Bent not Broken(but on the verge)

Chapter 1

"Cause of death seems to be this gunshot to the heart," Bruce said, then pointed at the slashes adorning the corpse's chest. "The others seem to be overkill."

Bruce poked at the bare flesh a few more times taking in the colour. "And I'd say dead for less than 12 hours. Most likely bled to death. I will need to get a proper look before I say anything concrete though, Detective."

Bucky nodded at the medical examiner and side-stepped the blood that had congealed on the sidewalk as he examined the body. "Not enough blood for it to have taken place here, I take it?" Bucky asked, despite already knowing the answer. "Who called it in?"

It was his partner, Sam Wilson who turned around and commented, "Uniforms called it in at 5am."

"That late? Nobody heard anything? No gunshot?" Bucky questioned.

"Used a silencer, most likely. And you know the neighborhood, Barnes. Nobody would be calling a cop here." Sam reasoned, shrugging his shoulders.

"That makes getting a proper statement even harder." Bucky sighed.

Bucky started to slowly circle the naked body sprawled behind the dumpster. The body was definitely made to be hidden from any immediate passersby of the street.

"No ID either before you ask." Sam informed.

"Canvas the area. See if anyone heard or saw anything."

"Got it!" Sam nodded and walked towards the small crowd that had gathered near the mouth of the alleyway.

"Anything else that's noteworthy?" Bucky asked their resident medical examiner, who had begun to bag the evidences.

"Like I said before, can't tell right now, detective. But I wouldn't expect much. Alleys are a bitch to comb through for proper evidence. Too much contamination," Bruce said, adjusting his glasses. "Plus, this looks fairly standard."

And, while Bucky didn't like how it had been implied, he knew what their resident medical examiner had meant by that. Just another nameless prostitute, probably killed by a disgruntled John. It wasn't even a leap of an assumption. In this part of the city, in this particular neighbourhood, not entirely uncommon. Chances of it being a solid case was close to zero. Chances of finding the perp, even less.

Conventional wisdom in homicide investigations held that speed was of the essence. The notion was that any case that was not solved or that lacked significant leads and witness participation within the first 72 hours had little likelihood of being solved, regardless of the expertise and resources deployed.

So, when the end of the week had neared and there had been little to no progress on the case, Bucky knew this would become of one those cold cases that the department shoved in the back of the filing cabinet. Given that the victim was a sex worker, the department would be more than happy to. Noone made a fuss about dead hookers.

"Captain wants to see us." Sam informed, coming behind Bucky and pulling him out of his reverie.

Bucky put down his manila folder and cracked his neck. The loud pops made him groan out loud in satisfaction.

"Not like we have much to say." Bucky said and Sam shrugged.

"My end is a dead-end too." Sam informed. "I talked with Banner an hour ago. Nothing enlightening or new on the forensics' side either."

Bucky nodded and tried not to feel as dejected as they made their way to the Captain's office.

"Captain." Both Bucky and Sam greeted Nicholas Fury who acknowledged them with a nod.

"How's the case coming? Anything noteworthy?" Fury asked as the door behind them shut.

"We basically know nothing other than his name and he worked the streets," Bucky recalled the sad file. "No family members to speak of. No gang affiliations either. We spoke with the roommate. She had a lot to say about him. Unfortunately, nothing useful. So, no leads there either."

Captain Fury hummed, nodding his head at the information.

"What do you two think?" Fury asked.

"Honestly, Captain?" Sam started before Bucky could say anything. "The working theory is that some John did him in."

"So basically, another dead hooker that the NYPD should just close the case on." Bucky recited what his fellow officers were thinking, and saying in some cases. It wasn't an uncommon attitude, not even an unpopular one among the officers. The police generally tended to care very little about these cases. Almost all such homicides went unsolved and the handful of those that did get solved, the perps almost never got prosecuted due to lack of solid evidence. The police didn't want to waste their resources on sex workers. To them, these sex workers were dime a dozen, like a pest – kill one, dozen spawned the next night on the street.

"Bucky..." Sam's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he felt the change in demeanor of his partner.

"Who cares about dead hookers, right?" Bucky said a little too loudly. "It's not like they are people. Just whores."

"Detective Barnes." Fury didn't shout but his voice was cold and authoritative. The accompanying glare made Bucky move his gaze away from Fury and at the wall behind Fury in chastisement; he stared unblinkingly at the drawn blinds.

Fury turned to Sam. "Detective Wilson, that will be it from you today. I want to have a little talk with Detective Barnes here."

Sam nodded and left the Captain's office, but not before giving a very concerned glance towards his partner. Once the door was shut, Fury let out a tired breath.

"You want to tell me what that was about, Barnes?" Fury asked, gesturing Bucky towards the brown couch lining the wall.

Bucky exhaled sharply, and seated himself, back still upright and tense.

"I have already been cleared by the therapist so it's not what you are thinking." Bucky defended.

Fury hummed as he rested his chin atop his folded hands. "I never said anything."

"It is like Sam said, the kid was a hooker. Probably had a bad luck with a John." Bucky said, jaw clenching as he thought about the young man, now lying dead just floors below them in the morgue. "All leads, or the lack of leads suggest that."

"Is that what you are angry about?" Fury continued without waiting for his response, "This isn't your first case with a dead prostitute."

Bucky glared, "Sir, I – "

"Are you already thinking that whoever did this won't be caught?" Fury didn't let him answer, before adding, "or that the police doesn't care about some nameless prostitute?"

Fury was watching him with those sharp, calculating eyes; the feeling was unsettling but his observation was accurate.

"There seem to be two concerns here. Let me address both of them." Fury began. "The perpetrator will be caught because I have my best detectives on the case. And second, don't forget that you are part of the police and from what I can tell, you care. And sometimes that's all the kindness your victim needs. Now, would that be all, Detective?" Fury raised an eyebrow, clearly ready to dismiss him.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a breath. He opened his eyes and nodded jerkily.

"Thank you, Captain." Bucky said sincerely, as he got off the couch.

As he made his way to the door, he added, "By the way, Captain, he wasn't just a nameless prostitute. His name was Elliot Smith. He was an Archaeology major before he dropped out. His hobby was magnet fishing and he wanted to get a tattoo of Indiana Jones on his forearm."

'He wasn't just a prostitute.' Bucky wanted to add. 'He was a person.'

"I see." Fury said, looking thoughtful, "Sounds like a good kid."

Bucky nodded silently and walked out of the Captain's office.

Elliot Smith was going to get justice. Bucky would make sure of it.