JB1535635

— [b]Alright, I neutralized the surveillance cams in here.[/b] — He said, tapping the commlink on his ear to keep her updated of his moves. That’s what he was doing when he came in—walking between the blind spots while Jenna attracted attention. The oglers had taken the bait as she blended as one of the working gals.

Barnes too had managed to look like some client’s bodyguard, glancing around for his master without much interest and making his way upstairs to the balcony. The place was softly lit by clusters of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. No signs of the man there. The soldier leaned against the railing and looked down at the stage where the reincarnated was currently busy alluring a bunch of men. She could hear the [i]whistle[/i] through her comm. He had underestimated her and she was surprising him with the performance of the night.

But with her in play, Bucky’s biggest concern now was how to keep the necessary nasty from escalating.

«Any sighting of Rostov himself?» She asked lightly. The music from the show covering their soft conversation.

— [b]Not yet[/b] — He confirmed, rejoining the crowd, not wanting to miss his chance to ID the job. They didn’t want to take him down in that place, but the plan was to follow him until he was a little separated from the main event, take out his bodyguards somehow, and slap cuffs on him (best case scenario). Also, according to Barnes, Andre Rostov wasn’t much for wet work himself; he hired assassins to protect him. There was some big muscle in there, indicating there would be some nasty.

Short minutes later the music stopped, announcing that Jenna’s show was over. Time was ticking. The curly-haired picked up some cash before abandoning the stage, heading to the bar. Eyes slid right over her as part of the scene. She was casing the place for Rostov, craning her neck this way and that to look over the writhing bodies of revelers, she still didn’t have a visual of the man but she had already identified some of his steroid-bulked associates. James was supposed to see something from his superior height.

And he did.

The super soldier slouched through the crowd, moving slowly, drifting almost aimlessly to her. — [b]Guy. There.[/b] — He said, tapping on her shoulder, bending down so the word was just a breath in her ear as he passed through. Jenna got a glance of Rostov moving to the exit. Immediately after she felt a push from behind, one of the men that had witnessed her dance skills was escorting her out to take her to his boss.

Once outside the club Rostov clambered into an armored limousine. A group of women picked by his men were forced to get into the vehicle with him; including Jenna. Those curls were easy to spot. — [b]You’re on the move. I tagged the car with a tracker, I’ll follow. [/b]— James assured her, hiding the tiny dart gun he had up his coat sleeve. —[b]Don't do anything stupid until I get there[/b].— Probably a hotel somewhere.

He studied her under the bright light of the moon, Jenna was throwing some pebbles at the east river as she continued spewing random facts about their current location.

— [b]Hey, that’s a story older than me; Elephants parading the Brooklyn Bridge. P.T. Barnum marched the circus’ animals through the structure to prove that the bridge was steady. It worked. It stopped people from panicking that it would fall[/b].— Bucky had his own share of facts and anecdotes from every corner in Brooklyn. He would pintpoint to some place and tell about how much it had changed, or how it had remained the same throughout the years. How the owner of some old ice cream parlor was the most resentful man he’d ever met, but the ice so good they’d keep returning when they were kids; or how the corner of a block there was where he’d realized that Steve wasn’t just being picked on, but such a troublemaker himself.

Barnes’ eyes cloud over, but they didn’t fall shut as he reminisced these things—he didn’t need to close them to bring it all back. They had allowed themselves to forgot everything else —[i]even if it was just for an instant[/i]. The usual grumpy look on his face absent from his features. And then, she’d hear it; not a sarcastic huff, not a snort. But the first genuine laugh from him that night. A sound that Manami had heard so many long ago.

There was something so familiar about the tip of his smile, the curve of his cheek when he looked down at her that Jenna’s chest ached with someone else’s memories. Not hers.

That’s how she had come with the next suggestion

«…you can be the trigger for that just like in the hideout…»

«So, what do you say, James?»

—[b]What are you suggesting, Bane, to hangout? I’m too busy for that, you know. Unless…[/b] —Those portals could be of help. — [b]Unless you want to help me catch Rostov and make up for tonight’s mess. [/b]— He had missed the most recent opportunity and he knew it was going to take him weeks now to rearrange a new plan and make it work. Andre Rostov and his men would not lower their guard anytime soon, not after tonight’s events.

—[b] Do we have a deal? [/b]

[sep]

[med]2 Weeks Later[/med]

His Hydra list included a variety of people, crooked politicians and crime syndicates. While some of the list's names were insignificant (as of now), Andre Rostov, the man he was currently after, couldn’t be skipped. The Russian criminal had worked as the warden of a gulag that the Winter Soldier had served time in as an asset. He had been in possession of the red handbook for his programming, and with the power it had helped him gain, the man was now running a prostitution ring with base in Slovakia. And plenty of other shady businesses.

Jenna looked like she struggled to sit up, trussed up in her undercover outfit. Corset, check; knee-high boots, check. Push-up bra and more makeup than a drag queen. They had been working for weeks on this, Bucky tried to look at her as a stranger would, but he just couldn’t separate what he now knew of her from her appearance; the curly-haired looked more silly than sexy, a troublemaker, a clown, playing dress-up. Men could be so blind when they wanted to be.

Bane also looked like she could barely breathe. Her breathlessness over the communicator made sense. He pretended not to hear the steady stream of german curses she muttered under her breath.

— [b]We talked about this, I can’t go inside with a tactical vest, they would know it’s me. Don’t worry, I got your back[/b].— James excused himself for the tenth time, but there was some amusement in his voice. He probably really enjoyed lacing her into it, too. When working solo he couldn’t use someone as bait. — [b]I have shrink session tomorrow morning and gotta get home to feed my cat, so let’s do this quickly.[/b]

—[b]Something about me upset her? Manami hated me? [i]Died hating me[/i]. [/b]— He would have been lying if he didn’t admit to himself that the confirmation had stung a little. Hell, it had landed in his gut like a punch. —[b] Is that what it means?[/b] — James asked, head tilted slightly in puzzlement. For some reason the woman continued talking about Manami as if she was conscious somewhere inside her head. His mouth went dry at the thought and he took another swig of alcohol, letting that sink.

If what the brunette was saying was true, it meant that Manami had kept a grudge on him, she had felt betrayed and abandoned there. He had no way to fix it.
[i]Story of my life,[/i] he thought.

«if you mess with any of my past lives, you mess with me »

Barnes shook his head and chuckled like her promise of retribution was merely an amusing anecdote. He looked back across the room, his eyes fixed on one of the walls full of drawings in charcoal and other trinkets as she continued talking about [i]those[/i] past lives. He had no reason to believe she was lying, not with the evidence there. — [b]So… let’s say I believe you. There’s nothing I could possibly do to make things right now, is there?[/b]

[b]You can keep the money of the brawl by the way. Then at least fortune would have smiled on someone today.[/b] — James said, raising his bottle in a toast. Watching as Jenna hopped off the table and walked towards him. She mockingly namedropped Gandalf and he patted himself for understanding that reference.

The reincarnated bent on him, the soldier leaned too taking a closer look at the mysterious pendant hanging from her neck, and then [i]-inevitably-[/i] into her her eyes. They had an attractive shine, as if they glinted with the prospect of adventure. She really was something. The expression on his face changed, he regarded her with skeptical amusement —[b]Yeah, I think I’m more Interested in getting out of here[/b] — he said, surprised by this new attitude. If excitement turned her friendly, he wasn’t going to object.

And that’s how they found themselves at the Pebble Beach at Main Street Park, admiring the Brooklyn bridge on their next stop.

[b]If you’re asking if it helps me sleep at night, I lament to inform you that my sleep hasn’t improved that much yet. [/b]— But Barnes didn't elaborate on how it truly made him feel. He wasn’t going to start talking about his therapy sessions, or how he was working through another list for atonement and closure. Not that he was hard to read on that either. It was clear that the man was on a quest for identity in terms of really accepting his past and re-educating himself about the world he was currently in. He felt out of time. The ideals and principles he had lived by, and been driven by, no longer served him the same way.

«And I'm not Manami.»

He snorted, in what had to be the biggest understatement of the year. — [b]Yeah… I don’t believe you are her. You don’t even have Japanese ancestry. So, how are you related to the Nakahara sisters? [/b]— He asked, metal fingers tapping gently against the table before he reached for the bottle she was offering him.— [b]Do you know what happened to them after the camp? [/b]— Bucky wasn't normally a chatterbox but he had a fancy bottle he wouldn’t waste and legit curiosity to hear the story.

[b]Also… How do you do it? The portals, I mean.[/b] —He continued throwing more questions at her as he pulled a dusty armchair to make himself comfortable. —[b]Are you some kind of wizard?[/b] —This time she gave him a look that told him that he was asking a stupid question. But really, he wasn’t.

[b]— You know, first I’d get some medicine for that bruise on your face before asking for a fair fight. Will probably help the swelling. [/b]

Ante todo pronostico, jamás pensó que la cárcel era un concurso de quien estaba en peores condiciones físicas pero claro, en la película de acción desarrollándose en su cabeza ninguna de las dos eran las protagonistas ideales. No era momento para subestimar sus capacidades ya que eso podría retrasarlas, así que intento pararse para probarle que estaba equivocada sobre su aspecto. Y lo hizo. Claro, su mirada triunfal duró aproximadamente un minuto ya que necesitó el apoyo de la pared para mantenerse en pie...lo que fue suficiente para mantenerse humilde por un rato. Esperaba que la adrenalina fuese suficiente motor para sobrepasar aquella prueba.

—Ophelia. Entonces Jenna...—Intentó mantener una expresión neutral pero al ver la flecha una oleada de confusión navego por su rostro, mas sabiendo que ese momento no era el adecuado para teorizar como aquel objeto había llegado hasta ahí. Se acercó hacia ella para tener mejor visual de la herida y se arrancó una manga de la camisa para customizarla en una venda improvisada. — ¿Vienes seguido por aquí? —Cuestionó con la sola intención de distraerla de lo que estaba por hacer.

Ella no necesitaba mas que una idea con 5% de probabilidades de éxito para lanzarse al vacío sin dudar. Sin previo aviso apartó la punta de las costillas de la joven y presionó la ahora "venda" contra la incisión. Parte uno lista.

Lanzó el supuesto objeto explosivo contra la pequeña ventana que había en la celda, ya que se encontraban en el primer nivel y seria mas sencillo escapar por allí que perderse en los corredores y pasar las puertas de seguridad del interior de la prisión. Al verlo todo hecho pedazos, giró hacia Jenna y le tendió una mano para ayudarla si lo necesitaba; lista para comenzar a correr por su vida. — ¿Vas a quedarte allí para contarle la historia a tus nietos? [b]VAMOS.[/b]

Work always forced him to focus on the present, he needed that reminder these days. Too much history for him to get lost in if he indulged. Working was easier compared to that.

It had been 80 years, of course chances were Manami wasn’t even alive or she was, by then, a very old lady. Suddenly James felt the need to know how it had happened. What it had been of the Nakahara sisters after the war. And, at the same time, he feared to learn about it.

There was no answer from him as seconds ticked by. His eyes briefly settling on the chaotic mess that place was. The curly-haired could almost hear his brain working with the information she had dropped. This woman was sputtering words about “previous lives” and James wanted to laugh, he didn’t know if all of this was real or a bad joke. Was that even possible? As in… [i]reincarnation[/i]? Then again, wondered the man who had been frozen for almost a century— as if anything else was hard to believe after that. Maybe not so much. Maybe not at all after everything he had seen himself.

Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the fact that James was so willing to share his memories with Manami [i]somehow[/i]. For their story to have a different closure perhaps. Opening up to this stranger now could be the closest thing he would ever get to that.

[b]I…[/b] — He began — I [b]was taken prisoner one year after being sent to war, then turned into a lab rat, then into a weapon for the soviets. [/b]— His Vibranium arm always a tangible reminder of the horrors he had been through. He wanted to blame the downer in his blood as he continued… — [b]Took me a lifetime to be set free, to reclaim my body and my memories back. But I’m nowhere near the same man Manami met.[/b]

It wasn’t until he was free of Hydra and of going back into the chair, that his mind could begun reassembling itself. Then it was only a matter of connecting the pieces. At first the Japanese girl didn’t have a name. She had started as something little more than a shadow and a sensation, but as memories had returned to him, so did she. The shadow became a shape, then a person.

Another ghost from his past.

[b]I was forced to commit crimes during those decades, so now I’m trying to hunt down all those that were behind or involved in any way.[/b]— As a sniper, Bucky had always been able to focus on a single target, ignoring everything else going on around him. That hadn't changed over the years. And so he went through his list. Destroying Hydra safe houses scattered all over America. Digging up information Hydra had on him. Tracking down the people that could make him forget his name again and taking them out (even the oldest one, almost 93 years old and nearly blind). He didn’t kid himself. Even with the damage he’d done, Hydra was far from broken, but the branch that had made and maintained the Winter Soldier would take years to recover.

[b]Tonight was no different but, guess what? You ruined the task. [/b]— There she was, smiling a crooked smile that was no less sharp, yet tinged with humor. He hadn’t even asked her name, so he finally did.— [b] Who are you? And how are you related to any this? I mean, like for real. [/b]

Barnes steeled for his next sarcastic comment as he noticed that what he had first mistaken for blush on her cheekbone was actually a fresh bruise. Signs of the previous fight were starting to be visible on her. And suddenly he didn’t feel so much like having the confrontation that was brewing in search for answers.

There was a silence as he waited for the tectonic plates to either begin to shift or stop shifting when he asked about the comb. The curly-haired was once again avoiding his questions, and before he could stop her she was jumping and disappearing through one of those portals again, not giving him further explanation of anything.

James was left in that room exasperated and with no answers. He would spend the next minutes roaming the space with his phone in hand, trying to get any signal. [b]No use[/b]. The abandoned safehouse seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods only. It was either leave that place and find himself a way back, or wait for the strange woman to comeback— like she said she would.

In the meantime he’d been trying to piece together the last hour through hazy images, and the cocktail of drugs that was still running through his system. Whatever it was, it must have been hella strong, since he was now remembering the foggy image of a talking lizard.

The place was also full of curiosities and the soldier kept rummaging through them. A vast collection of trinkets and more drawings. He knew what it was like to plasm memories onto paper to avoid losing them— or to revisit them again. He had written his in a dozen of journals because of the fear of having them taken from him. His life, his real self [i] -not the weapon-[/i] was tied up in memory. And memories were a fickle thing to toy with.

His first impression had been that the woman knew him from some books, or the internet, or the news… maybe the museum? It wouldn’t have been a first to bump into obsessed strangers calling themselves fans of Steve Rogers.

But this was different.

It’s said that smells are closely linked to memory compared to other senses. But images trigger buried memories faster than words. These all flared in the soldier’s mind looking at those sketches for a second time, and now finding portraits in charcoal of Manami.

The memory of her wasn’t worn smooth, like others in his store.

Vivid images of himself and the Japanese girl seized him. Conversations and moments they had shared together. They way she called him [i]James[/i] and not [i]Bucky[/i] because [i]it sounded dumb and it wasn’t proper for them to use it[/i], in her own words.

Now, it had been a process, a recovery one. It had taken him years before feeling something close to his former self again. After the helicariers fell, once freed from his handlers, when on the run… he used to feel like a thief every time he’d heard his real name applied to him. James Buchanan Barnes. At first it was like a bittersweet feeling, like it didn’t belong to him but to the man with his face that he’d read about at the Smithsonian. The one portrayed in those sketches. Like a rank he had taken his time to earn back.

And it made no sense, because he had never mentioned Manami to anyone else. Those memories had been buried for about 80 years.

[b]Did they hurt you?[/b]— He asked, seeing the woman trying to straighten up normally, after the previous seizure episode. She would open this small portal and his things came back falling out of it. Maybe it was the effects of the drug in his system, but Barnes really decided not to make much of it. The questions they both were wanting to ask would lead them to uncomfortable conversations about the past. And some things were just too private.

Instead, he picked up his handgun, checked the number of bullets in the magazine, then swiped it back to his holster. The silence between them was enough for the sound of his weapon to sound like an echo within those walls.

He saw her holding her ground as he approached to her. — [b]Where’s my communicator?[/b]— The soldier asked for the missing item as he reached out his arm to place the money and the rest of her belongings on that table.

There, where she had plenty of other curiosities. And now Jenna’s fingers were brushing over the golden shape of the antique comb —as if dealing with the recollections of the past that had suddenly struck her.

Then he noticed it.

James gave a soft laugh, more out of irony than humor. [i]Déjà vu?[/i] He shook his head, this woman was definitely playing tricks with him. Images of Manami brushing her hair with the very same comb came visiting in a flashback.— [b]Where did you get that? [/b]— He stared down at the curly-haired with a query expression in his brows.

[code]TULE LAKE 1942/1943[/code]

[center][/center]

The relocated citizens were surrounded by barbed wire and 28 guard towers. Life did continue inside those barracks. Though residents had been deprived of their most basic rights.

[center][/center]

The original order for the military was that they were not to fraternize with the Japanese, but that quickly became unworkable for Barnes. Everyone knew he just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut for a second, standing up for the abused, cussing out the guards, and doing extracurricular activities he wasn’t supposed to do. It was like he had made it his personal mission to try and help everyone, and one day it was going to bite him in the ass. No wonder Steve and Bucky had been thick as thieves since they were kids. Anyone who knew Rogers could see where Barnes had got his disturbing martyr complex from.

He'd had James [i]'just call me Bucky'[/i] Barnes pegged for the usual greenhorn officer or pretty much anyone else referring to him. He just couldn’t make the Nakahara girl to use it, she wasn’t up to raise any wrong rumors about what was going on there, enough gossip was already spoken among the officers who had seen them sneaking and meeting in secret when the sun was down. The soft glances they'd exchange when they thought no-one was looking.

Gentlemen should always keep secrets that aren't theirs to tell.

[sep]

[b]— Everything I hoped, you say? It doesn’t work like that.—[/b] The Sergeant chuckled humorlessly at her question.[b] — When you enlist you get orders. There’s selective training and service act, you don’t get to choose where you are sent for these. Like the good little soldier you are, you do as you are told. Depending on the assignment, sometimes you train at six or more different locations before they finally deploy you overseas.—[/b] He explained, lighting up a cigarette, watching Manami braid her hair through the haze.

[b]—I drafted myself for the Big war. So, you’re right. I shouldn’t be here.—[/b] They called it the Big war because that's what it was; [i]Big, capital B.[/i] Too many people, too many places, too much at once. Barnes had been months away from home by then —at the other extreme of the country far from home. He missed Brooklyn.

[sep]

Whenever he saw the Nakahara girls together, he would think of his three sisters back in New York. Bucky and Manami could talk for hours about them and what they were capable to do to try and protect them— but there was only so much they could actually do at the current circumstances.

Barnes would have been fighting for them the whole time. If only he had known he would never come home to them. After the war, Becca, Dottie and Evie had to settle for nothing but an empty grave and an obituary that talked more about Captain America than their brother.

Naturally, he couldn’t do much for the Nakahara sisters.

The last time he saw Manami, he had been happy to tell her the news: He was going back to New York, he was being shipped to England.

He had refused to take Akane with him. Barnes wasn’t going to cross the country with a Japanese girl. He could go to jail. He could lose his rank, he could lose everything he had worked so hard. [b]—Keep the head down. The war will be soon over and you and Akane will be out of here. Be patient.—[/b] The sergeant warned her about joining the riots at the camp. The guards were instructed to use force against the insurgents.

There wasn’t a goodbye.

[sep]

[b]— The money isn’t yours. The management of that place launders money for HYDRA. You shouldn’t have been there. Now give me my shit back.—[/b] He demanded, tossing the sketchbook at the curly-haired.