Chapter One
I smiled slightly, watching the numerous bar patrons enjoying their liquor. A tall blonde soldier sat at one of the round tables with his companions.A man with a red beard and mutton chops, an asian man with short black hair, an african american man with a large grin on his face as he listened to one of the others speak French and responded in kind. There was also a man in a brown coat with hair that matched the color of the fabric, and another man with a moustache and thinning hair on his head.
Turning my attention away from the group, I focused on pouring drinks. “Hey, get these blokes a pint, would ya?” One of the other bartenders called to me, seemingly in good spirits as the blonde from the table and a man with dark hair leaned on the bar. I walked over. “What can I get for you gentlemen this evening?” I asked, pushing a strand of my hair from my eyes. The blonde ordered a round of beer for his companions, and the brunette ordered a glass of whisky. After getting their drinks I left them to their conversation, serving other patrons.
By the end of the night, the majority of customers had left and I was cleaning up when I found a slip of paper beneath the short glass that had belonged to the brunette. Sorry I didn’t get to talk with you, doll. I know this may be a bit direct, but I’d like to write to you if I can. My address is below. Hope to hear from you soon. ~Bucky Barnes.
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face as I read the neat cursive lettering of the message. A faint scent of pine and snow reached my nose and I knew somehow that it was his scent. Over the next few months I corresponded with Bucky, learning quite a bit about the man and his close friendship with Steve, the infamous Captain America. Despite the distance, and the fact that we had never spoken, I began to care for the soldier. It wasn’t until weeks after his apparent death that I learned of his demise.
That had been roughly seven decades ago. Now, as I walked down the streets of New York I found myself in the crossfire of Captain America and a group of men with automatic weapons. I hid behind a turned over vehicle, reluctant to reveal myself to the S.H.I.E.L.D. employed hero. A man with a metal arm approached the hero in a threatening manner and I tensed, catching an old and all to familiar scent. It couldn’t be. He had died so long ago. Sure enough, as I watched the two men battle, admiring their skill with the various weapons at their disposal, the man with the long dark hair and the metal arm lost his mask that covered his face. I visibly paled and I wasn’t the only one. Steve stared at his long lost friend, recognition and confusion easy to read on his face. “Bucky?” He asked in disbelief. The man scowled, seeming confused. “Who the hell is Bucky?” He asked. What happened next was lost on me as I stood there, completely shocked at the revelation.
As Bucky and his mercenaries left, returning to wherever they had come from I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone, calling the one person I knew that I could count on for answers. I reached her voicemail and smiled sadly, hoping the stunning redhead was alright. “Nat, it’s me. Call me back.” I said simply, knowing that she would get back to me as soon as she could. The Black Widow knew I wouldn’t contact her unless it was necessary.
My next call was to the bar I now worked at, telling them I’d be late. Since I was never late or absent from work, this wasn’t a big deal. I continued my walk, turning over this new information in my head. Bucky had said that he had been experimented on, which must have been why he survived the fall from the train. If he were kept in a cryogenic state similar to the one that they found Steve in then that would explain how he didn’t look like he’d aged much since the last time I saw him. He didn’t remember Steve, despite how close the two of them had been, which could be the result of psychological tampering or damage to the hippocampus, the place in the temporal lobe of the brain where memories of a person’s life events were kept and formed. I continued to turn over this information in my head as I arrived at work. My manager, Drake, was waiting at the bar. “Are you alright, hun? You’re never late for a shift. Not once in the last five years!” He asked worriedly, his thinning brown hair falling into his face as he gazed down at me. The seven foot tall man appeared to be in his late fifties, and he was one of the few people that knew my secret.
I was nearly a thousand years old. How that was possible, I could only guess. When I was in my early twenties I had noticed that my aging process had slowed until it seemingly stopped. Beyond that I also healed very quickly and was twice as strong as most humans, which had frightened me for many years, but not as much as the white and blue flames that I could create seemingly out of thin air. Those had taken the longest to master control over.
“I’m alright, drake. I just ran into a bit of trouble on my walk over. Nothing that I couldn’t handle.” I assured him. “I told ya, you shouldn’t walk to and from work. Ya might get hurt.” He said. I smiled slightly. “You’re right. If it will ease your mind, dear friend, I will take a cab tonight after my shift” I assured him and put my hair up, getting to work on tidying up the bar before going over the inventory and cleaning the glasses.
The bar opened at six in the evening and stayed open until two in the morning. My shift was from five until three in the morning, so that there would be plenty of time to clean up and to prepare for the next night. During my shift that night nothing out of the ordinary happened, until about midnight that is, when a man in a dark hooded coat sat in the corner of the bar. He wore gloves and the long sleeves of his coat hid his arms from view. The waitstaff seemed afraid to approach the man for some reason, so took the notepad from one of the waitresses and walked over to the table.
The scent warned me before I got close enough to see his face. “Hello sir. Have you come to kill me or to order a drink?” I asked calmly, looking down at Bucky as he stared at me, no hint of emotion in his expression. “You were there today. On the road. You don’t seem surprised to see me.” He stated, though the curiosity in his eyes caught my attention. “I suspected that whoever your employer is, they wouldn’t want any loose ends. I must admit that I wasn’t expecting you to come yourself, Bucky.” I replied, using the old nickname to gauge his reaction. Other than a flicker of hesitation and confusion, he gave no indication that he recognized the name. “You don’t remember it at all do you? Your life? Your past? Steve?” I said sadly. My heart ached for him. “Well, if you’re going to kill me, at least wait until my shift ends.” I said and returned to the bar, ordering a drink for the man I once knew.
After bringing him his drink I spent the rest of my shift as I usually would, serving and making conversation with various customers, some of them were my regulars. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would miss my presence here if I were to die tonight. When I had a moment of peace between orders I would glance around the room, memorizing every detail of the dimly lit bar and it's dark oak tables and chairs. I knew every name scratched into the tables and every scrape on the wooden floors. The light blue colored shades over the draping lights above each booth that lined the walls, and the wobbly bar stools where so many people had sat to tell me of their troubles and joyous occasions.
By the end of my shift, Drake had already left to meet his husband at home, leaving me to lock up as he always did. The bar was empty save for myself and my would be assassin. “You aren’t afraid of me.” He said, standing and approaching the bar where I was cleaning up. Unsure of how to answer his underlying question I paused in my cleaning for a moment. “I don’t think I can fear you. Perhaps my brain is wired differently. I’ve always known who I could or couldn’t trust. Something is telling me that you’re only here following orders. If you had a choice you wouldn’t kill me.” I said honestly. He pulled his hood down and looked me in the eye for the first time since we had met all those years ago. “How could you know?” He asked suspiciously. I smiled sadly. “Because we knew each other once. A very long time ago.” I told him. He drew a gun and pointed it at my head. “Maybe that man you know is gone.” He said. I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.” “Why? What makes you so certain?” He asked, a sharpness to his tone that hadn’t been there moments ago.
“Because if it weren’t you’d have killed Steve back there on the road, and you’d have killed me hours ago.” I pointed out, staring down the barrel of his weapon and looking him in the eye. “I have to follow my orders.” He whispered, a hint of pain in his voice. I nodded. “I know.” I whispered and a wall of flames surrounded us, getting him to lose focus for a single second, just long enough for me to strike. I knocked the gun out of his gloved hand, grabbing his metal wrist and twisting it as I pulled him forward and slammed his head into the bar, knocking him unconscious. I knew that he wouldn’t be out long so I ran, legging it down the poorly lit streets and not stopping until I was in a heavily populated area. As I reached a cyber cafe that was full of students and other people working late on papers and other projects, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and let out a relieved sigh as I saw Natasha’s face. “You would not believe the day I’ve had.” I said as soon as I answered the phone. At the same time Nat said “We need to talk.” It was going to be a long night.