Friends with Fire // Bucky x Oc (Discontinued For Now)

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I remove my mask and goggles, put them back into my bag, and start back down the road. It’s nearly three in the morning but a small diner I come across is open and I walk inside and up to the counter.

“What can I get you?” the blonde teen asks me, her New Yorker accent strong.

I quickly scan over the menu. “Would it be possible to get some waffles?” I ask, aware of the time.

She snorts. “Order of waffles,” she says, tapping her screen. “Anything else?” she asks, looking back up.

“Could I have some extra whipped cream?” I decide, unsure of where that impulse came from. “And just water for my drink.”“You got it,” she says. “$8.32 is your total. Cash or card?”

“Cash,” I say after a moment of hesitation and remove a twenty from my wallet. “Keep the change.”

She blinks a few times and looks at me. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” I say simply, walking over to a booth, avoiding the one with a syrup stain on the seats. The booth I chose isn’t a whole lot better, mostly because of the cheap black coffee smell clinging to the leather seat covers. At least there isn’t maple syrup on anything.

A few minutes later my food and water are placed in front of me. It’s probably better than the overly refined crap at that hotel, I think to myself before making quick work of it all. Before leaving I add an extra tip under my plate.

I get back to my hotel room easily with few interactions with anyone. The sun is starting to rise so I turn the TV on, switching it to the news. I change into sweatpants and take my gloves and jackets off, leaving my tank top on.

Sitting on the couch and watching the news I slowly begin taking my hair out of the net of carefully done braids I put it in. As I’m grabbing my hairbrush from my bag I freeze when the news reporter says, “A former S.H.I.E.L.D agent by the name of Jackson Lees has been reported missing this morning. NYPD and local S.H.I.E.L.D agents are already looking into the case.”

That was fast. I stand and start slowly pacing while brushing out my hair. I listen as the news reporter continues. “We’ve just found out that Tony Stark himself has appeared at Agent Lees’ place of residence. What about this former agent’s disappearance could spark the interest of the billionaire Avenger? We’ll be back in a minute, after this break.”

I toss my brush down and my hand finds its way to my wristlet, fidgeting with it. I pause and lift my wrist to eye height, slowly running my fingers over the metal. The metal, which is supposed to be warm unless I’m near a target, is ice cold against my fingertips. I quickly press the black circle but nothing happens, it doesn’t even feel like a button anymore.

Something is very wrong. I take my phone out of my bag, just in case I missed something, but there are no notifications from anyone. It’s never gone cold on its own. My hand instinctively goes to the back of my neck, as if I’m expecting to be able to touch the microchip embedded there. Either something tampered with the system or my chip is malfunctioning. Neither option is good.

I know better than to try calling Olivia and continue pacing until the news reporter comes back on screen. I drop onto the couch, watching the TV intently. “At the residency of Jackson Lees, reporter Amanda Greene is honored enough to get an interview with the famed Mr. Stark,” she says. The screen switches to a different live feed outside of the same building I’d been at only a few hours before.

“Mr. Stark, is there anything you can tell us about Mr. Lees?” the petite reporter says, seeming tense as she stands next to Tony Stark.

The Avenger glances around swiftly before returning his attention to the camera. “Jackson was a great friend of the Avengers. We’re going to stop at nothing until we figure out what happened to him,” he says in a serious tone. “If anyone has done something to him then there will be severe consequences.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the reporter says. “Back to you Maya,” she says, facing the camera.

The screen switches back to inside the news studio. “Let’s hope they find out what happened to Mr. Lees. We’ll be keeping you updated as more information is collected.” I quickly mute the TV and stand, starting to pace again.

Everything is going wrong. So, so wrong. My hand grabs at my wristlet but it’s still as cold as before. Unable to stay still I change out of my sweatpants, back into jeans, and pull a shirt on over my tank top. I go through one of my backpacks, checking through everything I had packed, and realize I can’t find the spare hotel key card I had put in it.

I turn slowly to my other backpack, the one that had my other stuff in it, and frantically go through it. I know I have two! I take the first one out of my wallet, affirming that it’s there.

I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp and stumble back, realizing that the smallest pocket in my gear backpack is open. It’s the same pocket I thought the key card was in in my other backpack. The key card came out! I rush to the windows overlooking the street. Knowing with my luck that the key card must have fallen out while I was at the Lees’ residence, meaning it’s only a matter of time before I’m found out.