_ _ _
Sleeping in a tiny twin bed is always a problem for Tesla. The girl cannot even be still in her sleep. However, tonight she isn't tossing and turning in her sleep. She can't help but think of her father and the story her mother told her.
Tesla blinks, staring out the little sliver between the blinds on her window. The midnight sky is peaceful in the early hours of Thanksgiving Thursday, but Tesla's mind is not. Tesla turns to her side, looking away from the window. The closet is open, revealing a stack of cardboard moving boxes full of Tesla's old school things. Tesla pauses for a moment, then rises from the warmth of her bed. She finds her sweater on the floor and shrugs it over her shoulders. Tesla hurries across the ranch-style home to the empty "office room" full of storage. Tesla shuts the door behind her and turns on the light. There truly aren't many boxes in the room. Mostly older things Elsa wanted Tesla to take with her in her new home—family heirlooms. However, there are numerous small boxes stacked in the closet with its sliding doors wide open.
Tesla walks over to the boxes, finding the one that was labeled #8—1917, J.B.B. She lifts the box out of the large stack. It wasn't too heavy, but it wasn't easy to lift eight of them at a time. She sets the cardboard on the floor and sits down. Tesla runs her fingers over the worn out marker. The writing was blocky and breezy, not anything like her own—which matched her mother's very well. This had to be
"Dad's," she whispers.
Tesla fumbles to open the box, her mind suddenly racing. These boxes were probably some of the last things he was working on. Tesla inhales sharply, removing the lid. Whatever she thought she would find opening the box did not live up to her anticipation. Yellowing pages of information were piled in the box. There was a post-it note with the same handwriting on it.
For Watchers, Sorcerers, and my very own Traveler: proceed with care.
"My very own Traveler?" she mumbles in confusion. Tesle sighs heavily and removes the post it note from on top of the manilla folder at the top of the box. With a slightly hesitant hand, she opens the folder. The first page of the stack held together with a paperclip says:
N. 8
C L A S S I F I E D F I L E
File Number: 00008A
SubA: 00008B
> in mirror realm
Date of Birth: March 10, 1917 (DoB)
Date of Death: December 16th, 1991 (DoD)
Tesla's eyes scan the page until they have read everything multiple times. There isn't much on the page, but there's a date:
First Date: March 20th, 1948 (FD)
Location: Skalica, Slovakia
Description: on a classified mission to Skalica to locate the laboratory. After a hostile meeting, he was driven out by the Watcher and the Traveler.
Last Date: December 16th, 1991 (LD)
Location: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Description: en-route to follow the Starks and the White Lynx. Apprehension ensued. Killing of Howard Stark and Maria Stark, injury of Catherine Webster. Drove off with super soldier-like serum.
Chosen Name: The Winter Soldier
Tesla frowns to herself, flipping over to the next page. A large eight by eleven photo is shown. It is a man, young and dark looking. The photo is grainy, but there was clearly something about this man that was important. The photo of him gave her shivers. Tesla flips the photo away and goes to the next page.
Given Name: James Buchanan Barnes
Aliases: Bucky
Appearance:
hair: black
eyes: blue
height: 1.83 m
weight: 77.999 kg
other markings: metal arm
What catches Tesla's eye is the birthday; 1917...she flips back to the photo, which is detailed, December 1991. Tesla's eyes widen. Was this man immortal? This is what her father was researching before he died? A man that looked young and healthy when he should be aged? Curiosity takes the better of Tesla. She decides to continue reading about the man, wondering what more her father discovered before he passed away. Maybe she can finish what he started.