❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

[natha]

You've spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Now, the time to put all your survival training into practice has arrived: El Nysa needs you, and you're here to help the planet thrive. Are you ready? THE DESCENT     All refugees on the station are called to the hangar, where a large-scale teleporter awaits. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait; everyone will be sent down to the planet together. Before they depart, all refugees will be given a cold weather survival kit with warm clothing, rations, and bedding. The arrays build into a brilliant wash of light, creating a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa, teleporting the refugees to the planet on an aurora. Once on the planet's surface, refugees receive one last message from Darma. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet we must ask you to brave further peril. Within Nadril are the secrets to how poor Ysverai's revival was hidden from our sight and how this disaster has come to our star. Find the first refugee from beyond this planet, a man named Magda. He will not speak to us, for much has come between us, but to you… If you prove yourselves, he may be willing to answer your questions. We beseech you, for there is a veil over Nadril that hides all within from us. There may yet be more untold dangers waiting to befall this planet. For the good of all who make this world home, we ask you to lend us your aid. There is yet one more favor we would ask of you. In warding off the Storm's encroachment, the physical aspect of ourselves that you call Thesa Station was damaged. We must remain to continue repairs to El Nysa and to deal with Ysverai, but there should be suitable technology within Nadril that could be used for spare parts. If you have the chance to find it and can return it to us, it would hasten— Darma's message crackles with static, another image overlaying hers — her broadcast is cut off and replaced with another. A more sullen and alien voice takes Darma’s place, overlapping on itself in an ominous reveal. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet you’ve only just arrived here. To say I’m not disappointed in your… generation would be to lie, and I am nothing if not an honest creature. But I suppose these have been unusual circumstances. You must ask yourself this — are you only here as Darma's lapdogs? I can assure you, it's not worth being on the Natha's leash. With time, that will be something you'll have to learn for yourself. If you're so determined to come find Nadril, then follow the path north, and you'll find the border. What awaits you is revelation, if you're up to the challenge. A FROZEN LAND     The refugees land on a literally frozen world, both in temperature and time. Curls of icy wind hold swirls of snow aloft and an uncanny silence is broken only by the crunch of hoarfrost underfoot. Only Darma's protection allows the refugees to move through this frozen world — and movement is very necessary. Bitter cold sneaks through even the thickest clothing and without warning, a snowstorm rises: unnaturally quickly, a wall of white howls directly in the refugee's path. Bizarrely, the way back is perfectly calm; it's obvious that this storm is no product of nature. Magda's challenge becomes clear: the only way to Nadril lies through this storm. Visibility within the storm is near zero, the whiteout hiding any landmarks from view and making navigation near impossible. The only guidance refugees have is a sporadic path of faint, greenish lights, easily lost in the raging storm. Refugees need all the survival skills they practiced on Thesa Station to survive, for getting lost alone is a death sentence. Luckily, those separated from the group can happen upon guiding lights Magda has planted throughout the tundra. These blue-white sparks cause frostbite if handled recklessly, but they also serve as directional anchors, turning into ghostly flames that lead lost souls back to the path to Nadril. The trek through the storm will be no mean feat and will last for the better part of three days. By the time the refugees reach Nadril's gate, most will find themselves exhausted and running on fumes. As the snowstorm dies away and a gap in the glittering forcefield around the city opens to usher the refugees inside, it's clear that Nadril is a different beast. A WARM(?) WELCOME     I. Despite the unforgiving journey, entering Nadril is painless. Once inside, characters will be greeted by their predecessors: the original refugees who made this advanced city. They'll immediately be offered medical attention, as well as warm cider and blankets. But it's obvious that the Nadril citizens prefer higher tech to fend off the weather: they also offer wristlets and ear cuffs that that double as mittens and earmuffs by creating warm bubbles of air. The earrings also feature a few quality of life programs, such as timed alarms and thought-to-speech messaging. However, both programs are in beta stages so it's not unusual for a stray thought to accidentally slip through or an alarm to accidentally ring at an inopportune time. II. Refugees are offered free lodging in a large, crystalline building crafted from ice. Despite the coarse building material, the ice is unmelting and surprisingly well-insulated, and the beds are as warm and cozy. The rooms are, however, small. The sleeping quarters house two people, and are some cross between an igloo and a capsule hotel. Though built for efficiency over comfort, all rooms are also outfitted with the latest Nadril AI, RoboAlfred, or Ralf for short. This helpful program is installed in practically all the furnishings: the closet tells guests to bundle up, the bathroom sink reminds them to brush their teeth, and the mirror offers helpful fashion tips. Ralf's personality matrix still needs polish, though: it may very well insult your clothes and passively-aggressively question your lifestyle choices for the entire stay. III. Though not as advanced as Thesa Station, the colony has technology far beyond the rest of the continent, such as rudimentary AIs and mechanical transportation. Nadril's skyline is a point of pride — refugees can take a (literal) lightrail that gives an aerial view of the colony, which is hewn almost entirely from ice and rock. Despite its tech, Nadril is much more sparsely populated than Olympia and Wyver, and its residents stay near a central hub: a Natha refugee drop ship, Central, which has crashed and long embedded itself into the earth. Central is similar to an older, smaller, grounded model of Thesa Station, in functional order with round-the-clock solar power. Within Central are lounges similar to ones on the Station, though many of the damaged areas have been converted. They include repair stations, different wings dedicated to science, botany, astrology, and mechanics, and a research and history facility, which has a smattering of technology from planets beyond El Nysa — including your own. The staff here don't mind if anything is sampled and studied, but objects cannot be taken from the labs. IV. On the outskirts of the central hub, many will find several curious looking bots with insect-like wings perched about high traffic walkways. Simply passing the bots will cause a dizzying flash before a series of photos print out. Upon closer inspection, people will find that these images reflect stills taken from their home worlds as they remember it. Unfortunately, these photos only last a couple of hours at best. At that time, they will revert back to regular pictures of the refugees. People will be encouraged to share these images of their worlds. The residents of Nadril comprehend the value of remembering one's origins, and will be pleased to see that people still hold memories of old homes close to them. RECREATION IN NADRIL     I. Small, mechanical creatures scampering through the city are a common sight. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they come from a shop called Paws About Town. They’re very useful, as companions, gophers, and couriers (though the more mischievous will note that they’re just small enough to keep tabs on people without being noticed). Premade robotic pets are available on display inside the shop. They come in all shapes, but small sizes; one may be able to find robots that even look like miniature creatures from their homeworld. These are a part of a new, highly customizable line with programmable personalities. Customers have the chance to take pets for a one-day trial run. Those who don’t know how to program may want to enlist more knowledgeable aid, but the pets come with instructional pamphlets for basic personality traits such as obedience, helpfulness, playfulness, and bloodthirst. For returns, the switch to wipe the robot's personality to a blank slate is on the back of its neck, right between a switch to invert all traits, and a switch to have them learn by observing. Try not to press the wrong switch — you might wind up with a pet with a mind of its own! II. A. The Frosty Tap Cantina is a thriving hub of activity, but one of the major draws is the self-service bar: molecular mixology is wildly popular here. Playing with drink compositions can be a game in and of itself, and newcomers to the cantina will find that the bartender — a cheerful woman with lilac skin and three eyes — is always happy to give them a few tips on how to use the wide array of tools within reach of the barstools. All manner of drinks are possible — from glowing, layered cocktails, to clear drinks with colored, spherical bubbles and vividly-colored shots that give off their own smoke. There's a nightly contest in the cantina for the most creative drink created by a team — this may be as good a time as any to partner up with someone and see what can you come up with. Winner gets all their drinks for the night free! And, hey, even if you don't win, you get to drink whatever you make. The well-lubricated patrons of the bar are eager to challenge anyone nearby to a different sort of drinking game… Just how well can you hold your liquor? B. Holo-screens in the cantina are nearly always broadcasting some match or another of a game that looks very much like hockey, albeit played with sticks that light up and a puck that changes shape from time to time. Colonists here merely refer to the game as "the sport," and one of their favored pastimes is betting. However, they don't use currency — they wager dares. Nadril colonists are a tough, weathered lot, and they prefer to speak with actions over silver. Colonists will urge the refugees to take part as well. Common dares range from the ridiculous (lead a sing-a-long, attempt to make someone with a poker face smile) to the suggestive (kiss the person in the cantina you find most attractive, strip off a piece of clothing), to the outright reckless (venture out into the snow for a certain amount of time, and no one will judge if you find some company to keep warm). The colonists are unfazed by even the most insane or tawdry of dares — but you'll certainly be called a killjoy for refusing too often! Why not grab a friend and give it a whirl, or challenge a rival to a dare yourself? THE MISSION     I. On the outskirts of Nadril is the communications tower of the old refugees. This is where Magda resides, monitoring Nadril's technological protections, the extent of the Natha’s influence, and running his own personal projects for El Nysa’s technological advancement. It is isolated, filled with research labs and relics of the past refugees who have come to El Nysa — a living mausoleum of worlds swallowed up by the Storm whose peoples have refused to forget where they came from. Crew photos line the walls of the tower: pictures of alien families and friends, the refugees who came to Nadril before you. Each group of photos gradually becomes smaller in number, and the most recent of the pictures are from half a century ago. Magda's picture can be found among the first group of refugees, an unusually small cluster of photos dating back centuries in El Nysa's past. I have been on this planet for nearly two centuries. Life has come, evolved, and collided in an ever expanding culture. But Darma fears interference, and made this place a prison, with she our warden, stifling the growth of the creatures native to this world rather than encouraging them to flourish. She sent you here for answers in her stead because she knows I'll spurn her, and after seeing what that fool Raysc has wrought, I'll give you them — not for Darma's sake, but because I trust after all the Natha have done to you, you'll understand my decision. Mistakes were made, and I won't hide them. You've made it here so there's some mettle to you, and unlike the Orbiters, I'm not interested in hiding the secrets of the dangers we face. I gave Raysc what he needed to keep his actions hidden from Darma's eyes — what he needed to advance the primitive magics the Natha had doomed him to. It was old Natha tech, Darma's very own used against her. Hilarious, isn't it? Raysc learned of Nadril, and like you, braved the snow to find his way here. He proved his worth and his determination, and he spoke of a brighter future, El Nysa coming into its own, its people realizing their true potential, unhindered by the shackles that had been put upon them. I believed him. He had vision — or so I thought. In truth, he was a fool. A madman. He wasted the opportunity I gave him on his petty vengeance. But not everyone on this planet is such an idiot. Surely you lot aren't. The Natha are hiding things from us — about the Storm, about everything. And here in Nadril, we're going to find all those secrets. What's it going to be? Will you help us, or are you going to stay obedient dogs on Darma's leash? Magda isn't too talkative yet; after all, the new flock of refugees may just be here as eyes and ears for the Orbiters. But what he has said leaves you with plenty to talk about, and if you can earn his trust by helping out around Nadril, he doubtless has a great deal more to reveal. II. Central isn't the only Natha ship that made its way to El Nysa — another, crashed just outside Nadril's borders, is little more than a junk heap. It's here that you'll find the spare parts Darma asked you to retrieve for Thesa Station. What remains of the ship's hull serves as a windbreak, and snow has built up against it, turning the piles of old Natha tech inside into something of a snowy morass. Holes in the deck offer would-be scavengers passage to the ship's innards, barely illuminated with flickering lights — the tech is old, but hardy enough to withstand a crash landing, the severe weather, and the passage of centuries. Deep in the wreck are the remains of living quarters, research labs, VR arenas, mecha bays, cafeterias, and a host of other rooms, many of which may seem familiar from Thesa Station, albeit with a decidedly older feel to what remains of the smooth curves and sleek surfaces of the Natha architecture. Most of the ship's systems are damaged and the technology is nonfunctional, but that just means there's plenty of spare parts to be found. The wreck isn't in the best shape, its structural integrity damaged, and the drifting snow threatens to block off exit routes. Be careful while exploring and be sure to bring a partner. As it turns out, Darma isn't the only one interested in the wreck — Magda is also eager to get his hands on Natha technology. In his own way of taking some responsibility for Raysc, he's asking scavengers to bring him parts, muttering about seeing what he can do about Ysverai's curse. Bring him anything that looks useful, and he may have a chance to succeed, though whether he'll be more effective than the Natha Orbiters is up for debate... FINAL OOC NOTES     An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NADRIL REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY AUGUST 5TH, 11:59 PM EST. As always, feel free to create your own prompts and explore the Nadril location page! There are a variety of activities made available, including fishing and cave exploration! Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

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Mission

[ukase]

Salvage operations were easy, relatively speaking, especially in a dangerous half-buried space wreckage. There were some people out this way, but most seemed content to buddy up and meander to wreckage without perhaps an idea of what was valuable. Some of the areas were clearly dangerous, others would become more so depending on the people inhabiting them.

Rumlow wasn't about to lose the opportunity for some leverage to acquire answers or maybe just a future place in this frozen shithole. He moved through the wreckage into the deeper and more dangerous areas, those with what he would consider the highest pay offs. He had an eye for what kind of tech would be useful to bring back, not because he was an engineer or mechanic but because he had done this sort of thing before and had instructions buried in years of exposure.

He carried his gear, a knife strapped to his leg and a sidearm hidden in his jacket. He had two big sacks to hold any of his loot, but he was working with a screwdriver that he had acquired along the way to remove bolts from a panel in the half-collapsed wall. He paused though as the hair on the back of his neck rose, and it was a deeply familiar sensation that he only turned his head once he had a screw out and tucked into a pocket.

Then he turned where he was working alone and lifted an eyebrow at the sight that greeted him. Alone but very much not unarmed. He wasn't certain he would be recognized, least of all with winter goggles sitting on the top of his head, and well... when had ol' Winter had a good memory anyway?

"Here this place is dangerous to work alone in, champ," he said conversationally, testing the murky waters. "Maybe you should go baby-sit some green-horn."

[lednikovyy]

Bucky's got an idea of what to look for. It's maybe not his area of expertise, but he's not so out of touch that he doesn't understand which parts of a vehicle of any kind are the important parts. Computer chips, energy storage, weaponry. It's not that complicated to him once he breaks it down. Weaponry is probably what he understands the best and he's keeping an eye out for any sort of arms storage area that might not have been discovered yet, even some kind of combat gear could sell or be useful later and he can carry an awful lot.

With his strength and the metal arm, he's not worried about getting trapped in anywhere. He's got good reflexes and he can bust through an awful lot if he needs to. He turns the corner and spots another salvager, also alone, but only one of them thinks to bother commenting on it.

He manages to not roll his eyes, which is a miracle with the attitude that's getting thrown at him. Instead he offers a cheeky, sardonic sort of smile.

"I can manage myself. Thanks, buddy."

[ukase]

So that would be a no to recognizing him, considering he kept his head attached at his neck, or at least he wasn't staring down a weapon. Ol' Winter hadn't been that great about hiding emotions thanks to being blanked so much, so when it was wearing down, there seemed to be an odd amount of expression that bled through.

Maybe it raised his confidence about his chances here. The kind of confidence some stupid jerk garnered when encountering a bear that didn't immediately eat them and thus would prompt some notion of taking a selfie with the damn thing.

The smile was actually creepy to him, but he hid his reaction away. Instead, he returned to unscrewing the rest of the panel he was working on, dumping it down on the snowy ground as he went digging for whatever goodies were held within.

"Lone rider or something? I wouldn't mind someone watching my back if you want to hang around in the vicinity."

[lednikovyy]

"Something like that." Bucky's not a loner so much as there's not a lot of people he trusts here and he's not going into a dangerous situation and dragging a stranger along hoping for the best. In fact, he's not really sure why this guy's giving him shit when he obviously came down here by himself.

There's something about the guy that's a little rough, but that doesn't bother Bucky as long as he doesn't have to weather more digs at himself. He can't really help the way a challenge like that raises his hackles. Still, Bucky's not going to leave someone alone who's asking him to watch their six, roundabout as the request is.

"Guess I can do that. Are we expecting trouble from other people?" Because he's got his gun strapped to his back, but he'll pull it up if he's actually expecting the kind of danger one might need to shoot at.

[ukase]

Rumlow was giving the Soldier shit because he could, because this was the most personality he had ever seen the Fist actually emote or even say. It peeked his curiosity far more than that paltry conversation over text message to which he had no reason to admit to. Instead, he saw this little run-in as potential for something no one but Pierce had been allowed as far as he could tell.

Of course, it would call go tits-up if the Soldier found out who he was from Rogers. He'd have to balance being under the radar with being close enough to potentially have a return conversation. In the end, it could just come apart, and he had no doubt if he was revealed, there was a high chance that the Soldier would take him apart at the seams. Preferably with a knife (sharp not dull). As exciting as that would be, he was more interested in the other side that didn't come down to him being frozen in pieces in the wasteland.

"We're scavaging an old rig, so competition to earn favour would be high, I imagine. Competitive people can be dangerous," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Besides, is that a M249 SAW you're carrying? Nice machine gun, and that's more I have if danger shows up."

[lednikovyy]

Bucky's not planning to shoot anyone if he can avoid it, but he's not against pulling his gun up an holding it like he's ready to. If anything, it will be a deterrent, but in a fight, Bucky would rather use non-lethal force if he can.

The fact that the guy can tell what gun he's got on his back from across the room is impressive. It's the kind of thing Bucky can do, but it's a pretty specific skill.

"You work with guns before?"

He positions himself so that he's got an eye on all the ways in, but he's also got an eye on his new friend. The kind of guy who thinks people will attack him over parts can't be more than a few steps from someone who'd at least think about attacking others over them.

[ukase]

He was reaching down into the panel to search around the dark. What's the worst that would happen, right? As it turned out, he only managed to grab some extra wires and pull them up, peering down for the source and finding that a little ways in. He began to remove them systematically.

"I'm American. Of course I've worked with guns before. Second amendment and all that," he said, though that wasn't even half the truth. He had had his hands on most of the guns at least once, and STRIKE had some of the best goodies. Thanks taxpayers.

"Did you serve, or just an enthusiast with deep pockets?"

[lednikovyy]

America sure has changed since Bucky was growing up if that's half-accurate, not that he thinks it is. He knows there are still plenty of Americans who've never touched a gun in their lives, especially one like this.

"I served. US Army." He's sure as hell not an enthusiast and his pockets are as shallow as they've always been.

"Don't think I ever touched a gun until I enlisted, though." Not that anyone who'd served with him would've guessed it. He'd been a great shot from almost the beginning. A natural at handling firearms, they'd told him, and even now they still feel like an extension of himself.

"This isn't exactly a civilian gun, either."

[ukase]

America definitely had changed since this guy had been actually interactive with society and part of that had been HYDRA's doing. A considerable amount of people had guns compared to the Second Great War, and many of them would allow them to be taken from them only in death. People were crazy on the idea of security and rights when all they were really doing was giving them up based on paranoia.

"Ah, really? Fancy that, I served United States Armed Forces too," he said brightly, pulling out a wad of wires and connections. He stuffed those back into his bag and went back for more. "Where'd you do your tours?"

He nodded his head despite being arms deep into the panel of the wall of a broken down old rig like this. "I wasn't much of a gun fan when I enlisted either. I was better with knives, and I'll give you that... the M249 is definitely not a civilian weapon generally. So you're either very special or you're still serving somehow?"

[lednikovyy]

"Or I stole it." Bucky chuckles to himself. Sometimes the truth makes the best jokes and he can't resist the opportunity. Besides, it's not like he can get in trouble anymore and technically, they stole the jet that the gun had been on, so it had been more like a gift-with-purchase.

"Nah, I'm in that very special category." It seems disrespectful to lie and say he's still serving, even though he really wasn't ever discharged, just presumed dead. Still, he's got enough respect for others who've served to be honest about it, especially with a fellow US soldier.

"And the rest is classified. I was in a special unit." He hopes that will be the end of the questioning about himself. "Where were your tours?"

[ukase]

Now that he could believe. There were a few people that relied on the M249 in SHIELD as the favoured weapon of choice, and he could name all of them. HYDRA was a little more complicated since not everyone knew each other and secrecy was to be respected until the call out where their sheer numbers had seemed impressive until it all went to shit.

It was almost too easy, and he wondered if the Soldier was baiting him. He turned his head from his work and raised his eyebrows instead, letting the idea of 'special category' and 'classified' would go hand-in-hand in military operations. If only this guy knew how much he was aware of how 'special' he was. No matter, he was playing a different hand here.

"Afghanistan mostly," he said airily with a grin. "I wasn't special, but my work was also classified. Black ops." He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. "So it seems we have a few things in common. Nice to meet a fellow soldier." God, this guy had no idea.

[lednikovyy]

Bucky's spent enough time around soldiers to have a thick skin about the posturing and the more they talk, the more he thinks that's what the other guy had been doing earlier, because he's acting a fair amount less like an asshole now. Not that Bucky's always entirely innocent on the asshole front.

Still, he doesn't exactly meet a lot of soldiers lately. Some things never change, he guesses. Men like that are always going to act like they have something to prove. Bucky assumes that being a soldier must give him some kind of better standing in the guy's mind. It's not an attitude Bucky's ever really shared, but he's happy to meet someone who he has something in common with, anyway.

"Yeah, it is nice." He actually grins back for a moment before his eyes go back to scanning the space for other movement.

"My name's Bucky, by the way. I didn't catch yours."

[ukase]

Rumlow was more than willing to be an asshole when it suited him to be, generally on first introductions. If people couldn't take the attitude, they weren't worth investing any time having a conversation with in general. He was a man who considered that he could make the hard calls, compartmentalize and have the thickest skin of them all... well, it had been thick before the burns anyway.

"Don't find too many soldiers, not like us anyway. I hear a lot of soldiers from countries and planets I've never heard of, and some of their wars are apparently beyond my comprehension." He shook his head, willing to just talk it out, to fill the air with bland and easy conversation.

He jerked more wires and stuff them in his pack, wiping his nose on the back of his glove and considered the Soldier for a long moment. Despite how much he despised giving it out, he knew better than to give his last name. "I'm Brock," he said, choking down the sneer about the name. "Bucky's not your actual first name, right? Otherwise, I feel like you were teased a lot in grade school."

[lednikovyy]

"It's what everyone calls me." It feels more like his name than James does. No one left alive calls him that. It doesn't feel right any more now than out had when he's been younger. James is who he is when he's in trouble with his mother. He figures part of finding out who the hell he is now is finding what feels right. Bucky feels right. That's the person he's trying to learn how to be again.

"I was actually really popular in school." It's almost blurted out, like he's remembering it for the first time, himself. It's easy to forget that when they'd been kids, everyone had loved Bucky and it's Steve who'd been teased. It's easy to lose sight of that now, when Steve has all these friends and Bucky is wandering around on the sidelines like a stray cat.

He thinks about the wars, though, and the distant places. He's met a few people with tall tales and strange places in their past. He'd hazard a guess that there are even more people like that to meet here. What are the odds of two American soldiers meeting in a sea of civilians and aliens from across universes? Then again, what are the chances that things keep bringing him and Steve back together?

[ukase]

He noted that there was no actual denial that Bucky wasn't the real name here, but there was no point needling about that. He knew the history books anyway (or the comics version), and now he had become aware of exactly who the Soldier was over the course of their tenure barely working together. "Is it what you call yourself?"

Rumlow paused in his scavenging to peer at Bucky, considering the need to really set that point home. He grinned widely. "Oh yeah? Handsome thing like you probably brought all the ladies to the yard. I always found high school to be full of shallow people... mind you, I was popular because I was a rebel."

He returned to his salvage operation, using the screw driver to unbolt a few more useful-looking devices from the inside. "Were you ever wounded in the field?"

[lednikovyy]

Bucky's memories of high school aren't the firmest, but he takes a little offense to the idea that everyone was shallow. He remembers caring about a lot more than looks back then. He'd like to think that his looks were only part of why he'd gotten so much attention. Sure, he'd taken pride in them, but he'd taken just as much pride in how he'd treated people.

"I guess I had a lot of dates." He shrugs and stubbornly doesn't react to that wording, because it's not the first time since he woke up here that it's seemed like a guy was, what? Flirting with him a little? He's not really sure what to do with that.

Anyway, Bucky might not be outwardly rebellious, but he'd like to think that he'd never been the kind of guy to go along with anything mindlessly, even where Steve had been concerned. He'd always made his own decisions. It's just that he and Steve had agreed about an awful lot of things.

"And yeah, got wounded a few times." The arm is probably the most obvious, but he'd taken his share of other bodily damage. He remembers having to get stitches in the field, having to muffle his pain because they didn't know what enemies could be nearby. Then there was Zola's table.

"So how'd that work out for you? That whole being a rebel in the armed forces thing."

[ukase]

"You seem to have the rugged look going for you now... or is it hipster? I can never keep up with all the terms of the millenials anymore." He shook his head, even if he was mostly baiting the Soldier to see if he could wedge the guy into admitting to not being part of that age group. He doubted it would happen, but only he had to know that.

Rumlow had heard stories of the Winter Soldier in the field. It was like a warzone all its own, and he was certain he had seen the guy walk off a bullet or two to continue on the with mission in question. It wasn't the physical damage that seemed to waylay the Soldier; it was the unraveling of the mental and emotional side of things. One of the reasons that not everyone had the right disposition to serve in HYDRA.

"But you survived, and that's something to be said," he remarked. "Also, I know as much as anyone that some injuries aren't even visible. Damn shame." He shook his head and returned to his work. He'd had a buddy or two eat a bullet when trying to integrate again and the ghosts of combat haunted them.

Of course, he had to laugh at that question. "They crushed my rebellion in four months and then redirected the free-spirited nature into something productive for the platoon. I made a good soldier, a better sniper, and I took my lumps to get there. Like an old house, some men just need to be taken down to the studs before something usable can be built up."

[lednikovyy]

Bucky isn't really sure about millennials, either, but he looks young enough that he can't reasonably pretend not to be one unless he wants to reveal more about himself than he'd like to spill to a stranger, so he just shakes his head at that, like he thinks it's a rhetorical question he's supposed to agree with. He figures being in the military is an alright excuse for being a little out of touch. He was off on long missions when he could have been keeping up with social media and whatever pop culture things people like these days.

As for his injuries, he's got sleeve on, but he's not exactly hiding the metal hand. Maybe it just looks like a glove from over there. Even without hiding it, he's not interested in drawing attention to it, either. It brings questions he doesn't want to answer, like how he lost his arm and where such an advanced prosthetic came from.

That thing about injuries that aren't visible, though? Oh, that gets his attention. The arm is nothing compared to what he's been through.

"Trust me, I know. I was a POW."

Twice, he doesn't say. The first time had been much shorter, but it had stuck with him during the rest of the war, unrelenting like the metal table he'd been strapped to in Azzano.

[ukase]

Rumlow knew for a fact that the Soldier wasn't a millenial, but they were both playing the game. He was enjoying it terribly, even if he knew that the other shoe would drop eventually and it would come with its own unique set of consequences. Cold shoulder at best, death at worst. And as someone who had gone to war and returned out of touch himself, he was willing to let all the unanswered statements go. He wasn't here for a fight, just a conversation.

He raised his eyebrows and whistled in appreciation to the admittance of being a POW, and his expression momentarily turned grave with a high degree of respect. "That's a shitty experience, to say the least. You have my respect for coming out the other side as seemingly functional as you appear to be. Most guys I know are pretty jumpy."

And way back in the day, there was no term called PTSD. He had heard it call battle fatigue or shell shock.

He pulled his arm out of the panel and moved away, approaching the Soldier with a quiet sort of confidence. He then offered his hand for a shake. "Did you ever get a welcome home? I know this ain't your home, but every soldier deserves one."

[lednikovyy]

Bucky turns to actually study Rumlow for a moment. The thing is that Bucky's definitely a jumpy guy. He takes alert to a ridiculous degree and he spends a decent amount of time reminding himself to stay calm. He's had some really bad days, even here. He's just really good at hiding it. Or maybe it's not that he's good at it s much as that he thinks he has no choice.

In any case, he certainly wouldn't call himself functional, but it's nice to know he completes the illusion.

"Nah, I didn't really get any welcome home." The corner of his lip quirks up and he shifts his gun so that he can take Rumlow's hand in a warm, firm shake. It's simultaneously familiar and foreign, like deja vu. "Some secrets don't come out. If you can't be acknowledged, they can't say you came home."

The implication of his words is a lie, he knows. It sounds like he did some serious black ops work and not that he's legally dead because he'd been missing in action for more than half a century.

It would all be a lot easier if he didn't have to lie so much. There's no governments out there looking to arrest him, but there's at least one person out there who'd antagonized him on the network and he's acutely aware of the fact that he's still a weapon. He's still got all that programming in him and there someone out there who might know enough about it to turn him back into a thing.

[ukase]

Rumlow had only known the Soldier as calm, cold and deadly before so the animated soldier who was always checking their six was rather new to him. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't willing to poke the bear just to see what would happen, but he would do so slowly and subtly. The moment his presence as part of HYDRA was given away, he doubted anything of the like could be between them. He dared to think it would be a lot of what he received now from the other people of their world: cold shoulder and silences.

"I know that feeling," he replied gravely, keeping the handshake for a respectful amount of time before slipping his hand free. Strong grip meant a strong man, his old man would say. "Some of us had to live under the shadow of secrecy and the veil of the accomplishments of other men. Sometimes they can't even acknowledge you exist after a stint in the torture chair." He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal, like he had come to understand that suffering was necessary for overall greatness.

He knew the truth of the Soldier. He'd read enough Captain America comics as a kid to see the likeness between HYDRA's greatest weapon and how the Bucky back then had been drawn. It was one of the reasons he had been allowed to be a handler to a lesser degree. Well, his other accomplishments and loyalty saved him from a quick bullet to the back of the head too, since the Winter Soldier was terribly hush-hush.

He dared to reach out to clap the Soldier on the shoulder. "It gets better, kid. Maybe someday you will get to close your eyes and know the peace of just seeing the back of your eyelids." He backed off though, specifically turning his back on the Soldier as a sign of trust as he walked back towards the panel where he had been working.

[lednikovyy]

(continued here)