When HYDRA fell, his world expanded its borders to such an extreme degree that it might have been overwhelming if it wasn't a silent freedom that he had been craving for so many long years. He walked away from it all without a backwards glance, though one could say that he was always looking over his shoulder because that's what people like him did. They disappeared, but they were also always looking for those people that were just like them, the ones that lived half in the shadows, that hid who they were in order to avoid detection and too many prying eyes.
In three years, he learned to live a life, to be just friendly enough to earn politeness in return, to be social enough to have common greetings but nothing more than that. He had no friends, no family, no handlers and no students; he lived for himself and the pain that came with trying to regain what he had lost so long ago. After confirming his identity, he left North America to disappear into Europe where few would feel the need to look for him. There it was easier to gather the facts, to dig for clues, to search up agents that knew a thing or two about him and more, to eliminate those that had no idea he was there in the first place. He wanted a quiet life but that involved building it around himself while seeking information to all the rising clues to his identity and the lives that he had lived.
His need for confirming his own identity and gathering more of the pieces took him back to Brooklyn. By now, the Avengers had taken on enough threats that HYDRA was a quiet evil in the back of people's minds. They weren't looking for the lost assassin anymore, which was a measure of relief as he began to search all the places where he had once lived a very old life, only to find that it had disappeared. New housing, new shops, new people and very little the same. The number of street gangs and unsavoury individuals had increased as well, which wasn't so much sad as curious. It was the way of the world; he had no opinion one way or another.
It was by chance that he caught sight of the red-head in the baggy clothes. Her appearance wasn't particularly striking from where he made his own way, but how well she hid herself, blended in was a skill that he immediately could recognize. Even at a simple walk, her grace and suppleness was clear to him. She moved like one of the trainees from a long, long time ago. It was subtle and only one who had both trained and knew the extensive background of the Red Room could probably see it. She reminded him of a much younger Natalia, who he knew to be wandering around with the Avengers.
He couldn't trust 'hunches' only, so he hired three men to rob her of the little that she owned. If his 'hunch' was correct, he would be able to confirm the merit of her skill, and she did not let him down. She moved like Natalia, skilled and sharp with the ability to take out an opponent without having to consciously think about it. She was a Red Room trainee, but that made no sense? Hadn't they all been disbanded? It wasn't like he could simply fly to Russia and ask; it wasn't as if he would be handed any answers even if he did. That was one place he knew he needed to avoid in case word got back to HYDRA that he was on such a loose leash. No, any answers to her training would have to come from her or not at all.
The Soldier... no Bucky Barnes (that was his name, he continually reminded himself) eased through the crowd casually, as if the whole scene had lost interest even if people were whispering about the ordeal. She was good at slipping the crowd, but he was better; he had been doing it for seventy years, had trained them how to do it along with perfecting their American English. So he knew how to follow her, to haunt her steps and let her think she had eased away from the prying eyes of by-standers. He doubted that she knew he had set the whole scenario up simply to drive her to hiding where he could find her.
He let her lead him to where she lived, keeping his distance, letting her have just enough space to keep him off of her radar. He slipped into the warehouse that was clearly her abode and settled down in a shadow, letting her come inside far enough that he could block any of her exit strategies.
"Part of being close to a perfect operative is to know when and where to be completely normal," he called out to her. "You gave yourself away and with how social media works, you could have your face plastered across the internet. That's a dangerous game; you should have let them take the bag and hunted them down instead."
no subject
In three years, he learned to live a life, to be just friendly enough to earn politeness in return, to be social enough to have common greetings but nothing more than that. He had no friends, no family, no handlers and no students; he lived for himself and the pain that came with trying to regain what he had lost so long ago. After confirming his identity, he left North America to disappear into Europe where few would feel the need to look for him. There it was easier to gather the facts, to dig for clues, to search up agents that knew a thing or two about him and more, to eliminate those that had no idea he was there in the first place. He wanted a quiet life but that involved building it around himself while seeking information to all the rising clues to his identity and the lives that he had lived.
His need for confirming his own identity and gathering more of the pieces took him back to Brooklyn. By now, the Avengers had taken on enough threats that HYDRA was a quiet evil in the back of people's minds. They weren't looking for the lost assassin anymore, which was a measure of relief as he began to search all the places where he had once lived a very old life, only to find that it had disappeared. New housing, new shops, new people and very little the same. The number of street gangs and unsavoury individuals had increased as well, which wasn't so much sad as curious. It was the way of the world; he had no opinion one way or another.
It was by chance that he caught sight of the red-head in the baggy clothes. Her appearance wasn't particularly striking from where he made his own way, but how well she hid herself, blended in was a skill that he immediately could recognize. Even at a simple walk, her grace and suppleness was clear to him. She moved like one of the trainees from a long, long time ago. It was subtle and only one who had both trained and knew the extensive background of the Red Room could probably see it. She reminded him of a much younger Natalia, who he knew to be wandering around with the Avengers.
He couldn't trust 'hunches' only, so he hired three men to rob her of the little that she owned. If his 'hunch' was correct, he would be able to confirm the merit of her skill, and she did not let him down. She moved like Natalia, skilled and sharp with the ability to take out an opponent without having to consciously think about it. She was a Red Room trainee, but that made no sense? Hadn't they all been disbanded? It wasn't like he could simply fly to Russia and ask; it wasn't as if he would be handed any answers even if he did. That was one place he knew he needed to avoid in case word got back to HYDRA that he was on such a loose leash. No, any answers to her training would have to come from her or not at all.
The Soldier... no Bucky Barnes (that was his name, he continually reminded himself) eased through the crowd casually, as if the whole scene had lost interest even if people were whispering about the ordeal. She was good at slipping the crowd, but he was better; he had been doing it for seventy years, had trained them how to do it along with perfecting their American English. So he knew how to follow her, to haunt her steps and let her think she had eased away from the prying eyes of by-standers. He doubted that she knew he had set the whole scenario up simply to drive her to hiding where he could find her.
He let her lead him to where she lived, keeping his distance, letting her have just enough space to keep him off of her radar. He slipped into the warehouse that was clearly her abode and settled down in a shadow, letting her come inside far enough that he could block any of her exit strategies.
"Part of being close to a perfect operative is to know when and where to be completely normal," he called out to her. "You gave yourself away and with how social media works, you could have your face plastered across the internet. That's a dangerous game; you should have let them take the bag and hunted them down instead."