Okay, this took awhile to write and it isn't the best ever but these things have to get out of the way, so here ya go! Bucky has some issues with the 2005 fantastic 4 movie... Wonder why.
"We'd like a room." The hotel manager, defined by his aggressively large 'manager' name tag, didn't make an effort to look up from his questionably illustrated magazine to answer her brother's demand. As if they hadn't been through enough already, this portly man wasn't about to give them the time of day. Or a hotel room.
"Listen, we need a room. Now." Her brother furthered his statement my bringing a fist down onto the counter, splinters of wood showering this way and that. Agitation, this newly found weapon of destruction, proved to be the key to a response. The balding manager glanced above the frames of his glasses and with a very disgruntled sigh, and pulled something from a drawer under the desk. The shiny object that he tossed in her general direction was a key, a ribbon tied around the tiny silver thing suggested that it was for room twelve.
"Thirty bucks a night. I'm guessing cash?" They were both just about done with this smug man already, but certain circumstances (mainly a bullet lodged in her brother's side) required swift action. The girl hesitated only a moment longer before pulling the needed amount of money from a pocket in her Kevlar jacket and set it on the fractured desk. Like the sleaze-bag coward he was, the manager snatched out for the three ten dollar bills and smirked.
"Have a nice night." He murmured, returning to his reading material. Her brother nudged her, a small groan escaping his lips. That was signal enough to head for the elevator. The elevator. A small enclosed space with no quick exits or windows. Maybe she could use the medical kit as a weapon...
"Let's take the stairs." She suggested quietly.
"No way. We're taking the elevator." She sighed and glanced down to where her brother was clutching his side. A sticky red substance was seeping through the black fabric of both his suit and glove. A fight better not fought she decided, and so into the elevator they went.
"What floor?" She looked at the key again, room twelve, two story building, not much room for ten rooms per story. Logically speaking, their room would be on the second floor.
"Second. Room twelve." Her brother had to press the second floor button several times before the doors closed, and the tiny room started moving up.
"Think he'll be up there?" He asked suddenly. Would he?
"No idea... I hope not. That would be one hell of a reunion." The elevator stopped, the lights flickered, and then the door slid open with an unearthly creak. The two walked down the narrow hallway until the reached their room. After inserting the key into it's rightful place, she slung the door open and started to make her observation. Large window, brother currently pulling back the curtains(not the best idea, but sunlight was welcome for the moment), two twin beds, bathroom door (closed), closet (also closed), shabby brown (stained) carpet and horribly papered walls. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Meanwhile, brother had taken the liberty of taking the bed closest to the window.
"You're getting blood on the sheets." She teased lightheartedly, readying the briefcase-looking first-aid kit on the edge of the bed. However, her playful banter went right over his head.
"Please tell me there's an anesthetic in there..." She moved objects around, looked in the various side-containers, but nothing was labeled as such. She pursed her lips and looked once more. Still nothing.
"I could knock you out." Oddly enough (well, not all that odd. This was their life) this wasn't an impossibility. A quick blow to the base of the neck would render him unconscious and numb for at least the amount of time it would take to remove the bullet. Her brother considered it, and then shrugged.
"Go for it. But if I wake up with something on my face I'm gonna kill you."
His grogginess lifted about as easily as it had come on. Swift, but painful. He'd felt things similar to this, but nothing quite as... Emotional as his very own sister rendering him unconscious. He glanced around, not turning his head for fear of making it worse, but 'worse' was inevitable due to the glaring screen of a TV that looked like it was a hundred years old. He couldn't suppress the groan that erupted from his throat, the flashing colors of some cooking show piercing even the blackness of his eyelids.
"Why the hell is that thing on?" He asked the air, not wanting, nor expecting a response from the slender girl at the edge of his bed.
"Have a headache big brother?" She crooned mockingly, not making the slightest effort to turn and look at him.
"Yes... And don't call me that." She reached for a small black remote at her side, in full capacity to turn the blasted thing off, but instead turned up the volume by a few notches.
"Well what else should I call you? Asset Alpha? No thanks." Her tone was even but betrayed agitation.
"Only because you're Asset Omega? Kinda degrading now that I think about it." He remarked, making an effort to sit up and failing tremendously.
"Yeah. Degrading." She murmured, completely ignoring the way he fell back with a pained grunt.
"You know what else is degrading big brother?" Finally, she flipped the TV off and turned around.
"What, pray tell?"
"That amazing pair of eyebrows... And mustache..." Dammit! Now he'd have to kill her.
"I told you not to-"
"I don't follow orders anymore." She smirked, waving a pen in his face. A smirk played across his face as he thought of every way to bring her down while barely breaking a sweat.
"I know that look. Stop it. You get up, you reopen the shot wound." He heeded her advice (for once) and simply closed his eyes to take in what his vision could be distracting him from. The room smelled heavily of mildew, masked slightly by the fabric softener in his sheets. The low hum and whistle of an old vent system was present, and would be on a thirty minute timer (depending on the year it was made). He was warm, that much was for sure, but any other sensation simply wasn't felt from the base of his neck down... And he couldn't move his arms. That send up a yellow flag. Without opening his eyes, perhaps in fear of seeing someone other than his sister, he addressed the only one who had overseen his care for uncounted hours.
"I can't feel my, uh, body."
"Pressure points are fun like that." She replied, a gentle shuffling coming from the general direction of where he remembered her bed to be. When he opened his eyes and turned his head her way (the only movement this situation allowed), she was taking off her boots and depositing them under the bed.
"Pressure points... Do you mean you could've just done that instead of knocking me out?" He growled.
"Yeah." She smirked, stripping off her top layer of Kevlar and gloves.
"Can you undo this? Now?"
"Sorry, has to wear off or there could be nerve damage." Great. Hydra would be looking for them (not to mention the soldier who was obviously somewhere in the same building) and here he was, completely incapacitated in a hotel room that only had one questionably high-up emergency window exit. He knew from experience that jumping from windows while wounded wasn't the most pleasant of instances. The Soldier. Maybe she had something on that note.
"Any sign of him?" He asked.
"Yeah. Engines taking off from the roof. He either got here on a really small plane, or he has a friend with a jet pack." Again, just perfect. Both of those scenarios were not only plausible, but highly probable.
"Any chance of you checking it out?" She sighed and glared at her feet for a moment.
"Guess I could, but I don't want to face him alone. We need to bide our time and let him come to us." She was right. If they went in guns blazing, they would lose. Especially if the Soldier had a jet pack friend.
"Think he'll knock on the door, or through the window?" He taunted lightly.
"Is that a bet?"
"I say window. Door's not his style."
"You're on."
Splitting up a quarrel between his charges was hell. The smaller female would make a comment, he would return it with aggression, and then it always escalated into something involving weapons. The soldier was sprinting down a long hallway after the sounds of explosions and various cries of pain. Though he... somewhat didn't hate seeing his handlers knocked around, their rampage had to end or else all three of them would feel the repercussions. He slid across a cross way, hitting the opposite wall shoulder first and stopping to asses the situation and discern the position of his proteges. Left, nothing. Right, a female child was running barefoot down the hall straight for him, the male not far behind, both followed by a legion of Hydra guards. Rumlow, that young (newly promoted) man was at the helm of the charge. Dammit. The soldier would have to deal with an earful from that guy if he didn't take charge soon. She was close enough now to grab, he reached for her arm and used the girl's momentum to slingshot her into the wall at his side. She slumped immediately and fell to the floor unconscious. The male had skidded to a stop before the soldier could reach for him. Steely blue eyes met green fearful ones. The child was breathing raggedly, the soldier could see blood welling up under the scar tissue on the male's arms where metal merged with muscle. He sighed inwardly, and grasped him abruptly by his upper arm.
"Took you long enough." Rumlow spat, holstering his firearm.
"I'm gonna cut you some slack and not let this get to Pierce." The bastard was trying to exercise his authority in front of his cronies. Typical of such men. Still, he submitted to such men, and nodded his compliance. The child in his grasp wriggled as the group of masked agents dispersed, finally leaving the hall empty.
"Let me go." He whined, the soldier noting that the direction he was pulling... towards the girl lying on the cold floor, crimson smeared the wall behind her and pooling under her arms and legs. Some part of himself didn't like this. Any of it. That part of him was the weak part, and the one that Hydra washed away. Still. It was clawing for attention. He let the male- the kid, run to his counterpart... His little sister.
Bucky ran the memory over in his head, smiling at the way James Buchanan Barnes had broken through programming because of them. The two that had been formed into weapons of mass corruption. He'd been forming a plan ever since Sam had left, but everything Bucky came up with ended with the siblings running out of his reach. Then again, going through windows had that effect on people. Another plan then emerged. Maybe not the best plan, but something that would increase his chances of resolving this the way Steve had. Gently.
And so, the assassin, a highly trained former asset for one of the most viscous organizations in the modern world, standing at a hotel door and waited with his hands in his pockets for a door to open. A first since the 1940s when he'd pick some dame for a dance... Steve, smaller then, would tag along with the friend. Times long passed, and Bucky tried not to think on them too much. In this case, the memories provided a sense of security. Bucky was always full of confidence when his girl would answer the door. Now, he mustered up that same courage and simply... Knocked.
"If it's room service, go away." The boy, his voice deepened noticeably since the last time Bucky had heard it.
"It's not room service. Answer the damn door." The girl, more reasonable as always.
"If it's not room service, that means I just lost a bet."
"Exactly. Let him in." Bucky took a step back, tried his best to not look like the man they knew (just tried to kill), and waited for the door to open. He watched the handle twist, and then the door swung open. Green eyes lay on the other side. Guarded, cautious, and... Almost tall enough to look Bucky in the eye. That factor alone made the assassin mentally cringe. And her. She was standing to the side, arms over her chest and just as on-edge as her brother.
"Are you coming in?" She asked lowly, her brother stepping aside to make room for him. As Bucky stepped through the threshold he couldn't help but notice how the siblings almost flaunted their bionics (unconsciously without a doubt). The door didn't close behind the assassin, much to everyone's approval, but Bucky still didn't like the way the boy walked up behind him. The boy. Hm. Bucky'd have to find names for the two now.
The trio was stone-faced for the most part as they stood together, no one wanting to say anything. Who would? Only twenty-four hours ago two of the group wanted to kill the other. A fact that she was still having a hard time believing. Better to address it now she supposed.
"Sorry we tried to kill you." Well, that came out a little more blunt than she intended.
"No problem." The Soldier almost looked normal the way he shrugged the whole thing off. Relived as she was, the girl didn't like the new change.
"Yeah. Sorry." Brother echoed, followed by another silence. It was unbearable. Truly. She wanted to talk, catch up, do things she supposed normal people did. For now, watching TV would have to do if they were just going to stand there.
"TV anyone?" Her brother said, a smile pulling on his lips.
"Sounds great." She replied, looking over at the receiver and spotting a DVD case underneath it. At least they wouldn't have to watch any more cooking shows. The girl pulled the case from under the black box and examined it. The cover was dusty, torn, but she could make out the words. Fantastic 4. Simple enough. The other two were getting situated, the Soldier (whose presence still had to be adapted to) was sitting on the edge of her bed with his elbows on his knees. Brother was propped against the headboard of his own bed.
"Don't leave me a seat." She grumbled to herself, but apparently her brother wanted to lift the mood.
"Sit on the floor." Thanks brother. The girl shrugged it off best she could and inserted the disc. It took a few tries and a lot of button pressing to get the DVD player to work, but the sounds of a movie began to play.
The movie started with someone building a statue, some bald dude talking to an obvious scientist about how some other guy wanted to make people feel small. She'd sympathized with that to some degree. After an upward camera pan, the same scientist from before waved his hands at some holograms and gets an idea for something about a spaceship. The business guy agrees. They meet a secretary or something and she tells them about her pilot brother. The siblings exchanged a glace at that. That's about the time they both noticed something weird going on with the assassin just as the camera pans out from a biker kissing some girl. He was on his feet, confusion written all over his face as he leaned closer.
"Steve?" She paused the movie and looked at him.
"Who?" She asked carefully, studying the face of the guy with sunglasses on. No bells rang.
"Steve, he's a... Friend..." Friend? How did the Winter Soldier have a friend?
"Play the movie." He instructed. Willingly, she obliged and let it run. Another scene with bald guy and scientist, then there he was again. He made some crack about a picture he just took. The Soldier looked about ready to punch the TV when bald guy grabbed him by the collar. Time to turn off the movie. She flipped it off and looked to her brother, then to the Soldier. What now?