crusaded: (Jerkass Facade)
Bruce Wayne ([personal profile] crusaded) wrote2011-11-14 07:22 am
Entry tags:

lights behind the glass

I start to wonder at the voice that echoes through the pipes. The laughter, thin yet grandiose, wears at my nerves until my teeth grind, a click sounding through my aching jaw as I take heavy steps through the city. I have half a mind to stay underground, to make sure that Jason eventually takes the bathysphere to the surface. A brief sweep of the area has already unearthed stores of food, sources of drinkable water, and although I don't cherish the thought of leaving Damian and Cassandra to their own devices, I know that they're more than capable of handling themselves on an island like this. Provided Jason doesn't find them. Provided his friends...

No. It may take a second fight, one as violent as the first, but again I am left with no other choice. Seconds seem less crucial now, but still I steadily walk along the shadows, eyes open and following every fleeting dot of red in my surroundings. Wondering. People must have built these walls, laid out the ground below my feet. The arch of a rainbow stretches to one side, the lights behind the glass dimmed, sparking.

"—think you can take my stage—"

I'm hearing things.

"—what good are you? Broken, shattered, remnants of a soul—"

Alfred's voice doesn't linger by the shell of my ear, but his thoughts breach regardless. Entreaties. Wondering if I can't afford a moment's rest.
onlyapassenger: (ca :: holy shit bucky's a bamf)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-15 06:41 am (UTC)(link)
Wolverine out for the count... Natalia sent back to surface to retrieve him -- yeah, she really liked that... Steve still searching topside for a threat that went back into the hole it came from... And still no sign of Jason. Experience would have me saying that it's been about a day and a half, two days since this mess was first dropped on my doorstep, but the truth of the matter is, I lost track of time hours ago. Could be next week for how tired I am.

I'm running on fumes. On each rush of adrenaline that hits me when I think I've found a lead. The food down in Rapture makes me long for the days of Army rations, but the provisions I brought with me are limited, so it's been potato chips and water for a while, now. Not what you'd call the breakfast of champions, but it's keeping me going. Moving...

And I
need to keep moving. I always figured this Batman bastard was something special based on Jason's training alone, but if he can down someone like Logan without getting eviscerated in the process--

The snippet of a voice catches Bucky's ear, stopping him in his tracks. He knows it's not his quarry, but he hasn't the time to draw another fight right now, and avoiding whoever else might be lurking in Rapture's depths may just be the smartest move he's made in the days. It could be a sign, though, a clue, and it's without hesitation that he presses onwards, silent as ghost, with skin just as white. Only the stern line of his jaw is visible from under the cowl, but there's no hiding the physical toll of his journey. He's pale, clammy with sweat. His teeth grit together even as his legs protest. He might not feel a damn thing, too focused is he on resolving the issue he's been burdened with, but it's still there, that burn he refuses to acknowledge.

Seconds stretch into minutes. Though it's not mere chance that finds Bucky staring at the back of a figure decked in black upon rounding the next corner, he sends his thanks to luck, regardless. Even at this distance, it's clear to see that Natalia hadn't been exaggerating about his size; he's as big as Steve, if not bigger, the cape making it difficult to truly gauge, though not impossible. Bucky's strong, but not that tall, a few inches short of six feet. He's got the arm for leverage, a secret weapon hidden under his uniform that can withstand a rocket at close range, but overpowering Batman likely won't be an option, especially when Bucky doesn't know the full range of toys the man's got at his disposal.

But Bucky doesn't need toys. Not when he has the shield gripped tightly in his hand. Not when he's got a fresh surge of rage to feed exhausted muscles. And not when he's got the best aim this side of Bullseye. There are no opening missives. No grand statements to announce his presence. They're both dressed the part for the theater of their work, Captain America and Batman both, but it's the soldier in Bucky that stays his tongue until the shield's already cutting through the air and it's too late to move.

"Knock, knock."
Edited 2011-11-15 16:46 (UTC)
onlyapassenger: (ss :: Bucky knows best.)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-16 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
The shield returns to Bucky's grasp, the metal humming under his fingertips and through his gloves. It's a beautiful weapon, deceptive in its simplicity, and though he's never wanted it for his own, he holds for it the same reverence as Steve. But this isn't the time to marvel at his own handiwork; cocky as Bucky is, he's not stupid, nor is he about to waste this opportunity.

"Now, see, that's rude," Bucky calls out, making chase. There's plenty of distance between them, still, but Bucky's fast, and gaining ground. He throws the shield again, though not at Batman; the edge cuts through a pipe before ricocheting off a wall and back to Bucky. It's a move designed to startle, not contain, but he's itching to get his hands on this son of a bitch, and if it'll get him to stick around instead of try to high tail it out of here again, then all the better. "I know you're home."
onlyapassenger: (ca :: holy shit bucky's a bamf)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-16 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
This is it. Moment of truth. I've just been dying to hit something, and here's a perfect target, welcoming me with open arms...

I'll say this for the guy: he's surprisingly thoughtful for someone who'd slit his own son's throat.


"To offer you a lozenge?" Bucky suggests, but for all that there's laughter in his voice, the joke ends there. He's sprinting, now, not showing any signs of stopping, bringing up the shield at the last possible second. Vibranium absorbs impact; provided the timing works out, Bats'll get the full brunt of his weight, and Bucky'll barely notice.

And if I'm off a little a bit, well... At least I'm always good for a fast recovery.
Edited 2011-11-16 04:12 (UTC)
onlyapassenger: (ca :: holy shit bucky's a bamf)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-17 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
Bucky turns sharply, undeterred, and whipping around to show his face instead of his back, struck with the absurd thought that it would've looked more impressive if he had a cape to call his own. He could laugh again, but he doesn't, instead returning the shield to his back to free up his hands, certain he'll need them shortly.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

It's not a threat or a promise; it's not even a boast. It's a simple statement of fact. If there's one thing at which Bucky Barnes excels, it's taking down even the most dangerous of threats, at a distance. Strange at it is to admit that in this uniform, it remains true, always and forever. Even now, his fingers wrap around the grip of his gun with a speed that demonstrates, though he meant what he said to Natalia about not needing bullets. It's just hard to stay focused on that when he'd rather be tearing the guy limb from limb. He keeps the barrel trained on Batman's mouth, the obvious weak spot. A muscle works in Bucky's jaw, and he lets out a steadying breath through his nose.

"And if I wanted to arrest you, I'd arrest you. Hand you over to the authorities where you'd serve a joke sentence of a few weeks, a couple of months." He steps forward, trying to back the Bat towards the wall, corner him, give him nowhere left to run. "But I don't want either of those things. I'm here to talk about a mutual friend."
Edited 2011-11-17 01:08 (UTC)
onlyapassenger: (ca :: let thine aim be true)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-17 08:54 am (UTC)(link)
There's no warning save, perhaps, for Batman's own words. Were Bucky of sounder mind, maybe he would've quipped in reply, would've swallowed his own reckless impulses, but he's had a rough go of it lately, and all he sees now is an excuse to let loose. He's been made impotent by this island, his actions over the past year rendered futile and useless through interference by an unknowable power, but he has not been made idle.

He wants me to talk? Fine. Just gotta get comfortable first.

Darting forward, Bucky's left hand wrapping around Bats' neck, and thanks to the fine folks at S.H.I.E.L.D., he's able to lift the guy just enough to show he can, though he refrains from any greater show of strength. Refrains from throwing him into the wall.

That's better.

"I gave Jason a home," Bucky says, so deliberately, so casually, it belies his anger. "Dragged him out from his cave and put an honest-to-God roof over his head... Yet the second he thinks you might show up, he goes running underground like a wounded animal."

Sucking in a breath, he continues, "I've been cleaning up after your goddamn mess since I first met the kid, and I will not stand for you ruining what he's built here, you throat-cutting son of a bitch." He lets go with a shove. "Stay the %*(? away from him."
Edited 2011-11-17 09:00 (UTC)
onlyapassenger: (ss: how it's gonna be)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-17 10:14 am (UTC)(link)
Bucky doesn't feel the hand, only knows it's there because he's looking right at it before his gaze tears upwards. He's wound up like a clock, but it's that singular detail that delays instinct; his mind's flooded with countless ways to break free, but he already knows he'll opt for the simplest when the time comes. His brows arch behind his cowl, unseen, though the set of his mouth hints at an unspoken challenge.

"You can rot down here for all I care," he says when he finds his voice, and he smiles colder than a Soviet winter. "But I'm taking the kid back home if it kills me."
Edited 2011-11-17 10:32 (UTC)
onlyapassenger: (ss :: let's get dangerous)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-17 12:16 pm (UTC)(link)
The second he backs off, I want to surge forward again and punch him. He could take it, just look at the bastard... He's built like a damn wall, and there's not a doubt in my mind that he could dish out whatever I gave him in turn. Months I've spent fighting nothing more than shadows, but the day I'm offered something that can bleed, I know I have to let him go...

Because I took the shield instead of the knife... Because I know that it'd be wrong not to... Because, even if he's a jackass, Bruce Wayne is still Jason's father... And I won't take from someone else what was lost to me. Not from another orphan. Not unless it was the only way.

But it's not. And in the moment, I hate this place just
that much more.

It's training alone that keeps Bucky poised. Stubbornness that finds him locked on the spot. He doesn't flinch, moving only to square his shoulders before he steps in just enough to be uncomfortable.

"Good advice," he says. "Don't forget it."
Edited 2011-11-17 21:23 (UTC)
onlyapassenger: (ss: I'm totally awesome)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-18 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
Don't think I'll ever get used to that, people not recognizing this uniform. It's different from Steve's, but the general idea of it... It's iconic. I know all about alternate realities, but I still have trouble picturing a world where Steve Rogers never existed.

Bucky considers the question. He could give his civilian name. He doesn't, strictly speaking, keep a secret identity around these parts, though he doesn't make a point of flaunting his past, either. But the guy he's talking to is dressed like a giant bat, and so Bucky decides to play by the rules of their peculiar little culture. He's tense, his skin fitting tight over his bones, his pulse pounds like a hammer in his chest, but a spark of incredulous humor lights up his eyes.

"Captain America."
onlyapassenger: (ss :: tight smile)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-18 10:23 am (UTC)(link)
"And here you wanted to skip the pleasantries," Bucky says, with a flash of white teeth, too on edge to keep the grin from turning into a grimace. He steps back, not out of respect, but because he needs to or else risk breaking detente. The shield keeps him grounded, its weight a reminder of ideals he's worked hard to reclaim as his own.

It's a small island. They'll run into each other again, but he's in no rush to test his control a second time anytime soon.
onlyapassenger: (ss :: smooth sonuvabitch)

[personal profile] onlyapassenger 2011-11-19 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
A note of dark amusement sounds in Bucky's throat as he turns to leave.

"I already know your name."