[ The word normal earns a puff of breath from his nose. It's kind of a toneless laugh, just one single sound of humor. Yeah, alright, that's definitely one way to put it.

Normal as anyone can be with a metal arm or a glowing chest, anyway.

But yeah, Steve'll read that confirmation on his face plain as day.

As far as who's operating on them and then ditching them? ]

I don't know.

[ Frankly, flat-out, no point beating around the bush. ]

I'm not sure anybody knows. They just keep dropping people off and leaving 'em for the rest of us to find.

[ If there's any kind of organization, rhyme, or reason to any of it, Bucky's not clued in. He doesn't think it was in that pamphlet he read back at the start either, but he'd been a little sluggish from the sedative and a little buzzed from, well, alcohol. First time in a long time for that one. ]

There's this... group that helps out. Morningstar. There's a safe house that helps everyone get on their feet. We're gonna have to go there, at least for a couple days. Everything here's run by the neural mesh. They're the only ones who can set you up with an ID to make the damn thing work.

[ For currency, for seeing literally anything these days in terms of projectors, televisions, interfacing with electronics, driving cars, unlocking doors... All of it.

But mostly because if someone clocks you without an ID they'll take you in, and it runs the risk of exposing everyone else who wound up here. ]