CHAPTER 1: Detroit
Bucky jolted awake, sleep was still new to him.
The Winter Soldier never slept.
He was always dormant, like a fighting dog sitting in his cage waiting for the door to open and reveal his next opponent.
Every bump of the train or sniffle of the children seated behind him made its way into his dreams causing him to wake up once more.
Sweat slid down his forehead and collected at the back of his stiff neck. The train car was hot and stuffy, but Bucky couldn't risk removing his jacket and having someone recognize his gleaming metal arm.
One night, in a fit of rage, he had attempted to tear the prosthetic limb off, but he only managed to scuff the little red star on his shoulder.
The train car's loudspeaker came to life with a crackle "Now letting off passengers to Detroit, Michigan."
Nobody moved, nobody except Bucky. He got up from his seat and found his way off the train.
Bucky followed the red glare of a sign to the front of the train station. A young couple barged out of the station.
The woman, a tall blonde, stomped down the sidewalk, but the man, a twenty-something with fuzzy brown hair, stopped in front of Bucky.
"Don't even bother," He said "no Wi-Fi, no lounge, no ATM I don't know how long its been since this place has had an update!" With that remark he scurried after his furious significant other.
Wi-Fi? ATM? What does that even mean?
Bucky's thoughts were interrupted by a shriek.
Some thug pried a tote bag out of the hands of a woman and made off with it; Bucky hurried inside with a prayer that nobody would provoke him into a fight.
The train station was in shambles.
Scratchy yellowish-brown fluff poked out from seat cushions, dusty light bulbs gave the room an orangey glow, moths fluttered around near the ceiling, and the staff was no better.
Bucky sat down in one of the disheveled chairs and stared at the wall on the other side of the room.
I do this a lot. He thought to himself. Why do I just sit and stare? Again his thoughts were interrupted, this time by a small boy.
The boy ran excitedly towards a large brightly lit machine by the front desk. Bucky watched with well hidden curiosity as the boy fed a dollar into the machine and received food from inside. When the boy had sat back down with his snoring mother, Bucky reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a dollar he had found earlier.
After a few moments spent figuring out the machine, Bucky returned to his seat with a bag of pretzels. He ate them quietly and watched people scurry around behind the front desk.
Eventually, people began to leave, trains were boarded and offices were closed, so The Winter Soldier decided it was time he left too.
Hands in his pockets, Bucky walked through the city.
Occasionally, broken glass crunched under his boots and he ducked out of the way of two alley cats fighting viciously over a scrawny bone.
The constant wail of distant sirens filled his ears and he welcomed the familiar melody.
Bucky didn't particularly enjoy the company of others and found himself very anxious when a group of scantily clad women approached him. He ignored them with his head down, wishing that he had kept his mask.
His mask, it would come as a surprise to anyone, that the item used to control and restrain him, was the one thing Bucky wished he still had.
Like a lion brought up in captivity then released into the wild, Bucky wished for his restraints.