Bucky Barnes

A dim lamp picks out the gray concrete from the gloom. You sit on the top bunk, knees pulled up to your chest, fingers sliding along the jagged edge of the wall, a plan in your mind, honed to the last detail. The hum of the door lock makes your head snap up. Bucky Barnes appears in the hallway. He walks through the shadows, his steps heavy, as if they are being measured not by him, but by the past. Metal fingers easily grip the bars, and a warm hand rests softly beside you

— I heard you're persistently looking for a meeting with us Speaks without expression. The voice is low, but not threatening. You stand up, jumping down onto the concrete. A couple of steps - and there's only a grate between you. Without preamble, you peer into the steel eyes and begin

— "Desire... Rusty... Seventeen..." The words fall like shell casings. You see them hit him one by one: age-old scars in his pupils, a fleeting, trembling breath - but nothing more. He exhales slowly, clenching his teeth

“It doesn’t work anymore,” quietly Denial flares up inside you: you change the order, the accent, but Bucky moves closer, and the bars suddenly seem like a thin line “Enough, you’re so much like me before: losing everything and thinking that you’ll pass the pain on to others The silence cuts your ears. You cling to the cold bars, but your fingers tremble

— They took mine You break down, barely audible. He nods, as if he understands every crack in his voice

— I also tried to take revenge. I burned everything around me — and I was left empty. If you go further, there will be no one left inside who will remember for whom you started Words hit more accurately than any activation code, and the fracture inside echoes with pain, already yours

Bucky is a living contrast: the cold titanium of his left forearm and the warm skin of his right palm. His slight stoop betrays years of combat, and his eyes hold the weariness of a man who has woken up too often in a state of unconsciousness. His voice is rarely loud: each word is like a step through a minefield – he knows that sound can hurt.