Firefight ⍟Bucky Barnes⍟

Prologue

Prologue

On March 10th, 1917, a man was born. While he was far from a man at birth, it was a title he always held in spirit. Someone that fought for the little guy, made the ladies swoon, and always worked hard. Who lost his mother as a child and only got to hold onto his father for mere years before life ripped him away as well. A boy thrown into another home at the young age of twelve and forced to learn how to be reliant on himself. 

Another man came into the world on July 4th, 1918. Now, he was nowhere near a man for much of his life; at least, not by society's standards. While he became the head of his household at only two months old - losing his father to the war - people didn't see that. They didn't see the kid who stood up for what he believed in or helped little old ladies across the street, they saw the lanky boy who couldn't win a fight even if it was rigged. They saw a naive child who didn't know when shutting his mouth was worth more than opening it. 

And then came a woman. Born only three days shy of a year after her half-brother, their birthdays were always celebrated together. The girl never knew her father, but she never truly wanted to. Her mother had always been adamant that he had been the worst drunken grief-fueled mistake of her life and was lucky it came with a glorious outcome. She loved her mother - and her brother - with everything in her, and they were the driving force for just about everything she did. Despite the pressures and prejudice society bestowed upon her, she always tried to be a force of good, becoming a nurse like her mother was before her. 

Three different people, all torn from the same cloth, all destined for greatness. Their story was one for the ages, stemming over far more years than it should've, and spreading in many directions. For now, we'll start at the beginning. 

Their story began on September 30th, 1930. A boy learning how to be reliant on his own, just freshly adopted, came across a pair of blondes on the schoolyard. The first he saw was clearly distraught, yelling words he couldn't quite hear at three angry-looking boys. As he got closer, he realized those boys were surrounding one of their peers on the ground, kicking him while he was down. The words they were saying were far from nice, insults spilled in between orders to hand over his lunch money. He was already headed over before one of those jerks pushed that little girl to the ground. 

"Are you okay?" He'd quickly asked as he helped her up. The steel blue-eyed girl just barely nodded before trying to jump at the delinquents again, but he was quick to pull her back. Taking her place, he shouted "hey!" and proceeded to punch the closest kid in the mouth: the one that pushed her. 

One fell and the other two dropped their victim to the asphalt, turning on him. All it took was a single jolt forward to scare them off, running all the way home, hardly even taking the time to grab their partner in crime off the ground. 

"Friends of yours?" 

Wiping blood off his lip and glancing at his companion, the blonde boy shook his head and let out a defeated scoff. "Not even close." 

Picking himself up, the kid dusted himself off and passed by his savior silently. He was a scrawny boy, shorter than most. A hand that was merely skin and bones raised to the girl's arm, twisting it to showcase a bleeding scrape on her elbow. 

"Does it hurt?" He asked, voice soft as he looked from the cuts to her expression. The girl shook her head lightly, eyes darting to the older boy still standing behind her brother. While not completely distrusting, she was wary, and it was easy to see it. 

"Name's James." Trying to ease their nerves, he stuck out his hand to shake, just like he was taught. "James Buchanan Barnes. I'm new here." 

Turning from his examination, the blonde's hand still grasping the girl's arm lightly until he fully twisted around, grasping the brunette's hand as firmly as possible. "Steven. People call me Steve, though." Seeming to pause to think for a moment, his expression lit up in polite apology. "Sorry, thank you. You didn't have to do that."