Chapter 1: Mission Mindset
In the corner of a Chicago coffee shop, the Winter Soldier sat gripping and sipping a white mug of local coffee at a lone table. Beneath his navy baseball hat, he peered out at the various civilians passing in and out. They retrieved their drinks, indulging in or ignoring the conversation around them. Many had come and gone, as the Soldier had been there for hours – just him and half-cold coffee.
Coffee was typical, right? He can't remember the last time he had it, but it seemed like a normal thing to do. Whatever it was made of, however, was making him feel more and more anxious. The activity inside his mind felt displaced him from the movement around him. The atmosphere was so casual, so temporary. The ordinary unnerved him, and he gripped the mug in front of him tighter. Every diversifying figure that came through the door only made him wonder if they ever had anything to do with Hydra. Or if he had ever tried to kill them.
The thought twisted some sort of pain inside of him, but he didn't know what it was called. He looked down and began to breathe slowly, trying to refocus his thoughts. The Soldier gripped tight with his left arm this time, the soft cushion beneath him giving way to his metal fist. He was thinking about the last person he had tried to kill. But the Soldier had shown… kindness before disappearing. Guilt was the possible factor for coming close to completely annihilating the Captain in his rage of emotion. He knew he was supposed to know who Bucky was.
Bucky. The name rendered the faintest bell in the recesses of his memory, remembering it shouted from the blue eyes that so urgently wanted to tell him something. Was he really Bucky? Who the hell was Bucky? Still, it registered more inside of him than anything else right now, especially after contemplating it for the past week. Long, aimless rides on the MegaBus gave him time to think. However, that never lasted long before the migraines attacked full force, like icicles in his skull. All he knew was that he was away from Hydra, and things needed to stay that way. Even with no plan or destination in sight, bus rides seemed comfortable and appealing. No one bothered with the other passengers on a bus.
After leaving the mangled hero on the banks of the lake, Bucky knew he needed to be far from the scene. Distance in space, distance in thoughts. Whatever was left of them, anyway. He had taken the bus to various places before coming to Illinois, simply nomadic in nature. However, he knew that soon he was going to need a place to stay for the night in Chicago.
The Soldier eventually left the café, on the hunt for such a place. He figured he could eventually happen upon something, even if he had to search through the night. And it was already growing dark. Orange dusk was descending upon the skyline as the Soldier walked through a dark back alley. He kept his eyes to the ground, blocking out the startling city lights. Though he clearly wanted space, someone still bothered to request his attention.
The hand that clasped his right shoulder belonged to a man in his early thirties, clearly desperate for something. He must have been hiding in the shadows of the alley, because his presence was a shock. The sudden touch brought a rise out the Soldier, flaring up his heart rate and his panic mode. But he didn't let it show; he was used to hiding that. Hydra could touch him however they wanted and he could never do anything about it.
"Hey man, can I borrow a few bucks? I just need a ride home. My girl, she…" The man continued to ramble on, but the Soldier couldn't hear him. His breathing intensified – this man was interfering with his mission. Probably not a threat – if it was Hydra, they would have had him by now, there was no need to pretend. Still, he had no patience to deal with this citizen.
"No, I don't have any –"
The man grabbed the Soldier's shoulder once again. "Just a couple bucks, man, please, a little will help, for real –" But before he could finish his sentence, his airway was cut off by the Soldier's right hand. The man's eyes widened, clearly surprised at the sudden switch that came over the Soldier. Neither did he expect the metal hand that came up, right next to the darkened eyes beneath the baseball hat. That black glare was the last thing that man saw before collapsing on the alley ground.
The Soldier soon regained his composure, simply staring at the unconscious man at his feet. The sound of traffic outside the alley eventually overcame the sound of his slowing heartbeat. He was certain that no one had seen him behind this building; it was a secluded area and growing darker by the minute. Still, he swept the area, trusting his eyes that it was deserted.
What he didn't notice was the black figure slipping behind the corner of the adjacent building.
And with that, the Soldier picked up his head, inhaled deeply through his nose, and walked on his way. He needed a place to stay.