(no subject)

[bottledblond]

"New York City isn't exactly known for it's large, indigenous wolf population."

Steve isn't really paying attention to Tony Stark's yammering over a file he'd probably glanced at and tossed aside. He's too busy trying to get the screen to work properly so that a flick of his thumb across the surface won't send him ten pages ahead in the document he's trying to read or close out the pictures he's attempting to enhance. He understands the whole concept of renewable resources and he understands that the environment can't really sustain felling trees willy nilly, but he misses being handed folders with actually paper to spread out on the table in front of him.

Nastasha, thankfully, takes pity on him and the images of men and women with their throats pulled out appear on the large screen on the wall behind her. Steve isn't particularly pleased to see these things up close but he needs to know what they're actually planning her.

"Trained attack dogs?" Sam offers, but Steve, squinting, shakes his head.

"Germans used dogs during the war," he half muses. "That sort of mauling isn't what dogs can do. It's too--"

"Clean," Natasha offers and Steve nods. "This isn't the first time SHIELD has come across something like this." The photos on the screen change, become older and grainier. Not as clear. Steve can hear Tony muttering about glasses but ignores him again. "Same MO. Same lethal precision. Same wounds. They recovered fibers at the scene. Same fibers we have this time around too."

Steve's eyebrow arches. "You're going to say wolf?"

Natasha is grim as she nods. "Almost."

Bruce finally chimes in too. "Not just wolf," he says, adjusting nothing at all on his face as he's actually handed over his glasses to Stark, who is comically wearing them and looking pleased with himself. "Wolf and human DNA. I checked the old fibers too. It's unreal."

"So we have sixty years of attacks that tend to occur in three night cycles every month with a few years off in between groups," Tony says, leaning back, still in Bruce's glasses. "Sounds like a werewolf to me."

Steve snorts. "Now I've heard of a lot of crazy things," hell, he is one of those things, "but let's not jump to extremes. Do you think you can use the fibers from last night's attack to get a reading on where we might be able to find out who is--"

"Or what," Tony interrupts. "And yes. Ahead of you as always. We're ready to go for tonight."

There's not much else that needs to be discussed and so Steve nods, leaves the tablet behind to get some rest, and just after nightfall, heads to his spot on a roof not too far away from the Hudson River in Hells Kitchen to wait for something to happen. He expects nothing will, or that one of the other Avengers will be closer to the action when Tony's sensors go off.

Comments

[endsinafight]

His body aches as he moves quietly through the shadows of the city. He maneuvers the streets with practiced ease, vague memories of a life long ago flashing through his mind like a nonsensical picture show. They make his head hurt horribly and he takes a rest in an alley not far from here. He closes his eyes, focusing his senses and hearing the quiet rustling of a couple of homeless people down the alley trying to get comfortable for the long, chilly October evening. He pays them no mind, assessing them as harmless even with closed eyes.

The images go away soon enough, the headache subsiding enough to make him functional once more as he creeps toward his ultimate destination. He can't stay idle for too long.

They're tracking him. They always do, the implants beneath his skin make him itch with the need to claw them out and he will. Just as soon as he does this one last thing. One last mission and he's done, he's out.

He'll vanish and no one - not HYDRA, not SHIELD, not the Avengers -- will ever find him again.

Soon enough he's made it to Hell's Kitchen and from there, tracking the scent he's been following is so easy it's laughable. He barely represses the urge to whine at the familiarity -- home and safety and Steve -- Steve, who is in more danger than he could possibly suspect. Scaling the building to the roof takes only seconds and he spots him, faced away, back completely unguarded in a way that pisses him off.

A quiet growl escapes him against his will, and his eyes flare a bright, vibrant blue.

[bottledblond]

Steve is never unguarded. His mind might be elsewhere, back when the world had been just as bright despite modern day insisting on replaying it in sepia tones, but his other senses are right where they need to be. The wind up on the roof is strong. The smell of the Hudson lapping at the piers just three blocks away is strong. The flashing lights of the city that never sleeps are strong, too, but none of these things distract him from the sound behind him.

Steve tenses but doesn’t turn, not right away. He can smell animal, like the dogs in the park but not as exact. He can hear that tiny presence of a growl, of a whine, and it strikes the nostalgic centers of his brain for a moment longer than need be. Steve’s head makes its orbit back towards his new companion and though its eyes are off putting, Steve is more surprised by the rest of it.

His own blue eyes widen and the dark blond brows on his forehead lift.

He’s usually the guy that has to run towards the fight. It so rarely comes for him.

His gaze shifts notably over the creature, the stance and the form, and he can almost feel sweat on his upper lip. “Hey.” The others will hear him but the word isn’t for his team.

[endsinafight]

He struggles momentarily, knowing he looks far different at the moment than he usually does. There doesn't seem to be any recognition on Steve's face, and he's not surprised. He knows he looks like a monster right now, something that terrifies people in their worst nightmares, and yet Steve hardly looks perturbed, much less frightened.

He takes a small step forward, willing his right hand back into normalcy instead of claws, his left remaining silver and unnatural looking in both forms, wolf and human. Part human, part animal, part machine. He is a hybrid. A weapon.

"Seventy years and all I get is a 'hey?'" His face shifts back now, too, human, even though his eyes still glow.

[bottledblond]

The shock might be endearing if this had been under any other circumstance. Steve’s lips tremble for an instant and his gloved hands clench and unclench. After all this time, the uniform hasn’t really changed too much. It’s gotten more sleek, a little more sexy (for those into that sort of thing), but he’s still without a doubt Captain America in his dress blues, helmet strapped tight and the American flag embroidered on his bicep along with whatever symbol du jour the acting authority wanted.

Steve closes his mouth tightly a moment later to compensate for the shock, but he doesn’t reach for the shield thrown over one shoulder. His hand moves up to his covered ear so he can switch off the comm.

He doesn’t really want to do with Anthony I Told You So Stark right now.

“Bucky...?” The blond’s voice is full of longing. He wants the man standing there, previously covered in dark fur with an elongated face and claws, to be Bucky. That just doesn’t seem possible, though. He watched the man fall into that ravine. Their fingers had not quite connected and Bucky had been lost to him.

There’s a sorrow in his chest he does his best to ignore.

“What are you doing here, pal?” Steve is pretty sure he’s cracked. Finally. It had been bound to happen.

[endsinafight]

It's impossible to misread the shock on his face, but he doesn't miss the way his mouth trembles, doesn't miss the way he clenches and unclenches his fists -- whether it's a result of the shock or he's gearing up for a battle is unclear, but Bucky tenses instinctively nonetheless. Steve's never laid a violent hand on him before, but plenty of people have over the last seven decades.

His own uniform is standard black, tac pants and compression shirt cut around the metal of his left shoulder, revealing the red star there. Property of the KGB branch of HYDRA, initially. Now it doesn't matter. He's not sure it ever did. Captivity and torture pretty much taste the same regardless of the nationality of your captors.

He watches Steve reach up and click off the device behind his ear, the link to his new friends, he guesses. His teammates. His new band of brothers.

There was once a time when he wouldn't have had any difficulty reading Steve's every facial expression, every telltale movement, but he's having a hard time doing it right now; it's possible his own emotions are too out of control to register Steve's.

Dangerous. Dangerous.

"I came to warn you," he tells him, taking a cautious step forward, eyes finally ceasing their pre-natural glow.

[bottledblond]

Without the glow to his eyes, Bucky just looks like Bucky. His hair is longer, his face maybe a little more weathered, posture defensive, but it’s close enough now to the man that Steve spent his lifetime calling brother that he can’t help but soften.

“Seventy years and that’s all you can think to talk about?”

It’s not like Steve has spent the time between Bucky’s death, his own crash, and this moment day dreaming about seeing his friend again. It would have only been possible in heaven, after all, and Steve isn’t that religious of a guy to think about reuniting with his loved ones at the pearly gates. There’s no roadmap on how he’s supposed to react to seeing his best friend in the flesh, let alone how to process the whole overgrown hair issue, so Steve has to make a pretty speedy decision on how to play this up. Cautious just seems idiotic. He knows Bucky, knows him like he knows himself, maybe even better actually, and he’s not wasting more time.

Steve’s shoulders drop, likely prone to infuriate Bucky again, and he strides towards him as if drawn like a magnet towards him.

[endsinafight]

There are a thousand and one things he can think of to talk about, but they're all irrelevant. The only important thing right now is the mission. It's the only thing that matters. It's his own, his first and his last with any luck.

Before he has a chance to clarify what he means, he watches all of Steve's defenses drop and he strides toward Bucky with purpose and something between terror and longing war within him and he flinches, steps away the closer Steve comes, and he shakes his head. He destroys everything he touches. He will not destroy Steve.

"There isn't time. They gave me a mission to bring you back with me. They want you. Want to make you...like me." He looks away, anywhere but at Steve's familiar face, even half hidden by the mask.

[bottledblond]

It takes just one step backwards for Steve to cease his own forward motion. He’s not going to pursue the man. He’s not been sure exactly what he’d planned once in his personal space, handshake or hug, but he had and still has no intention to scare off this apparition. Steve’s has noticeably tightens, noticeably strains the chin strap keep his helmet in place. His palms hold steady, parallel to the ground. Soothing. Calming.

Non threatening.

“They..?” Steve asks cautiously, though he has a good idea of who They is. There’s been whispers everywhere about the many headed beast, about the old Nazi experiments, about the counter agency to SHIELD. He still needs to ask. Steve has always been as much of a talker as he’s been a doer. Sometimes words do more than fists. He can’t claim to be a pacifist but he’d like to be one day, if people learn to let him. “Buck, we should go somewhere else.” If they’re going to talk when there somehow isn’t much time (God, Bucky can have all of his), being out in the open on a roof isn’t the best place. “You can explain what you mean.”

He really should turn the comm back on. He could use his team, but God help him, he wants Bucky to himself.

[endsinafight]

His brain registers the shift in Steve's demeanor. It's tense again, but also somehow placating at the same time. Like Steve is talking to a frightened animal, which frankly, isn't too far from the truth. He has a syringe of sedatives strong enough to take down an elephant in his vest, but it's meant for the world's greatest super soldier.

They hadn't thought it would be that easy, and he'd known it wouldn't be. They'd been counting on Steve not being willing to hurt his oldest friend in the world.

"HYDRA," he says, flatly, confirming Steve's suspicions.

He wants that; wants to go somewhere else, to talk, to tell Steve just how bad things really are. He should have guessed Steve would want the same thing. "They're tracking me," Bucky tells him honestly. "I'm on a countdown." And that time is quickly running out.

[bottledblond]

“Then I guess we need to get moving,” Steve says without hesitation. “We’ll talk on the way.” Now would be a great time to turn the comm back on, but there’s no need. Once he starts moving, Stark will know it. He’s not supposed to shift from the roof. None of them are supposed to move from their points. A deviation from the plan will cause Iron Man to pay attention to him, which might work in his favor if things go poorly.

He doesn’t expect Bucky to turn on him. Whatever is happening, it’s because HYDRA failed to take into consideration how friendships used to be before social media and the internet could even potentially ruin them with a few liked political ads or too few hearts on a photograph.

Steve finally reaches for the buckle under his chin and loosens it so that he can yank the helmet from his head and drop it at his feet. That’s not where his own tracker is, but he wants to continue to resist the urge to let anyone else hear what is being said.

Bucky being missing for seventy years, still alive, down one arm and now able to shapeshift is just too much right now. Steve needs to ensure some sort of privacy.

[endsinafight]

Alarm bells go off in his mind, warning him that this could be a trap. Warning him that he can't trust anyone. He closes his eyes momentarily, tensing and struggling against the voices in his own head. He wants to cover his ears with his hands, to block out the raging sound rushing through his brain, pain intensifying once more. This isn't how it's supposed to go. He's supposed to warn Steve, and then vanish. That had been his plan.

But it's Steve. Steve. And despite his mind's insistence he can't be trusted, his heart tells him the exact opposite. That Steve is the only one that he can trust.

When he opens his eyes again, Steve's taking off his helmet, his hair beautifully messy in a way that he wants to reach out and run his fingers through. The thought is fleeting, disorganized and jumbled along with all the others racing thoughts he's struggling to contain.

"Where?" he asks.

[bottledblond]

The smile Steve gives Bucky is lopsided, imperfect, the smile he managed to always give him despite the serum from before his bone structure could support even muscle movement. “Wherever it is that they want you to take me.”

He’s not about to be captured. It won’t go that far. He just wants to buy them some time until Iron Man gets nosy and provides backup. That could be any time now, though, so these moments are doubly limited.

Steve is moving again, giving wide berth to his best friend to prove he’s no threat, pausing only at the edge of the roof guard. “I’ve missed you,” he says, turning to look boyishly at Bucky. “So much.”

Sorry for the delay -- had to go to a work event

[endsinafight]

Ice pours into his veins at that response and he freezes momentarily until it dawns on him that Steve isn't out here alone. He peers around warily, unsettled for a whole new reason, wondering where they are. How many they are. If they can see where he is now.

If they'd already seen what he is.

"There are a lot of them," he says. He follows him slowly to the roof guard, not prepared for those words, nor for the jarring emotional impact they have on him, feeling like a punch to the gut. He meets his eyes, so damned sincere and earnest.

He doesn't smile. He hasn't been allowed in decades. He's not sure he remembers how. His expression betrays nothing of what he's feeling.

"I can't go in with you." He pulls the syringe out of his vest and holds it out to him.

No problem!

[bottledblond]

The stone cold exterior facing him is enough for Steve to feel deflated. Now is not the time to show it, so he certainly does not, but his heart almost seems to stop in his chest. He can't hear it, or the rush of his blood through his body, anymore.

Producing that syringe doesn't exactly make Steve feel any better either. He presses his lips grimly together, the core of his eye hardening. He doesn't think Bucky would attack him, but three minutes ago, he also thought Bucky was dead and there was no such thing as werewolves. Times change quickly in the twenty-first century, as Steve has come to find out through an alarming amount of trial and error.

"Wasn't planning on going in myself," Steve replies, eyes still on Bucky, on the way he moves to avoid him like he's at a dance hall. "But if we're short on time, we can at least head that way. Give them less of a reason to come looking." Finally, Steve nods at the syringe. "Guess that's for me? Good. They'd expect you to be slower, dragging me around, huh? More time for us."

Steve glances from the roof to the one across from them and then down to the street. He can make that in two jumps, using the windowsills on the opposite building to stop him from breaking up the concrete below.

"I let you go last time. And that's just it, Buck. That was the last time I do that. We're sticking together."

[endsinafight]

He sees the change in Steve's demeanor, slight as it might be. Unnoticeable, probably, to most. "You should take it." He keeps the syringe extended toward Steve, a hint of wariness in his voice. If HYDRA happens to catch on to what's happening and triggers him, Steve is going to need it to take him down.

Bucky follows the other man's gaze from the roof to the road, picking up easily on his own plan. Bucky's much less concerned about the landing. He's heavy, but he's light on his feet when it comes to landings thanks to the wolf DNA in his blood.

He shifts his gaze back to Steve, nervous and hesitant at that. It's not that he wants to get away from Steve. It's that he needs to get away from HYDRA. Immediately. Permanently. Because it's not going away. There's no getting rid of it.

"I'm dangerous."

[bottledblond]

Steve doesn't mean the wry smile and side glance that he gives Bucky in the way the other man will probably take it. Steve has been witness to Bucky's crackerjack shooting skills, but the guy would never hurt him. Never. It's not in his nature, and so Steve isn't quite capable of giving it the weight he should.

Any man who has lived for seventy years without aging, a metal arm, and spontaneous fur growth really ought to have everything he's said taken seriously.

Steve at least reaches out for the syringe. It'd be better with him anyway, not that he thinks he'd have to use it on Bucky, no, just that no one will be able to use it on him. He slips it into one of the concealed pockets on his uniform and presses the knuckles of both hands against his hips. The stance is heroic, though he doesn't mean for it to come off that way.

"I know you are," Steve remarks in his unnervingly typical sort of nonchalance. "I remember the snoring."

[endsinafight]

He's relieved when Steve reaches out and takes the syringe from him, even if he doesn't think Steve takes his warning to heart. There's a level of frustration that's far too familiar for him not to have felt it with this man before. His memories of Steve are so few and far between, but more significant than anything else he can recall outside of HYDRA. He has a vague impression of girls -- younger. Sisters? Dark haired, all three of them. He doesn't know their names.

He's not even sure they're real.

Steve is real. He remembers -- Steve looked different once. Smaller. But his face is the same. His hair is the same color. His eyes are the same shade of blue from his memories. The memories they don't know he's been having in the last week since they defrosted him. If they knew, they would take him from him again, and he doesn't want Steve to be erased again, the way he knows they've erased him time and time again.

The off the cuff remark about snoring makes a huff of disbelief escape him. He gives him a narrow-eyed look and steps up to the roof.

"You're a punk," he grumbles before he drops, drops, drops a couple hundred feet to the ground, landing silently on his feet and looking up.

[bottledblond]

"You know, that word doesn't mean what it used--" Oh. Steve's cut off when Bucky decides to just make a go for it. His eyes widen and he leans over the edge of the roof to peer down at those strange eyes that had been glowing not too long ago. "I think that might be cheating," Steve calls down, before swinging himself over the side of the wall.

He does his much more calculated drop, breaking his fall twice on two progressively lower window sills, the second of which crumbles under his hand. His landing is no less graceful for it, though he'd had to somersault to keep from landing on his knees.

Steve gestures with one gloved hand for Bucky to lead the way, having so many questions and less guts than usual to ask them. It's not awkward, but Bucky himself is. Steve doesn't want to make it worse.

[endsinafight]

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he finds himself smirking at Steve's obvious surprise, watching as he descends to the street a little more slowly, even if his movements are just as fluid and graceful as his own, ending in a somersault that leaves a stirring of amusement in his gut. But the moment that Steve gestures for him to lead the way, his expression grows serious once more and he turns, guiding him down an alley, his heart beating a little faster as they head in the general direction of the current HYDRA base.

In the general direction of the chair.

Of pain. Of complete and total loss of self.

Again.

"If they catch you, they'll use you." His voice is quiet. Emotionless. It doesn't match the haunted look in his eyes. "You can't get caught."

[bottledblond]

"Not planning on it." He's seen the squareness of those shoulders, the set way of that gait. Bucky isn't exactly a large man, but Steve will always see him as tall and handsome and capable, even if that first part really isn't true when seen from his six and a half foot vantage point now. "Not planning on letting you get caught either, in case you were wondering. It's been pretty tough without you. Television is weird and they don't sell deviled eggs at the movies anymore."

Not that he could usually afford deviled eggs, but they had been a pretty amazing treat for birthdays and celebrations.

"And don't get me started on the weird bananas now."

They have so much to catch up on and Steve is just waxing nostalgic instead.

They stick to the alleys, easy in this part of town, and Steve finds himself reaching out to take Bucky's elbow a few blocks away. "Buck, what happened? Just give me the abridged version."

[endsinafight]

He wants to tell Steve that he can't stop HYDRA. That if they get too close, they'll both be caught. Steve has a better shot than he does of getting away, and he'll offer himself up as a distraction to make sure it happens if it comes down to it. The idea of Steve being captured, of being tortured and wiped away the way he has been makes something curl in his stomach, cold and terrified.

He doesn't remember what deviled eggs are anymore than he remembers what chocolate tastes like. He hasn't eaten anything in decades. Not any real food anyway.

Bucky leads him closer, each step feeling a little more weighed down with dread and anxiety. They're tracking him. They know he's getting closer. They'll be waiting.

Steve's hand on his elbow makes him flinch involuntarily, but he doesn't pull away. He's not allowed to pull away from his handlers. It takes a second to remember that Steve isn't his handler. Steve isn't with HYDRA. His brain is getting things mixed up.

"I'm their greatest weapon," he responds, because that's as abridged as he can make things. "But we all know which one of us is the more valuable asset."

[bottledblond]

As disturbing as it is for Bucky to speak this way, his deadpan delivery is much more jarring. That’s not even to speak about how the flinch made Steve feel — He’s not prepared to process that just yet. Steve is more of a doer, preferring not to let his feelings get the best of him where anyone can see.

He’s never liked being the sensitive little boy, not back before the war and certainly not now when every day brings a new a terrible surprise to his doorstep.

“Neither of us— We’re people, Buck. Whatever they did to you... I have some pretty smart friends. They’re going to be able to help you out.” They’re still pretty far away from the other Avengers but closing in on Sam’s position. Red Wing could likely even have eyes on them right now.

He needs to make a small change in their direction.

Steve nods towards the Flatiron building, rising in the distance. “How fast are you clocked at these days?”

[endsinafight]

He doesn't feel like a person. He has vague memories of a time when he might have been -- but they're so distant and hazy that it seems more like a dream of some kind than a previous reality. He says nothing in response to Steve's comment about his friends being smart and being able to help him. What's been done can't be undone. He doubts Steve will be able to stay at this level of denial for long.

Vaguely, he thinks he probably actually can.

Bucky follows his gaze to the building he nods toward, trying to stamp down the anxiety that's gnawing at him. A detour will likely result in the STRIKE team being sent out to retrieve him.

"I can move at approximately half a mile per minute for a period of roughly six hours unless I've sustained significant damage," he responds absently.

"How close are your friends?"

[bottledblond]

Steve has already decided that a move will probably bring them both into the line of fire, but the options they have are non existent. HYDRA will come for them. It’s not a matter of if so much as when. Steve doesn’t regret leaving his helmet behind, though. His tracking device isn’t in the helmet, but he imagines that HYDRA might have a way of tapping into the communication signal the Avengers are probably bombarding at the moment.

This whole thing is risky, but obviously Bucky had risked a whole lot more coming to speak with him, finally, instead of just running off on his own.

Steve squints, head tilting as he does the easy math in his head. “Minute and a quarter for you. Minute and a half for me.”

Bucky’s faster than he is, something he’ll dwell on later.

“Normally I would say not to pull your punches, and I’d never want you to let me win, but they won’t know you.” Sam might, Steve spoke about his old best friend to his new best friend many, many times. Tony barely remembers faces, though, and almost nothing of what Steve says seems to stick with Iron Man. The others he can’t read at all. He’s not going to try to guess their reactions to Bucky. “I’m going to ask for a twenty second head start,” he says just before shooting by Bucky’s left. He hadn’t thought about the chance there might be of Bucky going the opposite way.

Not until he’s already moving.

[endsinafight]

It takes him no time to figure out what Steve means to do. A ruse.

It's risky, far riskier than Bucky's initial plan, and there are so many variables, so many things he can't account for, including friends of Steve's. But it's too late now for his own plan to work. Time's up. If Steve's plan fails - at worst he and his friends will be captured and so will Bucky.

A sense of wariness washes over him -- like he's been faced with this choice before. Trust and follow Steve, or go his own way.

Bucky gives him the twenty seconds head start and begins to chase him, eyes flaring blue as he races down the same streets and alley ways, following Steve.