[log] cut off one head [closed]

[advanced]

Characters: Bucky Barnes and Alexander Pierce
Location: Building 149
Date: Day 198, evening
Summary: Bucky finally runs into Pierce, they have words.
Warnings: Graphic violence, will add others if necessary.

[He doesn't want to move too far from the way out of downtown to the ice tunnels, it's his best bet for running into Pierce if the man is even still in this area. But he almost wishes he'd stayed back at the post office when he finds a table carved with a very specific Russian word.

Fury has him kicking the table into the wall until it breaks into chunks that he can pick up with one hand, only so that he can slam them into each other more and more until there's nothing but splinters remaining. He doesn't care about the mess he's making, only stopping when there's literally no trace of that word left. Covered in dust, he opens the door intending to brush off the worst of it before lockdown, when he sees a very familiar figure in the snow.

It's almost like a mirage at first, that he should show up at this moment.

But Bucky only wastes a single second before he's sprinting out into the snow with the aim of catching Pierce and dragging him back into the house before the doors lock. By his hair, if he has to.]

Comments

[peacemongering]

[Things were changing with more players being added to the mix, but he wasn't upset about it. It was simply more juggling of the limited resources that he had, and for now, he was content to tease out who were the power players of this place. He was also busy moving from place to place, trying to keep warm beyond a jacket. He had explored a few places, but he wanted to check the food stock as he had promised.

There was also a few buildings he had not spent much time with, and he was determined to at least walk through every single building before he headed back to visit the wall that was no doubt blocking the way to another aspect of the city.

He was in the process of heading up towards a house he had seen on the map. He had enough time in the day to get there even if he was already very cold. He pulled the collar of his jacket higher on his neck, shuffled his shoulders and kept his head down for the most part. Maybe that was why he didn't realize he was under attack until the Soldier was almost upon him.

He twisted at the last second, looking over his shoulder and then he simply smiled. There he was.]

Sergeant. What a pleasant surprise!

[He didn't put up much resistance was he was dragged off, actually following to whatever building the Soldier had decided upon. Calm but cold, he stamped his feet when they arrived and shivered, snowflakes falling from his jacket. His nose and cheeks were red, but mostly the area around his eyes, nose and even up at his forehead were blackened with bruising.

He recognized the cafe, but he was more intent to search for signs that it was more than them here. He suspected he could have the Soldier well in hand without the bleating of worried sheep all the time.]

[advanced]

[He hates that smile, it digs right under his skin before anything even gets said. It makes his paranoia whisper that this is all Pierce's plan, that he's manipulated events to get Bucky here, but that doesn't make sense. Bucky is the one hunting him, not the other way around, he just has to keep focus on that.

The cafe is completely empty, it's also a total shambles.

Aside from the table that's been smashed into nothing, debris everywhere, the act of doing it has left scratches and dents in the walls and knocked over most of the other furniture. Bucky shoves Pierce inside and then turns to slam the door shut with an air of finality.

There's only a moment of pause after that, long enough for him to murmur a voice to text message to his tablet, before he's springing for Pierce to try and slam him into the wall. He doesn't plan on letting him get a word out if he can help it, immediately trying to pin him.]

[peacemongering]

[Pierce was aware of the text message given that it was spoken, and it was a feature that he often used himself. It was easier to multitask when one's hands were free after all, and he now knew that the Soldier was in a habit of checking in with certain individuals. So Romanov and Watson were top his list. Maybe Barton. Certainly not Stark.

He noted the state of the cafe, but he hadn't actually planned on staying here. For one, he had been here before. However, the state of the place indicated that the Soldier had found his message, which hadn't actually been for the man but Watson. This was the place where he had been sent to 'investigate' the Batman, and it would be intriguing what Watson would do with such knowledge about the Soldier. Not use it unless...

Pierce found himself slammed into a nearby wall, and he knew that he was no physical match for the Soldier so he went with the shove. Even one-armed, he knew that there would be weapons aplenty on the former assassin. However, the only weapon that actually assaulted at present was the Soldier's smell, which was about enough to down a rampaging elephant and clear a room of awkward teenagers.

He would have wrinkled his nose, but it was still mending from being broken and reset twice. Instead, for the first time, his expression hardened and his gaze sharpened. For the first time, he looked annoyed at the Soldier.]

What have you done?

[advanced]

[It is a particularly pungent smell, considering it's been a very long time since Bucky felt secure enough to even change his clothing let alone wash it or himself. His hair is a greasy and matted mess, he has several weeks of beard growth, and it's obvious from the dark circles under his eyes that he hasn't exactly been sleeping either.

The annoyance sends a frission of tension up his spine, an automatic reaction to expect negative consequences for disappointing his handler, but he fights it down. He can only assume that he means in the cafe, for the devastation is pretty excessive.]

I found your message.

[That's what he's done.

It's hard to pin him with one hand when he also wants to be getting a weapon out, so he shifts his weight to try and keep Pierce pinned with the shoulder of his severed arm while he slips the scalpel out of his other sleeve.]

[peacemongering]

[The message was unimportant to him right now, not even a point of mockery or worth considering taking advantage of. The Soldier had obvious been upset enough to break a bunch of tables and dent the walls in the cafe, but he was already passing that off as the usual kind of temper tantrum he was used to dealing with when the Soldier malfunctioned.

No, his focus was flicking over the Soldier, and this was the first time that they had seen each other face-to-face, and he was not pleased with what he saw. The filth, the matting, the lack of sleep, and the clear shining paranoia all went against the grain of how he expected the Soldier - or any human being - to upkeep themselves. If given an opportunity, he expected that most people would keep themselves to some baseline of maintenance.]

Why do you look like a homeless man with severe mental illness?

[Probably because that was what the Soldier currently was, but Pierce had standards. He snapped his hand up with surprising dexterity in order to attempt to seize the wrist with the scalpel.]

I miscalculated. Severely. [He was shaking his head, as if disappointed with himself. Like he should have known] For 'friends', they let you stink.

[advanced]

[Seriously?

All he can think is that Pierce is toying with him, pretending that he's offended by Bucky's lack of personal care in order to display how little the rest of the situation is bothering him. It's a pretty poor tactic, not up to his usual standard, and so he ignores it as irrelevant.

What matters to him more is not getting his wrist held too tightly, so he twists off to the side when Pierce grabs up at him and tries to turn the move back on him by driving the scalpel right towards his palm with the aim of pinning him to the wall that way.]

[peacemongering]

[His fingers slipped from the Soldier's wrist, and instead of pursuing a struggle while he was pinned against the wall, he didn't follow. The Soldier was too skilled for him to even consider engaging wholly into combat unless it was a life or death situation.

However, he knew that his quarry wouldn't stop either. That was quite enough. He barked authoritatively his order instead.]

That's enough. Stand down.

[advanced]

[His muscles tensed as an inner struggle took place, instinct wanting him to obey the harsh command and yet every other part of him rebelling against it furiously. His jaw grit as he forced himself to carry on through it.

His aim is to pin Pierce to the wall, a scalpel through one hand and his bloody shard of glass through the other, to keep him there like a rare butterfly on display.]

I am not yours to command any more.

[peacemongering]

[He tried to shove the Soldier off of pinning him, aware that he had two arms and the other man only had one. He grunted in pain as the scalpel pierced his palm this time around, but he managed to get his other hand out of the way of the glass for the time being.]

But you aren't in control of even yourself. Don't put me in the position where I have to control you like Karpov was so fond of. We didn't work that way, you and I.

Day 201 Pharmacy

[advanced]

[This is the third day of the Soldier being returned to the state of obedience he had been conditioned to accept, and he is already looking physically healthier. Still underweight, still filthy, but his energy is obviously higher from eating and sleeping regularly.

He's been mostly silent, just a stoic bodyguard at his handler's side as they traverse the snow, though he'll answer if asked a question and he does make sure to call Natasha each day to give her a status update. Each house they stop at is thoroughly examined for traps and danger before he settles each night, it's just good sense and a lingering MN induced paranoia that not even conditioning can erase.

Once they reach the pharmacy, however, he breaks from his handler's side. Some niggling sensation in him makes him feel as though he should be looking for something here, running his hand along the pretty empty shelves.]

[peacemongering]

[There were often one or two potentially small useful items in many of the places that they either passed through or rested for the night. He hardly found anything that would do more than occasionally make some aspect of life here a tiny bit easier but otherwise, it was mostly junk as far as he could tell. He suspected it was all part of trying to determine how resourceful they all were, and well, it had been many years since he had been in boyscouts. He made the most of it.

The Soldier was the shadow he was used to having from days past. He didn't mind, didn't comment but enjoyed the company all the same. This place brought on an odd sense of isolation and loneliness that he didn't particularly enjoy, and even without comment to one another, it was nice to have another individual to share a space with. Often, he had no reason to give instructions and the Soldier was obedient enough to lapse into old familiar duties around him. It would have almost been companionable if mind control wasn't at the works.

Yet, he was instantly piqued when the Soldier took the initiative to break from the norm and wander off to the shelves. He was looking for any medical supplies, since he was apparently going to be injured often, but he abandoned that quest as he was drawn after the Soldier. The shelves seemed empty save for a small container in one corner, which he reached over to take. If it was the Soldier's he would actually give it over.

The name was not Bucky Barnes. He was still familiar with the trade name all the same.]

Is there supposed to be something for you?

[advanced]

[The Soldier shakes his head, though there's a tiny furrow at his brow as if to contradict that answer.]

I'm not suffering from any illness that would require medication.

[So why would he be looking for some? It's a strange itch at the back of his mind, and he can't quite put his finger on it. As if the very concept of a bottle of pills is all wrapped up with something else far beyond his understanding. Still, he can rationalise away a small part of why he might be looking.]

I have some medication bottles in my backpack, some empty and some full.

[He has no idea why they're there.]

[peacemongering]

You aren't as you are now. You were certainly suffering before we met.

[The erratic behaviour, the obvious paranoia, the threats, the current appearance and smell... as far as he was concerned, the Soldier was suffering a slow and agonizing mental break down with the orders that held that damaged psyche in check. For now, as the orders held, it gave a sense of evenness and purpose, boxed off the paranoid cares of Bucky Barnes and allowed the simple need to function.

He had seen the bottles, even known them to be in varying states of fullness, and he had been close enough to sight the names on some of them. He made no effort to take those away from the Soldier. Why would he? He was proving the Bucky weighed down in the Soldier that he could give and it didn't have to be painful or worth the threats. What he would give would probably be viewed as far worse.]

Are you in any pain?

[advanced]

Nothing that would hinder my movement or combat capability.

[Certainly nothing strong enough to need medication.

He should leave it at that; it's a question asked and answered, he should not have the curiosity to press for more. But his fingers lingered on the empty shelf as if still seeking a bottle of medication that wasn't there.]

Why was I suffering before we met?

[He doesn't recall.]

[peacemongering]

[Maybe the medication wasn't for physical pain but mental. It was already clear from their interactions that the Bucky side was a mess, couldn't even take care of himself and certainly couldn't cope with the situation that they were in as well as he has seen others. A good sedative could settle the weaker side of the Soldier down, but then, the paranoia probably wouldn't allow for much medicating.

He noted the curiosity and offered a carefully crafted sympathetic smile. He ran his thumb over the prescription that he had in hand. To tell or not to tell?]

Because you had no order, only chaos. You acted on your own and thus acted out. Your ability to cope was hampered by the environment.

[He watched both for reaction and for more questions.]

[advanced]

[That doesn't make a lot of sense to him.

He always has a handler and, though he often carries out his missions alone and with some autonomy on how best to accomplish them, he always has orders. The environment shouldn't cause an issue for him either, not when he was originally trained in Siberia and he knew how to work in all terrain.

He finally lowers his hand from the shelf.]

Why don't I remember?

[He knows he hasn't been prepped, he doesn't remember the machine and the bit between his teeth to keep him from biting off his own tongue.]

[peacemongering]

[Now wasn't that quite the loaded question? An explanation was warranted all the same, but they had been getting along (forced though it may be) for a few days now, and he could appreciate the sense of peace. It would be short-lived no doubt, but he was hoping this experience would eventually promote to Barnes himself that he was not here to be this evil overlord that he had previously been made out to be.

They could and had worked well together.]

Remember what specifically?

Day 202 - Aquarium

[peacemongering]

[The warning from Winter had been alarming enough to send himself packing, taking the Soldier with him as he wasn't willing to have a breach of programming just yet. The fact there was a path blurry in the snow made him curious to almost send the Soldier into it, but he had his own priorities that kept him on the path and heading towards the aquarium as previously proposed.

He had not experienced stage fright in many, many years, but it was overwhelming when the thousands of voices seemed to blow over him, picking at him, jarring his focus momentarily. He fought it off, steeling himself and repeating the old British song of his childhood when he had to stand up to give an answer. It beat down fright that was unreasonable and he had almost forgotten that he had used to do it at all. The voices faded though, and he moved as swiftly as the weather would allow.

They arrived, and it was a relief to get out of the blowing wind and snow. He dusted it from his hair before moving off to seek a water source that would be warm enough for bathing. The sinks apparently, which was good enough for him and certainly better than anything the Soldier had had in many months. He slid off of pack and began to pull out items for cleaning, sponge, hand soap, a comb (already used on the Soldier's hair), spare cloth strips.

He began to remove his winter clothing and suit as he filled one of the sinks with warm water, looking over that the Soldier.]

A bath, as promised. Strip because we're washing your clothing as well. [He was, by now, used to the smell and even ignored it, but that didn't stop him from understand that filthiness of the Soldier any less. He dipped the sponge to soak up water and ducked his head down to wet down his hair. First things first, he carefully washed his own hair with soap and his face. He was careful of the forming scabs so as not to disturb them.]

Did you also experience a wall of voices when we traveled?

[advanced]

[The Soldier follows his handler as close as he can while they walk, run even, through the snow across the bright paths that have been lit up for them. He can feel danger pricking at the back of his skull, and he feels the weight of a thousand eyes watching him. It frightens him, though he doesn't understand why because he shouldn't fear any amount of enemies.

His lips peel back into a wordless snarl as it increases, a silent challenge to the sensation until it fades away. Voices judging him, asking questions, demanding things that he can't do. It unsettles him deeply, and he's still frowning when they reach the aquarium. The silence within seems almost deafening.

While his handler fills the sinks and gets sorted, the assets makes certain to do a thorough sweep of the building for threats and then secure the doors so that he will be alerted if anyone tries to get through. He's still tense as a bowstring when he hears his handler's voice giving him an order, but he doesn't hesitate to respond and obey. His clothes are peeled off quickly and efficiently, several layers of stinking hoodie, shirt, t-shirt, and jeans. There's no shame as his underpants come off, he's been naked more times than he can count for medical examinations.

He's not in too bad condition when the clothes come off. Too skinny from months of not eating right, and his shoulder where his prosthetic used to be has new scarring with dips in the flesh where large chunks were cut away and then burned to cauterise the wound closed.]

Yes.

[He bends to pick up his pack and grab the relevant washing items from within, before taking his bundle of clothes to one of the sinks and beginning to wash them as best he can, though it's tricky to rub the fabric against itself with only one hand.]

They're gone now.

[peacemongering]

[Alexander was back to humming as he removed his own clothing, intent on a wash down himself. He was less important as he made certain to upkeep basic hygiene as much as possible. The exposure to the outside though, the voices, the questions, the judging forced him to focus on song, to gather his thoughts and push away the residual effects that were no doubt meant to unsettle him. He had actions that needed to be taken, and he was not interested in being distracted by it. It was honestly no worse than he had faced before in his long life, so it took just a few moments of calming.

He settled his clothing in need of washing next to where the Soldier was attempting to wash out the stiff and gross material. Filthy, he thought. The Soldier and Bucky Barnes should know better than to let it get like this! It irked him more than the accusing voices had, which was not surprising to him.]

Use that sink over there to wash yourself. There's a sponge and a cloth and some soap. Hair first and work your way down to your toes. I'll finish up this task.

[There was no point belittling an inability, and he knew the Soldier was far more deadly and focused on other matters. He had hand washed clothing many times as a young boy, helping his mother with her daily household tasks. She never believed in having house staff that would do the same job as she could, so when they were around, his mother would insist that his hands were just as dirty. "Learn to live in every man and woman's shoes, Alex," she would tell him. "We are all the same: people. No job should ever be too big or small for you if it isn't for someone else." So, he had washed laundry, and he would do so again. It was personal choice rather than a sense of obligation.

So, he took over, washing out the Soldier's clothing, slapping it on the side of the sink and the floor, rubbing it down vigorously, changing the water when it became too foul and allowed the next articles to soak before doing it all over again. He worked and he hummed, seemingly not minding that he was literally washing another man's underwear. It was no worse than trying to help a man gather his own guts up and yell for a medic only to have to pray and wait for the brief and messy end to come. The point was that everything was washed clean eventually.]

I've heard that possession can happen here, and it's generally old members of the population doing so?

[advanced]

[The Soldier feels no shame at having anyone else wash his filthy clothing, nor about being seen naked. He had never done his own washing before, he was just provided with whatever he needed for a mission and ordered to shower whenever necessary. It's his handler's wishes that he go and wash himself, and so that's what he'll do.

He heads for the next sink over and fills it with water, half bending so that he can get his head and most of his hair in the sink to start awkwardly washing it. His fingers tug knots free none too gently as he works, making certain to wash thoroughly. It will take a while just to get his hair done.]

I read that.

[He doesn't remember it, there's been less and less of his memories at the surface over the last few days.]

I don't think we were being possessed, just followed.

[At least, he didn't feel an intrusion on his mind.]

[peacemongering]

[Alexander was very much aware that they hadn't been possessed, that they had all of their own faculties in place here and now. That hadn't been the point of his inquiry, since this was his first particular exposure to the forces at work here in the frozen city. He was suspicious though, which would hopefully keep him alive for longer until the sacrifice was worthwhile.

He began to wring out the Soldier's now cleaner clothing and hang it up to dry. It would take until at least tomorrow by his measure, assuming the temperature didn't drop in this place overnight. His own clothing was next, particularly the jacket that had been provided. Often times it was a blanket, the only source of warmth beyond his clothing.]

What of Eve? Could an AI experience a hostile take-over from possession? Maybe from the nanotechnology which keeps us alive?

[advanced]

[He might not remember much, but the Soldier had made sure that each night before he went to sleep for his mandated eight hours, he scrolled through his tablet to read up on everything and everyone. Information was important, always.]

There are other AIs, one might have hacked the system.

[It's a suggestion offered quietly, with deference but not fear. He'd been asked his opinion, after all.]

Winter and Andromeda.

[peacemongering]

I don't believe so. When we had to flee the house, Winter had clearly altered something which the ADMIN didn't appreciate. It was a bit startling how the locks continued to open and close like that before we left.

[He rubbed and soaped up his own clothing and then also set it to dry wherever he could find a spot that would allow the water to drip out. It would a nice to be clean again or at least the brief illusion of it anyway.]

The prophet. Long dead and yet still with heavy impressions on this place and clearly at war. Religion and advanced technology are often at war with each other. What do you think of the notion of the prophet having control of the ADMIN?

[advanced]

Unlikely.

[He's considered the option himself. It's not impossible, but with the chaos that's been going on, he finds it highly improbable.]

The Admin reacts with countermeasures to the Prophet, they don't seem to be working towards the same goals.

[He pulls his head out from the sink and water cascades everywhere, soap suds clinging to his ears.]