The Collection- Bucky Barnes

All Good Men- iv

Four dates. Four. In the span of three weeks. Each one going better than the last, and each one ending at Bucky's apartment.

The "do-over" date came exactly two nights after the disastrous double-date with Steve and Sarathiel. Considerably more lowkey, Bucky drove her to a local owned Greek place and then an exploration of Little Greece itself. Three days later was the Harlem Jazz Parlor. A week after that (Bucky had been disheartened to report on a mission that interrupted his "grand plan") was the Brooklyn Bazaar. And their last escapade, a mere four days ago, was beer and bowling.

Nora would be lying if she said she wasn't having fun. In truth, she's never laughed- or even smiled- more than she does around him. There's something about him that forces down her thickest barrier and coaxes out those impossibly tiny shreds of humanity she's been keeping secret the last few centuries.

It didn't take her long to realize that Bucky Barnes was not like normal human men. His difference couldn't be chocked over to his rare situation and uncommonly long lifespan.

He was simple. There was no complexity, no puzzle to shake out and piece together. He was explicit with his desires and his thoughts, he spoke everything freely and boldly without consequence of judgment or fear of rejection. And he was good. Wholly and completely good. Good not in the sense of Steve Rogers, baring a soul of angelic ancestry. No, Bucky was just plain good-natured. Good in the sense that he was clear and honest and respectable. There were no games or tricks or puzzles. His intentions were crystalline and he made sure she knew.

And as the days wore on and time moved on, Nora was finding herself growing more accustomed to his presence in her life. Even looking forward to the time they spent together. But, the more time she spent with him, the more she lost the mission. Time with Bucky did not equal time with Steve. It seemed to her that as the days passed by, her goal of twisting and taking a Nephilim soul drifted further and further out.

Her fondness for Bucky was proving to be a folly. She was making mistakes when before, she had always been perfect. And these would have to be remedied at once if she was going to make warriors out of the perfect American soldiers.

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"And you, Nora? What word on the souls of Earth's best and brightest?"

These meetings are never her favorites. They are long and dull and usually result in Asmodeus toeing the line of her patience will thinly veiled insults and heavy backhanded compliments.

"Delicious as always." She drums her fingers against the cool surface of the onyx table. She cracks a smile at her own joke, feeling more proud than annoyed at the state of things. She's working on something so tantalizing, Asmodeus will never be able to say another word against her, Kai on the throne or not. "No, really," she rolls her eyes at their drab faces, "they're mortal men. Easily susceptible to a short dress and empty compliments. It's not as if it's hard to get a guy to sign his soul away to the forces of Hell."

Honestly, she does have the easiest job. But only because she picked the easiest prey. Mortal men are so easily deluded by the promise of sex that they are usually soulless before they ever realize something about her isn't quite right. Not exactly human.

She smirks across the table at Valentine, the consulate for the Stripers, or corrupters of souls. Valentine hasn't always been in that seat, he used to be a second-in-command, back when Renwick-.

No, she isn't going to think of him. She's been in such a good mood lately.

Collectors and Stripers have vaguely similar professions, therefore Nora always likes being around them. They understand. She takes the soul, convinces the human to give it up, effectively damning them to Hell and servitude to Lucifer. Stripers corrupt the souls of humans, damning them to Hell to eventually become a soldier or possibly a Striper or Collector.