Again? America had no respect or sympathy for the homeless, even a 12-year-old white kid like Maggie. She thought stuff like this only happened to people of color, not that that was a good thing, but if you were homeless, it didn't matter what you looked like or how old you were; the cops were all jerks. Apparently she'd ended up settling down in a "no loitering" area, and someone reported her, so once again she was evading a cop who'd had a few too many donuts. She hated running from trouble, but if she got caught, they'd probably call her father. She mentally shuddered at the thought. Her father was an abusive drunk so she ran away from home almost a year ago, and the last thing she wanted to happen was to go back. Homeless shelters weren't bad places to go, but only if she wanted a meal; they closed every night and kicked everyone out. School was out of the question, because someone could start asking questions and tell her father, but thankfully it was currently summer break so she didn't have to go.
Ducking into an alley, she was able to get away from the police officer by crawling behind a dumpster. She clutched her backpack close to her chest while the shadows of the people chasing her danced beneath her hiding place. The bag, sporting a picture of Captain America's shield, held all the things she had: a change of clothes, a small blanket, a flashlight, a small water bottle, and the 5 comic books she could not live without. She would have brought her favorite stuffed teddy bear, but it wouldn't fit in the bag and may have only gotten in the way. The first few times she had to sleep without it were really hard, but she made due and got past it. What helped her get past the absence of her bear was the picture she had of her and her mom.
It was barely 3 years old, but so much had happened since then. Her mother died in combat in Afghanistan a year and a half ago, and that's when everything went downhill: her dad started drinking and subsequently started abusing her, her grades dropped, and that's when she ran away. Once her pursuers left, she peeked from her hiding place, but settled in to rest. Pulling the picture from her bag, she stared wistfully at the image of her mother lovingly hanging over her shoulder, hugging her, big grins on their faces.
They were so happy in that picture, so normal, but Maggie knew it wasn't like that. Her mom made frequent trips to the local VA office for group therapy, sometimes even having to take Maggie with her. The guy who ran the session, Sam, became a good family friend and even came to one "Grandparents/Special Friends Day" at Maggie's school. Then, her mom went over for her second tour, just after the picture was taken. Maggie clearly remembered the day her mom left. She gave her mother a big hug, not wanting to let go, tears running down her face. "Be a big girl for daddy, okay?" Her mother said, to which Maggie just nodded and hugged her tighter. That was the last time she saw her mother. Thinking about that made her start crying, but she shook her head and wiped her tears away. It was getting dark and judging by the clouds overhead, it was going to rain, so she had to find shelter. Putting the picture back in her bag, she stood up and carefully walked out of the alley, so to not attract attention to herself.
Sure enough, it started to rain, and Maggie got caught in it, scrambling to find somewhere to stay dry amidst the downpour. Rain and nighttime weren't bad separately, but together, they were the bane of her existence. She could barely see in front of her nose, and the few streetlamps that were there didn't help because the rain absorbed all the light. DC at night was a bad place to be, especially in the area she was, but most people didn't pay much mind to a little white girl with a backpack. Once she was mugged, but the attacker saw the useless stuff in her backpack and just let her go. Not even the gangs paid her any mind since she didn't pose a threat to their territory and kept her nose out of business that wasn't hers. As previously said, she was just a little white girl with a backpack.
Faces flashed across the soldier's mind behind closed eyes the voices along with the saying:
"Bucky, no!"
"Put him on ice."
"Wipe him and start over."
"Bucky?"
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."
"I'm not gonna fight you."
"I'm with you to the end of the line."
With a gasp, he sat up, sweat drenching his forehead. Another night with those damn visions again. Ever since he'd escaped HYDRA, James, as he'd gone to calling himself, had been getting memories from his life flooding back into his mind like broken up film clips. He knew there was a lot missing, but wasn't sure just how much was a lot. If what he saw at the museum exhibit was correct, it was more than seventy years' worth of memories that he probably was better off not knowing. All that mattered to him was what happened before he supposedly died and the past few months.
He looked out the broken window of the abandoned apartment building he was in and saw that, though the rain from last night stopped, it was still pretty cloudy and would most likely rain again. He could also tell because the stump that connects his shoulder to the mechanical arm was slightly achy and usually got that way before it rained. After stretching his back out and letting it crack a few times (Jesus, he knew he was old in years, but physically couldn't have been more than thirty…though in hindsight a mattress he fished from a dumpster wasn't exactly a plush feather bed), he got up and left to go around the city.
His normal routine was to find food, evade whomever he had to shoplift it from, mosey around to avoid unwanted attention, repeat. That morning started out no differently. He snuck a roll from a hotdog cart, stealthily putting it in his pocket and walking away before the owner noticed, but someone else did.
"Hey! Put that back!" Some damn tourist shouted, alerting the cart owner to the theft.
Luckily the man just shrugged. "If I didn't sell it, I would've given it to a food bank."
James nodded in thanks and munched on it as he walked away. Unfortunately, tourists and commuters weren't the only ones on the streets that morning and he felt a hand grip his shoulder. "Come quietly, or we start firing on the crowd." The hand's owner whispered in his ear. The person led him away, to a more empty part of town. James had no intention of coming quietly, especially when he saw the man in the skull mask that had been stalking him since he got away from HYRDA. As soon as there were no pedestrians for them to shoot, he elbowed the person leading him in the face and bolted in the other direction.
"Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!" He cursed to himself as he ran from the assailants. There was no way he could outrun the four of them, so he decided to fight, but on his terms. An upcoming alley looked promising, so he quickly ducked into it and caught his breath in preparation to fight.
