Who Am I? » [Stucky]

127. Public Image

Sam and Bucky kept Steve company until they were chucked out at the closure of visiting hours. When they reached the double-glazed automatic doors at the front of the hospital more journalists had seemingly assembled, barricading their primary escape route. It was like a scene out of zombie movie, except with blinding camera flashes. There was a mass exodus of snooping provocative press, swarming and converging on the doors, rapping their fists on the delicate glass, smacking their palms into the transparent surface: smearing it with handprints. It was a sea of people, enough to drag you under if they snagged a grip on you. They were yelling coarsely, screaming vulgar and insulting questions. It was truly the lowest of humanity.

“Bet you never thought you’d make front page news…” Bucky exchanged his thought for the evening with Sam; squinting through the flashing bulbs of the cameras glinting off the windows.

“Nope…” Sam grimaced, face scrunched, also repelled by the discourteous flashes in his eyes.

It was a beacon of light as all the camera shutters flickered at once, the light ricocheting off the window in an offensive manner.

They could just see the expected transport vehicle over the heads of the insolent paparazzi. It was a limousine marked conspicuously with the ‘Stark Industries’ logo.

“There’s our ride,” Sam pointed. “Are you ready to try and make it through this lot?” Sam was viscerally terrified.

“As ready as I’ll ever be…” Bucky sighed, withdrawing his sunglasses from his pocket and sliding them onto his face. It was the only mask that remained. At times like this he missed the suffocating face mask he used to have constantly affixed over his nose and mouth, no matter how uncomfortable that was. It gave him something to hide behind… But nevermore.

Sam gave an acknowledgement to the nurse by the button and it was punched. The doors were activated and Sam and Bucky began to bustle through the wall of people. Both their heads were down and they utilised their elbows and shoulders to slip through gaps and barge people to the side.

Their ears were being assaulted by and endless onslaught of questions.

“Is Steve Rogers alive?” “Did you kill Steve Rogers?” “Who are you?” “Do you have anything to do with the submarine?” “Are you the Winter Soldier?” “What is your affiliation with the Captain?” “How did an air force officer like you end up alongside Captain America?” “Wilson!” “Are you a Russian terrorist?”

They thumped people in the gut and trampled on toes as they went before they finally broke free of the crowd. They made a dash to the vehicle and tumbled in through the door collectively, wrestling with one another to get in first, a comically tangled mess of limbs, smothering clothing and wonky sunglasses.

Bucky managed to get a scrabbling grip on the door handle and tugged it closed behind them. The pair flopped unceremoniously on the floor, both gasping for breath.

Immediately there was the banging of hands on the body of the vehicle and cameras flickered in the tinted windows.

“You two need to work on your public image…” Tony sighed deeply, sat there in a dashing suit cunningly sipping a martini, twirling the cocktail stick with the olive impaled on the end.

“Easier said than done…” Bucky complained, dragging himself from the floor and sitting up on a seat.

“Easy for you to say…” Sam replied with equal venom in his voice, straightening his clothing and sitting himself next to Bucky.

Tony pressed down the button for the window and stuck his head out just to get a good look and journalists came flooding towards him, snapping photos in his face.