snowblindrpg | [log] cut off one head [closed]

Entry tags:

[log] cut off one head [closed]

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.]

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[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.]

[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.]

[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?

[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.]

[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.

[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.]

[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.

[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.

[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.

Don't delude yourself.

[It comes out as an angry snarl, the fury hiding the fear that came from feeling as though he really should be obeying.]

I only ever listened to you because I was controlled, there was nothing else there. We're not allies.

[He makes another grab for Pierce's other hand, at least both of them only having one arm to work with puts them at a more level playing field now.]

Is that what you think? Do you recall all the times we had together? I know that I do because of how few and unique they were.

[He was still struggling to shove the Soldier away from him, to escape the pin that held him to the wall. There was blood running down where his hand was pinned by the scalpel, but even then he was pulling his hand. Scalpels were instruments for cutting, but they were small and sharp and their hold on walls limited by their own sharpness and the thinness of the blade.

The Soldier was still technically physically his better, but he was well-rested, better fed and newer to this city. He fought back.]

I was different. I know this to be true. You may have been a weapon, but you were intelligent, eager and loyal. After so much inhumane treatment, I gave you something different... [There was almost a sighing breath of bliss from him.] And oh how you thrived. How you performed. You believed.

[Pierce is deluding himself if he thinks the Soldier was ever eager, he was whatever he had been commanded to be. He fulfilled orders, he didn't have more than that. Though a part of him did recognise some truth in what was said, he did respond better to good treatment. But eager was going far too far.

He snarls and grabs the scalpel before it can properly fall, yanking it free in order to immediately try and swipe across Pierce's face. He'll take out an eye if he has to, just to get him down and pliable.]

Liar!

[He's not going to be stopped by mere orders this time, he is determined to see this through. He pushes closer, probably just overwhelming Pierce further in his smell.]

There has never been anything between us, and there never will be anything between us. You're a madman.

[It would be regretful if he had to die in order to make a point, but he would. That was always the extreme that he was willing to go, though he did what he could to avoid that. He was better alive, but in this place, the Soldier would lose him in the event of his death.

The bite of the scalpel was hot and probably deeper than it had any right to be. However, this was a surgical instrument and even dulled, it parted his flesh. He turned his face with the swing, taking the blade to the cheek. The well and fall of hot blood was obvious given the cold temperatures.

And good God, the Soldier was in serious need of some dental hygiene.]

Sorry, son, but I passed every single one of my psyche evaluations with SHIELD. Can you say the same thing, hmm? Release me. This is your final warning.

[He will not kill Pierce.

No matter what else happens here, he cannot allow that to happen. It's taken too long, well over a week, for him to track the man down. Now that he finally has him in custody, he can't risk him reviving somewhere completely different and with the capability of spreading lies.

The threat of a final warning terrifies him, but that only spurs him to further action. He has to move, has to make sure Pierce is declawed as soon as humanly possible. So he's swinging that hand back again, though this time aiming to strike him in the temple with his knuckles.

He wants to knock him out, then he can remove his tongue without any further fight.]

[And it was. Pierce could tell right away that the Soldier was consumed with an uncontrolled fear and that would drench any attempt at order there was. Fear and anger were the two emotions that managed to drown out most of the innate programming, overrode much of the years of necessary training and made the Soldier wild and dangerous.

It was why he did what he could to never put the Soldier in the position to experience those emotions. Except the Rogers incident, but that had been a test.

He ducked his head and instead lifted his knee to slam into the Soldier. It took him only two seconds to realize his options were limited, if not all but one now. So be it.]

страстное желание, ржавчина, Семнадцать

[The knee knocks him off balance enough that he stumbles a step, but he recovers quickly. Even terrified, he still has decades of combat training behind him and he know how to push aside being struck and keep going.

Until those words come.

The first one sends sharp hooks into old scar tissue in his psyche, the second one teases them apart, and by the third one they're internal bloody gashes. He can feel his entire body reacting to them. It took a long process to program those words into him initially, and every time he hears them it renews the agony of those tortures.

Blind and unutterable panic consumes him now. He doesn't have long, a couple of seconds at most before the rest of the words are out there.

He launches himself at Pierce and slams his fist directly towards his throat.]

[It was regrettable that it had some to this, but there was no choice in the matter. The shut-down word would be useless against a rampaging Soldier, and right now, they needed to go for calm and fixing matters between them. The Soldier would eventually have to realize he wasn't the man's enemy here, that their goals of escape and taking everyone with them was aligned.

When the fist was thrown, Pierce did the only thing he had left. He threw himself away from the wall to the side, landing hard on his shoulder but not for a moment stopping himself from speaking the words that were necessary for both of their survival.]

рассвет, печь, девять, доброкачественный!

[He twisted onto his back, watching the Soldier closely, his voice coming in a commanding rush.]

возвращение домой, один, грузовой автомобиль!

[Missed.

How could he miss? He's turning even though he knows he has no chance of getting another attack off in time, desperation twisting his face into an almost unrecognisable mask of agony. A cry rips from him as the final words are said, but it never manifests into anything further.

The Soldier stands over Pierce, panting, expression shifting to something blank and unreadable.]

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[He knows his handler, the words have been said, he will obey.]

[The shift in the Soldier's stature, the change in expression, the lack of furthering attacks... Pierce couldn't do more than sigh and let his head fall against the floor, ignoring the blood that still flowed freely down his cheek.

What a shame that it came to this. They had been so much more once.

There was work to be done though, and he knew that laying in pain would not solve any of his current issues or plans. He needed to get into motion, which was precisely what he did as he rolled to his side and then to his knees.]

Sit. [He pointed at an overturned chair close to him and mopped up at the blood from his cheek.] Report on promises of protocol to Natalia Romanov and John Watson. [The Soldier was paranoid enough to set some way to track movements and actions with those two. He just knew it.]

[The Soldier does not mourn for anything lost, he is devoid of what made him rebel now. He shows no concern for his handler's injuries, they're not his concern unless he is ordered to treat them. He moves as soon as he is given the order to, turning the chair the right way up and sitting.

John Watson and Natalia Romanov. He knows the names as if they're part of a mission book, feeling nothing for them. If they had a relationship with a man called Bucky Barnes, that is not him. He switches to English, taking his cue from Pierce.]

A formal arrangement was made with Romanov to call each day. If no call was received she would wait for the next obituary, if the name Barnes was not on it she would take further action. No formal arrangement was made with Watson, an informal agreement to call with more information later today was made after a relay of the news that you were in proximity. A similar informal arrangement to check in frequently has also been made with Clint Barton.

Edited 2017-01-13 17:44 (UTC)

[Pierce was not interested in having anyone concerned for his injuries, and he was well used to the Soldier's reporting style by now. If anything, this finally felt a little normal, though the scent that wafted from the other man was still so potent that he could have gagged. It was why he made the Soldier sit at a bit of a distance, and it annoyed him greatly that so little thought was given to personal hygiene here.]

You will continue with that arrangement with both, checking in and offering information that you have me captured and contained. [He wiped at his face, pulling out a shard of glass and turning it so that he could investigate the gash on his cheek. It would require sutures.]

When was the last time you bathed, ate, slept and changed your clothing?

[He committed the lie to his memory, but he doesn't make further acknowledgement of the order. It was given and so it will be obeyed, nothing more needs to be said.

He is silent for a moment to think. But his handler only said 'the last time' not 'how frequently', so that is easier to answer.]

Bathed, two months and four days ago. Slept, seventy nine hours ago for three hours. Ate, four hours ago. Changed clothing, two months and four days ago.

[He would believe all of that, not that the Soldier was capable of lying, but the smell... that would be the first order of business, even if he would need more details about everyone the Soldier had been in contact with. There were basics that were necessary first, and then they could consider the spiderweb of information that he had no doubt the Soldier had tucked away.]

Are there any locations that provide clean warm water in this town? If so, where? [He slid off his pack of supplies and began to rifle through them, looking for medical supplies and finding only a bit of gauze to press to his face.]

Lay out all your weapons on that table top beside you. And are you injured at all?

The nearest location is the aquarium. There is also a house south of the school and one inside the tunnels to the east.

[The Soldier takes to his feet once more, as the order to lay out the weapons supersedes the order to sit. He first puts down the scalpel, then draws out a blood stained long shard of glass from his sleeve and a bloody hand saw from inside his coat.

His backpack is then fetched and he calmly lays out a statuette of a choir singer, rat poison, forceps, a reflex hammer, a meat mallet, a cheese grater, a fireplace poker, a statuette of a pig rolling a barrel, a metal 18 inch ruler, a fireplace grate, a pie pan, a golf club, and a can opener.]

I have minor abrasions on my hand, no other current injuries.

Edited (Oops forgot the second question) 2017-01-13 23:37 (UTC)

Are there known dangers at or around this aquarium?

[It made no sense that there were places once more strategically placed all around the city that provided very basic but necessary needs. Food, warm water, places to revive. This felt all too much like a game, a gathering place in order to toy with the various people that were here.

Pierce was not surprised that the Soldier carried around so many weapons, and he watched each piece being laid out. His expression sharpened at the blood stained glass and the handsaw. He shook his head slightly, disappointed.]

Not maintaining your equipment or yourself? You have been taught better. Clean the blood off of those weapons after you show me your abrasions.

[Abrasions were not particularly of interest to him. The Soldier had survived far worse, but in this stage, any injury was worth investigating in case there was a chance of infection.] Where is your other arm?

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[log] cut off one head [closed]

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