ARMS locker hahahha get it

[sillaged]

Bucky wakes from a particularly restful sleep, a rare but welcome deep slumber. He thinks nothing is out of the ordinary (well, doesn’t think much about anything--it’s impossible until a shower) as he stumbles out of bed to shuffle to the bathroom. He doesn’t stop to check on the cybernetic arm he’d left resting on his dresser before going to sleep, because why would he need to? It’s not like it’s going anywhere, right?

He drops trou and switches on the shower, and finally after a long, blissful moment with the hot water, after which he feels remotely human again, he steps out and lazily towels off. Water beads over his skin on the parts he missed but he doesn’t bother to care as he slings the towel over his shoulder and makes his way back into the bedroom.

He goes about his business, pulling clothes out and tossing them onto the bed, before something catches his eye. Or rather, the absence of something--the absence of shiny silver glinting in the light cutting through the gap in the curtains.

“What the fuck.”

He pulls the towel down and loosely tucks it around his waist before retrieving a knife from under the piles of underwear in his top drawer. If it’s them, somebody to finish the job, he’s prepared (except the scant clothing - that could make for an awkward sitch, but one he’s not thinking about). He makes his way slowly over to his closet, peering in. Nothing. So, there’s one thing left to do: go out into the apartment and hunt down his limb. Maybe he just placed it elsewhere, though he knew that wasn’t possible.

Not today, Satan. Not today.

Comments

[peacocklocked]

The funny thing about theft victims is they never tend to look up at the big picture upon the discovery of their missing item. Not that Lupin can blame them: being robbed has got to be terrible, or something. Can't say he's been there recently (besides his heart or something corny).

Basically, if Bucky had looked up, he would have easily seen the smirking, lanky thief sticking to his ceiling via suction cups. Imagine that.

Lupin, for his part, isn't very impressed by the sight seeing either. This guy has no taste in decor, his hobbies are pretty boring (training all day, going out and wandering, researching), and then there's the incredibly tiny towels. If he didn't already know this guy was some secret agent cyborg type, he'd peg him for a Topper Bottoms, Skipper of the Uss Rough Service fitness fanatic.

Speaking of that arm, the master thief just can't wait to get this baby home, see what parts he can take without his buyer knowing, and sell it for a pretty penny. For now, while he silently drops down to the floor and listens to his angry target, it'll stay strapped to his back while he gets out of here.

Shouldn't be too hard. A great thief always has at least 4 exits.

fart

[sillaged]

Bucky frowns. Something’s not right, besides the missing arm and Satan’s presence. He turns the opposite direction, narrowly missing the thief, and wanders into the kitchen. The hairs are raised on the back of his neck, his muscles tense as he makes his way there. The tile’s cold beneath his feet but he barely feels it (then again, he’s pretty used to the cold, after all) as he flips on the light switch.

He holds the knife tightly and stays to the side as he throws open the door to the pantry. Nobody’s there, and there’s no arm. He turns his gaze to the oven and fridge. He flips on the oven light and then checks the fridge, both to no avail. (It may seem ridiculous but he’s seen Some Things, and very few things can surprise him at this point.)

He glances at his microwave (unsurprisingly his favorite, most-used kitchen appliance), a look that turns into a staredown as he tries to decide whether it’s too impossible to not check. And if he’s learned anything it’s that nothing is impossible for anyone, so he throws open the door to it with a brandish to find nada.

As usual.

He sighs and leans on the counter (and how exactly is that towel even staying on?), twirling his knife between two fingers. Bizarre shit, and he isn’t buying the idea of his sleepwalking as the culprit.

“Okay, you sonuva bitch,” Bucky growls, walking back out to the living room, eyes sweeping around.

This is getting really goddamn annoying. He knew he should’ve gotten a homing device on the arm. Too bad he doesn’t have a raging clue to point him in the right direction...

toot!!

[peacocklocked]

He listens to his target rustle around in the kitchen, throwing open drawers and even the fridge, and scoffs softly from his vantage point across Bucky's couch. Quite inconspicuous. The cushions are lumpy under his back, but have plenty of give as he lies in wait for his target's next move.

With the next move will come his next slide for the door. Lupin expected the man to know something's up quickly, but he didn't expect a peek in the pantry-- is he after underwear gnomes or something? He's feeling cocky, powerful, with the weight of the arm against the dip of his spine.

Which is exactly why he freezes, doesn't breathe when Bucky storms back in and he scans for him with those non cyborg possibly eyes. You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

When he can't take it anymore and has to exhale, the couch exhales with him.

Well shit.

Re: toot!!

[sillaged]

Despite the appearances, Bucky is much more like a cat than a raccoon, and his ears perk at the smallest of sounds in the room (besides the drip-drip-drip of his showerly reminder). But why would it be under the couch? Had he been that drunk the night before? He very clearly remembers setting it on the dresser, though…so that must mean somebody’s…

Bucky pads over to the sofa and creeps around to the back of it, looking at the fabric closely to check any bodily impressions* but sees none, so. He drops to all four--er, threes--grabs the fabric at the bottom and, with bated breath and high hopes, yanks it up to see--

--not a goddamn thing.

He stands and leans back on the back of the sofa, sighing as had his unknown companion. Thinking about his irritation level at the missing limb throbbed at the inside of his head until he growled in frustration and plunged the knife into the back of the sofa (non-lethally ofc), adding yet another hole to it.

Where the hell could it be?


*(I thought of this and I can’t stop laughing help https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUDhIIkLo20)

[peacocklocked]

Of course he heard that, of fucking course he did. Must be the military training beneath that obsessive body builder physique. Lupin bites back a groan of annoyance, but he does internally curse himself for something so stupid.

From his vantage point, flattened against the glass pane of the window, beneath curtains. Now, the lay person of no thief value might say "that's a really damn stupid hiding place, what are you, five" but a master truly knows how to work it. He's as still as a statue aside from his fingers, which reach with precision for the latch.

The sound of Lupin's heart jumps in his ears at the sound of fabric and cushion ripping beneath the edge of a knife, but that isn't enough to jostle him.