riverviewlogs | survival of the fittest

Entry tags:

survival of the fittest

who: Bucky and anyone!
what: Bucky is a big old thief, tracks down his name twin, and also goes monster fighting with Clark
when: Anytime between March 8th and March 12th
where: Around Quarantine
warnings: Probably violence

[i: Around Quarantine; open to anyone]

[Bucky has chosen to eschew the communal housing gifted to him, as well as all the benefits that affords. Like food, shelter, and access to a shower. The last two aren't such a big deal, but he needs a lot of food to keep him going, the bastardised serum in his veins makes him burn through calories at a ridiculous rate.

Which is why he's ghosting through Quarantine on the look out for empty housing or possible a not very well attended street food stall, in order to snatch a hand out and take something. He can be found shoplifting in the street; or, if you'd prefer, breaking into your character's housing in search of food.]

[ii: Down a back alley somewhere; closed to Bucky Barnes]

[Ever since he saw that name on the network, his own name, Bucky has been in overdrive trying to figure out what's going on. It takes him a day or so to track down who owns the username, and then another day to just follow them around and try and figure out who they are. It's only when he catches the imposter out alone, whatever he might be doing, that he reveals himself by trying to drag the other man down an alleyway in an explosion of movement and bad decisions.]

[iii: Monster hunting; closed to Clark Kent]

[The perimeter is of interest to Bucky, partially because it means an escape from this town and partially because he knows that Stark is going to be making upgrades to it. It's why he's scouting around it today.

He's too focused on the possible security measures, trying to find surveillance equipment or defence mechanisms, that he has completely failed to notice the large monster shaped like a monstrous caterpillar creeping up behind him on silent feet.]

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[Whoever his opponent is, he's clearly not unskilled if he's able to hold him this way. The line at his arm feels like it might snap soon, but it's still got him held for now.

He takes a different approach, suddenly launching himself back towards the other guy, using the sudden slack on the line as a noose to try and wrap it around his throat.

Sorry, he's not really in the mood for answering questions.]

[ He sees the line in motion in just enough time to get a hand up to his neck, but not fast enough to avoid the twist of the line itself as it loops around his throat. He'd underestimated this guy. Made the mistake of boxing himself in. A bad one, when flexibility is your main defense.

He takes another gamble, letting his hand go slack, letting it slip towards the release on the taser wired through his suit. He'll only have one shot to nail this guy. ]

[He isn't planning to use this makeshift garrote wire to kill his opponent, just get him unconscious so that Bucky can make his escape. But he doesn't get chance to do much more than prepare to tighten his grip before suddenly he's being flooded with an electric charge.

His metal arm sparks with pain up where it connects to his nerve endings, going dead weight by his side while it recalibrates itself, and he finds himself on his knees twitching and dazed.

Shit.]

[ The down side of the taser is that the shock actually transfers two ways. Less than five percent on his end, but it's a survival mechanism. A last ditch chance to live through, say, a homicidal thief with preternatural strength ready to cut off his hair supply.

Which is why he throws his screaming muscles forward as soon as that grip loosens, putting himself between the window and the man, aiming to get the slack in the line locked tight around him. ]

Trust me, you don't want to... make me do that again... [ The taser only comes with one charge, so he sure as hell hopes not. ]

I just want to know why you're here.

[He can feel the electrics starting up again in his arm, the plates undulating and clicking beneath his sleeve as he begins to get range of motion again. It's far from running properly, though, and his body is still twitching slightly as he tries to get up.

Not that he goes far with that line around him, basically holding him.]

Food.

[He spits it out, voice low.]

[ That’s… actually pretty far from the answer he was expecting. It shows in his face for a moment, a flicker of genuine confusion that he’s quick to slip back under the cold mask. ]

...Which would explain why you happened to toss most of the backstock at my head.

[Even though it goes against his instincts, Bucky stays extremely still under the line that's holding him. He's waiting for the full range of motion to return to his arm so that he can surge up and attack.

Escape.]

Let me go.

[It's a warning rather than a request, if he's forced to fight back then his opponent will get hurt this time.]

[ For a moment he's still, holding him with a stare, holding the taut line in two hands. He's outclassed here, with no one to call for backup, and the reality of that is like cold water.

But he'd left nothing incriminating behind, other than the half-finished job. There's nothing here that would have implicated him other than the suit he's wearing. He's lost nothing other than a sense of safety he should never have tried to cultivate in this place.

Carefully he steps back, taking a few snack bars out of his utility belt. He sets them on the window sill, then with a snap of his wrist, the line releases. ]

I catch you pulling anymore break-ins, we're gonna have another talk.

[He's on his feet in a fighting crouch a heartbeat after the line releases, a knife appearing in his hand as if from nowhere. But his other hand is still stiff, needing time to reboot properly, so a fight is probably a bad idea.]

You won't catch me.

[It's low and raspy, and said like a fact. He's not going to stop, but he'll be on the look out for this costumed guy now and will make sure not to be found.]

Don't try to fight me again, you'll get hurt.

[ooc: Sorry for the wait, I've been on holiday without internet for a few days.]

[ He reads the knife as a defense, and his stance remains pointedly relaxed. It goes against... every instinct he's ever had. Defies every fight he's ever lost. The snack bars are a gesture. He steals a glance at them, then back at the intruder.

He's tired. He aches everywhere, from days upon days of pushing too hard on not enough sleep. The man is probably right too, which makes everything about this so much worse. He rubs a tired hand over his eyes. ]

Ask next time, alright?

I'd offer my secret stash of yoghurt, but... [ Well. He glances pointedly downward. ]

[Bucky takes a half step forwards to better see his yoghurt covered opponent, more to try and get a look at his face and memorise him than to commiserate with his messy state. He wants to be able to recognise this guy on the street, even if he's not wearing his uniform at the time.]

I'm not going to ask.

[The whole point of stealing is that nobody is supposed to know who you are, asking removes the anonymity and adds in a layer of interaction that he's not comfortable with.]

[ The moment Bucky steps forward he's all tension again, edging a step further into the shadows, further away from that gaze. It's a shift that's all instinct, and one he knows makes no real sense given that this man is standing in his living room, and Dick Grayson's name is attached to this place. Only a few keystrokes away on their devices. The feeling is like ice in his veins.

And it won't help him now. The visible tension melts away just as quickly. Deliberately. Then he raises his arms in an exasperated gesture. ]

Then I'm gonna have to stop you. It's that or turn in my masked vigilante all-access pass.

Something tells me neither of us want that.

[ A hunch he's kind of hoping isn't about to unravel at the end of that arm, snapping his neck right here.

This is a man who's already had every chance to kill him. A man who hasn't taken one yet. Dick stands his ground, holding his stance loose. ]

[A soft whirring noise punctuates the undertone of the conversation, as Bucky's arm finally gets up to full working speed again and the internal processors start making sure all the connections are undamaged.

He takes another step towards Dick, very deliberate this time, half a threat.]

Then you should turn in that pass.

[Because he's not going to stop, and Dick won't stop him.]

If you see me, look the other way, it's safer.

[ Probably it's a sign that the smart thing to do would be to let it go for now. Stake out the likely spots, follow him, figure him out that way, if he won't come out and say it in words. But he's never been one of the smart ones. He crosses his arms, neither threatening nor cowering. ]

You're not exactly helping your case here.

I'm sure things look... bad all over right now, but whatever problems you have, they're not gonna get better if you keep stealing from hungry people. Sooner or later you're going to cross the wrong person. [ It's nearly a plea. ]

[He's not going to argue that this is probably the case. It's always an inevitable countdown to a fight, and he's sure one will come sooner or later. He'd rather not steal, but this isn't the sort of place where he can make counterfeit money or do cash in hand jobs to earn a little. So he doesn't have many options.

There's not much point saying that, though, so he just moves a few steps back towards the window.]

I never take enough to make anyone starve.

[So don't pull the hungry people card.]

[ Sigh. This time he makes no move to pursue, arms still folded. ]

Not that I really expect you to believe me, but...

I don't really want to see that happen. Which, considering you broke into my apartment and destroyed my yogurt stash, is probably saying something.

[There's just a moment of hesitation.

A brief flash of something confused and nearly hungry in his eyes, like he can't figure out why this guy is being so kind to him after the fight they had and the way Bucky was taking his food. But he's not ready for that sort of conversation, not by a long shot.

So his expression shutters again into blankness, and he chooses to offer his answer by disappearing out of the window in silence.]

[ Dick stays frozen in place for another long moment. Yogurt running down the back of his neck. Muscles so tense he hurts everywhere. A day and a half, and he'd let himself be compromised. Compromised by an unknown quantity. A man who could do anything, anything with that information.

Only it wasn't information he'd come for, was it?

Finally he steps forward, reaching out to tuck the offered snacks back into the compartments at his gauntlets. Then he shuts the shattered window for good measure, squeezing to keep his hands from shaking. Another way. He'll find him another way. ]

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survival of the fittest

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no worries at all!

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