//Steve's POV//
I opened the large metal doors that led out behind the school, scanning the empty parking lot for a glimpse of the shining metal of his freshly polished arm. I take a step out, continuing to look at my surroundings for the man. "God dammit," I mumbled to myself, running my hand down my face, when I hear a loud clang of metal from around the corner of the building. I quickly jog over to investigate, only to find the lid of a trash can rolling around for a few seconds before falling on its side. My face falls in disappointment, as I turn and head back into the school to pack up my new uniform, which I would be using for any missions I would be included in after I graduate.
"Where is Bucky, we need to get his props back out of his uniform," calls Vision, hovering above the crowd couple of inches.
"I saw him leave from the back," I heard Peggy's light British accent float through the bustle of the crowd. "Not sure where he went from there." she concluded. I sighed, shoving my fake shield into the prop box, gathering the slip to receive the actual vibranium one tomorrow morning. I unbuckled the front of my suit, slipping off the top and throwing on a white tee before removing the bottom and folding them into my backpack. I pulled my sweats on and slipped on a pair of combat boots over my socks, before heading out the back door to my motorcycle. I slip my motorcycle helmet on my head after tucking my fight helmet into my bag, and gas the bike, speeding out into the empty late night streets of modern Brooklyn.
//Bucky's POV//
I run my fingertips against the cold metal of my shoulder, imagining that I could feel the sensation of heat and the soft tips of my fingers, focusing hard enough that for a moment, if felt real. Only for a moment. I sighed softly, wiping the moisture from beneath my eyes, and hopping into the abandoned train car. I dropped my backpack onto the floor, pulling out a small flashlight. I reach up to the car doors, sliding them shut as I pull out my textbook, flipping it open to page 394, and settling my head against the metal wall. I attempt to study the history of SHIELD and some of the battles they fought, reading through the moves and looking at the diagrams, but unable to retain anything. Frustrated, I shut the flashlight off, pulling my sleeping bag over my shoulders, resting my head on my pillow. I closed my eyes, blocking out the sounds of the cars and people chattering, and slowly drifting off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~
I jerked my head up, slamming it against one of the metal beams inside of the car, searing as I reached up to tenderly touch my forehead with my right hand. I looked at my finger tips, coated in a thin layer of blood. "Shit," I mutter, reaching out to shut the alarm off, resetting it for the next morning. I slip out of the sleeping bag, packing all of my books away into my bag and throwing one of my five outfits on, trying to find a couple bucks to restock my granola bar pile, I only had two days left of breakfast before I was out. I grabbed my towel and dabbed it gently against my forehead to absorb some of the blood. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and slid out of the car into the crisp morning air, relaxing a bit in the quiet that resided before the residents of the neighborhood woke up. Looking down at my watch, I began to walk to the gas station down the street.
"Good morning, James," said the cashier that worked every morning from 3 am until 11 am. We were somewhat close, as I saw him almost every day of the week.
"Hey Stan," I replied, grabbing a box of granola bars of the shelf. "Can I have the key for the bathroom?" I ask, pulling my wad of ones out to pay the $6.50 for 20 bars.
"Sure," says the balding man, reaching beneath the counter to pull out a small metal key.
"Thanks, I'll be right back with it." I call over my shoulder as I head around the store. I lock the door behind me and pull out my toothbrush, applying some baking soda onto the bristles and scrubbing my teeth. I rinse my hair with hand soap and attend to natures call before relocking the door and bringing the key back to Stan. I grab my box of granola bars, an head out the door to go drop them off at home before heading to school to finish my homework. I pull a box of mints that my friend had given me from a pile of half empty gum and mint containers as I toss the granola into a box in the corner of my car, then jog to the front doors of the high school. I sit on a bench just inside, and open my math textbook to finish the last two calculus problems. I find the answer to the last one just as the bell rings and the hall is flooded with students. I pack up my notebook and text, heading to my first class, combat.
A/N: I'm really not having a great week for writing I'm just really busy with getting ready for high school to start in a few days, and I'm trying to get a few chapters pre-written for all of my stories so I won't be on hiatus for months before winter break, so for a while the chapters might suck and hopefully they'll get better during winter or maybe I'll get the creative writing class is igned up for we can only hope but yeah guys I'm sorry. 995 words.
