Joy ride (part1): Stealing

retreat

Back when James had emerged from the Potomac, alone and free to piece himself back together— to make something from the waterfall of memories that sought to drown him; make something of the lives and feelings and dozens of identities— he had realized pretty early on that he had always been little more than a pendulum swinging. To and fro, as his shell was cast from one side to the other. A body forever stuck on the same tracks, moving from one terminal to the other.

A ride only ever meant to be done once; and yet he could never get off. Not even when his spirit broke and some new incarnation of him'd had to take the wheel, like a shift change for the train's operator. None of James's incarnations had a constitution for a very long shelf-life, unwilling to do the same round trip more than once. Because whichever way the train went - to his Captain or to mother Russia or anywhere else - the terminal, the end of the line James's ride always returned to, without fail was always the same: Hydra.

The original Bucky runs out of will; out of steam, after only two swings of the pendulum. Two roundtrips; two drops; twice returned under Hydra, adding up to a measly total time of less than a year spent resisting them. Later incarnations don't even last that long. Today? Today, he just knows he doesn't want to go back. Doesn't want to leave the safety of Wakanda.

"Let me just get this clear." T'Challa, his Black Panther suit once again hidden away, paces from one side of the meeting table to the other, running a tired hand over his face before visibly restraining himself in place. "My clerk for over fifteen years was replaced by a Hydra agent three days ago?"

Hydra; the one and only constant in his life; the inevitable monster in whose orbit he is forever stuck, only finding solace in temporary freedom. A single breath before he is inadvertently pushed back under, by a fist in his hair or a claw dragging him down by the ankles. The first time, by the draft and Zola. The second time, the Nazi soldiers that found him after his fall.

Apparently by now, all he's warranted is a nameless death-commando recruited somewhere from the depths of Africa; his face surgically altered to resemble a dead Wakandan clerk.

Natasha, form floating in the air, provides a visual of the actual clerk. She has just found him dead fifty miles from the border. What alerted Natasha and Clint about the guy remains a mystery, but James supposes there's a lot going on that he is missing, cooped up doing tests and meetings. Meetings they've apparently had to return to with due haste, after a little first aid and a lot of Wakandan cussing.

The alert Natasha sent Steve only reached them in the nick of time. Whether the Hydra agent impersonating the clerk meant to whisper the trigger words in James's ear or just provide them on paper, either would have worked, and James is grateful for Clint shooting the man.

Sadly for Hawkeye, it appears James is the only one that feels this way. Although Stark still seems to enjoy the show; the multi-millionaire the only one in a good mood. T'Challa is glowering, Okoye and her Dora Milaje are posturing and Steve is pouting, eyes slightly off. Bucky suspects a slight concussion, with the scrape over his forehead and all.

Even Shuri breaks her usual blasé front: "We needed to know how Hydra got that man here so fast. We needed to know if he's come alone, where he came from. How he knew about all of you... now, we have nothing!"

Steve moves forward, slanting in his chair next to James as he tries to take the weight off his left side. Apparently Bucky's weight cracked several of Steve's ribs. James refuses to feel sorry, even when it obviously takes Steve an effort to raise his voice. "He was using the words. It was an emergency."

"An emergency that would not have happened if the pair of you had not followed the man." There is steel in T'Challa's tone; discipline barely holding a flaring temper. The future king is not a man prone to outbursts, but this lack of trust obviously tries his patience. "The man would never even have gotten close if this information had been relayed to us or even to my security first..."