apocalypsehowcomm | August Catch-all

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August Catch-all

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?

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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.

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.

"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.

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.

"Good point. In the meantime, I can thank you again for your help with the whole...seal thing." No, he hadn't had a particularly strong reaction to her first thanks, but she can try again. "You really helped me out of a bad situation."

There's a pause before he says, "You're welcome." Because he's still not used to being thanked at all, but he has remembered the proper response to it, now.

Then, after another pause, "I wound up cutting three people out of being seals. And shot twelve horse-lizard things." He sound, if anything, vaguely baffled by the whole situation. It was weird, okay.

"It's a good thing you were there. Not just for the shooting--they're called kelpies, by the way--but also for the rescues. Do you think they're all dead, or scared away for good?" She's not sure what happened after they got her to the boats and back to ADI, if there were coordinated sweeps of the beach or anything.

He's watching the police office climb into his car, safely behind the goggles, as he answers. "There was an effort to kill them all." He can't say for sure if they succeeded, but they certainly tried. But he does file the name away again just in case they run into them again.

And then, after a beat, adds, "How did you turn into a seal." That's just. It's nuts. It makes no sense.

"The kelpies trapped us in those cursed sealskins. They wrapped around us, smothering us and shrinking us down to the size and shape of seals. I still have trouble with sleeping under a blanket at night, feels too similar."

Which means the one he flung away from her, into deeper water, might be a risk to someone else at some point.

Well, he had damaged it pretty badly. And it is possible the other ADI agents collected it. That isn't his responsibility, though, and it doesn't actually occur to him to worry about it.

"So it was the skin thing. That did it." A thing which makes pretty much no sense. Like the baseball glove that tried to set people on fire, before the ~~horse-lizard-thing~~ kelpie mission mess. Like people turning into ~~horse-lizard-things~~ kelpies.

This place is so fucking weird.

"But you aren't hurt from it," he prods. "Just the blanket thing."

"Not anymore. Not physically hurt, at least." She gestures to her cane, in case that's what led to the question. "I had this before all that. I'm not injured, just...sick."

It's a mixture of her own pride and certainty that he won't care what's wrong with her that makes her leave it at that, giving him a quiet look like she's daring him to make something of it, holding onto her dignity with a death grip.

It's less that he doesn't care and more that asking questions is hard, in general. Assuring that she didn't have any lasting effects from the thing he rescued her from is acceptable; digging into her potential private life is not. (Even if something in him knows that look: that stubborn, proud, daring-you-to-comment look. Weird.)

"Good," he says with a small nod. The cop car pulls out of its spot and resumes its patrol. Almost safe to leave. What else can he say? He can fake being a person, sometimes, but not for long, and not with the mask on. He has no idea what else to say. He finally comes up with, "There may be more attacks. Different attacks."

"I'll probably end up in trouble with those as well."

She hesitates, looking the Soldier over thoughtfully. "Do you think you might be able to teach me how to fight with this cane? At least enough that I could hold an attacker off for a while, give someone else a chance to hear and come help?"

He considers this, considers the cane, holds out a hand for it to test the balance and heft of it, if she can be parted from it for about fifteen seconds.

"Possibly. You would have to build up strength in your shoulders to wield it without hurting yourself. But I can show you how to do that. I can also show you how to fall, how to break a hold, how to hit delicate places where you do not need strength."

Oh, she can be parted from it, especially if she's standing still. She watches him as he examines it, and smiles.

"All of that sounds really good. If it's useful in creating a training regimen, I can explain, uh, what exactly is wrong with me. I imagine it'd effect how you work with me."

He steps back enough to give it a swirl, and a swipe with it. Determines it's well-balanced but not really great for big sweeping gestures. Pulls it back in, holds it in both hands like a bo staff, and thinks maybe that will work better.

Then he offers it back. "Primarily defensive weapon, not offensive. But there are a few things that can be done. And other preparations." Maybe some caltrops, maybe carrying a small bag of rough sand to throw in an attacker's eyes. He has several ideas.

"Can you gain muscle with exercise?" That's the most important part he'll need to know, he thinks.

"Probably. The bigger issue is my joints--I tend to dislocate them much more easily than other people. I've been known to pop a shoulder sneezing the wrong way. Ankles are bad, too. And fingers, it's why I wear the splints."

She holds a hand up demonstratively.

He pauses for a moment, frowning at her hand. That is a harder thing to work around. He... has never had to work around something like that. Physical weakness, yes, but not actual physical... problems.

(Temperamental lungs. Weak heart. No Widows ever had those, though, surely. "C'mon. Land one good punch, and lunch is on me." What?)

"Fluid movements rather than abrupt," he suggests, deciding not to think about that. Focus on what's in front of him. "Practice slow, speed up gradually until you find the breaking point. Additional muscle mass may help protect the joints."

"You'll be able to teach me, though?" She's not enthusiastic about the idea of trying to figure out a regimen for this on her own. But she does want to be able to defend herself.

"Of course."

The police car is gone now, so they're free. But they're also a ways from the ADI headquarters, and he's not about to start a training session on the sidewalk. If she's more easily injured, they need the padding.

Maybe double padding. He doesn't want to hurt her.

"After security patrols every day. Every evening. I'm in the training rooms at the ADI headquarters. If you meet me there, I will show you."

"I'll be there." She smiles eagerly. Of course, she's not going to mention the high fatigue days now; there will be times when she's just not up for training. It happens, sometimes.

More often, perhaps, than she's willing to admit.

At least he won't come looking for her, if she doesn't show up some days. He is available on her schedule, he doesn't expect her to meet his.

"Good. Then I will see you. When you are free." He's done loitering at this corner, though, and ready to move on. If she's ready, she can walk with him, but he isn't necessarily expecting her to as he starts away.

Meredith does move with him, accompanying him. Perhaps he'll look a little less creepy to people when there's someone so obviously so very normal with him. Perhaps not. Either way, she kind of likes being near him--it turns the dimmer switch on her fear of being kidnapped again.

He's not great company to walk with, not being good at conversation, and not actively trying to make any. But he does keep himself to her pace, stays on her non-cane side as if he might be some kind of protection or source of support if necessary, so it's not like she's unwelcome if she doesn't mind the quiet.

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August Catch-all

III

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Sorry, lost this notif!

no worries! I didn't really tag all weekend anyhow :P

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