EVENT #010

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam and any other megacity the Displaced happen to be in/travel to!
WHEN: May 28, 2512
WHAT: Golden-eyed monsters stream into New Amsterdam and other megacities the world over.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, death, body horror, mind control, and transformation.

> EVENT #010

It starts in the middle of the night, when most everyone should be fast asleep in their beds, whether they're still taking up a cot in the safehouse or staying in their own apartment. One moment it's quiet, with most of the rest of the city having also turned in for the night, and then in the next? It isn't.

There will be mass confusion as the scope of the situation becomes clear. Monsters stream out onto the streets, thundering up the stairs of a train station, skittering out of construction sites, or climbing up the walls. Some of them fly. Others slither. Others run, loping forward with only one goal in mind: to find something to sink their teeth or claws into and to leave destruction in their wake at every turn. They are a horde, a swarm, a teeming mass of creatures that have no intention of stopping. All of them have eyes or bodies that shine gold and wherever they go, they seem to leave decay. Concrete turns black and porous where they step; plants wither and die.

There is no real preparing for an attack of this scale. New Amsterdam will awaken as the sound of these monsters crashing down on cars or bursting through storefronts or into homes forces people to run screaming from their dwellings or places of work. There is no discrimination in who these beasts might target, and no discernable pattern in where they go.

All that one can really tell is that they seem to want to spread out. They're constantly on the move, leaping from victim to victim, and they're relentless. No one knows why they've come, where they're come from, or what will make them stop. At least for now, the only option seems to be to cut down their numbers. It's time to fight the horde.

The first night will be utter chaos as everyone reacts to the monsters' sudden appearance, but by the morning hours news reports will start streaming in. This is not only happening in New Amsterdam, or wherever else a Displaced might be staying, but seemingly everywhere. Some cities seem harder hit than others, but practically every megacity is overrun with the creatures.

With no way of knowing who might have unleashed the monsters, all of these cities have essentially been turned into battlefields. Not many civilians are prepared to fight for their lives, and it will take a mobilization effort from the police, Morningstar, the Displaced, and anyone else who's willing to take up arms in order to survive.

◉ As a note, this attack starts simultaneously in multiple cities. While it's the middle of the night in New Amsterdam, the monsters will appear at other times of the day in other parts of the world depending on the timezone!

> BESTIARY

So as to not make this post overly long, we have compiled all of the monster descriptions into a Google doc here for everyone's reference!

> (NOT SO) SAFEHOUSE

For those Displaced who stay at (or spend any time in) the safehouse under the hoverbike shop or the Red Wings bar, they may become aware of the presence of the monsters sooner than others, due to the fact that at least a few of the giant mole monsters will end up burrowing up through the concrete basements to wreak havoc. The screeching noise of steel claws tearing through the floor will be sure to wake up even the deepest of sleepers.

This won't just be an occurrence on the first night of the attack, either. Unless something is done to deter them, tunnels leading straight into the safehouses will continue to be created, allowing even other types of monsters to find their way through (the smaller ones, that is). Where exactly they're coming from won't be entirely clear, though it's a safe bet to assume that they must have originated in the cave system somehow.

Suffice to say that El won't be happy about the safehouse being compromised in this way, though this isn't a possibility that ze or anyone else could have really prepared for. While ze can't do much to physically help with containing the invasion of the monsters, ze will offer whatever resources ze can—though Morningstar is going to be busy in plenty of other locations, as well, and they only have so many resources.

The Red Wings, being a Displaced-operated location, will also be in need of assistance, especially if it's meant to be a point of safety and a hub for handing out supplies. Speaking of—

> RED WINGS HQ

As things begin to deteriorate, Clarke Griffin and Stephen Strange sink their resources into Red Wings, adapting it into a base of operations for the Displaced. Clarke also called in PRESERVE to set up a checkpoint here, too, and anyone—from the Displaced to civilians—will be able to seek aid here. (Of course, Red Wings will be just one of a few locations throughout the city where they attempt to set up shop, but Red Wings may prove to be more fortified thanks to the talents of the Displaced.) Civilians will not have access to Red Wings' safehouse, however. That's still something that Clarke and Stephen want to keep under wraps, for now.

In the bar proper, there will be medical aid, supplies, and even weapons for those who can use them. During rare moments of downtime, the gang at Red Wings will also work on reconnaissance missions to find safe spots throughout the city to provide much needed protection and safety for the people of New Amsterdam. This task may be much easier said than done. Gathering intel on the monsters is a high priority, too, and for anyone who tries to capture a monster to learn more about them, the basement might be a good place to hold them. If the Displaced are going to be able to fight back, they need to know exactly what it is they're fighting.

However, the truth of the matter is that this attack happened quickly, and in the middle of the night to boot. As much as the group at Red Wings tries, resources are stretched thin, and they didn't have time to prepare as much as they wanted to. Supplies need to be rationed, bandages and stitches used for wounds that really need them, and if you're not a great shot, it might be best to let someone with more training take that gun you're eyeing.

More than anything, despite the difficulty, this is a way for the Displaced to help out as many people as they can, and a way for them to cement their humanitarian efforts and affect the population's opinion of them. The citizens of New Amsterdam are sick of this cycle of destruction, and are just waiting to be empowered. Now's the time to teach them to fight back and help them protect their city.

Red Wings' safehouse underground will be damaged by burrowing monsters as well, and will need protection. The bar itself will escape relatively unscathed.

> INVESTIGATING / GATES

Maybe the best way of dealing with the monsters isn't violence at all. Maybe there's a more strategic way to deal with this.

The monsters will be moving from city to city via the gates, just like the Displaced do. There might be a way to keep them from spreading, or at least slow them down, by shutting down the gate network. Of course, with the mag trains shutting down, getting back home could be an issue. One option is the delivery network of hover trucks. They'll still be running to get supplies from city to city, but their batteries don't run indefinitely, so these will be relatively local trips only. No getting from New Tokyo back to New Amsterdam with this method, unfortunately, and convincing a driver to let you hitch a ride might be a challenge, but it's doable.

Of course, there's also the question of where these things are coming from. Intrepid characters might be able to track them back to their nests, which are tucked away in wildly different places depending on the city. In New Amsterdam, they might be in the caves below the city. In other places, they might not be in the city proper at all, but just outside of it. It's important to keep in mind that the nests are far away from any of the action taking place elsewhere. Tracking these origin points may provide some answers, but the cost would be less involvement in the crisis taking place.

And then there's the matter of the monsters themselves. How can you fight an enemy you know nothing about? For those determined or crafty enough, capturing them might be an option, although this will take some creativity. Once these creatures are captured, they'll need to be kept contained, and kept alive. Just because they're monstrous doesn't mean they don't have to eat, after all, and some will need special environmental considerations as well, such as the mind control slugs.

What happens after that is up to the Displaced. Is dissecting them the best bet? Their internal anatomy won't be wildly different from most "normal" animals, with the exception of some creatures who have strange appendages or the like. Still, this might give the Displaced a better idea of how they operate and what their weak spots are. Sending samples to a lab is another possibility, if the Displaced can figure out how to safely store those samples. After all, the world is in a crisis, and no one is running tests at the moment.

All monsters, though, seem drawn to the blue light. When a Displaced uses a power or activates the empathy bond, the creatures will lock onto it, utterly transfixed, and if this is done enough times, that gold glow of theirs will intensify. What does it all mean? Maybe figuring that out will be a pathway to stopping their attacks.

> PITCHING IN

While all of this is going on, it certainly won't be just the Displaced who are heading out into the streets to try and stem the flow of the monster attack. These creatures are certainly not holding back, and no matter how much work might be put in, their numbers are overwhelming. Plenty of people will end up dead as a result, ripped to shreds or dragged off somewhere to be eaten. Yet, for some reason, these monsters are not as vicious toward the Displaced. They'll engage them in a fight and injure them, but they never go so far as dealing a fatal blow.

Seeing how that's not the case for the rest of the populace throughout the world, however, some groups and organizations will be rising up to do their part.

Police departments will be mobilizing in every megacity to put the monsters down, and while they are armed, it's not on the same level as the UNA. They also don't have any sort of training that's prepared them to fight monsters, but they'll still be putting their lives on the line to put a dent in the monsters' onslaught. When it comes to enforcing regular law and order, they certainly won't have the bandwidth for anything like that. Then again, most people won't be in any position to take advantage and commit crimes either, given the chaos that will be a constant everywhere.

Morningstar will also be jumping into action around the world. The New Amsterdam branch will be most likely to work alongside the Displaced and share some of their resources, particularly with those who are signed up as official agents or those who've supported them in the past. In cities like New Prague and New Beijing where the Displaced have made some contact with Morningstar before, they'll also be open to working with the Displaced. However, their resources are by no means robust. Morningstar is an organized rebel group, but they're hardly an official army in any sense of the word. They might be able to hand out a weapon here or there and they have a safehouse set up in almost every city, but beyond that, they'll mainly be getting boots on the ground to help with the fighting.

UNA soldiers who have been left without any sort of purpose or guidance will now have an opportunity to put some of that training to use. Their involvement will be much more scattered, though in some cases small groups of these soldiers who used to work in units together will reconnect in their effort to fight off the horde. However, having been cut off from the UNA in an official capacity, they won't have much in the way of gear or weapons. They're still formidable fighters, though, and now might be the perfect time to reach out and make a connection with some of them.

Mercenaries belonging to various different outfits, depending on what city they're based in, will also be joining the cause. Whether they're acting out of a basic desire to survive the attacks or if they're actually being paid by someone to go out there and risk their lives will be less clear, but they're some of the best-equipped fighters (other than the police). They also won't really find much reason to protest any of the Displaced pitching in to fight with them. The more firepower, the better, right?

A group of regulars from the New Amsterdam fighting rings will be rising up to add their fuel to the monster-fighting fire, as encouraged by Hawke and whoever else might know them well enough to reach out. Given that some of these people have illegal mods to enhance their strength or cybernetic attachments that can do impressive amounts of damage, some of them might hold their own against the monsters. Hell, some of them might even ask the Displaced to demonstrate some of their powers if they end up fighting together, as word of their abilities has become more known among their ranks. Either way, they'll be jumping into the fray with quite a bit of gusto.

PRESERVE will be involved on the other end of these efforts and will be doing their best to tend to the wounded and the dead, along with finding shelter and safe spots for people to barricade themselves from the attacks. It's not like the grand majority of civilians could stand a chance against these monsters, after all, yet not all of them can rely on their homes to be safe enough to stay in. They'll be quick to accept an offer of Displaced help, as they'll be doing their best to try and drag the recently dead to hospitals to get them put into medi-units before they're too late. Along with what's set up at Red Wings, they'll also be cobbling together other relief spots throughout the city for taking care of wounded and offering up what supplies they have (food and water, medical supplies, etc).

And what are the corporations doing in all of this? Well, suffice to say, mainly just panicking. Unsurprisingly, they're not much help during a crisis like this, with most of the super-rich opting to hide away in whatever highly secure bunkers they might have. Too bad that these bunkers might not prove so secure in the face of these attacks. Could that prove to be an opportunity if someone went looking?

> FINAL OOC NOES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event. Given the spread out nature of this event, as well as the amount of additional details provided here, please direct all questions to our QUESTIONS thread below. This is, naturally, a huge event in terms of scale, and so we're certain there are aspects of it we haven't covered and questions that have yet to be answered. We do encourage that all of our players use the event planning post for any additional ideas and for touching base!

Please do not begin to thread out any aftermath until AUGUST 8, 2020, which is when we will put up the aftermath log and OOC post. If this date changes, we will provide a gamewide update as needed! As a note, the August calendar will be posted alongside the aftermath!

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event, granted for a thread of at least 5 log/action comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way during the event itself. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by SEPTEMBER 11, 2020 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted AUGUST 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on AUGUST 8 at 12 AM UTC.

Have fun and fight some monsters! Or … whatever else you might do with them. 😉😏 Your secret's safe with us. 😙

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[fossils]

[ Steve manages a tumble as they rear back, springing to his feet with a little less balance than usual, in time to watch the barbs come out and Bucky to retreat again.

They flank it, but it's little use-- the damn thing's got an answer for everything-- ]

Then make it forget! [ He's still got his eyes on it, dancing around each other.

Might as well through the whole kitchen sink. ]

[freightcars]

[ There's a pregnant pause — as much as one can exist during something like this — where Bucky's brain kind of blows for a second. Never even occurred to him that he could do something with it in a fight, but as soon as the idea gets floated he's back on his feet and moving.

He climbs those spines like goddamn Legolas in order to get a hand on the thing's skull. His chest goes blue. The thing goes still.

It's a trip. He did this with Qi once and it was like going through polaroids on fast-forward and in three dimensions. Sights and sounds go rushing by too quickly for him to even get an impression aside from violence, until he yanks the reigns back and forces their trajectory towards here, now.

The last five minutes unwind like film reel and burn off entirely.

He replaces it with something new, and when he's done he falls off the thing's back as it whirls around in the other direction, screeching at something that doesn't exist like it's goddamn furious.

But the armor ripples away, and the spines disappear. Factory reset, and convinced that some more alluring prey was teasing it with what it wanted. ]

[fossils]

[ He's ready to attack the moment Bucky's hand touches its skull, focus what he's got left and strike a killing blow through the ribs just after the plates go down.

Turns out, he doesn't have to.

He's still moving, crouching close enough to Bucky to talk quietly and quickly, oh so very faintly wry: ]

The hell did you do to it?

[ That's one hell of a forgetting. ]

[freightcars]

[ He's kind of just planted there for a second, metal elbow in the dirt, half curled up from where he landed on his ass watching the shapeshifter furiously scramble around the walls and ground at the opposite end of their little alleyway, searching. ]

You remember that movie Dr. Satan's Robot?

[ Thinks they watched it, what, a year before he enlisted?

Slowly, almost a little stunned himself: ]

Well, he's real pissed at that thing right now...

[fossils]

[ There's a flicker of surprise, eyebrows raising-- then he ducks his head with a rushing exhale, because what're they going to do if it turns around again because you made him laugh. Under his breath: ]

C'mon, Bob.

[ He's grinning, closed mouth and lopsided, running on adrenaline fumes.

Time to make a break for it.

It's not Red Wings they make it to but another crowded PRESERVE site. There's enough for the medics to do without adding their collection of injuries to the pile, so making it clear that there's enough know-how between them to dress and stitch their own wounds they talk their way into a kit to share between them and camp out behind a half-partition to start stripping.

The wound on Steve's calf is an ugly and still bleeding, but it could've been worse. Thought he'd been bit, up close it looks more like a claw gash, a graze-- because anything more would've torn the meat right off the bone in an instant. Those things ripped through steel like it was paper. ]

[freightcars]

[ He didn't exactly have a lot of time to think about it, alright? That's the first thing that sprung into his head. He pulls a face at Steve, but it's lacking any real heat. ]

Yeah, yeah.

[ A mutter as they're both reeling to their feet to get the hell outta dodge.

They're not so bad, all things considered. Steve's got that gash to his calf and Bucky's got a pretty deep piercing wound in his thigh from that barb shooting out of the thing's back. It didn't hit anything vital, though, so it should just be a matter of cleaning and binding.

The rest is just cuts and scrapes, and the steady ache of Bucky's whole left side. He's been shaking that off pretty well, but he's starting to favor the right a little more.

They can't be as cavalier about this as they were before. Almost impossible to get an infection with the serum. Now, there's no guarantee. All the dirt, the spit, the venom...

He's got a bottle of vodka prepped at the ready by the time they're down to undershirts and briefs, and he nods toward an adjacent chair for Steve to prop his leg up.

You ready?

It's gonna sting a little. ]

[fossils]

[ It's not like they eschewed all forms of common sense about infections just because of the nature of their systems. But the concern was never the same, and it's mildly sobering now, surrounded by all the other patients around them.

The slow change in Bucky's posture hasn't exactly gone unnoticed either. The way they move together, how well they know each other, it'd be hard not to. Bucky says nothing yet, so neither does he.

He grimaces as he settles lifting his leg to the seat. Gives a slight nod of his head, go for it, and wonders if the vodka means an issue in the supply chain or if they're already worse off than he'd hoped. ]

[freightcars]

[ They're rationing supplies as thin as they can manage to right now. There are people here, non-displaced, with severed limbs and gashes. Venomous bites, wounds that go to the bone. Alcohol is a viable substitute, takes less away from the people in need of a higher quality of care.

Plus, they can drink it after. It's an economic choice.

For now, the cap gets screwed off and a healthy dose of it goes running down Steve's wound. It clears away old blood and dirt, debris, and leaves behind something clean, pink, and unpleasant.

His eyes track up to check in once it's done, a little divot in his brow but otherwise wordless. He knows what Steve can handle. Just a little sympathetic.

He'll be doing the same thing to the wound on his thigh after he's done here, maybe he ought to reserve his winces until then. Meanwhile, out comes the suture kit.

He drags a chair up in front of Steve's leg. Puts about four seconds of effort into threading the needle before he just hands it over. Not that he can't see it or anything, but his left side is achy tired and it's frustrating as hell to hold a tiny metal needle between flat metal fingertips.

(Used to frustrate the hell out of him before, too, but he's got a good excuse now.) ]

[fossils]

[ His first hangover in about a decade is enough to put him off the option for a little while longer at least, but he won't judge Bucky for indulging while they've got a second to breathe.

The pain is brief, flickers across his features and is gone just as quick. He clears away the rest of the excess himself with a sterile piece of gauze while Bucky sets up, then his hands one more time, dropping the pads in a little metal bin next to them and taking the needle from him without a word, squinting as he pulls the thread through the eye, ignoring the slight shake of his own hands from overexertion. Just takes a breath, steadying.

Ties it up, hands it right back over. ]

[freightcars]

[ Kind of seamless, this whole affair. It's like pulling on an old jacket, something you've had for so long you forgot where you got it. Granted, he's never done this with a metal arm before, but that's more of an anchor point than anything else.

Metal fingers curl around Steve's ankle, Bucky's right thigh lifts up to make a stable surface for the back of Steve's knee, and then they're off. Back sloped forward, concentration on his face, needle through skin.

Bare legs touching means the blue in their chest kicks in, the empathy bond triggers, and Bucky shows no discernable issue with that.

They've had this happen one of two ways so far. One, those deliberate choices initiated by Steve or by a vivid nightmare. The other, incidental flares when they went a few rounds above the safe house any time a hand would make contact with an arm or a neck or a throat. Those barely lasted a second, more like ripples on the surface of a pond than any real connection.

This is the first time it's incidental. Deliberate contact, but not for the purposes of feeling each other out. Just a byproduct of a more important mission. Almost like it's normal, somehow.

It doesn't trip him up this time either, no digging in heels and wresting for control. Just steady, tired calm. Methodical focus, an entire bucket of fatigue, and maybe just a few pinprick traces of nostalgia. ]

[fossils]

[ Surprise flares, brief and traitorous through the bond before the weight of his leg relaxes, settling on Bucky's knee as he gets to work on stitching up the wound. He leans forward, elbows braced on his own bent knee and his back hunched, gaze wandering across what he can see of the room beyond the half-partition as their thoughts meet at the middle, harmonizing on nearly all the same notes after a long, rough night.

Usually he's remained passive, cautious not to overstep. But that was when they were actively sharing, and this being incidental, there's nothing overwhelming, nothing that needs to be told.

He feels the needle moving through his flesh, and that first time the pain flares bright and irritable through the bond. He lets out a long exhale and closes his eyes.

And the thing of it is, he's not thinking of all those times before, more often than not in the kitchen of his apartment, the one he got after his ma past-- when stitches were a thing they needed, even more often than when they went to war.

Maybe, if he ever has the sense for self-reflection, this'll be the moment he remembers when he wonders when his chest stopped humming with nostalgia.

He traces the thread of their shared fatigue, puts a finger on Bucky's calm like taking it in means making it his own too, his focus shifting from the pain. And when its down he lifts his leg without ceremony, inspecting the needlework for a few seconds before slapping Bucky's good thigh and reaching over to grab the bottle of vodka again. ]

[freightcars]

[ The surprise isn't shocking, considering all the reluctance Bucky's demonstrated at the top of the sessions when they do this. It's different, though, it really is. He's not feeling something he's trying to keep off his face, there is nothing insecure in his mind in this moment. Nothing he'd care to keep from Steve.

And anyway, it's... well, after a day of fighting and close calls and watching somebody's back, it's kind of another thing to take off your mental plate. You don't have to check in on your partner. It's there already, effortless.

Pain flares acidic, like the taste of a battery. He winces a little, but it doesn't bring a falter to him. It's just instantly chased with something like soothing calm, reflexive, steadying. Turns out, Steve was already taking it for himself anyway. Making himself right at home.

The connection ends, there's a tap to his thigh, and he sighs heavily in resignation.

Shifts in his chair, slumping and angling back in it in a way that looks lazy, but really makes for easier access.

He could do it himself, it's not as difficult as a calf wound, but if Steve's offering... Alright.

He's tired. ]

[fossils]

[ They swap places, and he moves his seat so that he can hunch over his thigh, giving the same quick non-verbal warning before rinsing the wound. One hand rests on Bucky's knee while the other cleans around the site with gauze, frowning at what he sees before lifting his gaze. ]

Don't think I can close that.

[ Well, should, not can. It's too deep.

The way they are now it'll be more of a risk for infection. ]

[freightcars]

[ Between dousing the wound and gingerly gracing it with gauze, the only sound Bucky makes is a long, steady, audible exhale. All the same, that hand on his knee will pick up the lingering pain that stays behind after the initial flood ebs. It's the kind that pulsates with your heartbeat, a throbbing rhythmic sensation.

He buries it down under shovels of practicality and pointed mindfulness. Stay in the moment, don't focus on it. ]

Wrap it?

[ A question and a suggestion; he can't imagine there's much else they can do right now besides that. It's been sterilized, best they can do is pack it and put on a thick layer of ace.

It's gonna be sore, maybe a little reduced mobility, but he's had worse. He'll manage. ]

You wanna let me-- ?

[ Do that, if you don't wanna go poking around. He can manage himself. It's meant to be considerate, not closed off. ]

[fossils]

[ Yeah. A quick nod, lightly squeezing his knee before standing to get what he needs for him. Ends up taking the rest of the suturing kit back where they got it from originally-- though he leaves behind the vodka.

Makes a couple of trips back and forth. The first time he returns it's with some cartons of water and a box of breakfast bars. The second time it's with a couple of throw pillows borrowed from the furniture goods section.

He figures they're going to take some time here, while they can. ]

[freightcars]

[ He's wrapped by the time Steve is done, one thick width of pristine bandage around his thigh and no other signs there's anything wrong with him at all. He takes all of one good slug from the vodka before setting that off to the side; dull the pain and not much more than that.

One throw pillow, true to its name, gently thrown onto the floor against the nearest, emptiest wall. He follows in its path, lowering himself down to slump against it with his bad leg sticking out long.

Didn't realize he was hungry until Steve came in wielding sugar, and he eyes the box.

A little finger wiggle.

Fork one over. ]

Strawberry?

[ Please and thank you. He'll probably swallow down half an entire bottle of water while he's at it, frankly.

There's something absurdly simple and comforting about this whole thing. Not that he's thinking it outright, it's just in the background of his mind. ]

[fossils]

[ As Bucky settles down he tears open the box, digging around for the strawberry filling bars and the apple cinnamon one for himself. Tosses two to Bucky with a tired grin, and starts adjusting the other pillow so that he can rest on the floor next to him, shifting his own injured leg until he's got it half bent at the knee, his ankle resting beneath to prop his calf a few inches up from the ground. Leans back with a long exhale, a wry smile still faintly tugging at one corner of his lips that doesn't completely reach his eyes before they close. The back of his head thumps lightly against the wall. ]

Can these things set alarms? [ Asking about the brain internet device. ] Don't wanna sleep past oh-seven hundred.

[ A little less than an hour and a half.

He knows they both need more rest than that, but there's nothing to do for it. They got some sleep during the night, at least, before everything went to hell.

He's getting flashbacks of New York. ]

[freightcars]

[ He catches them easily, then slides farther down the wall until his upper back is resting against the pillow, crown against the drywall. Looks like his neck is bent at an almost uncomfortable angle, probably, but let him live his life man.

He drapes his left arm over his stomach, goes about tearing the packaging open with one hand and his teeth.

There's a bite already in his mouth by the time Steve asks, and he answers with his mouth full. ]

Yeah.

[ Which comes out a little more like yuh. ]

You just focus on the time and it—

[ Vague gesture with three fingers, elbow knocking Steve's, index and thumb still wrapped around his cereal bar.

It expands out, or at least Bucky's does. Maybe it's customizable.

Jesus, not but a month ago he'd be pulling through this just fine. You don't know what you're missing until it's gone.

Tonelessly: ]

You think we could take up a meth habit?

[ Like they gave paratroopers to keep them going until the cows came home. ]

[fossils]

[ Ugh. He'll just. Do that in a second.

One eye opens and he glances down at him, scowling and one eyebrow raised, eyes crinkling at the edges. ]

On my salary?

[ Pretty sure no one's looking at those job applications he emailed out earlier last night. Oh well.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere he pulls another face, like he's just realized something: ]

Shit. My teeth can't afford a meth habit.

[ He has not had so much as a cavity in seventy years. ]

[freightcars]

[ It's such an absurd, ludicrous answer that he can't help the way his chest starts to shake a little with stupid, muted laughter. It doesn't really make much of a sound except for some stuttered air escaping his nose — at first, at least, until his teeth come up. The noise that layers itself in is kind of a high pitched whistle or drawn out squeak.

He's trying not to chew and grin at the same time, but it's a real struggle.

There he is, slumped against a wall, eyes closed, chewing and laughing and running the risk of sucking cereal bar down his throat while talking about the logistics of a meth habit with Captain America's teeth.

In the future.

After fighting monsters.

And they're in a goddamn Target or something.

He's just. It's goddamn hysterical. ]

Maybe--

[ He starts, pausing to swallow before starting his pitch again. ]

Maybe future dentures chew your food for you. Could be an upgrade.

[fossils]

[ Look buddy, this is serious. He flosses and everything, but he's always half suspected the serum kinda helped keep his dental record absolutely pristine. Now one day he might walk into the dentist and find out he needs a root canal.

He hates the dentist.

The breathy, squeaking sounds earn Bucky a mock-rueful look, a barely suppressed smile of his own. Slaps him backhanded in the chest, a nice hollow thud against his ribs. Yeah, yeah laugh it up. You're in the same boat, pal. You and your sweet tooth better watch it.

He snorts, jutting his chin toward him. ]

Think you can get me on your dental?

[ He starts shuffling forward to reposition so that he can lie flat with the pillow under his head and one arm bent. ]

[freightcars]

[ The grunt he makes is mostly for show, and really more a product of surprise more than anything. He'd had his eyes closed, didn't see it coming.

Please don't remind him he's susceptible to cavities now. He doesn't need that stress while there are monsters on their doorstep.

He's gonna have to buy a water pick. ]

Think we have to be married for that.

[ He says, cracking one eye open to spot the nearest carton of water. He snaps it open. ]

Hope you're ready for a committed domestic partnership. We're goin' an awful long way for your molars.

[ It's followed by slugging down a few swallows, and then he copies Steve's fantastic plan, slipping properly to the floor and throwing his right arm over his eyes to block out the LEDs. ]

[fossils]

[ He quips back, the grin in his voice still audible, relaxed as can be with the way they're reclined, side by side: ] Worth it.

[ Hasn't eaten or drank anything he brought back yet. Probably won't til he gets up again. Now that he's stopped moving his body is finding new aches, places he'd taken hits earlier in the night. ]

Billy Collins always said I was the ugliest gal you ever dated.

[freightcars]

He was wrong.

[ Bucky muses, voice a low and dry drawl. ]

I dated Barbara from two blocks down.

[ Congratulations, Steve, you're second ugliest.

With the meat of his arm blocking out all light, with the vague muttering of people some distance away, the occasional barked order he can't make out and the flat surface beneath his sore body, it feels like he's somewhere familiar.

Not a physical place, not in the past, but a familiar headspace. Somewhere in his mind, some state of being that he's been in before. Liminal, entirely cognitive, removed from the skin of the earth and existing as a voice and ears and opinions.

He tacks on with a wince in his tone: ]

She was so nice...

[ Almost felt like he didn't have a choice. What kind of guy would he be if he didn't try at least once just on account of her face?

As it turns out, she was dumb as a box of rocks, too, so there really was no getting past it. ]

[fossils]

[ Another scoff, that's about all he's got left in the tank.

Poor Barbara. If he knew at the time he could've told you what a bad idea that was. A pity date doesn't do anyone favors.

Never could get that through your skull.


Even with the noise-- they're somewhere warm, somewhere dry, so this is hardly the worst place they've had to hunker down for a night (or a morning, as it is). Couple months ago Sam found bed bugs on one of the cots in a safehouse they'd secured. Spent the next few weeks after that scratching at phantom itches on his shins and ankles.

He misses Sam. Feels selfish wishing he was here, now of all times...

Some nebulous amount of time must pass where neither of them speak, and the noise around him fades in and out. A hypnic jerk kicks him back to wakefulness before he even registers he's been nodding off. You asleep yet? he feels the urge to ask.

You still awake?

They're pressed up together, shoulder to shoulder.

For the extra warmth, for the certainty of contact. Doesn't need to open his eyes and turn his head.

He drifts off again. ]