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Date: 2011-11-12 03:03 am (UTC)
exweapon: (motorcycle)
From: [personal profile] exweapon
The pain is distant, like it always is, something happening to someone else, someone who isn't in this moment. Someone not feeling the rage build up. Gotta keep that locked down. Can't lose my head on this. No healing factor to fall back on, and an opponent armored and equipped and trained.

"I'm no one's dog, bub," I say. Not any more. I'm done with being used, being someone else's tool, someone else's weapon, with no choice of my own. I follow, but not blindly. "And this has always been my business."

The business of fighting. Of bringing the other guy down. Of being the one who takes the hits so that someone else has time to fix things.

Usually that someone has hands a little cleaner than Bucky's, but everyone gets their chance to be the good guy. If that means being the bad guy, being the one keeping a father from his son, as he says, so be it. I've done worse, and I'm choosing it, these times.

I block the punch to my right, push past it, aiming to grapple with him, keep him off whatever he's going for. Aim a stomp at his leg, to try and put some move in the fight. "So you won't need whatever chew-toy you're going for."
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