Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

THE FIRST AVENGERS: CHAPTER ONE (IGNITE)

Stagehands rushed like clockwork soldiers, adjusting curtains, whispering cues, and fussing over lights. The auditorium buzzed with anticipation.

Rhiley Lucia Stark tapped her boot impatiently, her chipped nails scratching along the hem of her glove. She watched her brother from across the room; Howard Stark: the brilliant showman, the "next big mind of the century," the man with ink-smudged hands and a head too full of gears and glory to notice the rest of the world spinning.

"You mind not drilling a hole into my skull with your eyes?" Howard didn't look up from his notes, but his irritation flared in his voice.

Rhiley arched a brow. "Well, excuse me for being the emotional support twin

"Emotional support implies you're emotionally supportive." He spun in his chair, waving a stained hand. "Talk to people. Mingle. Pretend to be human."

"I already have friends," she said dryly, lighting a cigarette with a sharp flick of her lighter.

"I'm your only friend." Howard gestured to her entirely. "People think you're gonna bite."

"You just gestured at me."

Howard groaned dramatically and ran a hand through his hair. "For the love of God, go flirt with a soldier or something."

"Gladly," Rhiley mused, stepping away from the wall with catlike grace. "Maybe one of them will be less of a smartass."

"I meant emotionally connect, not whatever that was." He looked up too late. She was already gone.

Howard sighed. She was going to be the death of him, and he'd never invent anything good from the grave.

Rhiley moved through the crowd like smoke, there and then not. This was familiar: weaving through strangers, ghosting through lives. It had been three months since the incident, the one no one dared name. They'd yanked her from the field and put her on forced rest like she was some broken doll they were scared to wind back up.

She hated it. The soft prison of concern. The tight leash Howard kept around her like he thought she might vanish if he blinked.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Howard's voice boomed overhead, snapping her from her thoughts. "What if I told you that, in just a few years, your automobile won't need roads at all?"

Rhiley smiled, despite herself. There was her brother, selling the dream, painting futures from thin air and metal. Even when the car sputtered mid-hover and wobbled back to earth, he didn't flinch.

"I did say a few years, didn't I?"

The crowd laughed. So did Rhiley.

She headed toward the bar, intent on teasing him for the glitch, but barely made it two steps before someone barreled into her. Hard.

"Shit—" She hissed, landing awkwardly, her hand grabbing her lower back.

"I am so sorry," came the voice, sheepish and warm.

Rhiley looked up, scowling, and froze. A hand was extended toward her. And the face attached to it... well, damn. Whoever he was, he was grinning like he'd won a prize.

"I wasn't watching," he said, not apologizing again so much as offering the moment.

She slapped his hand away and shoved herself up. "Clearly. Next time, you'll be the one on the floor."

"Fair enough." The soldier chuckled. "But, hey, I can't say I regret bumping into a pretty lady like you."

She squinted at him, suspicious. His confidence wasn't the usual kind. It was relaxed. Easy.