Tony poked and prodded at the arm for what felt like hours to Bucky, staying mostly silent other than to ask Bucky if he could feel something or if he knew how something worked.
("Can you tell me how it moves?"
"Er, up and down?"
"...you, you have no idea how it works, do you?"
"I don't need to know how it works to use it. And nobody at Shield has ever been able to tell me.")
Eventually he pried off the panel by Bucky's bicep and fiddled with some of the stuff inside, but put it back after only a few minutes and told Bucky to put his shirt back on.
"They'll be coming in to make demands and bring food in a few minutes," Tony explained, pushing his bucket of tools out of sight and helping Bucky with his sleeve. "And I think it might be to our advantage if they think you still can't use your arm."
Bucky paused, a little bubble of hope welling up in his chest. "Does that mean you can fix it?" he asked, dropping his hand from the top fastening of his shirt, which Tony immediately went to work on.
Tony smirked, looking like the cat that had eaten the canary. "Not only can I fix it, but I think I can ground it so the same thing won't happen again," he said, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips in satisfaction. "So you'll be able to fight your way out with a spoon in each hand, if you want."
Bucky leaned back and stretched his legs, looking up at Tony and seeing the same smug, feral expression he was sure was on his face as well.
"You know, I think we just might have a chance of getting out of here after all," he said, just as the door started rattling.
Tony turned until he was facing the door and put his hands behind his head, eyes glittering dangerously. "Just so long as one of those spoons ends up in Raza's eye," he mumbled, jaw set.
As it turned out, getting the materials was actually the easiest part of their plan.
According to Tony, most of what they needed was already in their cell-cum-workshop, and the rest ended up being easier to steal than Bucky had thought.
The very next day, Tony managed to sneak a few chips of the mineral and a small length of wire he said he needed for Bucky's arm.
The day after that was some bolts and a tiny sheet of metal Bucky thought was too small to make a difference, but Tony had insisted he needed. More bolts and and another chip of the mineral were the next day's bounty, and then a flask of alcohol Bucky managed to pick-pocket from one of the guards.
It soon became a routine. The bandits would come in late in the afternoon with food and water, and a list of things they wanted Tony to make or repair for them. The next morning they would bring the supplies Tony requested, take inventory of what he had left, and then leave with whatever invention or weapon Tony had made after making a few threats. Tony would then work on some of the things the bandits wanted, going over what he thought he could skim from what he'd been given. Then he'd work on the things they'd decided they needed for their escape - the explosives, some weapons, and some armor - and Bucky's arm, which came along faster than Bucky could ever have hoped.
By the third day, Bucky could move his fingers.
On the fifth, he could lift it level with his shoulder.
After a week it was fully functioning, and better than it ever had before.
"This is amazing," Bucky gasped, rotating his shoulder and wiggling his wrist giddily. "I don't think it's ever moved this smoothly, and it doesn't hurt at all, either - you really are a genius."
Tony scoffed and went back to the weapon he'd been working on - some kind of crossbow, by the looks of it - the tips of his ears turning pink. "Oh ye of little faith," he said, though Bucky could tell he was pleased to hear it.
What ended up being the hardest part was making it seem as though Bucky still couldn't use his arm. Once it was functioning, lifting and moving his arm was instinctual for Bucky - it swung when he walked, it reached if something was falling, and it scratched if Bucky had an itch. It was an effort in concentration for him not to move it.
"It's too hard to keep it limp," Bucky said, two days after Tony had completed the repairs.
They'd just had a particularly close call; one of the bandits had shoved Tony towards him, and Bucky had instinctively raised his left hand to brace him. Luckily the bandit hadn't been paying attention - far too busy cursing at his fellows to hurry up with the supplies - but it had been a near miss, and Bucky didn't want a repeat. The bandits were already leery of him, and kept their guard up around him enough as it was. Bucky suspected that if they knew he could use both arms, they wouldn't leave him alone with Tony, and the very last thing either of them needed was to be separated right now.
Frowning in contemplation, Tony chewed the inside of his cheek.
"What if we make you a sling?" he suggested. He walked over to their cots and picked up one of their threadbare blankets, as well as a small length of leather from one of the junk piles. "It'll be easier than having it just hang there, and if we pad it enough, they won't be able to tell if your fingers twitch or not."
"It'll be better than trying to keep it still," Bucky agreed, pulling his arm up against his chest experimentally. Then he thought of something else that made him brighten up to the idea. "Plus it'll make a handy hiding spot," he added, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows.
Tony nodded in approval. "See? This is the kind of forward thinking that's going to get us out of here," he sighed happily, holding up the blanket and then chucking it at Bucky's head. "Start ripping, grunt."
There was a battered deck of cards Tony had secreted away in his cot, so when he and Bucky weren't building or planning their escape, they passed the time by playing.
"I feel as though a respectable gentleman of the court shouldn't be as good at these sorts of games as you are," Bucky grumbled one evening as he lost another hand.
Tony snickered and pulled some of the pebbles they were using as winnings towards him. "Respectable? Really? Somebody has been spreading lies about me," he said, and drew up another hand.
Bucky laughed and drew as well. "Don't let Stevie know," he warned. "He'll not have a word against you, and won't put up with anyone sullying your honor."
"Hey, I've played strip-poker with him," Tony retorted. "He knows exactly how unrespectable I am, in this regard, anyway."
Bucky snorted. "You're not serious," he said, only to raise his eyebrows when he saw the candor in Tony's expression. "He didn't! Steve knows how bad he is at poker. Surely he wasn't stupid enough to actually accept a challenge from you."
Tony's eyes shone mischievously. "Well, no," he said, and inspected his hand. "However, he was stupid enough to suggest it." He shook his head sadly. "I told him we could stop when he got to his skivvies, but nooo. Stubborn bastard was determined to see it to the end, even though he was redder than a tomato and shivering from the draft."
Bucky dropped his cards and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.
"His Royal Highness, stark naked and blushing down to his chest," Bucky wheezed, clutching his sides.
Tony chuckled and gathered their cards, then shuffled the deck. "His Lordship," he corrected idly, before dealing out their hands and motioning for Bucky to draw first.
Bucky raised his eyebrows, then drew a card. "What?"
Tony looked up from his hand and drew a card of his own. "His Lordship," he repeated, mouth twitching a little. "Steve's title. It's 'His Lordship', not 'His Highness'."
Bucky cocked his head, trying to figure out if Tony's expression was due to his hand or Bucky's question. "What's the difference?"
Tony chuckled. "A crown," he said, mouth twitching again. "We're both 'His Lordship' until we're officially crowned. And even then, Steve is going to be 'His Majesty' since technically it's still Shield's reign, even though we'll both be ruling together. I'll be the one addressed as 'His Highness' for another three years, and when reign passes to Stark I'll be 'His Majesty' and Steve will be 'His Royal Highness'."
Bucky blinked. "That sounds very complicated," he said, and wondered if Steve actually knew any of this. He doubted it, since it had never come up in any of their conversations, or when Bucky would tease Steve about his new title.
Tony huffed. "Not really. Especially when you consider everything else we're going to have to deal with once we're on the throne." He frowned and looked down at his hand, some of the joviality leaving his expression. "Titles are pretty trivial in comparison when you're trying to work out trade deals and figure out which countries least want to kill you."
Bucky considered that for second, as well as Tony's darkening mood. "Yeah, but do I get locked in a dungeon or something if I accidently call one of you the wrong thing?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and keeping his expression serious.
Tony laughed, which was what Bucky had been hoping for. "Nah, I think we're just supposed to gasp and then shun you in public for a few months."
"Well, that could be awkward," Bucky noted, nodding gravely. "I don't think I can avoid calling Stevie a dumbass for any amount of time. What if I just avoid calling you anything? Do I get shunned if I call you 'hey, you'?"
"Not if nobody hears you say it," Tony snickered, setting down his cards and then propping his chin up with his hand. "Though it does seem a shame to deprive you of the honor of calling Steve names… Maybe we can find a new position for you. 'Royal Bullshit Caller', or something of that ilk. Someone who's allowed to call us out on our crap without ever getting in trouble."
"I do that already. At least with Steve, anyway," Bucky pointed out. "Besides, isn't that the function of literally all of the other house heads?"
Tony shrugged, then grinned triumphantly when Bucky set down his (losing) hand. "Yeah, but they have to be polite about it, and won't be nearly as funny as you will," he said with remorse, scooting more pebbles towards him.
"I take that as a compliment, Your Soon-To-Be-Highness," Bucky said cheekily. It was his turn to deal, so he pulled the cards towards him.
"Tony," Tony corrected, giving him a crooked smile. "For you, always Tony."
"What do you think everyone is doing back home?" Tony asked Bucky late one night, when neither of them could sleep.
Bucky grunted and rolled over so he was facing Tony's cot. "What anyone does when someone as important as you goes missing, I s'pose. Panic, worry, and start looking for you."
Tony made a sound and turned to face him as well, propping his head up on his elbow. "They'll be worrying and looking for you, too," he said, brow furrowed. "Especially Steve. He'd bring down heaven and hell to find you - he did before."
"Yeah, but he knows I can handle myself. He's probably worrying himself sick about you," Bucky pointed out. "Him and your family."
Tony was quiet for a few seconds.
"Father might worry a little," he admitted finally, worrying his lower lip. "Jarvis and Ana and Pepper will be the ones who are really panicking. Peggy, though…" He smiled fondly. "Pegs is probably fighting Steve for the honor of rescuing me as we speak," he said wryly.
Bucky chuckled. "She sounds like a hell of lady, if you don't mind me saying," he said, which seemed to please Tony. "Fury seemed to think pretty highly of her. I've never heard Steve mention her, though."
"Uh, yeah, well… I, ah, might have purposely not introduced them," Tony said sheepishly, a hint of guilt creeping into his expression. "You see, she's… she may be Dad's baby sister, but she's only five years older than me. So she's always been more like my big sister than an aunt."
Bucky grunted again, then pushed himself to a sitting position. "Yeah, so?"
Tony made a face, then sat up as well, swinging his legs over the edge of his cot. "Well, the thing is, she'd always been really… protective. Of me," he said, chewing his lower lip. "Like, well, a protective older sister would be, I guess."
Bucky thought of Stevie, and nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "But what's that have to do with her meeting Steve?"
"Well - okay, you know Lord Quill?" Tony asked, bracing his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands.
"The head of Star House?"
"Yes, him. Always trying to get people to call him Star Lord when it's supposed to be Lord Star, if anything. Anyway, he was one of the many suitors my father tried to set me up with, before Steve. And, really, he wasn't bad. I mean, I liked him - well, not as much as Steve, or anything - and we were really compatible, personality-wise."
Bucky raised his eyebrows, and suddenly found himself irrationally irritated with Lord Quill, for no real reason. "Okay. And?"
Tony wrinkled his nose. "I mean, he - Star House land is in the Galaxy Islands. You've heard about all the strange shit that goes on down there. Supposedly they have a talking tree that helps defend the islands and attacks things, and Peter himself was raised by pirates, if you're to believe him. Nothing should faze him, and yet -" He shook his head. "Whatever Pegs said to him, he hasn't so much as looked in my direction ever since."
Bucky laughed. "You're kidding."
Tony sighed. "I wish," he grumbled, leaning back until he was sitting against the wall. "There was a banquet at Marvel Castle last summer. Janet and Lady Kamala kept parading me across the ballroom just to see him sprint in the opposite direction."
Bucky laughed harder, and had to bury his face in his pillow to muffle it.
"You laugh," Tony huffed, though his eyes were sparkling. "But I want to remind you that Peggy is the only person I've met who scares Natasha Romanoff. So you'll have to excuse me for wanting to spare Steve."
"You're right," Bucky gasped once he'd recovered, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Poor Stevie would never have stood a chance." He shook his head, still snickering, before something else Tony had said caught up with him and made him pause.
"So, uh, you had a lot of suitors, before Steve?" Bucky asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He wasn't really surprised - Tony was good-looking, after all, and an all-around charming person to boot - but somehow the revelation made him feel… uneasy, almost.
Tony grimaced, then shrugged. "I guess," he said, tilting his head back and frowning at the ceiling. "I mean… it's to be expected, really. I'm the heir to the next ruling house - every aristocrat in the kingdom has tried to secure a marriage with me and either themselves or someone in their family since I was born."
"But that's - that's terrible," Bucky objected, indignation rising. "You're a person, for cripes sake! No an object, or a piece of property to bid on. I mean -" He shook his head and leaned forward. "What about love, or romance, or..." He trailed off as the memory of his conversation with Steve came to mind, then snapped his mouth shut, stomach clenching uncomfortably.
Tony's smile was pitying, but not unkind. "People like me don't marry for love," he said quietly, pulling his knees to his chest. "We marry for power or political reasons, or to strengthen ties between houses or even nations. I was always going to have an arranged marriage - if it wasn't Steve, it would have been someone else. And, trust me, if you had seen the men and women my father used to parade in front of me, you'd see why I'm so happy with Steve."
Bucky cleared his throat, and started picking at a hole in his blanket. That was… rather depressing, honestly.
"So you… you don't love Steve?" Bucky asked, against his better judgment.
Tony paused, then bit his lip, a faraway look in his eyes. "No, I - I wouldn't say that," he said carefully, ducking his head. "I - look, it's like I just said: people like me, we don't marry for love. We don't, we don't get to marry for love. Sometimes, we get lucky and marry someone we actually like, and then maybe, just maybe, we grow to love them. That's what happened with my parents. Or at least, that's what they always told me."
He shook his head and looked back up at Bucky, eyes open and earnest.
"So I guess, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I - yes. Yes, I love Steve. As a friend, as a partner… as someone very, very important to me. But probably not the way you're thinking of, or the way Steve would like. Not, not yet, anyway. But I know I could. That I'll grow to, if I get the chance."
He let out a frustrated breath and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, I'm explaining it all wrong, I -"
"No," Bucky said quietly, thinking of what Steve had said when Bucky had asked him the same question. "No, I think I know exactly what you're saying."
"I think I will, in time."
Somehow, though, hearing Tony say it was even sadder.
Tony needed a forge to fashion some of the weapons the bandits requested. There wasn't one in his and Bucky's cell, of course - the bandits weren't smart, but they weren't completely stupid, either - but there was one at the other end of the hideout, so a few times a week several of the bandits would collect the two of them and march them over to it, making sure to keep Bucky tied up and watching Tony like a hawk as he worked.
Today was one of those days, and Bucky noticed something was off right away.
For starters, there were about twice as many bandits escorting them, and before any of them had even spoken, Bucky could tell they were nervous. Then they gave Bucky the day's order to translate to Tony, whose brow furrowed.
"I can't make that much today," he protested, eyes darting between to the bandits. "That's - they only give me an hour or two at the forge, and that's almost twice what they usually want."
"Then he will stay longer until he is finished," snarled a bandit when Bucky repeated what Tony said, then shoved Bucky forward to make him walk.
Tony exchanged a puzzled look with Bucky that was broken when another bandit shoved him forward as well, but didn't say anything else.
The bandits whispered to each other the whole time they walked, but it wasn't until they were at the forge - which was in a cavernous room that allowed the sound to carry - that Bucky could hear any of what they were saying.
"- should have just left them in their cell. We have enough to transport as it is. I don't know what Raza is thinking."
"He's thinking we could use the weapons, if the snakes are really coming. And besides, Stark will be useless and make more work for us when we're traveling - might as well have him make what he can today before we go. "
Bucky's pulse quickened, but he didn't let anything show on his face or in his body language. He edged a little closer to the bandits, picking up a pan with small parts in it as he went, and then dropped it, pretending the clumsiness was due to his bindings and the use of one arm.
A few of the bandits looked down at him distastefully, but otherwise ignored him and kept talking. Tony looked as though he was going to come over and help, but Bucky shook his head and subtly motioned for him to stay where he was.
" What about the one that killed Rowan ?" one asked, pointing his sword towards Bucky. " He'll be much harder to transport. You saw what he did before, he's too dangerous not to keep an eye on. "
" Feh, we leave him behind. Translators are not so hard to come by, and besides - you saw how cooperative Stark became when we killed the last one. "
The bandits all laughed, the cruelty overcome only by their palpable nervousness, which drew even Tony's attention.
Bucky shook his head at him again and scooped up the pan, then walked over and held it out to him.
"I'll tell you in a minute," Bucky whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "We need to get back to our cell."
Tony blinked, but otherwise kept his face blank. "How?" he asked without moving his lips, and pretended to inspect what Bucky had brought him.
"I don't know," Bucky murmured, mind whirling. "I -"
"Never mind, I have an idea," Tony whispered, picking up a piece at random and then turning back to the forge.
Putting his trust in whatever Tony had in mind, Bucky turned and started shuffling over to set the pan back down, then dropped it for real when Tony yelped behind him.
He spun around to find Tony clutching his left hand, face screwed up in pain, and dashed over to him, remembering at the last second to keep his left arm tucked in its sling.
"What happened?" Bucky demanded at the same time the bandits did, gently prying Tony's hand away from where he was holding it to his chest.
"Burned it," Tony hissed, wincing when Bucky tried to pry his hand open. "I took my glove off, forgot about it…"
" What is the matter with him ?" one of their guards snapped, the ground crunching beneath his feet as he stepped closer.
" He's hurt. I need some clean, cold water ," Bucky shouted over his shoulder, then turned back to Tony and narrowed his eyes.
"This is your idea?" Bucky hissed through gritted teeth, while one guard shouted at another to get the water. "Maim yourself?"
"It's not as bad as it looks," Tony hissed back, face still pinched as though he were in great pain. "I'm not an idiot - I just have to make it seem like I can't work."
A bandit appeared with a bucket of cleanish-looking water and plopped it down beside them, eyes mistrustful as they stayed on Bucky.
Jaw clenched, Bucky made a show of helping Tony clean his hand off and asked for a bandage, which he got with surprisingly little fuss.
" He can't work ," Bucky said, once he was done helping Tony bandage his hand.
The same guard that had given him the bandage narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything.
" He can't move his hand, and he can't make you the things you want without using two hands ," Bucky growled in frustration. " And if he damages it further, he won't be any help to you at all - "
" Fine," snapped the guard that seemed to be in charge, nodding at the others and pointing his sword at Tony. " Take them back to their cell, and give them extra water. I will inform Raza ."
Once back in the (relative) safety of their cell, Bucky took a better look at Tony's burn, and told Tony what he had overheard.
"So they're moving us tomorrow?" Tony asked, while Bucky re-bandaged his hand.
Bucky nodded, not bothering to correct the 'us'. "Apparently someone or something is getting close enough to make them antsy," he said, tying off the bandage and running his fingers experimentally over the top of it. "This changes things."
Tony nodded grimly. "We can't wait any longer. We don't have half the supplies we were going to need, but if we're going to escape, we'll have to do it tonight."
Bucky shook his head. "Tomorrow," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It'll be a rush trying to adjust the plan, but on the one hand, it'll be easier. They'll be distracted by the move, and getting out was half our plan anyway, so if we can get them to voluntarily take you outside -"
"Us," Tony corrected, frowning at him. He flexed his hand as if testing it, then stood up and started pacing. "And what about all the things we needed? We've only got enough armor for one, I haven't gotten to make you your nifty little lightning stick yet, and I only have enough mineral - I've decided we're calling it buckium, by the way - for maybe a third of the charges we wanted. I'm not even sure if it'll be enough to blow the door off."
"If they take you outside, you won't need half of that stuff anyway," Bucky pointed out. "Other than the provisions - which we still haven't figured out how to get anyway - most of it was for getting out and past the guards."
Tony stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes. " I won't need half of it, if they take me outside - aren't you forgetting someone? What about you?" he asked, crossing his arms and frowning at Bucky.
"Let me worry about me," Bucky replied, avoiding Tony's eyes. "And you're not naming that stuff 'buckium', that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
The ground crunched under Tony's boots as he stepped closer, then crouched down until he and Bucky were eye-level. "We're leaving together," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Bucky scowled back at him. "We may not get a choice in the matter," he said tersely. "They aren't planning on moving us together, Tony. And I have a better chance of fighting my way out by myself, so long as we can get you out first."
Tony's brow furrowed, his expression calculating. Bucky looked up into his eyes - easily the most expressive of Tony's features - and saw the exact second he pieced it together.
"They're not going to move you at all, are they?" Tony said, voice flat.
Bucky looked away, and then shook his head. "No," he said carefully. "But I'm certainly not going to lie down and die for them, either. We let them take you outside, like I said, and then I can catch up, and -"
"No," Tony said sharply, and stood back up. "We leave together, or we don't leave at all."
Bucky sighed. "We will leave together, Tony. But if they're already moving you anyway -"
" We leave together, or we don't leave at all ," Tony growled, fists clenched. "If we split up, there's no telling what might happen, and I, I can't -" He stopped and took a deep breath, then let it out. "No one else is dying for me," he said quietly, staring down at his feet.
Bucky opened his mouth to protest, then shut it, completely lost as to what to say. After a few seconds of silence, he stood up and carefully put his hand on Tony's shoulder.
"Yinsen wasn't your fault," Bucky said softly.
Tony gave a minute jerk beneath his hand, but other than that, made no inclination that he had heard him.
Bucky squeezed Tony's shoulder, then plowed on. "And I don't know about you, but I got no plans to die anytime soon, so however we decide to do this, you're stuck with me. That okay with you?"
Eyes still on the ground, Tony nodded, then reached up and put his left hand - the one Bucky had just bandaged - over Bucky's on his shoulder.
"Yeah, okay," he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. When he finally looked up, his eyes were wet. "But I still say leaving you here to fend for yourself while they cart me off is a dumbass plan," he added, covering up whatever had just happened with his usual bluster.
Bucky snorted and cupped the side of Tony's neck briefly, then pulled back. "Okay, then, Lord Genius. What do you suggest?" he asked, ignoring the way Tony's cheeks colored.
Tony coughed, then turned away and walking over to his work table. He picked up one of the scraps of blanket leftover from Bucky's sling and turned around, holding it up against his face like a bandana.
"So," he asked, voice muffled by the cloth. "How good are you at disguises?"
That night, they didn't sleep a wink.
Instead, they prepared, huddled together in the corner farthest from the door so the guards wouldn't hear their whispers or see their lantern light through the door.
"You need to be the one to wear the armor," Bucky said, taking stock of what they had to work with. When Tony opened his mouth to protest, Bucky cut him off. "No, listen - of the two of us, who's actually trained in hand-to-hand combat, and can defend himself with a sword?"
Tony's mouth snapped shut, but the look he gave Bucky could only be described as petulant.
Bucky raised his eyebrows and grinned back at him. "Besides, I'll be in disguise, so it's not like I can wear it anyway. It'll be too noticeable. Now, weapons?"
"We've got the four knives that you stole, the end of a mace, our choice of rusty tools, and this," Tony said, digging through a pile of rags that had been one of their many hiding places and pulling out a crossbow. "I've modified it from its original size, so you should be able to sneak it under your clothes. We only have a dozen arrows, though, so we - well, you - need to make every shot count."
Bucky picked it up and tested the grip in his hand, amazed by how light it felt.
"It's a design I originally intended for Clint - Clint Barton, from Shield, you know…? Yeah, okay, of course you do - but anyway, it's made specifically for long-range accuracy, though up close and personal will work just as well." Tony huffed and rolled his eyes, then made a few adjustments to the small doohickey he'd been working on in his hand. "Hawkeye refused to give up his bow when I offered him one, but at least the design didn't go to waste."
"Barton's an idiot," Bucky replied absently, sighting down the crossbow. After setting it back down, he pointed at the thing Tony was working on with his chin. "What about that?"
Tony's grin was all teeth. "This, my friend, is one of our buckium bombs," he said, holding it up and then setting into Bucky's weary hand.
"I already told you, you're not naming it buckium," Bucky grumbled, gingerly turning the device around in his hand. "Seriously, this is… it? How does it work?"
Tony scoffed and scooted closer. "Don't let its looks deceive you," he warned. "The 'bang' won't be enormous, like dynamite, but it will be enough to blow your hand off, if you're not careful."
Bucky fumbled with it in surprise and nearly dropped it, but Tony caught and gently set it back into Bucky's hand. "Easy, it shouldn't go off now," Tony huffed, turning it around in Bucky's hand until a little raised piece of metal that resembled a key was facing Bucky.
"Shouldn't?" Bucky hissed, but Tony ignored him.
"You see this piece, here?" Tony asked, pointing to the little key. "You wind it up, like a clock. Once you do, you have sixty seconds to get as far away from it as possible. The boom won't be big, like I said, but you certainly don't want to be caught up in it."
Bucky nodded and frowned down at the little device thoughtfully. Then Tony took it from him, and set it on the ground with two others. "How many do we have?"
Tony grimaced. "Three, and I have enough supplies to make two more, so only five." He picked up one of the unfinished ones and started fiddling with it, face pensive. "I'll keep one, just in case, but I think you should take the rest."
Bucky nodded his agreement. "Maximum chaos," he murmured, more to himself than Tony, though Tony hummed in approval.
