Chapter 32

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Song: Bird Set Free by Sia

☆☆☆

"Clipped wings I was a broken 
thing, had a voice had a voice 
but I could not sing."

☆☆☆

One week later. . .

Bucky awoke to the sounds of police sirens, springing off of the bench he'd fallen asleep on and ducking behind it, watching as two police cars passed in hot pursuit of a rogue driver.

Bucharest was a bustling city, making it easy for him to nab food here and there without stand owners noticing. He could simply walk up to the stand and slip an apple or an orange into his pocket while customers paid for their food. That was convenient, as was the never ending source of water from drinking fountains seeming to be stationed everywhere. The only thing inconvenient, however, was the lack of shelter from the elements. It grew quite cold at night and as he slept, Bucky found himself wishing that he had a blanket to wrap himself up in.

Although he hated the thought of stealing, it was far better than killing, and in his opinion, anyone could consider that a step up in his taste of activities. Any time he approached a fruit stand he did his usual accidental bump into a person, snatching their wallet from their back pocket as he did so. Then, he'd hurry off before they would know any different, concealing his new prize in his pocket. Sometimes after stealing a wallet, he'd take about half of the money from it and return the wallet to a random stand, claiming to have found it on the ground nearby. It helped take away some of the guilt of stealing away, anyhow.

This morning was no different. He dropped off a random wallet he'd taken at a fruit stand, but only after he'd taken half of the money out of the wallet. He'd almost made the mistake of handing over the wallet with his left hand, but at the last second remembered to keep his hand securely hidden in his pocket with his growing stash of money, crinkled pamphlet, and notebook; he realized he should have been grateful for Hydra giving him such massive pockets meant to conceal weapons.

He stopped at several different stands in the marketplace, purchasing himself some simple, non-perishable goods such beans, tomato soup, and chicken broth. He also managed to find a cheap, expired loaf of bread; he trusted his enhanced immune system to keep him healthy. He bought a few fruits and vegetables as well, keeping everything he bought in one large plastic bag.

Bucky had amassed about one thousand leu, still having three hundred leftover American dollars. Deciding it was a good enough time to treat himself for his illegally earned cash, he scanned the names of stores beyond the small market stands, eventually settling on what looked to be a clothing store called Marks and Spencer. Colorful mannequins stood posed in the windows, displaying different arrays of outfits for men, women, and children alike. The models were posed as if they were welcoming in every customer who approached the store, beckoning them to come in and buy something. And it worked on Bucky, too.

The store smelled of fresh linen and plastic, and it was an odd mixture. It seemed quite empty of people inside and Bucky had to follow ceiling signs leading him to the men's clothing section.

He pretty much grabbed the first things he could find: a six pack of burgundy Henleys, three pairs of plain jeans, and one pair of solid black gloves to conceal his left hand. The chashiers all stared at him oddly and he figured he must have been quite the sight, though he probably didn't exactly smell sweet like roses either. Or maybe they were scowling at the look on his face, but he just couldn't help smiling; to make his own choices, to buy his own things, having the freedom of doing something so simple as making a transaction felt like a breath of fresh air to him. He quickly paid for his belongings, rushing out of the store before any of the employees suspected him of anything.

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