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CW: Murder, decapitation, discussions of suicide and grief.
No smut, all plot.
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BUCHAREST
"So, wait, your name is... Bucky?" The voice he recognizes as Tony Star blares in his ear and Bucky has to resist the urge to rip the commlink out and stomp on it.
There was a vague recognition when he heard Tony introduce himself. Stark.
He had heard that name before, but he couldn't remember where. So much of his memory is fragmented and twisted. He's never sure what's a memory and what he's made up.
What he does know for certain is that Tony Stark is driving him fucking crazy.
"Is there a problem with that?" Bucky growls as he moves through the streets, his gun raised and ready to fire at any second.
Normally, he can keep himself calm, but mentally, he's back in that apartment with Steve and Reilly.
"Who were you named after? Some old timey grandpa?" Tony asks.
"My middle name is Buchanan. So Steve always called me Bucky."
"Buchanan... like James Buchanan? The President?"
"I guess so," Bucky sighs.
He hears something to his right and pivots on the ball of his foot, stalking toward it.
"Tony, leave him alone. Bucky, I'm sorry about him."
"It's fine."
"Buchanan..." Tony continues. "Wasn't he the worst President of all time?"
"Not as bad as Taft," Sam replies. "He got stuck in a bathtub."
Is this what Steve dealt with the entire time he was moving through Eastern Europe? Christ, he'd have abandoned that mission a long time ago, and that's saying a lot about him.
He hears a low snarl from behind a building and stops, letting out a whistle.
"What's going on?" Tony asks. "Where are you?"
"Shut up," Bucky hisses.
Breath catches in the distance and he can smell the fucking thing from where he stands. Suddenly, the creature barrels out from behind a ruined building, face twisted up into a vicious snarl. This is a new zombie, slightly fresh with a big wound in its gut and a bite mark on its neck and shoulder. A woman. Her ankle is snapped, twisted to the side. She's walking on the bone that's sticking out from the rotting flesh, her dead foot caked in black blood.
They don't feel pain, they're fast, they're soulless.
They're everything Hydra wanted Bucky to be.
He aims his gun and shoots her in the head, a pang in his heart as she collapses to the ground. Bucky reloads and glances around before continuing toward the destination.
