Vindictive

January 30, 1968

Bucky Barnes was going to kill Rogers, or at least severely injure the bastard.

He got along with nearly all of his other comrades, even Michael Jones who made jokes with the sole intent to degrade him. Rogers, however, was insufferable.

As white as snow, his complexion mirrored the white coating of the cold, dead earth back in Bucky's hometown. Ebony ringlets bounced from his scalp, half covering the hazel glare that he reserved just for Bucky.

Steven Rogers was no soldier. Hell, he wasn't even a good man.

Bucky glared at him, observing his tall frame in the middle of the otherwise deserted boulevard. He was hunched over a scrawny boy, their prisoner soon to be executed. His tender skin had already begun to swell as Steven's knuckles had their way with him.

"Barnes," Jones spoke, momentarily removing the canteen from his lips to offer his friend a grin, "penny for your thoughts?"

"Rogers," he replied with a grunt, unwilling to look away from Steven. No one had offered him a seat under the protection of the fence, all silently wished that an enemy would have enough skill to aim at a semi-mobile target in the middle of an open street in broad daylight.

Bucky was sure it was only a matter of time but he could only hope.

"Actually, you should be the one giving me a penny."

"Funny, Mikey."

Jones just grinned, nodding towards an over-dramatic Rogers that now had a gun in his hands. The prisoner was pinned to the ground, trembling as Rogers pulled the trigger. The gun wasn't pointed at him though so instead, the bullets were fired into the heavens.

"Fuck you, God!" he screamed while the prisoner remained still and silent beneath him.

Bucky's brows furrowed as he watched the scene unfold. It was extremely unnecessary to torture the man and would only cause the prisoner to struggle more when the actual execution was done.

"I bet he'd love for God to fuck him," Mikey mumbled, leaning back against the fence and moaning femininely to mock Rogers, "oh yes...f-f-fuck."

"You know...you're quite good at that, Mikey. Almost like God, or someone else, has been fucking you."

Bucky was silent for a moment before he snickered at Robert Taylor's comment. It made him uncomfortable but he quickly decided that at the expense of Steven Rogers, even homophobia was hysterical. He watched as Taylor continued the charade by inching away from Mikey and blessing himself. "Forgive me, father, for meeting this sinful man. Let me cure him of his disease and if not, give me the strength to kill my former friend-"

Mikey stuck his middle finger up at Robert, causing laughter to erupt from Bucky's lips. He felt Rogers' gaze shift towards him and he grabbed the canteen from Mikey, taking a sip of water before staring back. Rogers glowered as if his look could speak for his fists. Bucky raised his brow causing Rogers to look away. His own look could speak for his fists too and in that arms race, Bucky would win every time.

"Hey, Rogers!" Mikey called, glancing at Bucky and smirking before motioning the other over.

He looked their way again, making it obvious he was rolling his eyes before pulling the prisoner to his feet and dragging him over to the fence.

"Taylor, Jones," he nodded in their direction, deciding to awkwardly loom over them with the prisoner by his side.

He waited a beat, being the dramatic little shit he was, before pushing the prisoner to the ground at Bucky's feet. "James."