Decidedly Not Routine [Closed + Open Prompts]

[worthallthis]

characters: Bucky and Various (Closed + OTA prompts)
location: Around Beacon
date/time: September 13 – 20
content: Catch-all for some Bucky stuff
warnings: A fugue-ish sort of flashback, an attempted murder, and some nightmares. Also lots of swearing, but what else is new.


I. Closed to current CR - 9/13-9/14

The Soldier spends a solid 16 hours after the eastern expedition’s return just sleeping. After three and a half days of pretty much not sleeping, it needs to catch up. Also, constant vigilance for three and a half days is exhausting. Aziraphale and Crowley get to deal with a mostly dead-to-the-world lump on their couch. Sorry, guys. Even after that, the Soldier is slower to get moving than usual for the rest of that “day”, and absolutely starving. Post-mission recovery for super-soldiers is a pain in the ass, apparently, and this is the first time the Soldier gets to go through it without being frozen.

It’s a little bit nerve-wracking, and if the Soldier weren’t so damn tired, it’d be on edge, but as it is, it just feels quietly vulnerable. So it keeps to its handlers’ houes and the kitchen of the Invincible (because food) for good 12 hours after that, avoiding people it doesn’t know well until it feels a little more like it can handle any potential trouble. And doesn’t run the risk of dozing off on anybody else’s couch (because it absolutely does that on Misty’s, too, when left alone long enough). If anybody wants to find out what a chronically sleepy Soldier is like, and it knows them well enough to not skitter away from them automatically, now’s the chance.


II. OTA - 9/15-9/18

Once finally back to proper energy levels, the Soldier gets back to routine: three- or four-times-daily patrol around Beacon (depending on stress and/or boredom levels), visiting handlers for tasks to help them with, lingering around the edge of the forest to peer in and consider trying the ocharina again (even though the metal fingers don’t have enough give in their tips to properly cover the holes), stopping in at the Invincible for a meal or two, and catnaps at Crowley and Aziraphale’s house.

The Soldier is Not Participating in the scavenger hunt, however. The Soldier will certainly help other people participate in the scavenger hunt, but it has absolutely no desire to get its picture taken. The idea fills its brain with alarm klaxons. When it looks like someone is trying to find something in particular, it’ll fall in to try and help-- as long as they keep their tablet cameras pointed the other way.


III. Closed to Scarlett, 9/19-9/20

While it’s seen Scarlett around, the Soldier hasn’t gotten a good look at her face yet. Until today, that is, on one of its patrols around the village.

And then suddenly everything changes, sliding sideways almost painfully into a different time and place. That’s not a random dead person striding around Beacon, that’s a target, one the Soldier’s been given 36 hours to eliminate. Even worse, that’s a fucking Widow, gone rogue from the Red Room. Thirty-six hours might not be enough. And if that wasn't bad enough, the area doesn’t match the intel in the briefing, and it’s so damn dark getting a good distance shot is going to be next to impossible. (It can do it, since it’s only next to impossible, but it will be hard.) Except where the hell is its rifle? How is it supposed to take out a Widow from pistol range? This mission has gone FUBAR already, and the handlers are going to be pissed if it can’t salvage this.

Since the briefing was obviously garbage, and there’s no rifle, intel is required in order to make a new plan. Scarlett may or may not notice a broad, dark-haired guy keeping a discrete eye on her for the rest of the next 24 hours or so. The lantern is shuttered so very little light makes it out, the metal arm is hidden under a jacket it picked up somewhere along the way, and its feet are almost entirely silent on the dirt and grass of the village grounds, but it's still there, whether skulking around a building, up a tree or on a roof, or in the murky distance melding into the shadows of the forest. It’s used to having crowds to blend into when on a detail like this, more buildings to hide behind or between, fire escapes to watch from. But there’s enough distance that even if she spots her stealthy shadow, it manages to drift off elsewhere before she can confront it, like the momentary eye contact was accidental (well, it was; the Soldier avoids eye contact in general).

(Something about this isn’t right. Sometimes during the Soldier’s intel-gathering things go a bit fuzzy, like it’s missing something important, leaving it standing blinking in the dark trying to chase a thought that won’t quite reveal itself. But the Soldier still knows the mission, even if its brain is trying to short out half the time. Must be malfunctioning. They’re going to want to do maintenance. The Soldier really doesn’t want maintenance.)

Finally the Soldier thinks it has a decent angle of attack, and enough certainty to know where the target will be at a particular time. It finds a roost in a tree near the big building where the Widow is staying after she’s retired for the... day? Night? It’s been just over 24 hours, according to the communications tablet it’s been given, and still no sign of the sun. This mission is so fucking weird. Its perch is just barely within range of its best handgun, so there it waits for her lantern to appear, half-hidden by leaves, back braced against the trunk and weapon in hand.


IV. Closed to Aziraphale/Crowley - 9/20

Baby’s first full flashback shakes something loose in the brain, and suddenly there are dreams. For the first time the Soldier can properly remember, sleeping results in pictures in its head rather than silent cryo-like darkness. Worse, they’re not just dreams, they’re nightmares. Shortly after the attempt on Scarlett’s life, the angel and demon who so graciously lend out their couch get hear their housemate screaming downstairs: high-pitched, frightened, and loud enough to be heard perfectly clearly even upstairs in their own bedrooms, or just outside.

Comments

9/20

[sauntered_downward]

[The scream wakes up Crowley immediately. He's a heavy sleeper, too---known to sleep whole centuries away when he's in the mood---but the human soldier person's scream takes him by utter surprise.

They're under attack. He always knew this was coming.

Crowley is not a fighter. He's a coward at the best of times, and he knows he can get himself out of this situation without any trouble. Just miracle a few of the boards out of this wall and fly away. Get out of here. Go. Vamos. Vanish. Be safe. But he only really cares about one person in this whole stupid town, and that person is Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is in the other room. Whatever has the human soldier person might get Aziraphale.

He listens to the scream and something tugs his black heart.

Oh, damn. Maybe he's started caring about two people in this town. That's really annoying.

He jumps from his bed and miracles a tyre iron into his fist. It's not much, but it's something. He glances at Aziraphale's door and then starts down the stairs. He doesn't make a sound.]

[worthallthis]

[There doesn't seem to be any obvious danger downstairs. The Soldier's lantern, usually kept shuttered up tight to keep it from giving away it's position when outside, is open and glowing steadily, illuminating the downstairs room at least enough to make it clear there's no particularly large spirit, monster, or resident accosting anyone.

The Soldier is balled up on the couch under two blankets, shoulders shoved up against armrest, keening and trembling with its metal arm curled over its head.]

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley doesn't trust it. He steps forward, tyre iron out, and looks around the room. He doesn't see anything, but there must be something. There must be something, right? That's what causes fits like this.

He steps forward, towards the human soldier person, eventually reaching a hand out to him. Is he dreaming?]

[worthallthis]

[Nothing happens until Crowley's hand actually connects. Then there's a sudden silence, and the Soldier surges up from the ball it's curled in, a knife in one hand (it keeps one under the cushions of the couch) and metal arm swinging wildly. Not at Crowley, exactly. It isn't even entirely sure where Crowley is, where it is, what's going on.

Just panic and blind lashing out. If Crowley has anything like reflexes, he can probably avoid getting clocked on the side of the head.]

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley? Avoid getting hit in the head?

Hell no.

Crowley is utterly unprepared for it, and takes the hit like a sailor takes back a rum shot. He goes down smooth and satisfied, with a solid thunk on the ground as he hits. The pain of the blow is completely unexpected, and he lets out a whoosh of air from his lungs at the blow.]

9/14

[shadowsran]

[Misty's tread is catlike, and the a-frame is thankfully not one possessing creaky boards. Thus the sleeping mountain on her sofa has been thus far undisturbed, however close she came to accidentally vocalizing her surprise. Entirely too many minutes are wasted on a held-breath mission to get a blanket over him, and then creeping around in the kitchen before she moves to busy herself with a book upstairs. Privacy, and all.

When he wakes, it will be lightly covered, with a glass of water and sandwich on the coffee table beside him.

She'll just leave him to it until he's up to company.]

[worthallthis]

[It's a miracle it didn't wake up, honestly. It's just that tired, and apparently Misty's house is a safe enough space that the light touch of a blanket went unnoticed.

It takes about fifteen minutes for the current nap to turn into a twitch awake and a bleary look around. The Soldier moves quietly by instinct, but somebody heavy climbing stairs in combat boots still might make some betraying sound. If Misty isn't listening too closely for movement in particular, she might be surprised to find the Soldier peering into the upstairs room she's settled in, blinking sleepily, blanket still wrapped around its shoulders.]

[shadowsran]

[The staircase isn't as forgiving as the floor. It's slight, but creak enough without the added click of the door that she understands who it is before he's reached her. There's nothing interesting going on - flicking through the network, reading up on what looks worth reading up on.

She spares a smile, not solely because he's approaching 'kind of adorable'.]

There's another bed just across, if you're really that spent. Would have told you before, but you were already out.

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier shakes its head slowly. It feels kind of... rude, to come over to its other handler's house and just sleep. Also, kind of embarrassing. Been a while since the Soldier's really felt embarrassment.

So, instead of making a comment about the offered bed, it says instead, sounding vaguely sheepish,]

Sorry.

09/20

[kungfuey]

The thing about Scarlett is, by virtue of who she is as a person? She will have done very little in the past 24 hours to convince Bucky that he's wrong. Her appearance alone screams 'threat'; dressed from head to toe in black with an arsenal strapped to her body. More than that, it's the way she carries herself - not unlike a Solider - as she moves around Beacon. Always positioned where she can see an exit, watching those around her like any one of them could be a target. She keeps to herself, speaking to others only when they approach her first. Pouring over what looks to be old bulletins; the paper kind, from before they managed to get the Keeper back on the Network.

The fact is, if you didn't know her? You'd be certain that she was the kind of person you had to watch yourself around. Hell, even knowing her didn't seem to put most people at ease. Scarlett knew it as well, which was why she wasn't too worried when she first realized somebody had been watching her. She'd spent years being stalked by things that were much scarier than anything she'd encountered here, which is why she didn't change her routine to avoid her current tail. She figured - albeit foolishly - that if he was going to do anything he'd have done it already and believed - at least more accurately - that if he did try something, she'd be able to defend herself.

Scarlett wasn't used to dangers that watched from afar, though. In her world, Vampires lacked the patience to stalk their prey for long periods of time and they always fared better when fighting in close quarters. She'd survived as long as she had because she did as well, but guns? Guns weren't much use against the undead and being here? As careful as she'd tried to be? It had made Scarlett too lax, especially when she was at The Invincible.

To his credit, he'd chosen the one time and place where she would be at her most vulnerable. The tension in her shoulders easing the moment the door to her room closed behind her. With the curtains drawn and the glow of her lantern, she'd be little more than a shadow moving inside the room. The swords on her back removed one at a time, quickly followed by her harness. This was the only place in Beacon where Scarlett allowed herself to relax. Where she'd rid herself of the black clothes that she donned like a uniform. Where there weren't at least six weapons in arms reach at any given moment and where if anyone was going to try and shoot her? Now was their best chance.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier is a tactical genius, thank you very much, of course it picked the very best time. Any other time and it's likely to get into a physical fight, and while it can probably hold its own against a Widow, that doesn't mean it wants to try.

What it didn't expect is for her to be so clearly silhouetted against the curtains. The curtains aren't even heavy enough to keep it from seeing her shadow on them. It's. This. It almost too fucking easy. It hesitates just a moment, eyes darting around at the other windows, the ground, the first floor of the building... but there's no sign of a trap, or backup.

It's not going to get another chance, probably. It levels the pistol (with a silencer it had been relieved to still, no need to give the target that split second's warning (and also don't want to freak out the other dead people shut up) a gunshot would provide) in the metal hand, the steadier hand right now, and takes aim for the heart. The pistol sights track her for a beat, waiting for a pause while she removes yet another upper-body garment (no armoring, fire now, now), and then the Soldier fires.

[kungfuey]

Had Scarlett been normal by anyone's standards, that silencer would have sealed her fate but for all the things coming here had taken from her? Her hearing hadn't been one of them. There's barely a second for her to register the foreign sound, confusion making her lift her head in the direction of the window. Her body twisting just a fraction, just enough so that when projectile shattered glass and ripped through the gauzy material of her curtains, it didn't quite find its mark.

It does find a mark, however, the way her body violently twists as she staggers backwards indicating as much. Scarlett allowing the momentum of the bullet hitting flesh to carry her to the ground. A mumbled "The Fuck" can be heard as she rolls out of the line of the window, the light in the room practically vibrating as she knocks into the legs of the table. Her lantern protected by the wall of The Invincible as she registers the familiar sensation of burning in her shoulder.

She doesn't need to feel the blood seeping into the black material of her under shirt to know what has happened, this isn't her first gun fight after all and instinct sees her scramble between the table legs to try and get even a little cover. Her mind is going at a hundred miles a minute, Scarlett's dark gaze darting around the room as she tries to get a sense of what just happened. Her attention drawn to the shards of glass spilled over the floor, the curtains billowing from the now broken window.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Calling out. She manages to sound more irritated than hurt, like the fact that somebody had taken a shot at her was more of an inconvenience than something to be scared of and from outside of the room, Bucky would see the light inside shift as Scarlett reaches up to grab her lantern. The brunette trying to make it harder for her attacker to see her by as she then blindly fumbles on the table for her Katana.

"You really picked the wrong person to fuck with, asshole." Foolishly taunting her unseen attacker, though how much weight those words held were hard to know when she wasn't healing even a fraction as fast as she used to, the blood still pulsing from her wound as her heart hammered hard against her rib cage.

[worthallthis]

That. Is not the response of a Widow. A Widow would have gone silent, if she'd survived, hidden in wait for her attacker to come finish the job so that she could turn the tables on them.

What the fuck is going on. This mission. Seriously.

With the target down, even if not eliminated, the Soldier no longer has a clear shot. It can't leave now. She might get help, backup, might work out just what was sent after her. At the very least she's already injured and that gives the Soldier at least a little advantage. It puts its gun away and swings down from the tree, crossing the distance to the building at a sprint. It starts scaling the wall towards the window, and uses the metal arm to punch the rest of the glass out of the way, levering itself in and keeping said metal arm between it's body and the room.

The whole process takes about two minutes, from leaving the tree to entering the Invincible's room.

9/18-ish (hope this is ok~)

[featherknives]

[Xayah doesn't patrol. But she does keep an eye out on a specific location. A small trail that leads to the barbed wire fence (and small road after it that leads to the lighthouse) and road to the Museum. She's more interested in the spirits on the other side of the fence since they've proven to be the most hostile until now. Xayah doesn't want to be taken by surprise.

Let's just simply say she has her own agenda.

With lantern on her waist and left side covered with her long cloak, made out of long purple feathers, she's on her way back to her usual spot. Only to spot a figure going back to the town, down the road from the Museum. She's been here a while, but she had never met him. She pulls her cowl a bit lower and her tall ears twitch. Hopefully... this won't cause trouble. A lot.]

Nice night for a walk.

it's great :D

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier pauses at being addressed. Blinks once. Its own lantern is an old World War 2 specimen, currently slung across its back with braided twine, only casting limited light. Then it dips its head in a greeting-ish sort of nod, and says,]

Or a patrol.

[Idle walking isn't really in the Soldier's training, at the moment. Maybe someday.]

[featherknives]

[Good place to patrol at, that's for sure. She glances at the path that leads to the barbed wire fence and then turns attention back at him.]

I thought I was the only one.

[She hasn't seen anyone patrol the grounds, like, ever. She's not the type to sit around so she's been wandering around. Years of travelling with Rakan made her feel restless if she sits for too long in one place.]

[worthallthis]

I make at least three patrols every day around the entire village perimeter. Both sides of the river.

[Someone has to. And honestly, if the Soldier doesn't, it gets fucking anxious. So it might as well. Doesn't mean there's always much to see, though.]

It's mostly been quiet.

9/18

[policier]

( It's been a few weeks since the town hall meeting, and ever since then, Javert has been turning over the Soldier's offer. It's not something he does often. Thinking outside of what his duties require is not something he's ever done, but ever since that night on the bridge, he's been plagued by it quite often. He hates how frequently he hesitates now, he who has never been so uncertain of anything. But there's no hesitation in him when he sees the Soldier sitting at a table in the Invincible. The inspector strides up to him and takes the seat across from his. )

You still wish to teach others how to fight? ( Who has time for pleasantries? Not Javert. )

[worthallthis]

[Said Soldier had been smack in the middle of a bite of sandwich (it has learned how to make sandwiches now, which is awesome), but it does try to sit up straighter at the sudden appearance of an Inspector at the table while it hurriedly tries to swallow. (Knew we shouldn't have sat down.)

No pleasantries is nice. Handlers and backup getting straight to the point is the Soldier's preference. That'd be perfect if the Soldier still hadn't been chewing.

Finally free of a mouth full of too much bread and cheese and condiments, it says,]

To defend themselves and to stay alive. Yes.

[policier]

( Javert is nothing if not patient. He waits until the Soldier finishes his bite — a surprisingly human action from someone who claims to not be so — his back resting rigidly against the chair. He nods satisfactorily, and sets his lantern and cudgel atop the table. )

Then you shall do so. I shall be there as well, of course, teaching my half of the class. You will be under my watchful eye, always.

( It's said coolly, as a warning. No funny business. )

You said are proficient at unarmed combat?

[worthallthis]

[Hey, man, even Assets have to eat. Now, though, the sandwich gets ignored in favor of a comfortably assertive handler. Not even Crowley comes across quite like that. (Because Crowley is mostly harmless. Javert is not.)]

Yes, sir.

[No funny business at all. The Soldier doesn't even have a sense of humor. (Liar. Yeah, yeah.)]

I am programmed with several forms of hand-to-hand combat, as well as gymnastics and tumbling. Recommended as the most useful skill to teach those without combat experience.

II - 9/17

[withsadness]

"Soldat! Soldat!"

It doesn't matter how he feels about pictures. Mary is, unsurprisingly, participating in the scavenger hunt with boundless enthusiasm, and it doesn't occur to her that anyone may not be quite so willing to play along with her shenanigans. She's holding up her tablet as she skips her way forward, already preparing to snap a picture of him.

"Say cheese!"

[worthallthis]

It's been long enough that the Soldier has figured out that the thing people are doing in regards to this looking-for-things is taking pictures. "Selfie", after all, wasn't actually a word it had been familiar with. So it's learned a new word, which is a horrible word for a thing it is absolutely not allowed to do. In every mission parameter is the phrase "leave no witnesses". Being caught on a camera means potentially infinite witnesses. Unacceptable.

So while it turns towards Mary's voice at the sound of its current cover name, the sight of her tablet tilted up in its direction elicits an immediate and automatic reaction: eyes go wide, metal arm goes up between it and the source of potential mission failure, and the Soldier dives to one side, in this case behind a tree.

[withsadness]

Mary blinks in surprise when all she gets is a very blurred photo and then her friend...has disappeared! Lowering the tablet, she peers around in the direction that he scurried away, moving forward a bit less quickly, now.

"Hey, where'd you go? Come back, Soldat!"

[worthallthis]

The Soldier isn't hard to find. It looks around the tree to blink at her, ready to pull back again if she raises her tablet. "I can't have my picture taken," it tells her gravely. Then, because it's Mary, it adds, "Sorry."