Who Am I? » [Stucky]

4. The Wanderer

Dedication goes to GingerJustice12 for the first comment on the story! x

He spent an awful lot of time out in the city, just keeping quietly to himself and getting on with his small scale life; he didn't do much, he just enjoyed being out in the city. He knew the city, the city was his friend; it was indiscriminate, unjudgemental and homely. He liked breathing it in, playing a voyeur, spectating their fascinating theatrical business.

He sat on park benches, watching the hordes pass and he would contemplate how easy it must be for them to know who they were, where they were supposed to be, what they were supposed to be doing. They had ordinary things like jobs, friends, and family: a life. God knew how he wanted those things.

He twiddled with the dog tags hanging around his neck. He had begun to understand why people called them dog tags; they identified a lost dog that had gone astray, for a dog that needed to have their name or home identified. He felt like a stray dog most days. At least he had those. It gave a part of him, back to him.

James Buchanan Barnes, 107th. Brooklyn, U.S.A. Those words had been drilled into his mind like a religious mantra, so if anyone asked him, "Who are you?" he could say "James Barnes," and when they asked "What do you do for a job?" he could say "I was in the army. In the one-hundred and seventh," and if someone asked "Where do you come from?" he could say "Brooklyn." That was if some kind stranger was to talk to him; which he highly doubted. No one wanted to talk to him, no one even seemed to notice him; he was nothing but a ghost haunting the streets, an unnoticed inconspicuous face in the crowd - why would anyone take a second glance? He was insignificant.

He knew some things about himself, and that was good, that was a starting point.

Bucky would pull some of the wrinkled and crinkled monetary notes out of his tight pocket and straighten them between his fingers like a printing press before he marched into an outlet to retrieve food and sit back out again on a public bench.

Occasionally a teenager might run by and shout "tramp!" or "Beggar!" at him whilst he sat and enjoyed his lunch. But in all fairness, he could do with scrubbing up a little bit. His hair was unruly and unwashed and his face was unshaven and smeared with muck by the end of the day, he didn't care though.

But he enjoyed the days under the sun, without the responsibilities of having to serve for Hydra anymore. He had often wondered what it would have been like to be unemployed, but he could have never imaged how maddening it could be. What do you do when you have all the time in the world? It was still nice to be free.

He would take an absent minded wander to the local park each day, going to sit down on a rickety wooden bench in the park surrounded by the harmonious diverse nature. It was a place he could get fresh air and watch the wildlife, observing the day to day life of the animals as well as the people who would come and visit as if he was gazing down a microscope at some undiscovered world.

It was littered with plant life, dotted with massive towering trees with thick thatches of broad green leaves like razors and long bark boughs and gnarly twisted trunks, patches of flowers the sprung up amongst the green blades of grass who stood tall like little soldiers in green stood proud like a troop all banded together, it got thicker around the bases of the trees. There were rabbit holes dotted about the park, and occasionally the nose or the eyes of a fluffy bunny would be seen at the opening of the rabbit hole.

Birds sung their tuneful songs merrily, tweeting and squawking and flew about the park, swooping down into the glades and soaring up in the sky and butterflies would flutter about in the air skittishly, floating weightlessly on their fragile wings.

It gave him peace of mind being surrounded by such peace. It was very different from the chaos he was used to causing. He was used to catastrophic mayhem; explosions, cars flipping, gun fire. This was so much better.