(no subject)

[semi_stable]

It’s been a long time since Bucky has been to any sort of family cookout. Nearly 80 years, in fact, since before Prospect Park went from a place where people gathered to a place that housed supplies for a war that took so much. It took Bucky, and it took Steve, and so many others who weren’t able to come back.

The cake that sits on the passenger seat, with Bucky reaching out one hand to hold it steady, would have been a delicacy back then. Now he isn’t sure that it will be enough, but going into grocery stores these days kind of makes him go into sensory overload, so he grabbed the first thing that looked acceptable and bolted. He can’t show up empty-handed. Sam would never let him hear the end of it.

He’s in high spirits as he navigates his rented truck through the outskirts of Atlanta, windows down as the hot, muggy air blows through his hair. He isn’t sure that he’s felt this good since those days back in Prospect Park, with Steve rolling his eyes at him as Bucky called out to the girls that passed by. Respectfully, of course.

Usually, Bucky doesn’t look forward to crowds of people, especially one where everyone will know who he is and might ask questions, but he’s excited for this. He’s tapping his fingers to the beat of the music, and tipping his head back to feel the sun on his skin.

That’s probably when he should have known that things were about to go haywire.

He parks his truck and looks out to see a party in full swing, slipping on his sunglasses and scooping up his cake. One deep breath, and then he opens the door and steps out, ready to be greeted by Sam or his nephews or their beautiful mother, or whoever might approach him.

Except no one does, because all he does is blink and suddenly, he isn’t in Atlanta anymore. Instead of a party on the water, he’s at the edge of a park, with the sun setting instead of being high in the sky.

“What the hell?” He blinks again, and then swallows hard as he feels a brief flare of panic. Bucky knows what it feels like to lose time, and to wake up somewhere else, but this isn’t that. No one can do that to him anymore, and no time has passed. He still has the cake in his hand, and his back and thighs are still warm from the leather seats in the truck that is no longer there.

Bucky sighs and then closes his eyes, reaching up with his metallic hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Fantastic.

Comments

[badassbroad]

Bruce had opinions about the leash, but it tended to keep people off my back when I took him for walks in the city. The legality of keeping a hyena as a companion was sketchy, at best, and while I normally wouldn't have a problem pushing the limits of the law, I didn't want to risk having my sweet boy taken away from me.

Bruce was a meat sorta guy, by nature, but when his big snout caught a whiff of something sweet, he yanked me along at a trot, curious nose in the air.

"Now, Bruce, you have to wait to be offered," I cooed, holding fast to his hot pink leash as he stretched his neck to try and gnaw at the plastic clamshell keeping him from sinking his teeth into all that sugary goodness.

"Hi," I said, giving the guy the once-over. What a cutie. "What's the occasion?"

[semi_stable]

It hits Bucky just how much he is truly unable to be surprised anymore when he lifts his head to see a woman just barely hanging onto a leash, which is just barely containing what looks to be a hungry hyena. He blinks at the animal and then looks around in confusion, taking in the park dotted with pine trees that look more New York than Atlanta.

The hyena gets a little closer and Bucky isn't afraid of the animal, but he does hold out his left arm just in case he needs to keep himself from being mauled, and lifts the cake up higher so it's out of reach.

"Hi," he says plainly, blinking as the hyena's tongue lolls out to lick at his metal hand. "Uh, celebrating. My friend got a promotion." He lifts his gaze from the hyena to look at the woman again. He almost tells her that he's about to ask a weird question, but she's walking a hyena down a city street. She probably gets that a lot. "Where are we?"

[badassbroad]

"Aw, and you got them a cake? That's so sweet," I cooed, my arms nearly yanked from their sockets as Bruce lurched forward, teeth clamping down on the guy's wrist. "Oh, hey. Robot arm," I observed. "That's handy. 'Cause lemme tell ya, those teeth are sharp!"

Winding the leash around my hand, I gave it a tug, patting Bruce soothingly on his head. "Calm down, sweetie, or I'll have to leave you home, next time."

The guy asked a question and I blinked, eyes widening. "Oh, fuck. You're new, aren't you? That sucks. Well, I guess that depends on if you came from somewhere shitty or not. If you did, yay, for you! I guess, but if not." I offered him an exaggerated pout.

"Oh, right. It's Darrow. That's where we are. It's a place called Darrow. I don't know why we're here, or for how long. It just sorta happens. Surprise!"

[semi_stable]

The woman mentions his arm so plainly that Bucky is taken a little aback for a moment, but maybe not in a bad way. He’s used to being a little self-conscious of his arm, not because he has a prosthetic, but because of what it represented for so long. In New York, he would wear gloves no matter the weather just to avoid people looking at it.

But now he’s here in this strange place, and it’s handy.

“He’d break his teeth before he hurt me,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t mean it like a threat. Hyena teeth are no match for vibranium, and he doesn’t want the animal hurt. His attention is torn away from the hyena when the woman starts to explain where he is. At least that’s what he thinks she’s trying to do.

“Darrow,” he repeats, looking around again. “Are we on Earth? Post-Snap?”

It may seem like an obvious question, but given all the things that Bucky has seen in his hundred years, he knows that nothing is impossible.

[badassbroad]

"Oh boy," I said, blinking at his double barrel questions. The first one was a little bit of a relief to hear, because if he was okay with the possibility of no longer being on the planet, the rest of it might be a little easier going down.

"No offense, but post-huh?"

[semi_stable]

“Well, that’s not good,” Bucky replies, mostly to himself, brow furrowing as he ponders her apparent obliviousness. “The Snap. The Blip? Half of everyone disappearing and then coming back? Nothing?”

The Snap happened everywhere, as far as Bucky knows. No corner of the universe remained unscathed by it, but this woman in what looks to be a modern seaside town in America doesn’t seem to have any clue what he’s talking about. It makes alarm bells ring somewhere in his mind. Has he found himself at a time where the Snap hasn’t happened yet?

“What year is it?” He asks urgently, stepping toward the woman and then back again when her hyena doesn’t seem too pleased with his sudden proximity. “Take it easy, pal,” he says to the animal, holding up both palms in a show of surrender. “I don’t want any trouble.”

[badassbroad]

"Bruce, stop that this instant or I'm gonna have to start leaving you at home," I warned sternly, hands on my hips.

"It's, uh. Twenty-twenty? Or, no. Twenty twenty-one." I blinked. "Yeah, that's right."

At the mention of a snappity-blip or whatever, I frowned. "Wait a minute, you mean how the city was emptied out last month?"

[semi_stable]

The woman being unsure of what year it is doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but she sort of also doesn’t seem entirely with it in general, like she’s living in her own little world, maybe. Still, that isn’t enough for him to let his guard down.

“It was 2023 a few minutes ago,” he says irritably, glancing down at the hyena before looking around again. When she speaks again, Bucky’s gaze snaps back to her. “The thing I’m talking about is when half the universe was emptied out. But that was five years ago. Or, well—three, I guess. By your math. But what do you mean?”

[badassbroad]

"Uh..."

I could tell he was losing patience, but it wasn't my fault that he was talking nonsense.

"Look, pal, I showed up here just like you did, and it did a whammy on my concept of time, too. But whatever you're talking about? It didn't happen here. Or where I came from. We had a little blip where a bunch of the natives from this place went poof, but it only lasted a few weeks. They're back, weird as ever."

I shrugged.

"I think people are calling this a pocket universe, but I'm pretty sure that's just an attempt at slapping a clever label on it, without knowing a lick about theoretical physics."

[semi_stable]

Bucky feels a little like he's losing his mind, but it wouldn't be the first time. The first time that he's felt like that, anyway. Not the first time he's lost his mind. He's done that plenty of times.

"Okay, fine. Pocket universe," he says, choosing to focus on that instead of their talk about blips, which is just gonna send them in circles. "I've got questions. Like how. That's a big one. Why is bigger? What are we supposed to do?"

The hyena seems to sense his growing agitation, so Bucky just sighs helplessly and lets his non-prosthetic arm drop to the side, while the other keeps holding up this fucking cake. "I just-- I had somewhere to be."

[badassbroad]

"Hey, pal. So did I. I had an actual kid counting on me to be there for her. Me."

Yeah, I knew how absolutely bonkers that was, and I knew that maybe Cass was better off without me, but still. I missed the grubby little thief.

"Anyway, I can't answer your questions. Nobody can, far as I can tell. We're just little ants trapped in a maze. They give us cash and a roof over our heads to keep us docile, I think. Or maybe they actually give a shit about a bunch of dimensional transplants living homeless on the streets. Who knows."

[semi_stable]

"They," Bucky repeats gruffly, taking a deep breath as he reaches up to touch his cool metal fingers to his forehead. He's so angry that he wants to punch through the nearest tree, but he can't. It isn't her fault that he's trapped here. That he knows of, anyway. When it comes to what he knows of about this place, it's very little indeed.

"Is there an orientation for new prisoners, or something?" He asks after a long moment, after he's swallowed the anger down and lifted his head again. "Where am I supposed to go to get this stuff? This is all just so--"

He makes a frustrated expression and then pulls his arm back as if he's about to throw the cake, and then decides better of it and brings it back down slowly, letting out an irritated huff instead.

"I'm not sure how to properly express my anger at my current situation," he grits out, which makes him feel like he's talking to his therapist. He probably learned it from her.

[badassbroad]

"The train station. That's where you'll find your creepy packet," I explained. "I can take you there, if you want. But if you're looking for orientation, all ya' got's me. Sorry."

I shrugged. I wasn't all that sorry.

"Oh! You could go to the junkyard and break shit. That's what I do, sometimes, when there aren't any faces to break. Since I'm trying to be all on the up and up. Technically, it's trespassing, but it's a victimless crime."

[semi_stable]

Bucky's brows lift at the mention of breaking shit because yes, he'd like to do that. At any given time, there's a high probability that he'd like to break something.

"Train station first, then. If you're willing," Bucky tells her, because while he can probably find it on his own, he might as well try and get it over with. He turns away and then pauses, clenching his jaw as he turns to look at her, holding up one metal finger. "And then maybe we can talk about breaking shit."