For One More Day ━━ Bucky Barnes

[ 002 ] Dissolution

Since returning home—from the military, yes, but also from the six months of being institutionalized—Florence had no job. The military had granted her unemployment, so she was now left to drift aimlessly through her days, most of which were spent either with Yori or alone.

Swallowing, Florence drew her shoulder-length black hair into her usual tight bun—just another sense of normalcy and routine, something to keep her grounded. To keep her from sinking into the pit of her grief. To distract.

So simple, yet so grounding.

She blinked rapidly and left her apartment, closing the door behind her. Then, when Florence was sure no one was looking, she stretched out her hand, took a deep breath—and sank her hand through the door, letting her arm drift through the solid matter and reach sideways to lock the door.

Florence never used her keys anymore. This, no matter how much of a self-proclaimed curse it was, proved to be far easier.

Once she was sure the door was locked, Florence let her arm drift back together, the particles of matter returning to their original form and sinking out of the surface of the door.

Reflexively, she turned around just in case she was being watched, but no one was there. Florence shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and speed-walked down the hallway to the staircase, where she jumped down two at a time and stopped in front of her apartment building. It was early in the morning by her standards, but the city was already bustling with life, so Florence started down the quiet way to the library.

She walked slowly, eyes down and shoulders hunched. The alley where she'd seen Yori and Unique fighting was just up ahead, but this time, it was empty—so Florence ducked into it and leaned against the brick wall. Just as she was about to pull out a cigarette from her pocket, however, a beefy hand grabbed her bicep, and Florence looked up to see a smiling man staring down at her, his breath smelling of alcohol.

"Let go of me," she growled, jerking away, but he tightened his grip.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Florence clenched her other fist and raised her arm to punch him—but the man pulled her towards him, still smirking deviously. Florence grunted and kicked upwards with her leg, aiming for his crotch, but he dodged her strike and pinned her against the wall, moving to grab her neck—

Florence felt a surge of panic as her airway was cut off. She fought the urge to cough, knowing it would only make things worse, and reached up to grab at her attacker's sweaty hand while gasping for breath. Come on, come on. . . Florence squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for the best as the attacker grabbed her shirt.

And then she felt herself start to dissolve. A sweeping sense of relief flooded her as Florence focused the power on her neck, making the particles of matter that made up her body start to willingly fragment. A soft swishing sound almost like a soft breeze surrounded her and as the attacker's grip loosened, Florence disintegrated, letting her ashes fly out of the man's grip and reorder themselves behind him.

Now, she stood facing his back, jaw tightened and both hands clenched into fists. Florence raised her left fist as the man slowly turned around, trembling in shock—but before she could land the punch, someone else did it for her.

A strangely familiar gloved hand grabbed the man's jacket collar, and he doubled over, coughing violently as the sound of more punches landing echoed through the alleyway.

"Hey!" someone snapped, pushing Florence's attacker into the street. "Pick on someone your own size."

Florence grimaced. Great, she thought. Another playground hero.