nose into everything—but there is something about this man that hooks into a part of his mind, fishing for memory. Fishing for familiarity, ghostly as it might be right now. He has to chase after it to some degree, given everything that’s happened to him as of late.

Eventually, he stops as he stands right next to him, glancing up at the branches swaying overhead.

“All right, so you’re here because…?”

III

[musicdied]

Yelena spies both Soldier and policemen as she rounds the corner onto the wide street dotted with little shops and cafes. They haven't yet approached him, but it's easy enough to read the uneasy suspicion with which they're regarding him, and she marks the squaring of their shoulders in preparation for confrontation.

It probablywon't end in violence, but drawing that sort of attention isn't in any of their best interests. She sighs quietly, then fixes a sunny smile on her face and lifts her left hand in a broad wave.

"Sorry!" she carols as she bounces up to him. "I know I'm late, I just got turned around. You didn't have to wait for me outside, you know."

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the officers lose interest. Her presence has transformed him in their minds from unnerving loiterer to some poor, beleaguered brother or boyfriend saddled with a flaky tourist. She doesn't have to see the eye rolls as they turn away to know they're happening.

[worthallthis]

It probably doesn't help any matters at all that he has his mask and goggles on.

He gives a startled little twitch at the loud voice, but it registers a beat later as Yelena, and that's-- okay. It's okay. Yelena is, if not safe, at least familiar and not actually ranked to dole out punishment of any kind.

His shoulders come down from around his ears and he unturtles a little. "Yelena. What." Look, he knows how to be invisible, but he's not trying to be invisible. And the loud kind of invisible is not his forte.

[musicdied]

"You were attracting attention," Yelena says quietly, tipping her head slightly in the direction of the retreating officers. "That is not a good thing. Now, we're just tourists - weird, but in a way that fits what they expect."

She peers up at him, lips thinning slightly as she tries to read his purpose from body language alone.

"I'm sorry for startling you. Have you been inside yet?"

iii

[cacophonish]

Jeff's stepping out of the music store (another payment down on a used Fender Strat; thank god for layaway) when he sees the guy standing out on the corner, all eerie and still in the face of a nervous-looking cop.

Normally, Jeff would shrug it off as none of his business and walk away. He doesn't know the guy, and he'd really rather not get involved with cops if he can avoid it.

But he recognizes Mr. Tall Dark and Eerie from the ADI. Jeff may not go around there often (preferring to avoid it about as much as he likes to avoid cops) but the whole mask-and-goggles look is memorable enough from even his few, brief visits.

So maybe it's some misfit solidarity that has Jeff moving over to them, catching the tail-end of the cop stammering something about how he's making people uncomfortable, loitering around with that mask on his face.

"Dude, there you are! Bad news, the paintball game got cancelled, 'cause... it might... rain."

Yes. They're paintball players. That's why the strong silent guy is wearing a mask and goggles. Nevermind that Jeff looks like he's never set foot in a paintball field before in his life. (Because he hasn't.) He's probably never even held a Nerf gun before, let alone a paintball gun.

"Um. Sorry, officer. Sir." Polite and deferential, Jeff's doing his best to channel his big brother: good, clean, and all-American. "I accidentally gave my cousin the wrong address, and he's really shy, so, uh, this is all just a misunderstanding, I swear. We'll just be going now..."

[worthallthis]

Jeff gets a blank look. Or, well, probably a blank look. It's hard to tell behind the mask and goggles. But the cop is happy to latch onto any explanation, especially as Jeff is not tall, dark, and eerie. All manner of boys play paintball, right?

"Well, go on, then," the cop says. "No more loitering on street-corners scaring the kids."

Which is ridiculous, because the kids were not scared. The adults were. "One of the kids asked me if I had a face," he says flatly, but he does turn away, towards wherever Jeff came from. He's had all the attention he wants today. Probably more than he wants, truth be told.

sorry for the delay! had a combo of unexpected hiatus and getting swept up in the event

[cacophonish]

Jeff salutes the cop with an "Aye aye," because that's what you're supposed to do, right? Right. He turns tail and follows after his 'paintball buddy,' eyeing the other man curiously now that the immediate threat of law enforcement is out of the way.

"So... Do you have a face?" A beat, then he adds, "I'm not trying to get you to show me or anything. You don't even have to tell me the truth. Sometimes it's more fun to lie about these things."

I

[the_archivist]

It's late, and Jon is struggling to sleep. He resents it really. Surely here, where there are no nightmares made from the suffering of people he's fed from, he should be able to sleep. But no, he has to deal with insomnia and regular nightmares which are just... awful.

It's no wonder that he's outside at a stupid time really, flicking a lighter between his fingers. He doesn't have any cigarettes, but he does wish that he did.

And then he sees someone walking nearby, pacing around the fence. He passes by once, then again, then a third time. And when he comes close again Jon gives an awkward little wave.

"Can't sleep either?"

[worthallthis]

For a moment it doesn't look like Jon's getting an answer, eyes not even moving up from the unfocused stare into the middle distance.

But then the pacing man slows, and gives a short nod. "Tried. Didn't stick." Sometimes, just sometimes, he misses cryo. Usually nights like this, after they've come a few in a row and he feels gritty with the lack of sleep.

[the_archivist]

Jon flicks the lighter open, then closed again, hands running mindlessly over it. He doesn't even notice that it's there for the most part. He hums in agreement at the man's words.

"Yes, I know the feeling. Being here isn't exactly helping."