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kyouyasangels_inc2014-05-08 08:42 pm
gingerfarts) wrote in kyouyasangels_inc2014-05-08 08:42 pm
Entry tags:
possibly helpful?? hostage meme
Some shit happens, one dumbfuck might need help getting outta dodge. Maybe another dumbfuck got special new led implants they want a refund for! Hopefully no one will crash their third plane in 50 years. Professionals might be rare let's be honest.
PROMPTS: (optional)
1 - MEDICAL ATTENTION.. You're bleeding, in pain and desperate, and you need medical attention. Right now. What will you do? Break into a private practice after hours? Find a darkened house or apartment with a convenient bathroom?
2 - SHELTER. The cops are after you. The temperature is dropping below -20. You're out in the middle of nowhere and you're starving. You don't have any options left - except for this.
3 - TRANSPORTATION. You need to get out of town. Fast. Can't buy a car, can't rent a car, can't take a bus - how do you leave?
4 - PROFESSIONAL SKILLS. You need a doctor. A lawyer. A pilot. A spy. And you know just the one. And you're going to get their help whether they want it or not.
5 - A HOSTAGE. You need a body to threaten. Maybe it's the President's daughter; maybe it's just someone off the street. Either way, it's leverage you're after. Maybe you'll turn them loose once you get to the border.
6 - FINISH THE CRIME. Get the manager who can open the bank vault. Or whatever else you need to commit your act of murder, sabotage and/or thievery.
7 - IT WAS AN ACCIDENT???? Fuck.
8 - CHOOSE YOUR OWN.
pukes, dies
Footsteps are approaching fast behind him so he ducks into a nook (?) with a very pickable window (???? ? ?). Pickable, but that'll take more time than he's got, so without so much as a flinch he hurls his left fist into the window glass and crawls in, groaning as he lands. For this mission, first things first: take care of any witnesses. Second: find some damn gauze already. Third: figure out just how the hell to get out of this situation - and country. He feels more and more concerned they'd led him into some kinda elaborate trap.
He makes to get up, clutching his side, leaking blood flowing too freely for his comfort, from it and his ankle. Now if he could just find where his knife went...]
revives, chuus~ also im sorry /i/ got carried away this time
[Yeah, that knife he lost? Looking mighty dangerous pressed uncomfortably close to Bucky's eye while a voice asks him questions in a language which might take a minute to remember he knew. Knows.
Make no mistake, Kira knows most of his...contenders know where his hideout is located just so they know not to fuck around anywhere near him. He'd counted on this late afternoon to provide entertainment, Messiah babysitting, the usual.
Not some grubby fucker breaking through a window. He figured he'd thought of it all, warded it to a T but no. The window was no match for this man clouded in the familiar scent of blood. So he asks again. Then again in english.]
Which soon to be buried dumbass sent you to scout out my territory? Yakuza clearly need more funding for stealth lessons.
[Kira shifts the knife against the soft skin connecting jaw to neck and if he turns his head carefully Bucky may see the long legs crouched beside him]
DAMMIT damn it I tried to be brief.....I TRIED SO HARD AND GOT SO FAR
'Yakuza'...now that's a word that sticks out. He can't help the soft snort that escapes him at that. He does in fact turn his head slowly--only barely, keeping in mind the possibility of a quick jab--as Kira moves the knife, eyeing the limbs and all the other indicators of the other presence, though details are a bit tough. That could be the blood sliding down into his left eye from a forehead cut from the glass, though. Shit.
He feels a bit of relief at the fact that it's apparently not a sweet old lady he'd stumbled upon--that could make clean-up quite a bit trickier--but he isn't exactly rejoicing, either. As he moves so does his hand, creeping along his own back to slip two fingers around the end of the handle of the other knife strapped to the small of his back, as the blade of the other teases a vital artery. His Japanese knowledge clicks at least enough for him to mutter a simple phrase.]
Think I'd prefer the Yakuza, actually.
[Son of a bitch, Bucky thinks as the combination of his wound, talking, and his position make him clench his teeth with the pain. His next words are in English, edged with deadly anger and annoying pain.]
Why don't you put down the knife before you hurt somebody. I'd hate to be the one to take it from ya.
but in the ennnnnd it doesnt even maatteerrrr- except it does ;) u did good, kid
[Kira outlines this statement as casually as discussing the weather. Much as the other man tried to keep still, be it for the threat at his pulse or because of the pain noticeably lancing up his body, obvious in the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes-- Kira's spent centuries looking desperate men, dying men, sneaky men who want five more minutes, ten more minutes, one more life time in the eye only to cut them down without a second thought.
Kira puts a little more pressure on the knife, Bucky's skin yielding a thin rivulet of blood for his troubles. It'll give him some time to think--]
Not the Yakuza...[That can really only mean one thing, right? Suddenly its like ice water replaced the toasty warm blood inside him, his mouth goes dry. It can't be. With this assumption he shoves Bucky hard onto his back, one boney knee pinning him to the ground where he can't easily get to that extra knife.]
They sent you? It can't be time yet. You're the one who's gonna be hurting if you think I'll let you get to him.
don't fucky wit bucky
They they they they-- the words rushing through his brain accompanied by the taste of blood, shady shards of memories slicing through his mind and it’s all he can do to keep from killing Kira without a second thought.
So he’s right. It was a trap this whole time. A choked laugh forces its way up through his throat and with it a spray of blood reminding him of his ever-increasing need for first aid. Failure was never an option, not for someone so specially trained as the Winter Soldier (the thought only worsening his nausea) so it’s not like he’s worried or anything. Just annoyed that he came all this way to deal with this shit.
He grabs Kira’s knee with his metal hand, fingers closing around the ridges, tightening into the flesh; he could shatter it to pieces with the tiniest bit more pressure and he would have if he were the man--no, machine--he’d been for the last seventy years. Lucky for both of them he’s a little bit more man these days. Plus, something the other man had said… he wouldn’t be talking about--he couldn’t be talking about--]
You want your kneecap turned to dust, fine, but I’m only giving you one warning and consider this it. [He barely tightens his grip, just enough to be concerning, cause some (not so) mild discomfort, y’know, the usual.] If you don’t shut up they’ll be here any second for you and him and me. Nobody sent me. Not anymore. It was a mutual thing.
oh he's gon be fucked up aight
What the fuck. Kira snaps out of it at the sound of unfamiliar, hollow laughter and ah, look, blood. He's got his listening- well, thinking cap on when more pain nearly crushes his knee. He can't stop the grunt of pain before it slips out of his mouth either because fuck that hurts.
Now, he's not exactly worried either. A few broken body parts aren't an issue when you've got angelic magic damning you. However this significantly changes his calculations about this wayward stranger stupid enough to break in here.]
You honestly expect me to believe they wouldn't send someone who can hide their powers to flush him out. [Kira's voice is actually tinged with some humor through the pain. Then it dips dangerously low--]
If you think I wouldn't die for him again just to keep leaks on his whereabouts silent then you aren't just fucking stupid. You're horribly misinformed. And it's going to cost you your life.
[He's quick to grind the foot belonging to the very knee that's screaming at him when he brings it right into the wound this man has been favoring.] Why do you think she and I were such a good match against you angelic bastards? I cut down every one of my masters except her. Not even a nick.
[Oh, but he wanted a taste.] But what I wanna know is...did you know I was here? Surely I've been left as a legend by now.
no subject
Nu vse, tebe pizda!*
[Though he briefly wonders if Kira might actually be helping him out with that whole pressure on the wound thing, it’s a gut instinct (literally and figuratively) for him to clench the same metal fingers around the offending foot - so what if the sound of bones cracking might be a giveaway to any approaching agents or a broken foot, it hurts too fucking much to do otherwise and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna pass out in some Hydra or KGB agent’s hideout when he was close, so close if what was being said was the correct information.
He uses the force of the arm to push back against the force in Kira’s leg and scrambles to sit up onto his other elbow with the reprieve, panting with the effort but still feeling plenty energized in case the asshole wants to go for round three.
Die...again? His whereabouts? All of this sounds familiar - sickeningly so, but maybe the nausea is from the physical pain and not the pain rendering his heart into a thousand ripped pieces--]
Unfortunately for us both, you won’t be dying for anyone right now, yebanat**. You, a legend? [Here comes another choked half-laugh, half-groan] You sound as crazy as they did. You really think if I’d known some delusional sic sukam sim*** was in here I’d have come in? Like I got time to worry about someone who thinks I’m an angel.
[Like the good-mannered boy he is, Bucky spits a mouthful of blood on the floor by Kira’s unoccupied foot. He squeezes the other one harder, feeling the bones shift and splinter easily under the neural connections of his enhanced arm, gritting his teeth as he speaks again.]
If you know something about where he is, I won’t leave until I find out. If you’re lying, you won’t be leaving ever.
(* - that's it, you're fucking dead
** - motherfucker
*** - son of a bitch)
sry i've been working on this for like 6 hours and i'm p sure its poop but i tried
[Definitely feels broken. That's how Kira recognizes the distinct agony of bone shattering. He nearly keels over matter of fact, not bothering to muffle his voice this time. He's such a nice guy and all, conscientious of that wounds' need for pressure to keep this asshole from bleeding out.
Kira peers at this stranger and laughs, it certainly isn't the sane laugh a teenager's should be. This fucker isn't just misinformed and stupid, he's blinded by faith. It'd be funnier if it wasn't so pathetic. The teen also notes the Russian which is....new. For agents of those fuckers in Heaven to use languages from Assiah.
(If he wasn't so strung out on adrenaline and pain counteracted by whatever pills Katou left and paranoia and guilt for letting his guard down after 11 years this would probably when he starts thinking 'this is fishy.' But no. He's a man through and through.) Thin lips pull into a strained sneer, the foreign word clumsy on his tongue as he spits out-]
It's nice that our professions don't frown upon nicknames huh, cyka. You're a big enough dick to fit right in with those angelic bastards, sure.
[Though the reaction of the threat might not show on his face right away (aside from the way his shoulder roll forward defensively and his mouth pulls downward) his pulse thuds in his throat, a prickle of panic lacing up his spine. Setsuna. His voice is a growl when he says--]
I'm getting real tired of this, y'know? A foreigner comes in here and assaults a normal young delinquent...I'm sure the citizens of the land of the rising sun'll have a lot to say once it's big news.
[Drawing all kinds of nice attention on this weirdo. Even with his entire leg screaming at him in pain Kira grits his teeth and stomps it against Bucky's wound, grinding- He's getting frustrated and this is going nowhere. It's either this guy or him, right?]
Let's stop with the back and forth, it's getting boring. I'll put myself on the line to change his destiny every time. You won't get anything out of me. I'll take last requests for your burial site though.
arg, this be the poop deck with lots of poop
Your Russian sucks, kid. Maybe if you're nice enough to get the fuck off me I'll give you some decent lessons.
[He groans at the increasing pain; it's not like this is enough to kill him, not after the things they'd done, and he suspects, from Kira's ability to keep going like this without passing out from shock, that he's something of the same. Much as he hates to admit when he's not-right (except...), the kid's got a point. It's going nowhere, except more painful and more energy wasted on what seems to be a frustratingly even match so far. So, he switches tactics in a way he's still not used to being able to do--he'd never been asked to reason with somebody, isn't it enough he's had to socialize with normal people lately, but--this...
But there had been something he'd said that tipped Bucky off. There's a difference when someone refers to another person as a target, and when they refer to them as a mission--that was something he'd made him first remember. With the boy it's hard to tell]
I don't think for a second you'd make news outta this. You're too paranoid about people knowing your--argh--hideout, and for what? If you thought this was a Yakuza thing they aren't telling you the half of it so you obviously don't know as much as you--erg--put on. Typical.
no it was NOT. also sorry i took so long i'm being held hostage
[A huge fucking while. Centuries to get rusty and only focus on the now and the where is she.
Now, Kira isn't passing out from shock or anything and his vision isn't even fuzzy around the edges but he's started trembling just a bit, his breathing sharp puffs. He's only got so much time to reset the bones before they heal wrong and he has to rebreak it. That's not fun.
He tilts his head at the other male, considering. There's a moment where he can't mask the flicker of anger that crosses his face, coils in his gut; this man speaking so easily as if he fucking knows what it's been like shifting from body to body, searching endlessly and always looking over his shoulder only to watch her die time and time again and he doesn't know as much as he puts on?]
Fuck you. You're in way over your head if you think you've got one up on me, asshole. I haven't had any problems so far.
[He doesn't need to defend his reasoning or his actions. He doesn't. He's been running and following her since before this man's grandparents were born. Way too experienced to rise to this bait.
Despite this fucker's wounds he could've done more than this huffing and puffing. He could've wounded Kira deeply in this span of time. So what's the big fucking deal, dude?]
So what, we're supposed to have a time out to regroup? You're going to pass out from blood loss at this rate, big bad wolf. All I have to do is wait it out. You don't have that luxury, do you?
HOSTAGE?! are u free from the hostage sitch now?
He grits his teeth and glances around for any indicators of an escape route but finds none. Eh...he'd gotten out of worse, he's sure of it--he just can't remember what. He knows only because he's not too worried.]
I don’t know what Hydra’s told you, [he winces as the word tumbles from his mouth, associated with pain and exhaustion all the way deep down in his fucking nerve endings and hopes it isn’t enough for the other one to notice--] but obviously it was something really special for you to believe all this angel shit.
[Finally--he grasps the knife at his back with his right hand and presses the tip to Kira’s side where his ribs stop, straining to sit up enough to reach him]
‘fraid neither of us has the luxury. What you’re gonna do is let me get up or the down payment goes up to a shattered foot and your left lung.
[So much for negotiating, huh. Oh well, not much his specialty.]
yeah i was released thankfully
Kira's head swims from the pain, swirls from the confusion and continues to turn over a few key elements here: What the fuck is this guy talking about. Hydra as in the mythical serpent? He doesn't know anything about that but he does know it doesn't sound like their style. Hand in hand with the ego riding in with trumpets and feathers; an agent of those bastards wouldn't play dumb this long. There should have been about four speeches about Faith and betrayal and letting Shit Run It's Course.
Nada.]
You have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about do you.
[Deadpanned. At least he didn't start with what the fuck are you talking about? The choice is pretty fucking obvious. As aggravating as this guy is, as badly as his pain is, as much as he aches to take that knife and shove it through this guy's temple, they're not on the same page. At all. It's imperative to keep the last few tricks up his sleeve and salvage this clusterfuck. If this fucker stabbed him now it'd be all over. Oh, not Kira himself. Just his cover.]
I was just joshin' ya, man, joshin'. I thought most crackheads like you stuck to dumpsters over on the fifth block. Tell me though, how the hell do you know what they tell you is really the truth?
[Broad shoulders hunch. Strained humor curves his lips. Pretends he doesn't feel the steel every time he inhales. Kira makes to withdraw.]
sign..
Exactly how long did it take you to figure that one out?
[His voice comes in a ragged half-growl, moving with as much leverage as he can get from his compromised position, the glass crunching beneath his feet and setting his teeth on edge - even more than they already are. He’s used to the particular kind of waiting that’s accompanied by a scope and a visual or audio cue, not being on such a…human level with someone else. Something’s too off about the other’s reflexes and way of talking for Bucky to let his guard down - after all, that’s exactly what they’d want, isn’t it? But either way, it isn’t like he can exactly go far without taking Kira’s foot with him, maybe the whole leg if he’s really having an unlucky day.]
Yeah, that right? Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not really in the business for joshin’ today.
[He starts at the question and feels a storm quickening in the back of his mind, the edges sparking with lightning strikes of conversations and bits of chatter he’s sure he isn’t meant to remember. A man’s name up on a wall, recently (not just any man’s, supposedly, he thinks with a bitter taste on the back of his tongue)…a face he hadn’t realized belonged to him…
When he’s finally able to get steady enough with his balance to be sure he can block any quick moves by the other, he takes the knife in his right hand and jimmies it under one of the panels in his left arm, hoping maybe this time it’ll work. He fixes Kira with a challenging glare as he attempts to pry his grip loose the hard way.]
These days I expect it to be anything but the truth, actually. You seem to be in pretty deep, so I’ll save the warning. What’s that, “crackhead”? That the latest insult they fed you?
[Another moment of working yields no luck. Great, international master of assassination and he can't even get away from a creepy weirdo due to technical difficulties.]
Just uh...just gimme...a minute...
/pats
Weeeell, the shit you projectile vomited from your mouth was pretty confusing and distracting. Social cues, y'know. Your sense of humor could use a little work, man.
[Bullfuckingshit, Kira, you've only been 'human' for 11 years and you're still an emotionally stunted asshole. Though the fact that he can just stoop there at Bucky's mercy with his arms crossed over his middle speaks volumes for his Crisis Management skills.
While Bucky works on his arm, Kira gets a good look at it. Made of some sort of...metal, what the fuck. That's straight outta some SF-action movie. Apparently the Space Race wasn't enough for Russia...if this guy is even Russian. Sure doesn't appear it at first glance. When he finally circles back to the point that 'this isn't my fucking problem' Bucky's words have jolted him out of his thoughts]
Crackhead as in I know a bad trip when I see one. [Half true: he does recognize Episodes and instantly recognizes this is not one of them. This guy is into some serious shit. It's a wonder Kira's this patient to be honest, as Bucky fiddles away]
I find the best policy is to find your own truth and never let go of it, even if no one else understands it. [He chuckles; the pain must be getting to him if he's selling this weirdo the same shit he does Setsuna.] I hope you've got insurance on that thing.
/poots
Who the hell is a sense of humor]Yeah, well, I’m a little outta practice on the humor thing. [Another grunt, more lack of any progress so he moves to another piece, well aware of the continued blood flow from his side. He tries to scope out the exits of the room discreetly, so nobody can say he’s not a multitasker. He snorts and mumbles to himself] Yeah, not the worst trip I’ve been on…
[Finally something gives under the knife and he regains control of being able to let the hell go of this weirdo’s foot and shoves him back as hard as he can, scrambling to get his center of balance back. It gives him a chance to really take in his adversary (?). Hard to imagine this guy working for Hydra, and he can’t figure out why they’d resort to brainwashing about angels. But, then again, he’s pretty new to the whole idea of thinking about his own experience with brainwashing, so there’s always room for improvement and, uh, enlightenment. Still, what he says gets under Bucky’s skin no matter how much he tries to keep from it and he grits his teeth, on the defensive again.]
Yeah, is that right? And do you have a lot of good results with this finding-your-own-truth Zen Buddhism shit? [He frowns] It’s not as easy when you aren’t sure what your truth is.
[So maybe the whole 'eliminate any witnesses' part of his self-given mission isn't working out too well. If he can just get to the first aid part - so he eyes the room again. Maybe that door...]
no subject
[On the assumption that this guy is a Russian passing for another nation. Kira only has enough time to snort in return before he's blessedly loose from the vice grip, stumbling back with a grunt and barely manages to catch himself before he falls on his ass. Calculating grey eyes are fixed on Bucky even as he reaches down to assess the damage to his knee, first and foremost. The healing isn't noticeable on the outside, but inside Kira can already feel the bone splinting back together the right way, thankfully. The foot is another matter entirely. The broken toes are the least of his worries, what, with the frantic way Bucky's eying the room, the exits.
Grey eyes land on the blood blossoming against Bucky's side. Finally, he opens his mouth, voice strained as he spreads out his arms as if to say see?]
That's right. I don't take orders from anyone and I only have to look out for one person. I'm free.
[He's taking a lot of liberties with that statement, actually. He's not exactly free, but he chooses to do this, to follow Setsuna throughout every lifetime. Pathetic, romantic, whathaveyou. He's kind of totally a hypocritical loser.
While we're still on the subject, he lets loose a sigh then takes a seat on the rather prime looking couch, (it's blue, go figure) putting enough room between him and Bucky. Hooks his bad foot over the opposite knee and prods the bones gently. Without looking up, he addresses Bucky]
Figure you could make it to the bathroom in the other room? Since I'm practicing Zen and all that shit it wouldn't hurt to tell you where my first aid stuff is. [Out of the goodness of his heart and so he can set these bones without this fucker in the room.]
no subject
Uh...I guess I owe you thanks for rethinking that blood loss thing.
[He says as he rummages through a pile of gauze and tape. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and cringes at the messiness of his work. Still, it makes him feel a little...different. Not hopeful, but something. It means he’s regaining some semblance of humanit--... it still feels too foreign to say or even think, so he stows it away. Maybe later.
It brings Kira’s words back to mind, though. More Russian curses slip from him in a low mutter as he peels off his bloodstained shirt carefully from the wound. He tries to keep the pain from his voice as he begins the rinsing process and he speaks to Kira again. He’s not sure why he does the latter, except that it’s kind of awkward now that the guy’s letting him live and all. He might as well find out what he can.]
What’s it like, going through life without orders? Can’t say you seem too thrilled in general, man.
[It’s weird, speaking so colloquially, a little more familiarly, for the first time--no, again?, the lilt of the words carrying through him easily as if it were an old song he remembered years later.]
no subject
[Not really. (re: any of that) Now with his sock and sneaker off to assess the damage, Kira's hard at work correcting his problem with sharp cracks of bone and low grunts of pain. That should do the trick. A job well, and painfully, done. All that's left is to let his slowed healing ability to do it's fair share.
Currently he leans back wearily, head resting against the back of the couch, and sighs. This whole talk about freedom isn't exactly his cup of tea either, y'know. There's a sour note to the crease between his eyebrows when Bucky opens his mouth again, and Kira's mouth tastes like ashes. He can almost taste the ash of the battlefield and bodies eaten by flame of foe and friend alike, maybe, when he didn't even have a mouth with which to sustain himself. Ashes like the promise he's been keeping all this time.]
The pay is shit and the babysitting detail isn't what it's cracked up to be. There's a price for freedom...there's always a price if you're willing to break away from your chains and change someone's destiny.
[He's lost in the moment, grey eyes glazed and staring at the ceiling but in reality envisioning somewhere long, long, long ago. His smile drips with the severity of Time but there's a surprising fondness there.]
My normal high school delinquent life? All puppy dog tails and hardcore shenanigans, man. The thrilling saga. Why? You working on ripping the collar off too?
no subject
He hisses air through his teeth as he tapes on a piece of gauze and grumbles out an extra “fuck you” aimed at Kira for the bruised ribs Bucky’s gonna have for too long to be convenient on account of his fucking foot. What’s with all this destiny talk bullshit? It was setting him on edge. The way he’d been kept in the dark about things before--things that were resurfacing, some with the help of disturbing research but most without it--it was different then, too concerned with humankind and politics. All he knows about destiny is that it’s got a shitty sense of humor if it even exists, and that the word itself tastes like-- brings to mind the man on the beach--him--before he walked away.
Looking in the mirror again Bucky pulls out the elastic from the remainder of the ponytail (not much after all the scuffling) and smooths his hair back again to retie it back. With the dark circles under his eyes and a week’s stubble he’s looking particularly, uh, crackhead-ish. Touche, weird kid, he thinks wryly.]
As for me, [he rinses his shirt under the faucet, running red through the sink again, before wringing it out and pulling it back on with a grunt-- he really shoulda stolen some clothes from someone’s clothesline before he came here--] yeah, I guess. Kinda don’t have a choice anymore, though. S’me or them and uh…[he lets out a hollow laugh] I think I’m on my side.
[Time to switch gears - talking about himself is Too Uncomfortable
(too bad probs)and he’d been given a reason to not completely eliminate him right now.]So this person whose destiny you’re always going on about… what’s so special about him anyway?
[All right, so Bucky could use a little lesson in subtlety...]
no subject
...Nada. Huh. Isn't that something. Grey eyes snap open at the sound of Bucky addressing him. For. Conversation of all things. Jesus fuckin' Christ. He'll let the other man stew, lick his wounds. Give himself some time to mull over his answer.]
Looking out for number one is usually the less messy option. Though in your case I get the impression not so much. Gotta say though, biting the hand that feeds sure is a fun time.
[Maybe it's those seeds of rebellion seeping down into the soil of his former life....or something.]
As for this person...they're the huge-pain-in-the-ass type who can't go a day without getting into trouble. A reckless dumbass who doesn't think before they act, except...
[Except Setsuna's so different from Alexial's other reincarnations. Clumsy, an idiot, talent for trouble and trouble only, cheeky to a fault but...but he lives with everything he's got. He doesn't half ass anything he's got the weight of his heart invested in. That includes people.
"Senpai!" Truly, his woman was...is...-
Kira doesn't notice the corners of his mouth curling into a smile tinged with pure content until his lips part for a cigarette (squirreled away from the stash that dumbass Katou had left here) he pops in and ignites.]
I did most of this during GoT damn even I'm impressed
(??? dis ok????)until part of it breaks off in his left hand. Whoops. He glances toward the doorway and places the chunk carefully into the sink and sighs, turning to lean back against the sink, digging his palms against his closed eyes. He’d been able to tuck one knife into a thigh holster but he felt too bare without the other, still left out in the uh, glass-and-blood pile. Less than ideal situation.Still, he can’t focus on that feeling when Kira’s words are rushing through his brain, throbbing like a headache behind his eyes but worse. Like...but deeper, somehow, locked inside without a key, something pulling at the core of him. The face from the museum, not of James Barnes, but…
He swallows hard against the pounding in his temple, pays no attention to the way his voice comes out in a sneer mirrored on his lips.]
What gives you the right to call him a dumbass? Acting without thinking is easier than you’d like to admit, but of course, you know that.
[Something protective rising like bile from the bottom of his esophagus makes him feel...he doesn’t know, but feeling anything is a feeling he's feeling rather welcoming to lately.
He smells the burn of a cigarette, thinks of how long it’s been since he’s smelled that. It brings back the feel of mud caked on his skin, explosions; his head hurts more; wondering if it’d be his last--
His mind returns to the list of places tucked away in his pocket, scribbled in half-Cyrillic script, half-Latin alphabet. Eyes peeled for the faces he can remember best from the museum. He wishes he could draw to be able to sketch them before they’re too fuzzy to recall well enough, remembers the feel of graphite slick on his fingers but not… not his own, he doesn’t feel artistic. That damned almost nauseating feeling of familiarity in the back of his mind… he clears his throat, steps out of the bathroom to stare - just stare - at Kira, gaze guarded and careful.]
Looking out for number one’s harder when I’m a little fuzzy on who exactly number one is.
THATTA GIRL~
[He fails to mention he's also the one who gets Setsuna into considerable trouble about 8 out of those 10 times. 8 and a 1/2, maybe. Lo and behold, as he chooses his words, he flexes his toes and the pain doesn't have him folding over in agony.
The hostile note to Bucky's voice rather abruptly like this has Kira puzzled. The catalyst of the spike in emotion, to be more precise. He raises an eyebrow, though the other man can't see it just yet.]
What lit a fire under your ass all of a sudden? What I also know is while surprise comes with acting without thinking it can also get someone killed.
[This is also coming from the guy who's been planning for thousands of years. He knows the flexibility that planning needs, the necessity for impromptu maneuvers, sure, but his paran- grasp on control when he, for so very, very long had neither fingers to grasp nor control, is, uh. Special. Let's call it that.
Bucky's voice comes closer and closer until he's standing there, staring. Kira meets his stare, stare for stare, long fingers flick the end of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray before sliding it into his mouth once more.
It's the words that make the normally unruffled [THE] Sakuya Kira yank the cigarette out of his mouth all of a sudden, lips parting to say something once, twice, gray eyes widening because there's a current of electricity or the sensation of someone walking over his grave--]
I see. So it's like that, huh. You're just like....[Me. Talk about uncomfortable now. He takes a long pull of the cigarette, deadpan mask back into place.]
Big soul searching journeys are great and all but contacts are important too.
[......Why the fuck is he giving this guy free advice. His brow creases as he kicks his legs up on the armrest, casual-like]
bitchy bucky (what else is new tho)
[He glances at the pile of shards on the floor for his other knife, but it’s hard for him to focus on anything but the way the angry, protective gut feeling isn’t going away, and that his words grate over Bucky’s skin like razor blades; but then he catches Kira’s quickened movements, categorizes the meaning of his body language before it’s gone quickly again under wraps.
The way he’d startled, almost undetectable… He tries to calculate the chances this guy’s baiting him between what he’s saying and his movements. There is the fact that he hasn’t killed or seriously (right, “seriously”) attempted to kill Bucky (yet), but something about it all seems a little too…
His eyes stray to Kira’s legs as he reclines them, and Bucky steps closer. He shouldn’t have been able to--unless he’s… the sa--
Instead of ashes Bucky tastes a sharp electric tang on the back of his tongue, itching at his throat. Why can’t he pinpoint what it is about this--about all of this?]
So what else about him, senpai? You cast off the chains and start protecting this pain in the ass’s whereabouts out of, what, the kindness of your heart? I doubt "Hi, recovering brainwashed assassin needs contacts. Would you be interested?" is much of a selling point for me, but thanks for the, uh, "help" anyway.
BITCH(Y) PLZ ;)
[Gray eyes consider Bucky calmly. He feels like he's stated this before. Hmm. Hates repeating himself. Thin lips purse around the cigarette. Oh, Kira takes in the calculating glance Bucky fixes on the forgotten knife, his movement forward, the acid in his tone and the shadows of his eyes, but this guy for all intents and purposes is casual as fuck about it. He's not worried. The slope of his shoulders is relaxed against the dips and grooves of the couch. Ankles crossed. Smoke circling overhead.
It's all he can do to ignore the tightness in his chest, to ignore the thought process he'd stumbled back from as fast as he could. Why did he chase all of Alexial's reincarnations around? For payback? Some sick guardianship? To touch her hair? Because he owed her?]
Something like that. Because I'm such an all around caring kinda guy, looking out for the underdog. Maybe my money's on this underdog. I cast off my chains because of him.
[Kira arches a brow] You're brainwashed too? Well shit. But no, I don't mean business cards and playing nice. Not exactly nice because you're not to that level yet. But having people owe you favors is what I actually mean.
no subject
Nah. From what I’ve experienced, dying’s overrated. Seems to come with a whole buncha after-effects. S'like they can't even make it easy and kill all of someone the first time. So the way I see it I’m the one who owes them “favors.” They didn’t even give me the chance to think about a death wish.
[He doesn't even *like* this guy so why is he telling him all this? Maybe because this is the first person who's remotely acted like they know what the fuck's going on, that it's not exactly out of the norm for scruffy men to burst through the living room window.
When he speaks of the times death has eluded him, Bucky remembers with stark clarity the sure thought that he was going to die in that dim room--wished for it to be anything but disappointing once death finally came to take him, but then he remembers feeling surprise, a fuzzy face swimming in his vision… he can almost make it out now but something in him rumbles like a storm as his mind tosses around Kira’s words at breakneck speed, anger roiling up again, fists clenched at his side. He practically spits the words as they come out hot and sharp off his tongue.]
Yeah, well maybe this underdog doesn’t need your help. Or is he just someone who owes you a favor?
no subject
[Speak for yourself, Kira. He tips his head back, puffs smoke through the thin slit his mouth makes around the cigarette and, of all things, closes his eyes again. For all intents and purposes he acts as if Bucky isn't a threat, like they're having a conversation about the weather or crazy ex-girlfriends. As if Bucky hadn't just retrieved his knife. As if his pulse didn't quicken within his jugular. Dead and Back Again, a Douchebag Tale. Nothing beats tearing into the throats of those who've wronged you. He seems similarities there, ones that, to his horror, aren't ending so soon.] And you're gonna settle that debt all alone, Rambo style. Gotta say, you've got pluck.
[Kira doesn't bother with sitting up proper. Just opens his eyes, paints an amused smile across his lips that reflects not an iota in his eyes. There's something knowing in his gaze, as if he already expects the answer before his lips part.]
Maybe you should be asking yourself this question: Why do you care about some stranger? What does it matter to you, why does it rattle you to the point where you resemble a cat with it's hackles up. Think about it.
[Kira bats the hard hitting questions.] You've got it in the wrong order anyway.
idk i tried to be funny? and then srs? and I just. how 2 Bucky???? /???
[He bristles then relaxes the grip he only just realized he still had on the knife he’d just replaced. Way to prove the point, he thinks with a roll of his eyes. He raises both hands in truce, temporary as it may be, though he continues to step forward. All right. Maybe this guy’s onto something about contacts. And maybe--maybe it’s just a coincidence. Enough of the games and time for answers.]
I’ve done my fair share of thinking, yebanat. Turns out I owe someone a favor too. Someone who’s also never been good at avoiding trouble. Maybe I had you--him--confused with someone else. I doubt he’d be in hiding and besides, uh, no offense--[there’s a smirk, a patented cocky Bucky smirk™, always great for overcompensation]--but I doubt he’d have, what, a teen?, sidekick protecting his whereabouts. Simple mix-up is all.
[Simple...yeah, right, and Bucky knows better than to underestimate the abilities of the other, anyway. Nothing’s simple about the way his chest feels like it’s going to crumple inwards from the weight of memories, remembered words, all with wondering what the next step is as he blazes a trail with no markers for direction. Why does he get the feeling this kid has a whole wealth of knowledge lurking behind that smile curling on his lips? Doubt lurks behind everything he thinks he can figure out about his opponent.
They’ve established he isn’t Hydra personnel, or doesn’t appear to be anyway. But There’s Something About Kira, all right…Bucky’s not sure he can pinpoint it just yet. He’s said a lot of weird shit to sort through, after all. And there’s the matter of what if he does happen to be talking about… about him?
He speaks, voice rough with the lump that had formed oh so considerately in his throat.]
So here I am, owing him a favor, and now you, I guess, for the first aid. [He looks not-so-vaguely displeased as he acknowledges the help, mostly because it still hurts too much to breathe for him to be entirely grateful.] I don’t know what Rambo style is, but all I know is other people weigh you down. Going it alone’s the only way I could…
[The only way I could not screw it up for him again--]
The only way to make what I did right. If I couldn’t have stopped it then, well, this is the next best thing.
[The lump in his throat’s grown too tight to keep speaking of the events that do no more than flash through his brain like little lightning strikes, a few at a time. He blows out a long breath, thinking he’ll need more than a few minutes to get his bearings straight, and more than that to dig and find out more about this guy’s ward. You know. Just in case. Just. In case.]
You got some beer, or something? It’s been a hell of a long time.
u got dis, bb ;)
[The smirk Kira fixes Bucky with clearly says 'you're the one that underestimated this 'teen'. and also 'you have no fucking idea.' The look of distaste Bucky rewards him with makes his own lips curl further, amused as hell.] I'll let you know when I'll come to collect on that favor. Be prepared for anything.
[Gray eyes roll skyward, for peace, for deliverance, for a bolt of lightning. He never thought in a million years here he'd be, one asshole about to lecture another stubborn asshole about friendship and all that shit.] Going it solo does keep things from getting messy but someone having your back doesn't hurt. To bail your ass out when you inevitably need it. You've already made it someone else's business. Think about that before you get yourself into something you can't come back from. When you can't complete what you planned your ghost's gonna be pissed. [Which he will. Kira doesn't need secret sword soul senses to see that coming.
With some sort of goddamn catlike grace Kira rolls off the couch and onto his feet, meandering over to the mini fridge in the corner. His back on display and (seemingly) vulnerable and all.]
I could use one myself. A beer for the clusterfuck coming right up.
we'll see how I feel about this soon but..rn...so far so good
You don’t really seem like the protagonist type. [Then, a pause as the thought, neither do I surfaced in his brain.] Guess you could still surprise me, though. But I don’t need you to tell me about having someone’s back and bailing them out.
[Yeah, he likes to see it more as reminding him of these things. But of course that’s not something he’d ever reveal to this dangerous person. He still can’t pinpoint what exactly seems off about him. How he talks like he’s wise beyond his years but even if he’d been trained specially, his age still-- well, Bucky had doubts. But the doubts seemed more and more unfounded the longer he thought about it.]
Of course I know all that. It’s just not exactly safe for me to go running to people who can help--if they’d even want to. [His tone becomes bitter, almost heavy with guilt if one were really paying close attention.] I’m trying to take care of what I know I can first. I’m sure we’ll run into each other eventually. [Never mind it was beginning to seem like Bucky the longer he was around this weirdo who talked about destinies and shit that maybe he was onto something. The fact their paths had ended so...separately, yet still managed to converge again--
He shakes his head. Definitely been around this weirdo too long. But then Kira gets up and...wait, really? Bucky can’t believe the guy’s actually gonna--Bucky keeps his eyes on the other one the entire time. He might slip something to knock him out in it, and that would go entirely against Bucky’s personal mission of, you know, never getting captured again if he can help it.]
no subject
For those that can feel it's influence, anyway.]
Yeah like you're really one to talk. You're true protag material, right up your alley with the knives and the assault of a teenager and such. I can really feel those bright shiny morals in the room. You don't think you need me to tell you, no, but a reminder couldn't hurt. To clear up that fog up there, crackhead.
[He snags the beers after shoving some shit into the back, nothing too important or deadly, just incriminating, then pivots back around, his expression playful if not for the deadly serious fire in his eyes.]
Just as long as you don't get in over your head and die without solving anything. Dying with regrets is the worst. Especially for those you leave behind. Though...[The corners of his mouth lift, revealing a bemused curve there, mockingly thoughtful in his tone] if yours is anything like mine I think your underdog idiot will come running for you whether you make a big macho huff about being a lone wolf or not. How's that for running into each other eventually?
[The fact that Bucky might not have a choice in being rescued from his own stupidity leaves Kira with smugness. Probably stemming from his need to be right in most situations. It's something great grandpas feel in day to day life. Possibly.
He closes the space between them and holds one of the beers out for Bucky.] Now don't sell yourself short, I'm sure it's not just your cuddly persona that drags your idiot back to you when you're in trouble.
no subject
[He bristles and tenses, spine straightening and shoulders rolling back to lock in place.]
Never claimed to be a protag anyway. I caused too much damage to be in that exclusive club. [He snorts, accepts the beer, pops it open with the convenience of his currently-behaving metal hand; he immediately regrets his first sip as it settles heavy in his stomach but he welcomes the warmth in his blood. First time in a damn long time. His tone is flat, purposely devoid of emotion when he speaks again.]
Don’t think “my idiot” will be in too much of a hurry to see me again. I kinda left some uh, bullet souvenirs last time we saw each other, so I’m not sure there’s gonna exactly be a welcoming party.
[But that doesn’t feel right; even as Bucky says it, it settles more heavily than the beer in his gut. How could he forgive Bucky, but somehow--something about Kira’s words ring true. It annoys him even more.
How dare this kid presume to know that about him--and about Him? He downs more beer, disappointed with how high his alcohol tolerance is even for as long as it's been. Probably another bullshit effect from the whole cybernetic thing.
He's getting antsy and this isn't taking the edge off. So, he switches tactics again. Poorly. Again.]
I just need to confirm. You...don't know anything about an organization called Hydra?
no subject
You don't say. What, did you two have a spat? I guess this is what you call "taking a break".
[Kira doesn't even bother with a sigh. Just tips the can to his lips, lets the beer go down smooth. He fixes a steady gaze on Bucky, takes it all in before finally opening his mouth, a wry twist to the shape of his mouth.]
You certainly packed a lot of baggage for this vacation to Whinesville. That idiot let you get away, bullets aside. You idiots are made for each other. If that doesn't indicate something about you both then you're an even bigger idiot than you look.
[He waves his free hand, rolls a shoulder forward--] So go on and do the macho Rambo solo act. You'll see what I mean when he inevitably shows up, pleading with you. That's all there is to say.
[As far as Kira's concerned that is. When Bucky brings up this Hydra thing again he takes another, longer sip of his beer, expression unreadable. However behind that blank gaze his mind is turning over the subject. It doesn't take a genius to figure out this organization is dangerous to everyone that comes into contact with it. It's best not to get involved with that.]
No, I don't. I like the one about the Greek legend better.