Steadfast Soldier

One Year

Hopeless. Everything felt so hopeless. A sense of being lost, clinging to the reality of the present, dreading the past. Bucky Barnes stared at the ground, chewing the inside of his lower lip.

"We're on our own."

Bucky watched the two men turn their backs to him. He saw the beginning stages of frustration. Steve's jaw was tight, teeth gritting behind firmly pressed lips. The disappointment reached his eyes, his brows furrowed, as his gaze drifted towards him, sitting awkwardly in a chair. Hair a damp mess, dark strands shielding the soldier's eyes from their piercing gaze. Fingers curled tightly against the flesh of the palm, a tenseness felt in the small room that wound through his body. Bucky could feel the desire to rip his metal arm from the pinned machinery, the way his shoes twisted on the ground, digging rocks into concrete.

"Not exactly."

Sam's brows lifted, and Steve unclenched his jaw. Bucky watched as the puzzled expression on Steve's face shifted, urging Sam to continue. It was a strange communication, without words or gestures, only simple expressions. He recalled, faintly, the moments when he and Steve shared moments in their childhood. There were so many memories he'd long forgotten, but never truly let slip away. Bucky's brows scrunched over his eyes, his mind searching for the nagging memory lingering in the back of his mind.

"I know a guy."

The flashing memory of a boy. A kid with a purple suit. A friendly smile, a kind set of words, and a strong desire to protect. A kid with a robot for a friend. A kid with an intelligent brain and an invention. An ocean of black swallowing him up, but at his complete control. That was over a year ago, but Bucky held onto the small scrap of hope. Bucky glanced up, his metal fingers curled up tight.

"So do I."

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"Again."

Hiro rushed across the training ground, booted feet slamming down heavily on the mats. He jumped up, twisting his suited body, narrowly dodging a swinging arm. He slammed down on his knees, bolting forward as soon as he got back on his feet. He reached his right arm back, thrusting it forward, fingers curled into a fist beneath the bracer. The wood thrown in front of him splintered and cracked, falling to pieces. He whipped his head around, scanning the room for his opponent. From behind him, he heard padding feet. Hiro ducked down at the last second, kicking a leg back as a shin suddenly appeared behind him.

His foot missed, the shin suddenly disappearing as quickly it had appeared. He turned around, using the momentum of his body to push himself to a level stance on his feet. He couldn't locate his opponent and it made him tense. His fingers flexed in his gloves, tips of the material brushing over the pods on his palms. They weren't as bulky as they used to be, condensed and with a much better purpose.

"Hiro!"

Hiro turned and lifted his arms, crossing them to create an 'x' shape. The impact slammed against his bracers, causing him to slide back on his heels. He glared between the curve of his wrists, spotting the microscopic speck moving along them. He felt his arm jerk away from the formation, but he quickly tried to swat him away. He swung his hand outward, the device on his back giving a low hum. His visor slid across his face, latching onto the other side of the helmet he wore. The device on his back sparked and the swirling vortex coiled with blues and whites; a string of black microbots coiled from the pod on his palm, rushing out in a whip. He grasped the tendril and slammed it down, whipping the speck away. The speck grew immediately, Scott standing in its place. Hiro latched the tendril onto a metal trash bin, flinging it towards the man. He then lunged forward, microbots slipping back into the device on his back, and attempted to pin Scott down. Scott shoved a hand against the teen's face, shoving upwards.
"Get off me, pipsqueak."
"Bite me, old man."