CRUEL INTENTIONS, bucky barnes

twenty

May 12, 2016

Bucharest, Romania

"What authority does an Enhanced individual like Wanda—"

Bucky ducked out of the café the moment he stepped foot inside. He couldn't stand hearing the news, hearing the way the world was talking about the Avengers. Talking about Steve and his friends.

Reckless, out of control, shameful, disrespectful.

As far as Bucky knew, half of those things were true. He had to wonder if half of everything on the news was the truth. He found it hard to doubt. There were no further details about the Lagos incident aside from the sentence that had been repeating on a loop for weeks since the incident went down: "a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries."

It had to be them. Steve was still on their tail, looking for Brock Rumlow, looking for leads, and looking for him.

Bucky couldn't think of anything else that made sense. From the limited knowledge he had of the situation, it seemed as though the whole team hadn't been engaged in Nigeria. It was the same core trio he'd seen in Geneva—Steve, Sam, and Natasha. And now, apparently, a new Enhanced named Wanda Maximoff.

According to the news, she was the one who had compromised the mission and killed eleven Wakandans. Part of Bucky wanted to be just as angry as them. Something deep inside him even wanted to kill her for what she'd done. Not for disturbing the peace, not for killing Wakandans. No. He didn't care about any of that.

The Nigeria incident with Steve and his team had stirred up new trouble for Bucky, even as far removed as he was. Old newsreels were being circulated again, footage of the helicarriers falling from the sky, of Sokovia crashing back to Earth. With all that seemed to come new eyes on Bucky. He didn't doubt that rumors of the Winter Soldier had started circulate, too, especially if the media was throwing around the term "mercenary group."

Dark alleys seemed darker, rooftops were points of paranoia again, and earlier that day he'd violently collided with a man who didn't do anything but stare at him as they parted ways. He couldn't help but feel like it was starting again. The fear. The chase. The running that never seemed to stop.

He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop thinking about how long it would take them to figure out where he was staying. As he walked the open street, Bucky wondered who they were this time.

HYDRA? Savannah? The Avengers? Steve? The US government? Or some other entity entirely?

Stop. Not now. Don't lose it right now.

There was a fruit stand just ahead of him. He set his eyes on that, letting the anxiety leave his mind for a moment. The fact that he was able to put so many things together in coherent thoughts was a good sign. Maybe it meant that the "memory foods" and meditation were working.

Pull out your wallet. Make small talk about the ripe fruit. Act like a normal, amiable human. Walk away with your purchase.

Bucky took a deep breath and turned back to the street. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the reflex to run lurched in the pit of his stomach. One of many that he hadn't quite kicked. An ambulance passed him, then a cop car, without slowing down. He let out his breath.

It's fine. Just get home. It's—

A man across the street was staring at him. He looked from the newspaper in his hand to Bucky and then back again. In a moment, he was gone, running out of his newsstand with a cell phone pressed to his ear.

Bucky's heart raced. He crossed the street, trying to keep his breathing even.

A misunderstanding. Everyone's jumpy because of these Accords, because of the Avengers and Nigeria. The police will tell him not to worry. He'll realize he's being—

He picked up the newspaper with a trembling hand, his brow furrowed deeply. A wave of horror washed over him, started drowning him.

The Winter Soldier. UN bombing.

It's a grainy picture. It could be anyone. It's not me. I know it's not me, but no one else...

More sirens.

Bucky felt like he was being torn in half. He knew he needed to run, leave right then and never look back. They'd never stop looking for him, not now.

He knew it had to be Savannah, or HYDRA, or whatever was left of her scheme. And still, all he wanted was to shut down. Give up. Throw himself into the street and scream until someone took him away if it meant he didn't have to face her again.

Instead, he ran. Or, rather, took off at a brisk pace down the street, through the quietest way he knew back to his apartment. All he could do was keep his head down and hope they weren't already there waiting for him.