Power Surge, Part Two
Day 9 at the Retreat
Borrowed shorts, and an over-sized tee shirt weren't the ideal clothes for an outdoor November workout. It was chilly enough that Taylar needed to keep constantly moving to keep herself warm. She forced herself into activity, keeping her promise of being more constructive with her time. Just because she was forced to take a hiatus from field work shouldn't mean she could let herself go. She'd go back to being a SHIELD agent at some point, she was confident in that. Maybe they were inditing Chesterfield on multiple harassment charges, maybe they weren't. Maybe it was just getting swept under the rug. She couldn't count on maybes.
So Taylar worked. She ran laps; she did push-ups and sit-ups and all manner of things to keep busy. Sometimes, Bucky would join her for an early morning run. Sometimes, he'd just watch her from a distance. She had a particular tree picked out that the liked to use in lieu of having an actual blocking dummy. It was a tall and straight white pine, roughly as big around as a man. She never actually struck the tree; her stance and form kept the bark just inches out of reach.
Watching her, Bucky tried to stop himself from picking apart her style. Muay thai was a smart choice for her size. She didn't have Romanov's acrobatic skills, at least not that she was displaying, but ultimately she wouldn't be someone that he worried about in a fight. If it came to that. When it came to that.
Because honestly, it was a matter of when.
Playing with his favorite K-bar knife gave him a wicked idea. She wasn't willing to test out her powers on him, but maybe she'd be willing to spar. Catching the knife by it's blade, Bucky seized an opportunity. In a split second, the knife thunked deep into the tree trunk, having skimmed inches by her arm. Rounding on him, Taylar swore.
Bucky was leaning against the cabin, arms crossed over his chest, smirking at her. The sight of him wearing that expression infuriated her, for some reason. Twisting, she grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the tree. It took a good couple tries, and the bracing of her foot against the trunk, but the K-bar came free with splinters of bark. Bucky's smirk twisted into a deeper expression of amusement as the five-foot-nothing Taylar stalked towards him, trying to be menacing in over-sized, borrowed clothes.
Waving the knife point at the vicinity of his chest, Taylar snapped. "This thing is sharp! And pointy! And could get someone.. like me seriously hurt!"
"Kinda the whole point of a knife, isn't it?" Bucky snapped up his left arm, closing his metal fingers around the knife blade. He began to twist the knife away from her, torquing her arm in a way that had to be uncomfortable. He just kept smirking, waiting for the realization to dawn on her.
He was doing this on purpose. He was baiting her, and he was determined to enjoy it. Was anticipation an emotion? Maybe it was. Taylar released the knife, and shook out her hand, letting Bucky show off his manual dexterity. Flipping the K-bar in the air, he caught it by the hilt and rammed the blade's entire length into the side of the cabin. Her brows shot up, and she retreated a step.
"So that's how you wanna play?" Bucky wasn't sure but he thought he picked up a glimmer of a challenge in her tone.
Straightening off the wall, he broadened his stance, sliding his right foot back to give him a good pivot point from. She almost laughed, but stopped herself, part of her realizing that he wasn't actually joking about this, despite the playful smirk. In three quick movements, she set herself in a stance, brought her hands up, and fired that first punch.
Bucky caught it on his forearm, a quick glancing blow that was meant as a experiment. She followed up quickly with some kicks, easily blocked test attacks that he turned away with a twist of a knee, or a dropped forearm. Some part of him was enjoying the exchange already. That same part of him that had been twisted and broken by Hydra, craved the chaos of conflict and the adrenaline rush of a good fight. But the kid from Brooklyn that still existed within him, hated himself for that very same reason. A fight wasn't something to crave; it wasn't something to seek out. He didn't want to let himself enjoy this.
But for someone who hadn't wanted to spar with him at any earlier point, she was really getting into it. She broke out into a huge smile after she connected with a straight kick to his gut that drove him back a step, and momentarily knocked the breath out of him. He chuckled as he gave himself a shake.
"Not bad, not bad, but you're in the big leagues now, whether you like it or not. You gotta know how to pull out all the stops." He'd apologize later if he sounded patronizing. From the arch of her brow as she flicked her hair back, he thought he might have crossed a line.
"Did you know," Taylar began, backing away a few more steps, effectively broadening the arena for their little sparring match. "That SHIELD has an entire training curriculum built around you?"
That caught him off-guard. "What? Me? Why?" Circling around to her left, he forced her to move laterally. He feinted a jab at her face, causing her to weave her shoulders in a classic boxing move that showed she knew how to hybridize styles.
"Why not? When the world is populated by guys who can curl a damned helicopter, or turn into twelve-foot tall rage-monsters, the only chance we have is learning how you fight, and going for the weak points."
As a punctuation on the statement, she shifted her weight and began to twist her hips. Bucky instinctively dropped his arm to block the kick coming to his left side. But she never completed that rotation, instead the twist of her hips continued upward through her torso, into her shoulders as she threw a haymaker that rattled his teeth inside his head. He shook it off with a laugh, popping his mouth open to test the actual damage. The hinge of his jaw popped, and he laughed.
She looked on the verge of apologizing, but Bucky decided to put her on her heels. Pressing the attack, he consciously pulled his punches, reminding himself that she was only human. She didn't have the durability provided by the serum like he did. She weathered the storm wisely, taking hits on her upper arms, or deflecting them with her forearms. She kept her face and head protected, and backed up steadily under the onslaught.
Only once did she counter attack, stepping inside Bucky's greater reach and ramming the heel of her hand up into his chin. Another solid strike that clacked his teeth together, and forced a split second pause. Taylar took advantage of that momentary slip, following the palm strike with trailing elbow. Or she tried to. Bucky caught her arm, as he let himself fall backwards, yanking her down with him. She wasn't comfortable grappling. Shock registered on her face, as he rolled her beneath him. Pinned down, she still tried to fight, twisting her shoulders into the dirt in an effort to free her arms.
"We'll work on thi-" Bucky never got to finish the statement. Never got to propose getting her better training, more thorough skills when it came to bigger opponents. He saw an expression of incoherent rage darken Taylar's green eyes only a single moment before he noticed a scarlet miasma begin to flow from her skin.
Like a fog bank it rolled down her skin, and as soon as it came in contact with Bucky's, his entire body screamed in agony. Like every nerve ending was burned all in the same second, Bucky unleashed a scream that felt torn from unresponsive lungs. It was torture. For five seconds, ten seconds, he had no idea how long it took him to throw himself off of her, to roll away through the grass.
The pain didn't stop when the connection was broken though. It was worse than being shot. Worse than being struck by lighting. Worse than having his brain in a proverbial blender. He wanted to rip his skin off, to dig his bones out and break them himself because it would hurt less than what was happening. Screwing his eyes shut, he dug his fingers into the ground, as if that would help root him to reality.
Eventually, the pain began to subside. He had no idea how long he'd been insensible to anything other than the agony of his screaming body. His throat felt raw, ragged, as he panted for breath. Had he been screaming the whole time? Forcing his eyes open, there was blue sky above him. Blue sky meant there was no chance that the last few years of his life had been all an elaborate Hydra set-up. Blue sky meant he was still free of Hydra, but not free from the consequences of his actions. Blue sky meant the Retreat, high up in the Catskills. But it also meant...
"Tay." Unintentionally shortening her name, because the sound of his own voice startled him, Bucky turned his head to look for her. She hadn't run back to the cabin. He was grateful for that. But she wasn't faring well.
She sat where he'd rolled away from her, having not moved an inch. Her knees were drawn up to her chest; her hands clamped over her ears. So he had been screaming, the entire time. Bucky's knees still felt like jelly, and he didn't trust himself to walk, so he crawled towards her.
A hand on her back caused her to pick her head up. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she searched his face for some sign of condemnation. Bucky was tired, and sore, but there was none reflected back at her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I-" She cut herself off as Bucky curled his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close.
"Hey. I'm okay. See. Told you I'm tough." He was rewarded with a watery laugh as she unfolded a little. He rubbed her arm until she tipped her head against his shoulder. After a few moments, when it was apparent she wasn't going to withdraw, Bucky rested his temple against the crown of her head, and sighed softly. "So, red hurts. A lot. And black makes you live your worst nightmare. At least we know that much now."
