welcome
otm
otm
site video
social media


shoutbox
want ads


 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 Breaking and Entering [M], event thread #7
Winter Soldier
 Posted: Nov 11 2015, 04:24 AM
Quote

James Barnes
player: Piper
115 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 14



user posted image
user posted image


Things were better. They weren't perfect and he knew that'd probably never actually reach that point, but they were better and for that much he was grateful. He still didn't remember everything that had happened and there were a lot of holes in his memories that he was trying to fill, but the triggers weren't nearly as bad anymore. He found that as he sat there at the table, cleaning his weapons, that he did so with a somewhat clear head. It wasn't the automated, mindless movements he had been forced into for so long. No, he wasn't their puppet to be made to do whatever they wished. He had escaped them and he planned on staying far away. There was still SHIELD to deal with but right now that wasn't really his priority. Staying alive and in charge of his own decisions was.

For the moment, he was alone in the dorm but he knew Dottie would be back soon. That would be good. He felt...restless when she wasn't nearby. Ever since he had found her in those gardens (or was it that she really found him first?), he hadn't been too far from her side. It was thanks to her that he had even made it this far and he wasn't sure how he could ever thank her. There weren't many people he could trust but he knew she was one of them. She was also one of the few who understood him and they had both went through similar things. He knew eventually he would need to go see Steve but he wasn't sure he was ready. It wasn't that he didn't want to, not anymore, but there was the uncertainty of what would happen when he did eventually go see his old friend.

There was also the weight of everything that he had done over the past...seventy or so years. The years all blended together at this point. He needed to atone for what he had done but he wasn't sure where to start. Yet another thing that he made a mental note for later. Right now, he wanted to finish cleaning his weapons and then maybe make something to eat. His stomach rumbled and while he could ignore it for awhile, it was going to get distracting. Besides, there was something off about this day. James couldn't quite place his finger on it but it felt like the calm before the storm. He was antsy, which was never a good thing for an assassin, and there was a feeling in his gut that caused him to go through all of his weapons, checking them thoroughly, and placing them in their holsters at his thighs and belt.

It was somewhat reassuring to have his weapons within reach but it didn't ease that twisting feeling within his stomach. It wasn't nervousness but his eyes darted to the corners of the room, watching the shadows for a good few moments before he mentally chided himself for being paranoid. He knew they had to be careful but it had been months since any incident and no one knew where they were. James would always be cautious but he couldn't keep imagining HYDRA lurking in the shadows ready to pounce on him for the rest of his life. That wasn't any way to live. Together with Dottie, maybe some of the others, they would bring HYDRA to the ground. Stomp the rest of it out like the dying embers of a fire.

Moving over to the small side table where a hot pad sat plugged into the wall, James picked up a box of noodles and set it within reach. Pouring water into the small pot, he set it on the hot pad, turning it on to heat it. He knew he could go awhile without food but if he didn't have to, why should he? Besides, he wasn't sure how much longer Dottie would be away. Once she returned, he needed to see if she was up for doing another recon for ammo and weapons. Between the two of them, they had a small armory but the ammo they had wouldn't last forever and he wasn't sure how much they were going to need. Just because they had managed to evade HYDRA and SHIELD so far didn't mean that something could happen and they needed to be ready.

The distinct smell of burning invaded his senses, drawing him from his thoughts, and he looked down to see the now empty pot, a burnt looking substance in the bottom. His eyebrows knit together in frustration. ”Good job, James, you managed to burn water," he muttered, frowning as he peered into the bottom of the pot. His stomach growled in protest and he sighed, setting the burnt pot back down on the hot pad, switching it off. So much for that plan. Now to figure out something else to eat. He could shoot a guy from five hundred yards away but he couldn't manage to make something as simple as noodles.


user posted image


credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PM
^
Dottie Underwood
 Posted: Dec 15 2015, 04:31 PM
Quote

Black Widow
player: Jess
32 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 13



user posted image


It had certainly been an interesting life the pair of them had managed to accidentally fall into together. As the days went on Dottie watched as more and more of her James came through the damage that HYDRA had caused all those years ago. When they had reunited on the bridge he wasn't even The Soldier; her Яша had been this hollow shell lost in an unfeeling world. So much of who he was had been burned away, stripped down and lost. The fact that he trusted her, remembered her at all was everything to the broken doll. She knew better than anyone how being one of HYDRA's castaway assets messed with someone's sense of self and purpose. The years of homeless listless wandering had been brutal by herself; she had sworn under the falling cherry blossom petals she would not let him ever feel the way she had that night in the pouring rain when he walked away. It was her job as his partner to always have his six, and this was no different.

Soon enough the shadows that haunted his eyes had begun to clear, the few small smiles he had given her filled her heart with more hope than she had known in decades. To Dottie, the most important thing was James; she didn't need to pressure him over their past because it didn't matter, he needed to heal and find out who he was now. To expect him to remember their lives let alone vivid detail was beyond unfair and frankly selfish. He couldn't be expected to be her Яша anymore than he could be expected to be the Bucky Steve has talked about. When HYDRA had someone in it's clutches it ripped out everything that made them who they were. Dehumanization, psychological and physical abuse, and enslavement were their tools and they had plied their trade to the pair of them with brutal efficiency. But in the end, she didn't care about her own damage.

She was focused on her partner and Dottie tried to anticipate anything he would need without making him feel like it was charity. The last thing he needed was misplaced pity or guilt. Instead it was the same lighthearted gentle she had always been with him those few times he had been injured out on the field and needed patching up. It would hopefully be familiar, but even if it wasn't, that was okay. While they had history, it didn't define them. Neither of them were in the same circumstances as they were, and as such trying to force fit back into the echoes of before made no rational sense. They had no handlers to report to, the food on their table and roof over their heads she gave without question. It actually felt good to provide for him for once; and for the woman whose heart forever laid in the forties, the idea of taking care of the man she had albeit unrequited feelings for felt right.

However living in her single dorm was both familiar and awkward. It wasn't unlike some of the safehouses they had to hunker down in on mission before; the single bed and large couch offered places to sleep or relax, the makeshift not-quite 'kitchen' was a counter housing a microwave, mini fridge, well-loved coffee maker, and a finicky hot plate. How they would handle sleeping wasn't as awkward as she expected. If they decided to sleep in shifts it would be old habit, if he wanted the couch it was his but her guilt rose at the thought of the tall man trying to curl into himself to properly fit his long legs and body on the thing. And it wasn't as though they hadn't had to pass out beside one another in the past, but it had always been beyond platonic necessity even if to her it meant so much more. Whatever he wanted or needed was his call and decision, all that mattered was her making sure he knew she would die to keep him safe as always. And while the accommodations were certainly cozy, Dottie didn't find it cramped in the least. It felt right having him here in her life, and she noticed as the minutes went on her hyper vigilance began to fade. They were together and safe, in this weird little tableau of normalcy. With a sweatshirt or long sleeve shirt he could even shadow her at her classes if the mood struck. All that mattered was one core fact; Dottie gave him Choice. The choice to hide if he needed to or follow her day to day tasks, shut down or open up. HYDRA and Leviathan subjugated their assets by dictating everything, right down to when their soldiers would die for the cause. So with a soft smile and a gentle hand where the red star lay hidden beneath layers of cloth, Dottie let James choose whatever he wanted.

The closet was filled with clothes that could pass for a co-ed at Julliard; leotards, tights and pointe shoes mixed in with simple unobtrusive modern fashion and her piecemail arsenal she had collected over the years in a worn out Army duffel from the war all of this started in. Digging deep enough she had a few pieces of clothes that would fit him alright in a pinch; an oversized sweatshirt and large t-shirt she slept in whenever she had a particularly rough day in class. Past that, she made a mental note to buy him some more clothes as soon as possible. It was necessary for one but she remembered how nice it felt to have that kind of choice available to her. It was another simple freedom they took away and it was intoxicating how much picking out her own clothes made her feel like a real person. Maybe it could help him find out who he wanted to be? It was something that Dottie was still struggling with, in all honesty. She had learned years ago the best way to hide was to blend in with those around her. And while she still would hint towards the vintage looks she missed so badly with her makeup or hair, “Daphne” had to be as far away from Dottie as her heart could handle.

As it was she felt like she was playing with Fate the day they returned to her dorm after narrowly avoiding the men that were tracking them. After getting James settled with weapons and showing him the locks, she had ducked into the communal bathroom with one of the boxes of bleach she had ferreted away for when she needed to be on the move again. Over the years she had gone from brunette to redhead, only occasionally going back to the blonde when those who might recognize her were either nowhere nearby or too old to properly identify her. But a part of her panicked when he seemed so open and warm to her at the gardens and Dottie feared it was the familiar red hair rather than her that elicited that response. She couldn't bear the thought that the smile he gave her was actually meant for Natasha, and from that point forward it had been back to her natural golden curls.

Today had been a long day... He had chosen to stay behind when she had her late night studio class, but she warned him that it was probably going to run late. While the official hours were from seven to ten, her fellow dancers had been a disaster lately. And when the clock had ticked over to nine forty-five and her teacher had begun swearing under her breath in French, Dottie prayed for a miracle that never came. Hours passed and when Madame finally let them go with a brutal lecture and ultimatum at quarter to two in the morning the Russian spy was about ready to collapse. She didn't bother changing in the locker room, exhausted she threw on the bare minimum to be passingly decent for public before wearily tying her shoes onto aching feet. Everything hurt, every inch of her was begging for a hot bubble bath and she was hungry enough to eat five horses as she began her trek back to the apartment. The thought of cooking sounded terrible, but her favorite take out places were long since closed. Heaving a grumpy sigh, she let her thoughts wander to what she could possibly make for the two of them that didn't involve any exhaustive prep without a real thought to her surroundings. The streets had a weird energy to them but she couldn't care less, a zombie limping back home and up the flights of stairs before rapping on the wood the same way they always did. Her voice sounded pathetic even to her as she called out, making sure she was visible in the peephole. Яша, I'm home! And about three seconds away from eating the door. Mind letting me in?”




user posted image

.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíone more post of cute and then incoming baddies provided by jax... sorry this took awhile, i've been fine-tuning it for about three days for appropriate adorable shippy goodness. XD

translation”yasha” again, diminuitive for james

scáthánoutfit

céilílike i'm gonna lose you – meghan trainor feat. john legend (because it's so them it hurts me inside)

ina dhiaidh sinmy james, hydra

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Winter Soldier
 Posted: Mar 2 2016, 06:37 PM
Quote

James Barnes
player: Piper
115 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 14



user posted image
user posted image


Bucky washed out the pan, noting the minor arm trouble he with a certain movement. He'd noticed it briefly before, a small glitch with a seemingly simple movement. The mechanical arm, the less human part of him, slowed down and made a quiet grinding noise. He shrugged it off, a simple movement he could perform. Tony had done a good job in making it work better and that's all he could ask for. It's honestly all he needed. So long as he could make himself seem like a completely normal human, eventually he would be one. Right?

A noise caught his attention and he whipped around, his previous paranoia reacting before he even realized it was happening. His heart rate evened, adrenaline only causing a small spike as his steady hands held the gun on the door. But he knew that knock. The separation between beats. And then came the voice. Even through the still running water, the tone of her voice carried through the door and perked up Bucky's ears. He moved quickly to the simple wooden dorm entrance and undid the locks, holstering his gun as he went. He opened the door slightly and beckoned her inside. His arm threatening to make the grinding noise again as he did so. The heart that beat against the metal inlay for his arm hammered slightly at the sight of her. And it wasn't the adrenaline. He was still figuring a lot of things out. Still piecing together a long of his life. But Dottie... she was different. He didn't need to figure her out. She had figured herself out and that's what he admired about her. Or was admired even the right word for how he felt? It caused a stir in his chest that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Not since he'd gotten his free will. "Welcome back." He said as his eyebrows raised. She looked like she'd been through the wringer. While he did find it mildly amusing, his face remained even. It was something he was trying to break himself of. The expressionless Bucky Barnes was a thing of the past, something that should have been left behind with his separation from HYDRA.

He'd gone to the Smithsonian so long ago it seemed. Trying to piece together who he was. Who he had been. He's seen his face and memorized how it looked. He'd tried to mimic that expression. He'd thought that it would be that simple. Pretend to be that same man and eventually he would become him. But that man had been dead for seventy long years, snuffed out by the programming process. And the face of the man who had looked at the display at the Smithsonian had been etched with the wear and tear of those seventy years. An overwhelming majority of his life had been spent as a weapon to be used. And now he was... free. And freedom was terrifying. He could think whatever he wanted and that left all of those things he'd done burning at the edge of his consciousness. His newfound control of his life had many upsides though, far outweighing the fear of his own thoughts. And somehow... Dottie was one of those upsides. He hadn't tried to define it yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Usually when he labeled something, it fell apart.

"I...tried." Bucky shrugged, gesturing at the smoke in the air. The still running water had soothed the beast to an extent but the true damage had already been done. It was doubtful his pride would ever recover. "I can try again." His even voice reassured her. He'd caught it that time too. He'd managed to express with his face but... conditioning himself to add inflection on his voice was more difficult. His shoulders slumped slightly as he turned and prepared the pan again and placed it on the faulty hot plate. A part of him wanted to run. He'd messed up. It was time to go hide. But the rest of him wanted to try. He could see the result of trying standing before him. She was so... extraordinary. Label. Back away. Bucky quickly got together the few spices they had and dropped the noodles in.

"How was your day?" He asked, this time not needing to show his facial expressions. This time he added inflection to his voice. He dangerously turned away from the noodles and looked at Dottie. He very carefully smiled, making an effort to make eye contact. He was working on it. He was trying. He was trying so hard. To no longer be The Winter Soldier. Sure, the holsters and weapons and paranoia spoke volumes about how well that was going. But it was an effort. Domestic Soldier was an improvement. Perhaps he'd move on and become the Spring Cleaning Soldier when the time was right. And maybe he'd eventually stop having to fight. Maybe the ghost of The Winter Soldier would stop haunting him and he would be able to live a peaceful life with Dottie.

That thought passed through his mind without a question. It might have been platonic to start with but... He couldn't function normally without her. He felt safer with her around. He looked up to her so much. He couldn't imagine life without her by his side. No matter what capacity it was in. But a part of him definitely wanted more. To touch her face and let her know what she meant to him. To rub her sore feet after a rough day and let her pour out all of her frustrations. To hold her. But the rest of him was scared to make that move. To go further than what they already were. Because what if everything changed? What if all of that fell apart the same way everything else did around him? What if labeling things cursed them to break? He wouldn't be able to bear it. He wouldn't survive that loss.



user posted image


credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PM
^
Dottie Underwood
 Posted: Mar 3 2016, 08:24 PM
Quote

Black Widow
player: Jess
32 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 13



user posted image


She could practically feel him through the door, a small smile pulling on her pale lips as she pictured him leveling his weapon where she stood. It shouldn't have been sweet, it wasn't normal but she wasn't really a normal girl to begin with. Dottie knew with a certainty the moment he moved, she could always feel the pull of him as the pair of them orbited in a room together. When one breathed out the other breathed in; it was a perfect dynamic and a testament to their partnership that meant everything to her that they found each other again. When he barely propped open the door, she quickly swept in, tucking her body near him enough so he could have as much access to the hallway behind her to protect her six as humanly possible. She unzipped her coat, placing it atop her bag that immediately went on her couch as her hand rose to the back of her neck to work out some of the knots there. Turning on the ball of her foot gracefully, Dottie let him see that contented smile of hers, despite the dark circles that had probably already begun to bruise under her eyes.

”Good to be home. Class ran long; these kids are nothing compared to how we were.” It was something that they both experienced though never had a chance to do together. Dance was drilled into both of them, part of being a good soldier. It had always shaped how the Widows fought and it was apparent with how James trained with her that it had been beaten into him as well. And though a part of her had fantasized of the pair of them dancing together, the closet she had ever come was him training her. Which had been just as good back then, if not better than a paltry fantasy. Since he came to live with her though, their dynamic had changed. While she was certain if he wanted to train they would, that wasn't exactly what he needed to work on at the moment. The Winter Soldier didn't need to learn how to perfect his combat, James needed to learn how to find his Bucky. So like all things, she offered him the option of choice. He would speak up if he needed it, wanted it. Right now, he didn't and that was that.

Dottie kept her tone light and airy, though there was a layer of headiness from how weary she was that threaded into her tone. But it was when he spoke again that had her perking up from her daze a bit more, brow furrowing as she tried to understand what it was that had him suddenly so anxious. Oh. The smoke. Apparently it wasn't just blurry eyes and exhaustion. There was something in the way he moved and spoke that broke her heart and on instinct alone Dottie flowed towards him, open body language with a warmth to her face and voice she knew firsthand they never got back with Them. One hand immediately rose to soothe over his left arm, gently smoothing over where the star lay just as tenderly as she would if it were his right. ”Hey... it's okay. I do it all the time.” It was true after all; that hot plate was going to probably claim blood one of these days. The thing was finicky to begin with and had only gotten worse now that it needed to provide for two people. Seeing his shoulders slump broke a part of her heart and Dottie felt her heart catch. ”I believe you. And I know you can.”

It was his smile that did her in...

In all those years, James had never smiled at her. At best it was a tight lipped not quite smirk, but even then there was nothing behind it. It's why seeing him happy with Natalia all those years ago destroyed her. And here was more than that half-smile attempt on the bridge, this... while careful... this was hers. He smiled. At her. Every part of her filled with warmth as her heart caught against her ribs. It was sweet and important, but more than that the weight of his eyes nearly brought her to her knees. Without a word she wound herself around him, slipping her arms around his waist to tuck herself against his side beneath his metal arm and nuzzling her cheek against his chest. It was bold, and frankly it was more than she had ever dared with him before. But he needed her, he needed reassurance and she wanted nothing more than to protect him, cherish him, take care of him. This wasn't a failure, it was a faulty piece of shoddy craftsmanship. But that didn't mean it wasn't important. She stayed like that, holding him close for a moment hoping that her touch could maybe chase away the demons in her mind. It was all she ever wanted, all those times she fell apart without him, when she was terrified and on the run. The only thing she needed was someone to tell her it was okay and to be gentle with her. And while she had managed well enough, she wanted more than that for him. He deserved more than just managing... He deserved peace and joy and she would burn the world down if it dared try and take that from him. Although she was starting to see how much the concept of his freedom and choices intimidated him.

”Long. Tiring. But right now, pretty perfect.” Her voice was obscured by his shirt, murmuring into the fabric and his chest where the seam of metal and skin met. It took her a few heartbeats before she realized exactly what she did and a wave of guilt came over her. What if he didn't want to be touched? What if it was a bad kind of touch? She chastised herself viciously in her mind, swearing a bit in Russian under her breath before loosening her embrace a little to look up through the long lace of her lashes to lock eyes with him. A wall broke, one that had been held back for decades finally cracking under his smile and how small he could look despite his size when his shoulders curled in on himself. ”Is this alright? If it's not, it's okay. I need you to tell me if I can touch you like this. I won't hurt you and I won't do something you don't want me to. But I need to know, okay? I just... I need to take care of you. I need to keep you safe.” And with that she held her breath, ready to fall away and give him room without any resistance if that's what he needed right now. Even if finally holding him was a dream come true to her.







user posted image

.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaímy bucky my sweet perfect wonderful bucky... our headcanon is even more perfect now with the little pieces that are already visible in the rp and i'm just dying of cute.

translation”yasha” diminuitive for james

scáthánoutfit

céilíthe ocean soundscape thing jax has on right now

ina dhiaidh sinmy james, hydra

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Winter Soldier
 Posted: Mar 8 2016, 11:34 PM
Quote

James Barnes
player: Piper
115 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 14



user posted image
user posted image


With Dottie's reassurance, Bucky's confidence in his actions was boosted. His wide smile was briefly replaced with worry as she closed the gap between them suddenly. But her warm embrace banished that worry. The action still confused him slightly. His arms were in wild positions before closing in around her gently, his mechanical arm cooperating for the moment and staying silent while crossing over her shoulder. His other arm held her at her waist, hugging her tight. That familiar feeling that he didn't want to define was back, his heart fluttering almost painfully against the metal implant. He could feel it gently nudge her head but inside it threatened to break loose and... what did his heart want? It wanted to give in to this. To be like this for a very long time and not move. But it also wanted to run. To take control and escape. The embrace was confusing to him, his trauma melting away briefly and allowing him to simply exist. But that trauma, that seventy years of unnatural life, it almost defined him at this point. Without it, he was just a man in love with no reason to pull away. But the underlying thought processes stayed.

He tried hard to catch her words as his heart thundered in his ears. It wasn't the fight or flight response. It was the kiss her or pull away response. It pulled at his consciousness Define it? Define it. He bent his head down and gently kissed the top of her head. "No... this is fine. This is..." Something we both need? Something I've wanted for a while? The single most perfect moment? "I trust you." It was the closest he could get to saying 'I love you' right now. And even that made his heart skip a beat. Made his breathing hitch slightly as he sank lower into the embrace. He held on tight for fear of falling. For fear of losing her. He'd defined it, all bets were off. His worry was cut off though. Now he had the power to hold on to the people he loved. And he had no intention of letting go.

Bucky pressed his lips to her head again and whispered. "I'm terrified of defining us. Every time I define something... horrible things happen..." His voice was barely a whisper against the sound of the boiling water. But he knew she heard. He prayed she heard. He felt things for her that were impossible to ignore. And he was tired of trying to ignore them. He desperately wanted to hold her forever. He wanted to share this moment with her for as long as the world would allow. Bucky slowly stroked her back as they stood there, ignoring the world. But he knew he couldn't ignore it forever. Eventually he'd have to feed her. But for those couple moments, nothing else existed.

Bucky slowly pulled away, a genuine smile on his lips now, not one that he had to fight to put on for her. It was just... there for her. Because of her. Despite the fear that poured through him at the possibility of losing her because of the leap of faith he'd taken in defining it. It was there and he wore it proudly. It was a small toothy grin, a reserved content smile. It held in it everything he felt. Happy. He was hesitant to turn away, afraid that she'd be gone when he turned back. That's what his paranoia and anxiety told him at least. But his heart said something else entirely. He moved quickly, ignoring the grinding noise his arm was making. Strained the noodles, dropped them back in the now empty pot. Peanut oil, flax seeds, spices. He heated it up carefully before turning back around and dropping a little over half into a bowl for her. "Food's done." He smiled gently, holding the bowl out to her, a fork stuck haphazardly into the mess of noodles.

He could feel a difference. A lot of the feelings he'd been carrying around, that had been just beneath the surface for so long were now out there. Kinda. He still hadn't said those three words exactly. But he wanted to. There were a lot of things he wanted to do. But his fear prevented him from so much. He was He poured the rest into his bowl and produced a fork from his pocket. He wasn't just prepared for combat. He was also prepared for food. But very little else in his life. Everything was planned no more than thirty minutes ahead of time. He still had to take things really slow. But this... this he was sure of. He loved Dottie.



user posted image


credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PM
^
Quidam
 Posted: Mar 14 2016, 11:45 AM
Quote

NPC Acocunt
player: NPC Account
15 posts

Group Icon


Awards: None



Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage and Logistics Directorate
There were in position before she was ever moving down the sidewalk to approach her building. They didn’t have any plain clothes operatives in the building, like what might have been the norm if they were going after normal targets. One of them, or both of them, would no doubt see a P.C.O. from a mile away, so while it meant that they had not eyes inside, it meant that it was one less thing that could give the targets the preemptive advantage. They had eyes trained on the windows that they knew belonged to the targets, and though the shades were drawn, any sharpshooter worth their salt would have a sixth sense about where those two people were seated in the apartment.

Even after they knew the female had entered the apartment, based on a mental count of minutes and the educated observations made through their limited sight, they held their position. They gave her time to settle in. Take off her shoes. They gave the male target a chance to give his greeting and lower his guard. They always let their targets say grace over their supper, tuck the children in, or settle in to just start watching their movie on the couch. They allowed the delusion of safety float over the brain. Even while knowing their targets, it was the best chance of getting the jump on them. The team was antsy enough. They knew damn well who their targets were: The Spider and the Soldier.

It was time. A few hand gestures passed their way through the unit, and they were off. Their first wave was the NYPD unit, truly SHIELD and HYDRA ops, but using the trustworthy face of local law enforcement to clear the way. Dorms were full of students, which was a population known for its curiosity and defiance. A presence with a “just doing our job, just trying to keep you safe” approach was best for them. If they were quick enough, it shouldn’t a problem. Once they were in position, the main team moved in.

They came from the roof first. Repelling down the building, it took them two seconds to plant their feet and break the windows of the apartment. Smoke and flash combo bombs were thrown in through every one, filling every room, be it bedroom, kitchen, living room, and bathroom with a smoke screen and a flash bang. The fuses were short, and some even detonated dangerously in the air. They had orders to take in their targets alive, but that did not mean unharmed. 0.5 seconds behind the detonation came down the front door, with one swift strike from the battering ram. Again, there was no warning or concern in case there was someone behind the door, even if it had been a visiting civilian. The third punch came with the operatives entered the windows, and others lingered outside as backup. Gas masks and tinted glass over their eyes, it was clear they would not be effected by the bombs they let loose. Four operatives from the windows. Three from the hall. Who knew how many lying in direct wait to reinforce. If they had to, they would flood these two with numbers.

And none of that was to mention the escape routes drafted. They couldn’t flood the streets and the alleys, but they were ready for what was, they were certain, going to be an attempted escape. They would meet adversity in the streets. They were targets of an operation much larger than them. Two people versus special operations military… Flies in a web…

notes: here we come
words: 598 | tag: dottie, bucky

--------------------
user posted image
PMEmail
^
Dottie Underwood
 Posted: Mar 14 2016, 01:29 PM
Quote

Black Widow
player: Jess
32 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 13



user posted image


There was something new that settled deep into her bones as they held each other. A feeling that took her far too long to place, let alone quantify or understand. Something that pulled at her heart and fanned her eyes shut in repose. Peace. That had to be what this was. For the first time in her entire life, Dottie was peaceful. She wasn't Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll or the prodigal Black Widow; in this moment she was simply a woman being held by the man she had loved silently for decades. It was such a surreal moment come to life that she almost thought she dreamt the press of his lips or the soft murmur of his deep voice to her hair. She gasped in surprised delight, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she wrapped herself impossibly closer to him, cheek nuzzling against his chest like some domesticated cat claiming her person. ”I'm so glad. I trust you too. Completely.”

That was perhaps the strangest part of all of this. Dottie so willingly gave this man all of her faith and trust for as long as she had known him. Even when the pair of them had been ripped apart, even when he nearly killed her in the pouring rain she hadn't wavered. So much of the identity she had tried to carve out for herself revolved around this man and the way he brought her to life. It was second nature to trust him. Which meant she also understood how difficult it must be for him especially when he couldn't even trust his own memory. Of their own accord, her fingers wound into the fabric of his shirt; kneading the soft material while keeping him close to her. Close and safe and real. Those three things were certainties that they never had when in HYDRA's control which made them impossibly more sacred now.

All she wanted to do was slay his demons and rescue him from the Hell he had escaped like some misguided knight in a twisted fairy tale. But there was little Dottie could do for him past what she had already offered. Comfort and stability would bring him back to her, she just needed to be patient. Even if it broke a part of her every time one of the scars of his captivity stole the warm from him. But again, James surprised her. It was like he pulled the hopes and dreams from her mind and breathed them to life; the way he whispered against her hair was everything she could have dared wanting. Her eyes closed as she lifted her head just barely to tuck against his neck. Her voice caught in her throat, soft and a touch breathy as if afraid to wake herself from one of the more beautiful fantasies she'd ever had. ”You're my partner. You're... you're the only man who hasn't... You're my Яша .” She swallowed hard, kicking herself for the rise of horrors that lay in her past. She had been their Doll for so long; and where his scars lay across what they had carved out of his mind, hers lay in what they forced her to endure. ”I promise I'm not going to let anything horrible happen. Not again.” The steel that threaded through her oath had an undercurrent of violence. That if anyone so much as thought about hurting him again... She wasn't entirely sure what she would do, but it would mean opening up the part of her that she had put to bed decades ago. The part of her that was Black Widow had been a distant memory, but for him she'd take that part of her and all the damage back without a moment's hesitation.

Nothing felt as good as him holding her close. He was warm, comforting as his hand smoothed up and down along her spine sending dozens of sparks to every nerve ending in her entire body. It was almost too much to handle at once but the normalcy of it meant that when he pulled away grinning that it wasn't some singular thing. And that knowledge gave her hope and a matching bright smile as she leaned against the couch where her bag and jacket still lay. Dottie's brow furrowed only a moment when his arm ground and groaned, but the sight of him padding around making them dinner was just way too enticing to be concerned for long. Maybe it was the barriers they had finally crossed in the last few moments that made it possible for her to truly take in and appreciate the sight of him fussing with their dinner. Her head tilted to the side, feeling only the slightest pang of guilt as her eyes traced over the back of his neck, across his broad shoulders and down the curve of his spine to..

When he suddenly turned back around Dottie nearly yelped in surprise. Her instincts flared to life, adrenaline coursing through her entire body as her eyes widened and cheeks began to bloom red. ”I.. what.. food.. Yes! Dinner!” Stumbling back up onto her feet, Dottie distractedly wondered where all the grace and poise of her training and serum suddenly went as she shyly reached out for her dinner. Looking up through her lashes, Dottie smiled softly at him, temporarily lost in those storm cloud blue eyes of his. She waited the few moments for him to finalize his own bowl before finally taking a bite. And didn't bother hiding the appreciative moan as her eyes fluttered from the taste. It just wasn't fair! He was gorgeous and strong and frankly the only man would she ever trusted or felt safe beside, the fact that he could cook too was nearly too much to bear. She finished her bite with a look of bliss on her face, eyes dreamy as she blinked up at him. ”I knew you could and oh my God, James that's so good.” The moment was perfect, normal, and if her body wasn't still flooded with adrenaline maybe she would have missed when the world held it's breath...

Dottie wasn't quite sure what it was that had her pause, but she did. Something was wrong, and it only gave her a heartbeat to react before the windows were suddenly smashed in. It broke a part of her when she had to drop the perfect dinner her partner had made, but his safety was more important that some noodles. Instinct had her rushing to cover him, the fork still held in one hand as the other came up to cover his eyes. Flash bang. She expected it. Her eyes barely closed in time and though there was nothing she could do about their ears she at least needed them to be able to see. When the door came down she was already moving; face twisted into cold cruelty with a hollow smile. Dottie struck like a snake, fork slamming home in between the black mask and flak vest to burrow deep into the neck seal and the jugular beneath of the HYDRA agent taking point. She knew what this was. She would be stupid not to. But the fact that it was today, that they ruined this was too far. The final step too much and they were going to pay.

She used the dropping body as a pivot point, leg whipping up and around to crack against the helmet of the second faceless intruder as her body twisted and flipped up and behind to land in the middle of the three. James would have her back. These three... they were Hers. She snarled as her hands struck out brutally, aiming for joints to dislocate or destroy as her sneakered foot came down hard across a kneecap with a sickening crunch to the third assailant. She knew where on their vests they kept their gear, happy that HYDRA tended to stick with the comfort of uniformity and tradition. It meant that when her hands instinctively sought the combat knife strapped high by their shoulders, lo and behold it was there. That find quickly reversed in her palm before sinking up and into it's former master's jaw from underneath the mask. The strike against her spine from the man she had kicked was a shock, adding to her fury as she dropped to the ground in a crouch. She couldn't afford to be distracted. She couldn't lose. Before it had always just been her... but now... She would die before she ever let them touch James again. She made a promise. These bastards weren't going to make her break it.

When he came up behind her, barrel leveled to the back of her head; Dottie lashed out. Grabbing the barrel of the gun, she pushed up and back with all her strength. Cracking the lens and disorienting him before reversing the gun in a downward spin. Pulling the trigger while the gun was upside down was less awkward than she assumed it would be, and a blast of three shots ripped through where the bulletproof vest stopped covering to shred the flesh and organs beneath. Saying goodbye to Daphne and her freedom as she righted the assault rifle into her hands with a flip and sliding up and over the back of her couch to pause beneath the small dinner table where James had been cleaning their weapons earlier. Her gaze momentarily flickered up to find her Soldier, her Partner as she tried to scream his name past the ringing in her ears. ”James!” The smoke finally making it impossible to find him as her panic swelled.


user posted image

.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaítagging for violence, and getting my posting groove on, while basking in the glow of furious protective widow.

translationnothing new

scáthánoutfit

céilíone of my dottie playlists

ina dhiaidh sinmy james, hydra

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Winter Soldier
 Posted: May 11 2016, 03:55 PM
Quote

James Barnes
player: Piper
115 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 14



2:30 AM. It was sometime in the hollow hours of the morning, but he felt as if he was standing in the sun at high noon. His own internal clock was so mess up, out of sync, just like the rest of him, but standing with Dottie in his arms actually made him stop caring. On the run, and with HYDRA, even with the Army, everything had always been about time, and moving it forward. Sleeping at odd hours, being frozen for whole years on end, fugue states, amnesia. Sometimes Bucky didn’t even know what year it was, and he would need to go back to his notebooks or break down to actively look it up. It shouldn’t feel like a victory whenever he got it right. The point was, though, all of it felt foolish when he had a moment like this at his fingertips. It was like the sun had been given back to him after a long winter’s night. He could see hope, and he dared to let it linger.

He was mildly aware of her distraction when he moved to finish up their dinner. A rush of the old Bucky came back, the one who knew when he had a woman’s attention. Again he dared. It was nothing outright or flamboyant. Bucky was a subtler man than that, but he wasn’t oblivious, either. The clothes that he had picked for himself were ones that were made to help him blend in as a student of the arts, but he could have chosen any “major.” Bucky felt comfortable in the skin of a dancer, a trait that he could thank HYDRA for, but it was a trait that he hoped didn’t go away as he remembered more of himself. It was weird to think there were things about HYDRA-Bucky that he actually liked, but, then again, he liked Dottie. He felt close to Dottie, and dancing brought them even closer. Modern dancing clothes were ones that left little up to the imagination a good portion of the time, and while he may never have picked these clothes out if he was on a mission from his handlers, he found himself picking them out for him, so he was aware of what they did to the curves of his muscles and his hips, and he liked that Dottie was watching him.

He smirked when he handed her his food, a genuinely smiled when she complimented the taste. “I was just winging it, but I’ll remember how you like it.” He went to stand by the counter and clean up so that he could join her. “It also means you can never get rid of his hotplate. It’s now essential to your noodles.” It was amazing what one little breakthrough could do. Months ago, he had been living on the streets and under bridges, struggling to piece together the images of his past. Now, he was walking Dottie to class, and staying behind to watch, coming back to the apartment they shared to make her dinner after a long day at the studio. And he dared to want more. He could finally see a future; for him, yes, but for them, too; A future of holding on to that warmth, of catching the sun in his hands and never letting go.

And every time he thought of his future, Dottie was in it, so as his thoughts danced that way, so did his gaze. He caught the last sparkle in her irises, and he wondered if the same kinds of thoughts played in her mind during the quiet moments, when the symphony that had become their lives halted, and they waited with held breath for the next note to sound. Then then corners of her eyes gave the moment away, and he knew. The next notes in their rhapsody would not be the lyrical winds and string that it had become, but the revived, driving rhythm of the drums of war.

The smoke and flash canisters came in through the glass, but Dottie was already moving, which meant so was Bucky. She moved to cover him and he moved to cover her. The distance between them was closed, but not before those canisters landed at their feet. He was taken by surprise, had let himself become to relaxed, and he wanted to kick himself for it, but no. Dottie was there, with her hands protectively over his eyes. The first round of bombs went off, and she kept him safe. His arms wrapped around her, spinning her more like they were on a ballroom floor instead of their home. Her hand slide from his face, and he was looking over her features, studying them, sure to know if any of them was out of place.

He twirled her, finishing the flourishing dance move when he heard another collection of thuds enter the room. Another round of canisters. Now expecting them, he moved to kick the closest one out the window from where it came, but saw too late that the fuses were short, and the men were already coming in. The flash bomb closest to him effectively blinded him and deafened him for a second, and while his body quickly recovered, and his muscles tensed to take on any assault in the meantime, his vision did not come back a rifle was pointed at his face. Reflexes took over, and his metal hand came up to wrap around the front of the barrel, encasing the shot in his palm. The gun went off, and he caught the bullet. The pressure of the shot had nowhere to go, and he could feel it shatter in inside of the barrel. One gun down. That didn’t make it useless, though. With the gun still palmed, he twisted it out of the grip of the startled operative and swung it around, once, over his head as a baton, before bringing the muzzle into the operative’s face. The face shield shattered, but the Soldier was ruthless. He kept the motion moving, and brought the gun down. He dropped it, using the motion to bring his shoulder around. He shoulder checked the operative, and rushed him, forcing him back and out, toppling him over the window sill and into the street below.

Smoke was filling the room. Clearly HYDRA (who else could it be?) had made sure to look up their field work. His eyes were still recovering with the after image of the flash bomb, and he was effectively temporarily deaf in one ear from the bomb and the gun going off so close to his head. He still had one good ear, though, so he was going to use the shit out of it. More concerning to him, though, was that in all the chaos he had lost track of his partner. He couldn’t see Dottie. He allowed his heart to race with fear for a few beats, before he calmed it, and carried on. She was safe. She had to be. And if she weren’t… There was another operative on him faster than he could consider the options, but the Soldier was already moving. He side stepped, and turned a full rotation, so that he came up on the operative’s side. Taking the back of the man’s head, he grappled the neck with his metal arm, and bashed it into the counter top, aiming specifically for the hot plate. The hard hot surface didn’t give in, but the shield did, and the Soldier brought his face down one more time on the surface of the scorching metal. He held no love for these men, so he felt no guilt as the smell burning overrode the scent of the smoke, right until the hot plate sparked, fried, and died. He let the unconscious (or dead) man drop at his feet, and turned to face the next.

There was no one immediately next to him, now, and since he was in the clear, combat speaking, his sense immediately sought out Dottie. He could hear that she was already in the thick of it, so he moved through the smoke towards her last known location. Turns out, she had not moved far from the place he had last seen her, but with the close confines of the small apartment, he was not surprised. She was squaring off against three men, and while his stomach clenched at the thought of her getting hurt, he trusted her. She saw them. They were in the Widow’s sights. They didn’t stand a chance. As she moved to strike her first blow, he caught a glimpse of her face, and there it was. That smile. The last pretty thing that those men would ever see. He felt a rush of pride for his партнер, but it was replaced with concern as the thick smoke shifted behind her. A masked op came through the haze, but he was upon him before he had a chance to close the distance to Dottie.

One step. One kick. Bucky almost wished he had his heavy boots on as his foot connected with the operative’s sternum. There was armor there, so he doubted he landed a painful blow, but the sheer force behind the kick was enough to send the operative off balance and backwards. Bucky saw the gun come up, and his next kick was to send the dinner table spinning at the operative’s head. The gun went off, but the shot went wild, and in a completely different direction then where Dottie was facing off against her trio. This man… this man had almost gotten the drop on the Widow. This man had almost leveled that shot at her pretty head. This man would not stop until…. With a rumbling growl in his chest that was almost more animal than man, he charged the operative, two more steps, until he collided with his chest, and then three more until they both hit the wall. They were by the door now, with the smoke clearing in the air from the hallway. Good. Bucky wanted to see his face disintegrate just a little more with every punch he landed with his “good” hand. The motors complained, but he pushed them on, leveling the metal fist through the shield, and then four more times until his fist came away with blood, and the man was a ragdoll in his other arm.

From inside the room, he could hear Dottie call his name. He could see her, just barely, through the smoke, the delicate outline of her dancer’s form, backlit through the room but what lights had not been broken in the assault. ”Dottie!” he called to her, and was moving, parting the smoke as he went to be by her side. For the second time in what was actually minutes but could have been hours, he had her in his arms. With her here, knowing that she was safe, his breathing and heartrate calmed down. They didn’t have long, he knew, but he took that moment to hold her close, and reassure the both of them that they were safe.

He had to part quickly, knowing that there would be more coming. They knew for certain that a dozen men would not be enough, and sure as he thought that he could see more men repelling outside of the windows, ready to make their way in. “We have to go!” he said, touching her by the forearms, running his palms along the skin he found there, a tangible feeling as he turned from her and headed towards the door. Going out through the windows was not an option, but in the halls they stood a better change, even if there was 50 men. They could only attack a few at a time in the passages. It started as soon as he got to the door, but he was ready this time.

The man who came through the door met with a sweeping kick to his shins, but Bucky was not done. The battering ram, abandoned (as was protocol) in the doorframe was in his hands. Two men using it to break down a door had no more use for it. It was heavy and clumsy. The Solider, though, saw an opportunity. As he twisted and recovered from his kick, he lifterd the ram, and it was child’s play to his augmented strength. When he came up, he wielded it the same way a normal man might use a baton or tonfa or some terrible combination of the two. The first hit struck the operative in the face, and helmet or no, there was no saving him from the impact. He went down, hard, and the Solider reeled back to the next blow at the next man he knew was coming down the hallway. He looked back into the room, expecting to see Dottie right behind him. Old times… it all comes back in the end…


--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PM
^
Dottie Underwood
 Posted: Nov 15 2017, 07:48 PM
Quote

Black Widow
player: Jess
32 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 13



user posted image


Her promises were meaningless. She had just sworn that nothing would ever happen to him again and once more Fate gave a bitter twist of that knife imbedded in her back decades ago. She couldn’t even keep a promise to him for longer than a minute and a half and the irony of that was positively acrid. This was why she absolutely couldn’t risk believing in this too perfect daydream. It would just go wrong. It always went wrong. And to think she had allowed herself the heresy of complacency here. Dottie could never come back to this place, this safe place that had now become something violated and bad. The void in her stomach that originally looked forward to the dinner he so carefully prepared and rolled and twisted into a knot as everything slowed down. The singular bite she managed to have sat like a jagged pit and the Widow tried to assess how royally they were screwed.

It was surreal the way this new dance took over them. The relative pedestrian safety of being civilians in class was gone; no teacher would stop and bring them back to start after highlighting what wasn’t turned out properly or how a toe left the floor unpointed. This language of the flesh was primal, violent. And while there was a beauty to how they moved it was a different creature and that particular predator did not wish to return to captivity after the sweet taste of freedom. No; the many arms and heads of HYDRA would not drag her back to the Red Room and it’s countless dead little dolls.

The weight of the unfamiliar assault rifle in her hands had her pause beneath the table, trying to familiarize herself in the middle of the melee. Bright eyes flickered over the scene and it was what she didn’t see terrified her to the core. He was gone. Her Partner wasn’t within eyeshot and Dottie choked on a whimper, ”…Яша…”, ending in a silent sob that shook her to the core. She knew practically that he had most likely took the fight out of the main living area, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. And it was that fear that had her acting foolishly. That pain had her fleeing the safety of her position, slamming the nearest soldier against the wall, pinning him by the throat with the gun she stole off of his squad mate with preternatural strength. Not to choke, but to break. It wasn’t until the eyes lost all semblance of life that she let the body drop to the floor, yet she turned back to the room at large too late. A burning lance sliced through her stomach, and the assassin stumbled a pace as far too dark blood began to stain through leotard and camisole. The knife that was buried in her flesh was held by one of the men at her feet, the last ditch effort of a dying man. With her hand wrapped around the blade her foot rose up to crack down along the neck of her assailant and with a sickening crack he fell to the floor. A threat now neutralized.

Foolish again, she pulled the blade from her flesh. She couldn’t risk it in and have some one else use it to further rend her apart. Instead she tucked it into the top of her boot and in the quick moment of calm she pulled on her jacket and backpack as smoothly as she could. Dottie’s senses and reflexes were slowed, and the pain was offering a clarity that she needed to fixate on to ignore the dull weakness at her side. Hearing James call her name was almost an echo through water and she barely registered him sweeping back into the room and wrapping her into his arms. He was alive. That was what mattered. Above all else, above her own life; he needed to survive. ”You’re alive.” Even in her own ears her voice seemed hollow and strange and before she knew what to do his hands were gliding along her before he was gone once more.

The halls. He was right as always; they were safer, a more controlled environment and more tactical battlefield. And like back in a place she should never have considered home, The original Black Widow fell into stride with her Teacher. As soon as he had cleared the way, the widow leapt out of the room, using the wall to propel herself upwards before dropping onto the incoming HYDRA soldier. She twisted, using momentum despite how excruciating the wound at her side protested, and with a snap his neck snapped and the body dropped once more. The assassin stayed low to the ground for a moment, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. One hand pressed against the wound to check the bleeding and idly filed away how badly it was bleeding. She deserved it. She was careless. And their old chastising filled her head in an endless refrain. The sound of the men coming up the stairwell pulled her attention and it was as if she fell into the past. Remembering Sousa and running from the SSR, the Black Widow let the memory pull her forward. A brutal kick sending the door careening off it’s hinges into the men on the other side, up and over the railing as the assassin leapt back and forth between the railings on either side of the stairwell as she quickly descended the stairs. Counting on him to follow and hoping that when she made it to the bottom he would be right behind.

Her knees ached as she came to a stop, rolling forward before pouncing on one of the two men securing the entrance to the ground floor. Her legs wrapped around his neck as she found a perch upon his shoulders, pulling the blade from her blade before sinking it deep into the neck seal between her thigh and the soldier she was attached to. As his body crumpled to the ground, Dottie took a moment to try and shake the overwhelming dizziness from her head. Her hands were cold and trembling slightly as bright eyes desperately searched for her teacher, her partner, her savior. Please... help?




user posted image

.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíi have no idea how to write for dottie anymore after all of the nonsense and damage from previous buckys. so here’s hoping it doesn’t suck. i’m the worst scene partner but i’m hoping i can not suck soon?

translationnothing new

scáthánoutfit

céilí

ina dhiaidh sinmy james, hydra

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Winter Soldier
 Posted: Jan 1 2018, 06:41 AM
Quote

James Barnes
player: Piper
115 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 14



Words: 1748

winter soldier

”You're alive,” she had said to him, and while it was not the cocky smile of the World War 2 soldier that flashed back at her, it was the smile of the man she knew after all that. It was back when they had taken the name “Bucky” away from him, and he was just “James.” Then he had become “Яша.,” and that was the man whose grin flashed back at her. There was something about being in a place that was rapidly descending into a war zone around them, while his hands were around her, that brought him back to those times. “Of course I am, Дарья. His grin was neither cocky nor cold nor confident, but it did reach his eyes, even under the rush of anxiety at the surprise attack. Then they took the hall.

There was a surety that came with his movements. Muscle memory was taking over, keeping him moving, steady and solid. He was already looking for the next move even as the one that came before had yet to fully connected. The second that he felt fist and leg and weapon make contact, he was already going onto the next step. The brutality, though- his pulse quickened, and the space behind his temples flushed with heat. Holding the battering ram in his hands, with the kind of ease that he was able to balance it with, reminded him of who he had become. Much of his time since he had broken free from HYDRA command, since he had overturned his return programming, and went into the world, was spent trying to fight against the flashes of memories and training that he got from Them. His time alone, his time chasing his former self, his time with Dottie, all of it had been spent trying to break free from the machine he had become. Right back in the fray, though, and he was falling into his old rhythm. He might have hated it more, if it wasn't something that was helping to save them right now. He was sure he would find the time to hate it later, though.

Even he had to admit, there was something satisfying about feeling the rev of the motors in his arm whirl hard, and propel that battering ram into the sternum of that HYDRA agent. There was an even more gratifying rush when he felt that sternum completely collapse, and saw a few inches of the ram's metal disappear into his opponent. His hand released the ram, and what little strength was left in the man's body was crushed under the no longer supported weight. He looked at that man and felt nothing. He may have overdone it on his arm, though. The damage that had been done to it had not been fixed yet, and while he could tell that it wasn't busted, he did not know how he could push it beyond normal human limits.

His gaze chased down the hallway in the direction he had seen the Black Widow go, and he found her down, low to the ground, crouched over her dispatched prey. There had been another man, a third man, that he had not seen, and he had no doubt been on James' flank while he took his time with the HYDRA agents before him. There was something different that he caught in her stance, though. She was no less danger and grace, but her breathing caught him by surprise. Maybe she had gotten winged. His eyes looked to catch her in gratitude, but she was moving again. He hoped that the flash of blue that he caught from under her hair was directed his way long enough to convey it, but there was no time to confirm. She was moving, like they had always trained: Never become a sitting duck. They cannot hit what they cannot aim for. She was doing more than that, though, it seemed.

Always a surprise, his партнер. She was not only through the door, but she had heard the approaching agents, and used her surroundings and improvised. It created a weapon and an escape route, and probably left more than a few men wishing that this had not been the assignment that they took. He knew the move that she used next, and charged after her into the stairwell before her feet were even completely over the railing. An operative that had barely lucked out of the path of the door was standing just to the right, and his arms reached out for Dottie, the first target to come out of the hallway. He narrowed his eyes at the man, and a bit of the cold started to return. Bucky had that man's wrist in his right hand, and twisted sharply. There was a snap, and the man's arm went slack. This time, Bucky did not smile.

His left hand snapped out, and caught the man's equipment holster, reaching for what he knew was standard equipment for a swarm protocol attack. It was the same equipment the men now entering the hallway behind him had used to repel down the building and into the apartment. Quickly, he fed the grappling wire through the bars of the stairwell railing, brought them through and knotted it around the man's broken arm and wrist, and fed it through again, using the man's weight as an anchor. The pain in that arm would ensure that he would not fight back, and it also just made Bucky feel really good to inflict it. He pushed himself over the railing, and descended down, down, after Dottie.

His descent was slowed by the wire, and it gave him a moment to breath. It also gave the men he had left on the upper floor the time to aim down at him. He looked up in time to see a half dozen barrels open fire at him. He tried to will gravity to take him down faster, but alas, physics did not answer to the likes of the Winter Soldier. They fired, and while not every bullet was well aimed, it was hard to avoid the bullet that came down like raindrops in a maelstrom. He brought up his free arm, the metal one, to shield where he could, but he felt the burning lance of a bullet finding a home in his back, right where the metal of his arm and the flesh of the shoulder met. He gritted his teeth against the scream, not wanting to let them know that their shots had found a home in him, but he immediately felt the muscles complaining about the sheer weight of his own arm. What had been reduced to regular human levels before due to mechanical failure was now reduced to even less because of human weakness.

He landed, bending his knees, and letting the grappling wire free. His mind had already forgotten about the HYDRA agent he vert well may have ripped the arm off of with his weight and the wire several stories above. Immediately, he looked for Dottie and enemies, in that order of importance. His eyes panned the lobby entrance, rotating on a dime until he saw her, her own eyes darting around frantically for him. It was then that he saw it; It was then that she let him see it. Was this what his instincts had been trying to tell him upstairs? Was this the minute change that he witnessed? The blood was freely rushing from her, in the worst place that it could for a woman who still had miles to go before she slept. All other things behind him, he was by her side in a few rushed paces.

Not here. They were out in the open. They were too exposed. He could not take her outside, though. He did not know what was out there, and the last thing they needed was the fire to catch them after they managed to escape the frying pan. He knew this lobby, though. He passed inside it every day since he came to live with Dottie. Hold on... his eyes begged her. He scooped her up in his arms, forgetting for the moment the ripping pain that he felt in his shoulder. He let the mechanical muscles compensate for the flesh and bone ones, and carried her, with one arm under her shoulders, and the other under her hips. The less she walked with that wound, the better.

She was already this bad. He could see the color of her skin turn pale, though if it was from blood loss or distress, he could not tell. Safety first. Assess later. He tried to tell himself to worry about emotions later, too, but his mind was already a screaming torrent that he was keeping at bay. The breakers could only hold the hurricane back for so long. He took her behind the lobby's desk, which was luckily cleared out of the resident on duty. He made a straight line for the door behind it, and made quick work of kicking it in with an insistently worried boot. This back office would offer more cover and an extra bit of time, both of which they were desperately short on.

The only place he could lay her down was on the break table. To Hell with the idea that he would lay her on the floor. Draping her on the table after he pushed all the contents of it onto the floor, he quickly assessed her. It was a knife wound. He would know it anywhere. And it needed pressure. He took her hands in his. партнер, I need you to look at me. I need you to keep your eyes open and look at me.” He searched her eyes, unable to keep the worry and heartache out of them. “Take your hands. Apply pressure for me.” He gave her specific instructions, weaving her fingers in with his own to guide her, to show her how much pressure was needed. He did not let himself think about what would happen if her eyes did not open, or if he felt not power in her hands. He did not let himself feel the rending of his own flesh of his back. It was clear to him that her eyes would open. They needed to.

He needed them to stay open. And God help any man out there if they didn't.

NOTES: I finally have a space where I can leave notes and stuff! And what I want to say is this: You are perfection. My poor Dottie... Bucky would have broken the man that stabbed Dottie had she not already taken care of it, so breaking other people will have to do.

Дарья is the diminutive of "Dorothy"

&

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PM
^
0 User(s) are reading this topic (0 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Add Reply
Fast Reply
New Topic
New Poll