Secretive - Bucky Barnes

10 || Two Thousand One Hundred and Seventy-Two

I do not know how long I laid there. Hours perhaps, days more likely. It is hard to tell waking up in an environment with nothing but the sun pointing out time, especially, when the star has moved merely a few inches to the right, from where I am flat on the ground, with nothing indicating the four directions of the sky.

Sitting up, I let out a heavy moan. It is none of pain, rather of annoyance. I have no idea about my whereabouts again, like it was all these months ago. I could be wherever, whenever. And it starts to piss me off.

The sky is clouded today, trapping the thick warmth around me between the grey flocks themselves and the ground. I am in the same street I fell unconscious at, blue and golden blood smeared wherever I lay my eyes onto. I still wear the suit, which is probably a good thing, although it is holey and dirty and definitely not as bright as it once has been.

Slowly, all my senses wake up, one after one. There is no noise but the one of a hot breeze, no heartbeat other than my own. The wind strokes my skin and leaves a scent of salty sea and sand in my nose befote it continues its path, but other than the drought blood, no spicy indication of the presence of a certain semi-god.

Steele and I had fought to our last drop of power. Punches, kicks, slaps – all growing weaker by the second, considering both our condition. He has been half dead before, and I cannot help but wonder where he went. Why he let me here without further note. Why he would not drag me to his father, or even summon him, to end the job when I lay weak and helpless. I do not know how far morality in killing goes for him; even if I would not, I guess that hatred can grow into a beast if it is only intense enough, not caring if its prey is looking them straight in the eye, or if it is a weakened, sick deer already on the ground. If the hunger is huge enough, so the feast can be as unpleasant and nasty as it wants; the urge to eat will remain, and so will the person feeling it follow. I never crossed that line. I never killed without letting the person know who I am, without going straight for the face; even if I never did anything but walked on that morally grey line, I always knew the lighter side to go on.

Maybe Steele did, too. Last thing I know is him breaking down onto his knees, with a last punch of mine almost cracking his neck going down to the asphalt. He has been unconscious before the power-draining of that last movement caught me silver-bladed on the throat, making me fall down only a couple meters closer to the wall. I tried my best at hiding, crawling on the ground to get away, but my body was not strong enough anymore.

That lack of exhaustion has ceased. Not entirely, not even majorly, but nonetheless, I feel better than before. No matter how long I lay without consciousness, it did good to my body. Regaining power and resources, especially from not having to go through the same daily procedure clawing on my energy like a starved big cat on the first living thing it sees.

As if on cue, my stomach starts growling in waiting. I have to get something to eat before anything else, and hopefully, it is finally something worth the effort of chewing.  Standing up slowly, a little trembling at first, I let my glance roam about the narrow street just to be sure. Still, no sign of anything else living in here, breathing in here; no habitants, no mice nor rats, nothing. This has to be a ghost town like I assumed in the very beginning; I cannot even hear electricity hum through the walls and grounds from house to house. 

Hopefully, Alistair brought Steve and Rebecca out here in time. Lord, Alistair. That poor boy. Dedicated to something he had no choice to choose. No matter how much of a fan I am of fantasy novels including royalty and hierarchy, in real life, it just sucks. Nobody should be forced to do anything they do not want to. Hawke got it completely right when he told Poppy he did not care about what she was, but who. Life can give you paths, but you should be the one deciding to walk along them, and not be dragged by something creative people named destiny.