Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 37 - Rocket's Proposal

Bucky's POV

The atmosphere was tense as we prepared for what could be our last stand. Wakanda buzzed with activity as soldiers, heroes, and allies fortified the perimeter. I was at the edge of the encampment, checking over my gear, my thoughts racing. This battle felt different—heavier somehow. The stakes were higher than they had ever been. I flexed my Vibranium arm, still getting used to its new weight and capabilities. It had become an extension of me now, part of my identity that wasn't defined by my past as the Winter Soldier.

As I was lost in my thoughts, a small figure approached me. I glanced down and found myself staring into the eyes of a raccoon. But this was no ordinary raccoon. His eyes were sharp and calculating, like he was sizing me up for something. I'd seen him before briefly, with the Guardians of the Galaxy, but we'd never exchanged more than a nod.

"So," Rocket began, his voice gruff and tinged with curiosity. "Nice arm you got there." He pointed at my Vibranium arm.

I raised an eyebrow. "Not for sale," I said flatly, not really in the mood for whatever he was getting at.

Rocket circled me, his eyes gleaming with what I could only describe as... greed? "Relax, tin man. I'm not looking to buy. Just... admiring the craftsmanship." His gaze flicked to my arm, a calculating glint in his eyes. "Vibranium, right? Must be worth a fortune."

I watched him, uncertain where this was going. I had been looked at in a lot of ways over the years, but never like this. It was oddly refreshing, in a way. Rocket wasn't seeing me as a weapon, or a threat, or even a hero. He was seeing the arm—and apparently, he liked what he saw.

Rocket continued his inspection, walking around me as if I were some kind of statue. "Bet I could get a good price for that in the right market. You ever thought about trading it in? I could hook you up with some pretty sweet tech."

I snorted. "I'm not interested."

Rocket shrugged, but his eyes never left my arm. "Everyone's got a price. What do you want? Credits? Weapons? A nice plasma blaster? Trust me, I can make it worth your while."

I couldn't help the small smirk that formed on my lips. This little raccoon was relentless. "I said," I repeated slowly, "I'm not interested."

Rocket crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as if he was considering a new approach. "You know," he said casually, "Vibranium's great and all, but I bet I could rig you up with something even better. How about a fully automated arm with built-in laser cannons? Or a jetpack function? Think about the possibilities, man!"

I turned to face him fully, looking down at the creature who was trying to barter for my arm like it was a piece of junkyard scrap. "This arm," I said quietly, "isn't just a piece of tech to be traded or upgraded. It's part of who I am."

Rocket looked up at me, his eyes searching mine for a moment before he shrugged again, clearly unfazed by my answer. "Suit yourself, tin man. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

- - -

I watched him as he sauntered away, mumbling to himself about "stubborn earthlings" and "wasting good offers." I crossed my arms over my chest, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. He was something else, this raccoon. Most people looked at me and saw the Winter Soldier, or at the very least, someone who had been through hell and back. But Rocket—Rocket looked at me and saw an opportunity. It was strangely... normal.

I turned my attention back to the camp. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind of tension that sets in just before a storm. Warriors were lining up, preparing for the onslaught that was to come. I felt the weight of the battle looming over us, but for a brief moment, Rocket's antics had pulled me out of it. It was almost like having a regular conversation, something that didn't revolve around life and death.

Emily came up beside me, her eyes flicking between me and the departing Rocket. She raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

I shrugged, the smile still lingering on my lips. "I think he wants to buy my arm."

She laughed, a sound that eased some of the tension in my chest. "Well, at least he's honest about it. I can't say I've ever heard someone make a pitch quite like that."

"Yeah," I agreed, shaking my head slightly. "He's... unique."

Emily glanced at me, her eyes warm and filled with something that grounded me more than anything else ever could. "You know," she said softly, "it's good to see you smile."

I looked at her, feeling the world around us fade just a bit. In this camp filled with warriors, gods, and super-soldiers, Rocket's casual banter had given me a taste of something normal, something that wasn't weighed down by the burden of our mission.

- - -

A few minutes later, Rocket returned, carrying what looked like a toolkit and some strange contraption slung over his shoulder. He didn't waste any time getting back to the point.

"Alright, last offer," he said, setting his gear down at my feet. "Custom-built plasma cannon, integrated shield, and a remote access module. All for the arm."

I stared at him, wondering if he was serious. He looked back at me with an expression that said he definitely was. I glanced at Emily, who was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

"You're not giving up, are you?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Not until I get what I want," Rocket replied. He kicked the toolkit toward me with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Come on, think about it. You could have the most advanced arm in the galaxy. The galaxy, man!"

I shook my head, amused despite myself. "Rocket," I said slowly, "I think you need to let this one go."

Rocket huffed, looking genuinely offended. "Fine," he said with a dramatic wave of his hand. "But if you lose that arm, don't come crying to me."

I let out a short laugh, the sound foreign but welcome. "I'll keep that in mind."

Rocket picked up his gear, muttering under his breath about "humans and their sentimental attachments." He shot me one last look as he walked away. "Your loss, tin man. Remember that."

I watched him go, shaking my head. Emily stepped closer, slipping her hand into mine. "You two make quite the pair," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Yeah, well," I said, glancing down at our intertwined hands, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the sun overhead. "Maybe it's not so bad having people around who can make you laugh before a battle."

Emily squeezed my hand, her smile softening into something more tender. "Maybe," she agreed.

In the face of what was to come, this moment with Rocket had given me something I hadn't realized I needed—a reminder that life was still happening, that there was still room for laughter and lightness, even on the brink of war.