Chapter Three
The sky was the color of ice, and snow brushed his face. It wasn't cold. For a moment, it was almost pleasant to just lay there and not really think, his senses dulled by the gale.
But the memory of the mission soon came rushing back; he and Steve being separated, the armored HYDRA soldier blasting him through the side of the train, Steve yelling for him to grab his hand even as Bucky was falling.
"Steve!" he yelled, immediately letting out a scream of pain. It was so intense in his left arm that he couldn't move it, couldn't even feel it. He glanced over at it and felt bile rising in his throat. Bones weren't supposed to bend like that, weren't supposed to jut through the skin. His chest was on fire, was covered in red like fire, vision blurring like fire. Why am I alive?
There was no sound other than the roar of the wind, but suddenly men stood over him, uniforms with the HYDRA insignia on the shoulder. Get away! He urged himself, desperately trying to scramble away with his good arm, though the term 'good' was used loosely.
The soldiers looked on for a moment without doing anything. They're waiting for me to give up. He wouldn't. He kept moving, though it was a fraction of an inch at a time, and black spots began to overcome the red. He wouldn't, he wouldn't.
Finally, the soldiers decided that they had enough. One of them kneeled beside Bucky and placed a hand on his left shoulder. That was enough to send Bucky to the ground, shrieking with agony, and his vision failed him.
The man in the doorway stirred in his slumber, occasionally letting out short whimpering sounds. People who passed paid him no notice, until another a group of mostly teenagers paused, giggling and clearly drunk, and the leader dared an underling to go through the backpack at the man's side.
Lights swung overhead, driving a spike through his skull. The men dressed in white seemed preoccupied with filling several needles with a deep blue liquid and paid no mention to Bucky's mutterings. He was sure that this would be some type of interrogation, so he steeled himself as much as his cloudy mind would allow, muttering his rank, his serial number, his name.
He thought the pain was bad before. This was worse, when they plunged the needles into his arms and shoulders, because it refused to let him black out. A persistent rush of electricity, heat burning through him, and thoughts of interrogation deserted him.
Bucky still called out, first to those still swarming around him, but they didn't even spare him a glance. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, and Dernier came next, the members of his Howling Commandos, up on that train where he should be. Mary, Barbara, and William, his siblings who he didn't want anywhere near here, they were still kids, Please let them be safe.
Steve! He shouted his name the most, even as the last needle came down on his neck and a weight settled on his head. He was still a kid, too, really. Coherent thought, let alone words, were scarce by that point, so he didn't notice at first that faces and names slid away. Steve's was the last to go.
"A-anybody?" he whispered. He could tell that there wouldn't ever be an answer as his vision finally went black.
With a shout he sat up, startling the three boys into jumping back. Bucky spied one with a backpack, and it took him a moment to recognize that it belonged to him. "Give that back. Now."
"Or what?" the leader asked, grabbing the backpack from his friend and turning it over, spilling the contents to the ground. A toothbrush, an atlas, an extra shirt, and his phone hit the dirty ground. He then shook the backpack, and when he did, three knives clattered on the pavement. Seeing this, his two friend backed up considerably, but the leader just smirked.
Without taking his eyes off the boy, Bucky collected his things, feeling his pulse thud in his veins from anger. He forced himself to keep a lid on it. It was punks like this he'd protected Steve from when they were younger, he remembered, with a slight tremor that forced him to drop his phone again. Not worth my time.
The leader and one of the others laughed loudly at the fumble, but the last one- less drunk than the rest, maybe not drunk at all- glanced around nervously at the look in Bucky's eyes and didn't join in. "Alright guys, let's give the man a break."
The leader ceased his laughter and frowned at the one who had spoken up. "Why's that, Nick? Scared?"
Nick's eyes darted to Bucky's, green meeting dark blue with increasing discomfort. "Um, yeah. He's got knives in his bag, Jace."
"Doubt he could-" Jace hiccuped slightly, his face turning a shade redder. "Doubt he could use 'em."
"Why'd you say that?" It took all three boys a moment to realize that it was Bucky who had spoken. He'd used a much lighter, more amicable tone than before. While Jace seemed to gain a little confidence in this, Nick got the impression that 'dangerous' wouldn't begin to describe this man.
"Sick as a damn dog, you-" he rattled off some poorly-placed curse words, some that may or may not have been made up. Al, the last boy and the oldest at 19, grinned stupidly at this. Nick refused to smile, instead backing up slightly as the homeless man smiled quietly in return.
"Well, maybe I am sick," Bucky replied, standing up. At this, Jace and Al took a half step back in confusion; Bucky was at least half a foot taller than Al, who was the tallest of the group. "But I most certainly could use them, and I have. Not now, though, so why don't you hand me that bag and be on your way?"
Either Jace missed the thinly veiled threat or chose to ignore it, because he grinned up at the man- How doesn't he see a threat here? Nick thought- and tossed the backpack into a puddle, where it hit with a splash.
Bucky paused for a second, then strode over to collect it, jostling Jace as he moved past. The backpack was soaking wet, and probably useless by the time he retrieved it. "Thanks," he said. "Could've done that without so much bitching, but, hey, guess I can't have everything."
Jace blinked, dumbfounded. "B-bitching-" he spluttered, incredibly confused, which made Nick smile. The only real reason he hung around with Jace and Al was so that they wouldn't do this kind of shit to him, like they had to his friends and...
"Also, drinking probably isn't doing much for your decision-making skills, so you should probably head on home. You, and your buddies," Bucky nodded to Al, then to Nick.
"Maybe he's right," Nick blurted out, and Jace turned to him. "I mean, you had your fun and-"
Jace laid a hand on Nick's shoulder and glared down at him, making the younger boy cower slightly. "Shut your damn mouth, Nick. The hell you think you're doing? You'd've been runnin' scared without us, or dead in a gutter. I can still make that happen, you-"
Thoroughly pissed off, some protective instinct in Bucky surfaced and he shoved Jace hard on his shoulder, and sent him to the ground. Not too hard, though. He thought Jace wouldn't make good on his threats, he couldn't be sure, and Bucky didn't like hurting kids, even if they were almost adults and every bit as dumb as they were in kindergarten.
He moved and stood in front of the shocked Nick, eyeing Jace and Al with distaste, and growled, "Pick on someone your own size."
Al swung his fist and Nick flinched, but Bucky simply caught it and spun him around, kicking him on the rear so that he landed on top of Jace. Jace swore, shoving Al off of him and scrambling to his feet. He clenched his fists, but didn't look very inclined to continue the 'fight'.
Bucky raised an eyebrow at the two bullies. "Done?"
They were gone within that second.
Bucky heard a hesitant cough behind him, and turned to see Nick with his phone in his hand. Shivering slightly, he held it out for Bucky to take. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Bucky replied, taking the phone and putting it in his jacket pocket. "Trust me, they're small fish."
"Yeah, I kinda got that impression." He glanced nervously at the weapons which still lay on the asphalt. "But, you know, Jace and them aren't like that for, like, most people. Or kids, or whatever."
"Yeah?" Bucky wondered idly, scooping up the rest of his possessions and stuffing them into various pockets.
"Yeah, they run the five blocks 'round the school and the home. Even worse to the younger ones, or scrawny ones, like me and my sis. Got the teachers all on his side, like he's the perfect student and whatnot, them and the cops since his uncle's one. And you just stood up to 'im like it was nothing."
"I did." After a moment, he turned to see Nick staring at him expectantly. "And?"
"He's gonna come back for me, probably, and my sister and-"
"And you want help stopping him?"
Nick lowered his head and stared at his shoes. "Maybe."
Bucky sighed. "How old are you, Nick?"
"Fifteen. Sixteen in three months."
"And your sister?"
"...she's ten. Almost eleven. We were born around the same time of the year."
"And you've got no one lookin' after you who could help? Parents, relatives, friends?"
Nick bit his lip and wouldn't meet Bucky's gaze. "Please, I just… a few months ago, Casey- my sister- got beat up by 'em. She didn't have any money or anything, they just thought it was fun. They said they wanted either me or her to join or it would happen again. It isn't just them, they're, like, a gang or something. They call themselves the Arcane."
"Why'd they want you to join?"
The teen shifted, gazing down the alley as if he was debating whether to leave or not. "Casey's really, really smart, so they probably had a use for her. Me? I'm not much of anything, probably just to mess with. Look, this was a bad idea, thanks for helping-"
Bucky held up his right hand and Nick stopped rambling. "Alright, I'll help, but whatever we do, we need to do it tonight. I'm leaving in the morning."
Nick nodded several times, grinning with relief as he did so. "Yeah, okay, we can do that. Maybe I could get Joey and Alicia to help, probably-"
"It wouldn't be a good idea to get anyone else involved, at this point. We're alone, for now."
"Fine," Nick said, spirits dropping slightly, before they picked up again. "So, what should I call you? You know my name's Nick, but…?"
Bucky hesitated. If HYDRA was still tracking him, or were still in the area, the less this kid knew about him, the better. In fact, it would've been better to leave this whole business alone, but he couldn't turn his back on Nick. "...James is fine."
"Okay then," Nick held out his left hand. After it became clear that Bucky wasn't going to shake, he sheepishly stuck his hand in his pocket. "So, James, we gonna make a plan, or what?"
Author's note: Hello! Thank you so much for stopping by and giving this story a chance. It's been getting a lot of attention (more than I ever thought it would. I mean, holy crap, 80 followers?!) so I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's read it and commented, and those who continue to read and comment. You all rock, seriously. Also, updates may not be quite as frequent as they have been (I don't want to totally abandon my other fanfic for Grimm, and I'm really trying to balance time) but I promise I will get them published as quickly as I'm able. Hope you're having a great day!
~Nemesis