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

• 8 •

After pacing furiously around the entirety of my cell I stop in front of the portion of the wall where the door supposedly is. I run my hands slowly over the entire surface but can’t feel any difference. I grumble and shove off the wall, pacing over to the vent.

Stuff got in. That means stuff can get out. I hesitantly bring my hand up and cautiously set it aflame, shivering at the thrill that runs through me. The freedom of being able to use my powers, but also the fear of being able to use them so freely. I take a breath to steady myself and return my gaze to the vent. Here goes nothing.

I remember, when I was still at the orphanage, I used to be able to fully embody flames and move around as one. It’s been years now, decades even, but I remember the feeling. I close my eyes and let the warm sensation from my hand spread all over me. After a second of hesitation, I press the feeling through myself and feel the shift in my form.

Before I can lose my concentration I launch myself up, ignoring the sense of nausea that overcomes me as my form shifts and moves in ways it’s not supposed to. Within a few seconds, I’m dumped onto the floor, my shape solidifying again. I slowly push myself into a standing position and open my eyes. The room tilts violently and I widen my stance to stay upright, placing a hand over my mouth to stop my stomach from emptying itself.

I glance around but only find a small amount of relief that I’ve managed to get out of my holding cell. I start wobbling down the hall, staying close to one of the walls in case I need it for support, and find an elevator. Nearly tripping over my feet in my haste I press the button and watch as the doors seamlessly slide open. I step in and the doors close behind me. As the elevator starts to rise I clamp a hand over my mouth again, pushing down the bile that rises into my throat.

After a few seconds go by I realize I have no idea what I might face when the elevator stops. I try straightening but hunch back over again, wrapping my arms around my middle. Just don’t throw up, I plead silently. The elevator slows and I use every ounce of control to straighten without tipping over.

I take a deep breath as the doors open, and tense, prepared for the worst. What I find instead is an empty, but still pristine, office building. I take an unsteady step out of the elevator and slowly look around, still tense in case something happens. I spot a set of doors and cautiously start walking toward them. This seems too easy…

I reach the doors and hesitantly place my hand on one, pushing it slowly open. I inhale the fresh air deeply, having been greatly deprived of it from being underground for so long. I hear a walky-talky go off quietly and freeze, trying to figure out where it came from. I hear the crackling again, this time a bit closer, and register it’s coming from inside.

I slip through the door, shutting it carefully behind me. Turning, I frown at my surroundings, my eyes roving over the sleek buildings. Where am I? I glance around and take a few steps away from the building I had just come out of, trying to figure out which way I should go. With a shrug I begin aimlessly wandering around, still worried I’ll run into someone. I nearly do but duck into a little alcove, watching the pair of, what I find to be agents of some sort, walk past.

Somehow, I manage to end up in a garage full of military vehicles as well as civil ones. After walking through it for a couple of minutes I find a group of fancy-looking motorcycles. They’re lined up with the same amount of space between each and a helmet on each of their seats. A small smirk pulls up one side of my lips and I select one of them, cautiously putting the helmet on. I wheel the motorcycle over to the garage door and take a moment to figure out how to open it.

I pull down the visor on the helmet and flinch when things light up, showing a map and other information. “What location are you going to?” a robotic voice asks.

“The Pierre, A Taj hotel,” I say haltingly.

“Calibrating,” the voice says. I blink rapidly as the screen shifts around and moves to the bottom left of the visor, showing directions. The garage door grumbles open and I sit on the motorcycle, pressing the button I’m assuming turns it on. Nothing happens and I frown, pressing it again.

“Fingerprint required,” the same robotic voice says. I roll my eyes and take my glove off, pressing the button again. There’s a moment when I think it isn’t going to work again but the engine revs and it turns on.

Wasting no more time I take off, still unsure of where exactly I am. Following the directions sitting at the bottom of my visor, I slowly make my way back to Manhattan. For over an hour there’s only forest on either side of the road broken occasionally by a field or pond.

I have little concern that I’m going over 100 miles per hour since I haven’t seen another car the entire time I’ve been driving. Finally, I come across a few cars but breeze past them and continue going. I only start slowing when I start spotting driveways and houses.

Realizing how close I am to the city I drop down to the speed limit, just in time too since I merge onto the main highway. As I keep going I weave between cars, staying alert for cops.

At last, I pull into the parking garage for The Pierre, A Taj, ignoring the valet.

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I feel like I'm kind of rushing things. Idk tho