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CHAPTER TWO ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
BUCKY BARNES HAD FELT LIKE A KID ON CHRISTMAS MORNING. He had awoken before the sun could grace the sky, and had rushed a measly scrambled eggs and toast into his stomach that felt far too cluttered to accommodate the meal. His backpack was packed, and he had his best leather jacket on, the one with the least tears. He was ready to see his friends again.
It was only after Bucky had bombarded his best friend since childhood, Steve Rogers, with multiple calls and nervous inquiries about the trip, did he get a panicked call. The Beasely Boys --- a ridiculous name for a bunch of no good punks, Bucky thought --- had started terrorising Theresa.
Theresa worked three jobs, and Bucky knew her from her waitressing one from a downtown pub. She was a sweet girl, hard-working and eager to make a life for herself. However she had the poor luck of falling for one of the Beasely Boys, and her ex wasn't ready to let her go.
So Bucky did what he always did, he jumped onto his bike, gave his friend a quick call telling him he'd be late, and sped off to instill manners into the young ruffians. He was done having them cause trouble.
The confrontation had ended quickly with the Beasley Boys running off, tails between their legs and only a few blue eyes and one bust lip. Bucky's plan was back on track. He would arrive in Blackwood early.
The roads to Blackwood were gravelly and empty, shrouded by countless trees that strained up to meet the clouds. Bucky loved the feeling of an open road, the sharp wind that scratched his skin, the fragile power that could tumble at any moment, and the loneliness to hear his thoughts.
Except, he wasn't alone. The revving of an engine and breaks in the treeline revealed a black Cadillac, just behind the last bend Bucky had taken, following behind.
Bucky's bike lunged forward like a deadly bolt of lightning, teetering dangerously at one point before realigning itself. He would lose the scorned Beasely Boys, he was sure of it.
His heart was like a drum in his chest, heavy thumps that blared in his ears. Bucky didn't want a confrontation, not in Blackwood where his friends were. The Beasley Boys could be dangerous if they were pushed enough, and he wasn't about to risk them hurting one of his own.
After a few nervous minutes, Bucky pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine. It was quiet, eerily so that his ears ached to hear the chirps of birds or scuttle of bugs and rodents. The wind picked up, a hot lash of air that howled at the trees, the only noise in the silence.
A man stepped out of the woods and onto the middle of the road in slow, stiff strides. He stood a few steps away, his back to Bucky. The wind grew more restless. He turned, revealing a bulging red eye and cut thin lip that was stretched into a smile. It was Martin Beasely.
"Did you think you could fucking do this to my face and get away?" Martin asked, running his hand down the side of his face. His brothers weren't in sight, which led Bucky to believe he took this crusade alone. "I'll break every bone in your body. And then I'll find your little friends and do the same to them."
A spark of anger ignited in Bucky's chest. Bucky wanted to react, but his gut told him not to. Martin was clearly unhinged, and alone out here, anything could happen. So Bucky ignored him, and switched the engine back on.
Martin's bad eye twitched, his good one narrowed at Bucky's bike. "Such a shame what happened to your pal's parents. Bike just like yours had them wiping off the road. Though, they're better off without him now."
Bucky's jaw clenched. He wanted to sock the grin off Martin's face and make him apologize to Tony. But he didn't move, instead he rested his hand above the accelerator, his fingers twitching to press down and speed off before he gave into his anger. He waited, listening to Martin's hoarse laughter.
Martin grew quiet, his head tipped to the side as if he were listening to something. His brown hair was slicked to his forehead with sweat, and his white shirt clung to his chest. His gaze never left Bucky.
It was a horrid stand off. Bucky knew he should leave but he couldn't will himself to, the urge to get off his bike and end things was too strong. It was a shrill scream that broke the spell and had Bucky looking away from Martin to a flock of birds flying overhead.
The bike lurched forward, and Bucky spared one last look at Martin. The man's face had contorted painfully in anger, but instead of pursuing Bucky, Martin stepped back into the path he came, eyes not once leaving Bucky's retreating form until he was swallowed by the trees.
As Bucky shot down the road to the town, he'd stall his bike from time to time, and listen. The Cadillac never followed. It seemed Martin had returned home, though Bucky couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
The feeling intensified when Bucky's bike slowed down onto the smoothe tar of the town's main road. He looked back, and just barely, could he see a figure. The heat of a hateful gaze on his skin was unmistakable.
author's note i scared myself when i was writing about martin, like his name isn't even scary "martin beasely"... but the thought of someone just walking out of the woods if i was parked on an empty road had me shook
