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kyouyasangels_incSo she's learning Russian. So one of her...partners has been schooling her in the 'proper ways of the Russian'-- so what? It's still cold as hell, in the heart of the matter let alone the weather, and the only great thing they've got going for them in this area is the vodka.
And even that's starting to run out. Grease, grit, car parts scalped out in her bare hands? Fine. Running, fighting for her life, coding messages? That's what she signed up for.
"I did not sign up for camping," Gaby mutters to herself, goggle covered browns taking in the scene, the expanse of white that surrounds her, nearly blinds her.
It isn't camping so much as....rugged wild backpacking this time. Now, yes, maybe she'd gotten a little caught up in the riches and class and luxury of a spy's life but this is a rude wake up call.
If she could just get to the village she's supposed to find, then all would be well and her nose and toes and everything inbetween can warm up.
Up ahead, she spots the bumbling form of a man easily cutting through the snow.
"Ah, excuse me!" Gaby calls in her cobbled together Russian. "Can you help me get to the next village? I believe I might be lost." Funny enough, she won't have to play too hard at being the lost tourist this time around.
(No harder than with their target in the coming mission)
beautiful fuckin title
16/9/15 22:34 (UTC)Bucky sighs, pauses to turn, and spots what looks like a woman walking to him - though it’s hard to tell in the blinding whiteness of the snow blanketing everything around them and her winter gear. Huh. What interest would someone like her have in tracking down an isolated village in Mother Russia? Hasn’t anyone learned that surviving this kind of winter isn’t a promise?
Well, she’ll learn soon enough - he certainly did. It explains the mix-up of the words unfamiliar to her tongue too.
So Bucky can’t be too bothered, the assassin squinting to take in more of this other person heading in the same general direction that he is. He pulls the mask covering half his face down to gruffly shout back,
“Guess I can take a detour, but you better keep up.”
He has his own mission to focus on, one of many that keeps him occupied. Still he remains on his guard, hand comfortably settling on his sidearm nestled in thigh holster beneath an inconspicuous overcoat. Threats come in all shapes and sizes. Not today, Satan. Not today.
takes a bow
17/9/15 03:32 (UTC)This whole snow thing....Iron is certainly cold but this is worse. Down to the bones.
She works out his tone along with his words, and doesn't have a problem with it. Gaby will have to catch up if she wants to see his face, anyway, so she hurries a bit more.
"It'll be you who has to worry about keeping up at this rate. What are you doing out here, regardless? There isn't much wild game around." She knew that all too well...her provisions, she's much too grateful for.
Re: takes a bow
17/9/15 04:52 (UTC)She’s clever with a joke, at least. Game...that’s certainly a way to describe his life as the Winter Soldier, the USSR’s most valuable asset. Also an apt way to refer to his prey. He casts her a quick glance.
“I’m enjoying the scenic route,” he huffs.
You know, making my way to kill some poor, unfortunate motherfuckers' souls, like I do, is certainly something he has to struggle not to say. Too much of a chance she’s someone sent by S.H.I.E.L.D. to take him out just yet.
“Anyway, shouldn’t I ask the same of you? Especially with such little preparation for getting lost here, from what I can tell. Not much to see as a tourist.”
(no subject)
17/9/15 06:16 (UTC)But she's also got to remember the mission. Something in between, perhaps?
"The scenic route, aka your wife expects you to do your chores and you refused? That's what it sounds like," Gaby breezes along, tone light as air, as light as the pleased-with-herself expression on her face.
Though he's right, she wasn't prepared for how hard it'd be to walk on this snow. Thank goodness for these boots, but still, every once in awhile she'll stumble just a tad, get a clod of snow stuck to the ridges on the bottom of each shoe.
"As for me-- and thank you for asking-- I'm expected in the village. I am to interview a budding socialist and show the world the superiority of mother Russia."
(no subject)
17/9/15 08:10 (UTC)“Cute. But wives aren’t exactly advised for me.”
He trips and stumbles a little over a tree root not buried quite deep enough in the snow, and a “shit!”--in English--comes out of nowhere. It’s happened before, with all the languages he’s been forced to learn the wires get crossed sometimes, even though whenever he has to resort to English it feels easier than the others, somehow.
He just hopes she didn’t notice, though the next time she stumbles his fingers grab her elbow then just as quickly drop away, purely a reflex action. The Winter Soldier was fucking sick of winter already.
Still he can’t resist a snort. That kinda talk sounds familiar. Brainwashing indeed.
“Can’t show the world if you freeze to death so be glad you ran into me,” that good ol cocky tone colors his words. “They-- we-- have more potential than competency here in wonderful mother Russia.” Then he looks ahead.
“It’s just a few meters away.”
(no subject)
17/9/15 08:51 (UTC)"Competency? I believe you must mean gullible." Don't think she didn't catch the slip in his words, either. So he might be a local and just takes work elsewhere in the world. A long lost son.
"I was doing just fine aside from getting turned around. I would have made it by dark, thank you very much." A sniff and a huff, she starts to move faster towards his directions, glad for the close proximity.
See? She was doing better than she'd thought.
(no subject)
17/9/15 21:44 (UTC)"If we're so gullible, do you truly believe we're superior?"
Is this really the time and place for that,
Professor OakBucky? He just knew she wasn't buying into all the crap she'd said, though, so it warms his heart to know his intuition's still as keen as ever. He moves on quickly, hurries his pace as lights finally show through the foggy, dusty winds."Anyway, don't flatter yourself. You don't know how fast night falls up here. Something tells me you woulda been freezing your ass off all night. I'm sure you're competent, but it's how this is up here - mother Russia isn't great about forgiveness from the cold."
The wind dies down long enough for him to get some air to the rest of his face as he tugs the mask down.
"How did a villager in such a remote place earn the interest of someone very obviously not from here?"
(Takes one to unknowingly know one, eh?)
(no subject)
18/9/15 03:22 (UTC)"You don't know a thing about me other than how I appear. Something you Russians do a lot of, naturally. But I don't blame you, I'll blame good ol' mother Russian for your schooling."
She hurries along even more, panting breaths issue steam into the open air above her head and now even her ears are chilled right to the bone.
"If I told you that it wouldn't be a story now, would it? And what issue gains the attention of a lumberjack like yourself? Surely they have strong men in the village."
Up ahead, up above in stunning gray she can already spot the plumes of smoke from warm little houses.
(no subject)
18/9/15 04:20 (UTC)Finally his hand relaxes off his sidearm, only because nearing the village he doesn't want to draw attention for looking suspicious. Coming in with her is probably a good decision-- others can assume the usual, man and wife or unmarried sinners or brother and sister...whatever. So long as that's all they assumed.
Then they'd be off to their separate tasks and never see each other again, probably. That's how the world works, especially Bucky's world. Or they would see each other all the time, if she's working for somebody at odds with Hydra. (Who isn't, he thinks wryly.)
Bucky coughs. Lumberjack? What the fuck? Does he really look like one? Well, that's a plus-- again, rouse as little suspicion as possible, that's the goal. Keep the target in mind and close sight, do your job, and be done with it. Easy tenets for an assassin to follow, and that's something the Winter Soldier does exceedingly well.
"Wood shortage in my village."
He offers a quick smirk then tucks it back away just as fast.
(no subject)
18/9/15 08:08 (UTC)No, no, there is quite a bit of suspicion. Just about how much bullshit involved, not so much him being up to something.
Wood shortage about does it.
"Are the trees around here not bountiful? Your government must be transferring many men if that's the case."
To add to the suspicion, there's no ax in sight. And the people don't particularly look as though they're welcoming a long lost son: shutters close as soon as they walk into town, and people seem to shuffle away a little bit faster.
(no subject)
18/9/15 18:15 (UTC)“Thanks, sweetcheeks, your gratitude’s much appreciated. This hunter's got a little heart left.”
He glances around at all the hostility surrounding them. Yeah, he could’ve warned her, but that isn’t part of the plan. And why would he go out of his way to rouse even more suspicion from the tiny brunette?
“The trees here aren’t considered...loyal enough so I was sent to cut ‘em down. Mother Russia and her loyalty, you know.”
With all luck (which he doesn’t have much of, it seems) she won’t inquire further, but he won’t be surprised if she does. She’s a nosy one, all right, but at least from what he can tell she’s cute. The one plus to all this.
(no subject)
19/9/15 02:29 (UTC)As they walk along, Gaby trods a little further ahead, just a tad, and sticks a foot out.
"Loyal enough? What are you, a child? That sounds like the things they teach in your Russian schools. Someone who works for the military would be able to come up with something better too...nothing that weak."
This is said breezily and matter of factly, a no nonsense side of her showing after knowing he doesn't take her seriously: that's nothing new. But to this extent? Oh no.
(no subject)
19/9/15 05:42 (UTC)He doesn't see the dainty-in-boots foot nor could he properly catch himself on his hands when he fell because of the snow. With that, he fell face-forward into the cold, sinking among water crystals. (Ironic...)
This time he doesn't bother censoring the thought and just spouts in English (again) "what the fuck!" while spitting out clumps of snow and brushing them off his face. He glares up at her while scrambling to his feet, so caught off-guard and irritated that he could make such a fool of himself.
In this village, no less; he refuses to look up and shoot daggers at whoever might be watching. Snow still clumps to his longish hair - he's a real sight for sore eyes that need some laughter.
"Really cute." He grumbles, then slides back into Russian without batting an eye.
"So if I'm not a lumberjack, and I'm not military, what exactly do you think I am?"
(no subject)
19/9/15 08:22 (UTC)When he finally straightens, despite the suspicion, mirth dances in her eyes.
"A little boy who is trying too hard. A boy soldier, perhaps. Who ever really knows anymore?"
Even she doesn't know everything, spy training be damned. The inn she has booked isn't too far ahead, and she's never looked so forward to a hot bath in her life. Not until she's gotten to know snow down to the barest asscheek.
"They certainly seem happy to see you."
(no subject)
20/9/15 08:16 (UTC)"Yeah, who really knows?"
His tone lacks any expression. Touched nerve, maybe, but also his ears pick up on the snap of a twig--yes, a twig, maybe from one of the bountiful trees surrounding the village. He grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her into the gap between two houses, shooting a gaze over his shoulder.
She's right about nobody exactly liking his presence, but he wants to save her from finding out just how much so. Not that he's going out of his way for her, keeping your enemies closer or whatever. If she is, in fact, an enemy.
"Shut up unless you want to get even more attention drawn. At least while I'm escorting you on your little mission. Little girl."
He ends with a scowl and another glance over his shoulder to see, in horror but not unexpectedly, an approaching figure. Shit shit shit... This little adventure could get very interesting in the next few minutes.
(no subject)
21/9/15 02:41 (UTC)But when he doesn't press her back into brick and mortar, when a knife between the ribs doesn't follow, Gaby inhales. Brown eyes flicker over his shoulder as well, and then she draws his face towards her own with fingers cupping his chin.
"You're certainly making yourself obvious, lumber jack trainee. Try to be a little less suspicious and pretend I am your mission."
As if she needs his help....again. With fingers that don't hesitate, she draws closer to him, chest flush against chest.
(no subject)
22/9/15 07:16 (UTC)He curls his left arm around her shoulders, silver glinting with the white snow as backdrop and contrasting with the dark overcoat.
“If this is you coming onto me, you should know I got a lotta baggage,” he leans down to press his mouth against her ear. Then his tone grows flatter, deadpan. “Haven’t you heard of confirming your target? ”
And how long has it been since the soldier's been against someone like this (a.k.a. not in combat)? It felt almost alien to him after so long without.
He moves forward, keeping the proximity but moving enough to hopefully look up to something instead of trying to track down the target before the target tracks him down.
She's really fucked up his plans, whether she knows it or not. But, it's not like she's been the one drawing the attention.
(no subject)
22/9/15 07:55 (UTC)But noooo, this shit had to occur. Had to drag her in.
Warmth, both pleasant and an uncomfortable churning in her belly that rushes to her toes, wells up from the buzz of his voice in her ear, and her hands lay across his chest, press him against the opposite wall with her (teeny) weight.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've got taste when it comes to my men. I like them strong like my vodka."
Something perks within her, fighting instinct, perhaps, her training-- whatever it is, brown eyes narrow.
"Haven't you heard of not blowing your cover. If you take them out now the entire village will hear it. They're all watching, fool."
(no subject)
23/9/15 00:39 (UTC)Strong, huh? Bucky takes ahold of a dainty wrist, fingers gripping hard, and twists her arm behind her back--not to the point of pain, but enough to press her forward more. He keeps his grip on her upper arm with his other hand. He can give a convincing show--maybe. Usually he isn't this out in the open and more in the shadows.
"You're in luck there; Russia has a lot of both," his voice remains low and dry, though when he next speaks it holds the tiniest hint of a smirk, "but some much more than others."
Then another scowl.
"Usually I don't have company blowing it for me."
(no subject)
23/9/15 03:36 (UTC)Gaby's more surprised than anything, more pissed than anything else. It isn't a painful grip he's got on her, but being manhandled is not so pleasant. No shit. She leans forward until her lips are scant inches from his own, until his breath is hot against her mouth.
"In muscles, yes, you may be right. But most crumble under the bottle...I wonder if you're the same way."
Her scowl is just as hardened, even as she refuses to let him see past her. If only their uninvited guest would fuck off instead of this tarrying.
"You were doing a bang up job of ruining it yourself by jumping in. Like a spooked rabbit."
(no subject)
23/9/15 06:50 (UTC)"I doubt you could outlast me. I dare you to find out."
Bucky isn't sure if the footsteps he hears are drawing closer or farther away; either way it feels like a rock in his stomach. What if that's his target? She's keeping him from being able to tail them but he's also intrigued by her choice of actions.
She must have plenty of experience with this--probably pales in comparison to Bucky Barnes, but not altogether impossible. She certainly makes a good partner, much to his reluctance to admit.
"I'da detoured if you hadn't come along. Little lost lamb in the cold."
(no subject)
23/9/15 08:16 (UTC)"I don't need to dare. I can see right through you, soldier boy."
Its as obvious as the stringy hair on his head, the slip of mission or not, keywords or not. At least he's a good matter of muscle, in case this person who is clearly watching too much and has very few hobbies, decides to look a little too closely.
"Woof woof, Mr. Wolf," Gaby murmurs as she leans in to bite hard at his bottom lip, pushing the full brunt of her weight into him.
(no subject)
23/9/15 17:43 (UTC)Her back hits the wall this time and he holds her wrists up against the hard surface, nosing at her nose, lips barely brushing. He knows his back is exposed but all he hears is their breaths, curling into the freezing air around them in puffs.
“Get those pretty eyes checked, then,” his voice is a low rumble, “or else you’ll lose this game.”
He shifts his body against hers, repaying the favor and his teeth pull at the delicate skin of her neck, right over her carotid artery.
The sounds of a window opening and a door closing reach them and fingers tighten around her wrists. He feels too closely watched, even with the distraction her body’s warm pressure is providing.
(no subject)
24/9/15 03:30 (UTC)Her voice lowers until it reaches a soft rumble, like an engine that's trying to decide whether to idle or shoot off. This is her skill, her specialty, like the grease in the creases of her palms; Gaby tilts her chin to give him more room--
at the same instance she brings her knee up into Bucky's stomach. She uses the surprise, the whoosh of air from his lungs to pull away and wave at the old woman who gives them the stink eye from out her window above.
"Ah, sorry about that, madam! My husband gets a little wild in this part of the country...you understand, yes?"
Hands tucked behind her back in the semblance of innocence, she shoots a grin at him.
(no subject)
24/9/15 04:34 (UTC)Finding his breath again takes some time, takes some painful wheezing but he straightens faster than if he'd not had all those lovely enhancements.
"Yeah, pardon us," Bucky hoarsely croaks before hurling himself forward to grab her upper arm, tight all over again.
"There's no villager to interview, is there?" He growls into her ear as he starts to drag them away.
He won't be making the same mistake twice.
(no subject)
24/9/15 07:03 (UTC)"And you're no lumberjack-- lo and behold! At least I was doing a much better job at not blowing my cover. Unlike some people. Now it'd behoove you to let go of me before you regret it."
That's when she really does let him have it, with a boot to the back of one of his knees, the arch of her foot straight on till morning.
"You're too much of a brute to be a friendly woodsman."
(no subject)
25/9/15 05:06 (UTC)From his chilly vantage point on the ground he eyes her ankle and with his metal hand and the extensive force within it, he grabs her and pulls, so hard that she's no choice but to end up joining him on the ground. Maybe they can make snow angels together, wouldn't that be just precious?
Regaining his footing quickly, he swiftly pulls out the blade at his waist, fingers fitting around the handle perfectly as he kneels over her and presses the tip just under her chin. His metal fingers squeeze her upper arm, it and the knife certainly threatening.
He's gotta admit, Hydra surprised him on this one with this woman. Why hadn't they told him? Another test of his skill, maybe? They always make adjustments and calibrations, tweaking every little aspect when he goes into the room. Surely this is just another way of testing that. The assassin formerly known as Bucky, now a constant test subject, number 748, code name: the Winter Soldier.
"Might wanna take things a little slower next time," he huffs over her, squeezing fingertips slightly more, "don't want em to think you're easy."
A shark-like grin pulls at his lips, revealing those pearly-whites.
"No, doll. Afraid my job description doesn't include chopping down trees and being friendly to Gretel here."
(no subject)
25/9/15 09:33 (UTC)Defiance burns like a beacon in her gaze, and Gaby, too, offers something akin to a grin: except its a snarl, of lips curled over pearly whites that can still render flesh apart.
"As easy as you are? No, we wouldn't want that, soldier boy. If you don't want to be feeling very sorry for yourself in a few moments I suggest you unhand a lady."
She's frightened. She's absolutely frightened, her nostrils flare with every inhale that jars sharply into the bottom of her lungs, frightened of this soldier and just what he can do, so far away from them.
But she won't go down without a fight.
damn I need more winter soulja icons
25/9/15 18:10 (UTC)Lips go from baring fangs to a tug of a smirk at the corner. Alright, so first mistake out of stasis: this is off-limits, any semblance of this--a faulty programming error he’s sure They will fix soon enough. The former life of past-pimpin’-dude Bucky Barnes peeks through at the most inconvenient times. But damn if she isn’t cute, yet deadly. A good combination.
He digs the point in a little harder, not even close enough to break the skin but still a threat. He lowers his voice, leans down again with every muscle and bone in his face hard, sharpened, honed in on the very real possibility of a vicious fight.
“Mmm...feeling sorry for myself isn’t part of the deal. Not real good at it, you see.”
Another drop in the volume of his voice.
“What are you really doing here?”
beams
26/9/15 02:19 (UTC)It's obvious tremors of fear as well as cold have taken over her body, racking up and down her arms and legs, but she grits her teeth and ignores it.
"It should be, you're going to be going through that a lot in this life. And what I'm doing here isn't any of your business. I don't have any appointments, so I can do this all day. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be late for your job..."
(no subject)
27/9/15 05:19 (UTC)Finally Bucky slips the knife back into slim leather sheath and hauls her up, still just by the one arm. He's not letting his guard down again by far, but this is too risky. Too messy, already. Fuck! He's let himself really slip up this time.
"Maybe you can teach me how it's done, then," he practically spits as he drags her back toward town.
"Don't worry about my job - you're coming with me to it, anyway. My little lumberjack apprentice."
(no subject)
27/9/15 07:10 (UTC)Now Gaby is, without a reasonable doubt, convinced he's a trained killer. Maybe like Illya, but very much...not. Doesn't have his warmth hidden behind the haunted eyes--
(though there is something there, and if she can exploit that...)
"I charge for my lessons. So I'd much rather you waive that and let me go instead. You wouldn't want your guest to be overwhelmed by a surprise arrival."
The little 'nickname' at least makes Gaby wrinkle her nose.
(no subject)
28/9/15 04:39 (UTC)“Oh, I couldn’t pass up a lesson from Miss Subtle here. Do I just bite someone’s lip and get my way?” He snarls, vicious and yet still somehow full of some shit.
“What would make you say that? There’s much to be overwhelmed when it comes to him,” he grins, borderline dark and twisted. “And I think you’re just the one to help me. Call it...a sharp eye for skills.”
He’s not about to let this new, dangerous enemy out of his sight. Not when she’s much more than she looks.
(no subject)
28/9/15 06:59 (UTC)"Seeing as I won't get paid for it, I'd rather not if its all the same to you. Unhand me, or you might not have both of these hands in a moment."
Panic? Check. Unbridled anger coupled with horror that she's once again "captured?" Oh hell yes. But her bottom lip sets in a stubborn line. Probably trouble on the horizon. In three...
Two...
And up comes a snow boot to Bucky's crotch.
(no subject)
29/9/15 03:57 (UTC)"Bitch!" he spouts, then the equivalent in Russian, stomach in his throat and pain shooting through him. He doubles over but grits his teeth and struggles to straighten, hand going toward the other weapon strapped around one thunder thigh. His vision is slowly returning but instincts have kicked in and he's running on pure adrenaline.
"This again, hm? You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
He pants, hair sticking to his face and mouth. Stubble lines his jaw, which is still all clenched, bared teeth again. He's tired of the games, tired of holding back and giving her the opportunity to play the sweet little girl role.
Instead of turning to the gun, he grips her neck with his metal hand, fingers digging in on the sides as not to crush her windpipe (not unless he has to). He pushes his body hard against hers and tightens the grip a little.
"Neither do I."
(no subject)
29/9/15 06:40 (UTC)"Go fuck yourself. I'll never quit. That's the difference between us and you."
Fingers reach out for something to latch to, fumble through the many layers to dig nails into his skin, one hand fumbles towards his face, gets caught in shaggy hair, tugs hard.
(no subject)
29/9/15 22:28 (UTC)"Just who the fuck are you with?" He snarls before grabbing her with his free hand; fingers close around her wrist again, squeeze like the ones around her neck, and twist to force her grip free.
No; she's most likely with some covert group unrelated to SHIELD completely. Just another enemy of Mother Russia and Hydra. Those are neverending, and as such, neverendingly hunted especially by Bucky. He curls his ankle around hers, foot ready to pull and maneuver her around for a face full of snow this time.
"Somebody unimportant, apparently, to send the likes of you."
(no subject)
30/9/15 04:27 (UTC)(she knows that much)
She doesn't know what he thinks, doesn't care as long as he never thinks to dispose of her for whatever he thinks--
"If you keep manhandling me you'll never find out. The importance of my task doesn't involve you, so there's no reason to inform you and blow both our covers with your sloppy tactician."
Gaby proclaims this with bared teeth and more confidence than she feels. It's a good thing her other foot is free, which she uses to stamp on his knee where she is.
(no subject)
30/9/15 09:00 (UTC)He tries to lunge forward and ends up barely tearing through her jacket with a loud rip.
"Not manhandling you didn't work so well earlier when you got cheeky."
His stomach is still sore - along with everything else. Nothing like a good fight to get warmed up for what he should've done in the first place: ditch the girl, finish his mission, then get the fuck back to his superiors.
What the fuck is happening?
(no subject)
1/10/15 02:39 (UTC)"Maybe if you used your manners instead of being bullheaded you'd get better results. I thought you Russians had learned by now."
Apparently not. Unsurprisingly. Just keep him talking, Gaby.
too lazy to italics ;)
4/10/15 02:52 (UTC)He's a constant test subject, and knowing he's flawed... all of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Which he's pretty sure wasn't the plan.
"[Yes, I forgot how far my manners got me last time. I thought it'd treated you so right, too.]"
Cocky smirks are his specialty, even though his eyes are hard as diamonds.
He steps closer, eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out the type of accent underlies her Russian. Not American - that's familiar to him somehow - but something else.
If he only could place it, he'd be able to identify the possible agencies she's with.
(no subject)
4/10/15 05:38 (UTC)She can concede that much. Brown eyes never leave the slick motions of his knife, as if the metal slithers between his fingers and through the air itself, like it can hardly touch it.
Gaby doesn't want to be in the middle of that.
So she opens her mouth:
"Ah? No, ma'am, this man isn't robbing me! He's a street performer. Come and see for yourself."
The oldest, lamest trick in the book, accompanied by a pointed finger behind his shoulder. That's the moment she takes to pivot on her foot back the other way.