Red meets Blue

Chapter 2: Bucky

I hadn't planned on rescuing him. I'd heard commotion and shouting and my instincts just sorta kicked in. I was crouching in the rafters watching the scene, and somewhere in the shouting and violence I found something familiar. This kid reminded my of Steve, weirdly. Steve was always getting in fights, and I could see the same kind of idiotic courage in this kid that I saw in Steve. Before I really knew what had happened, the thugs were on the ground and I had an unconscious stranger in my arms. I picked him up, bridal style, and carried him out of the building. He was surprisingly light, and again I thought of Steve. Well, how Steve used to be. Before Hydra, the war, before all this messed up stuff happened. Now he's bigger then me.

Once I was outside, I realize my problem. I don't have a car. I'd just been walking when I heard the commotion and found the kid, and I had no way of getting him back to my apartment. I set him down against the side of the building and check his wound. The blood had clotted a little which was promising but he looks really pale. I had to fix him up soon.

I stand and look around for a method of transport. My eyes fall upon a rusty green minivan across the road. Of course. A minivan.  Well, the last of my dignity was lying in a ravine in Europe somewhere, so why not. I look both ways(habit), and run across the road. I grab the front door handle with my metal arm, and give it a tug. It comes off easily, like plucking a leaf from a tree. I toss the handle aside and go back across the road for the kid. I lift him into my arms gently and carry him to the car.

After laying the kid down in the backseat I climb into the front. In under thirty seconds I've hot wired the van and was driving away. One benefit of being brainwashed by HYDRA: free car stealing/driving lessons.

Inside my apartment, which really is not worthy description, I lay the kid on my couch and grab the first aid kit. I cut away the fabric around his leg and pick up a scalpel and a set of large tweezer looking things. I lean in and let my HYDRA training take over. My hands work without me controlling them. Apparently leg surgery on a couch was something I'd encountered before. About halfway through, the kid stirs under me, which interrupts my autopilot. He groans a little, and I figure the pain will hit him soon. After a few seconds of panicked dilemma, I knock him out with a solid punch. Not one if my most elegant solutions, but effective nonetheless. Once I was done, I retreat to the old recliner across from the couch. I curl up and wait for the kid to wake up. Considering I had just punched him out it was going to be a long wait, but I've grown accustomed to waiting. I can go hours without moving, days without eating or sleeping. Plus, something told me this kid was gonna be worth the wait.