simulation swarm

Dorian's frustration boiled over in the cramped motel room, his voice sharp with disbelief. "I don’t understand why you wouldn’t wanna split up! It would make it harder for them to find us! We’re stronger that way, less predictable."

Bucky, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, sighed, his exhaustion palpable. "Look, kiddo, I get you’ve got this whole independent streak, but sticking together is the only way I can make sure you’re safe." His voice carried the weight of experience. "If we split up, it’d only put you in danger. You’re lucky Hydra only had physical files on you."

Bucky stood and began pacing the small, worn-out room, his boots muffling against the thin carpet. "My face is too recognizable. You might be safer on your own in theory, but in reality? No thirteen-year-old could survive out there, not even you, Dorian." His words hit hard, but they were laced with concern. "Training doesn’t compare to real experience. You’ve been out of the world for too long—it’s changed. It’s dangerous."

Dorian clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "I can handle myself. I’ve been trained for this. I’m not a kid anymore."

Bucky stopped and placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, the gesture firm but kind. "You might think you’re ready, but you’ve never lived a single day free from Hydra. You don’t know what it’s like out there, people, decisions, mistakes. The world's changed faster than we have, and I’ve seen how bad it can get. You need time to learn what’s out there before you go off on your own."

Dorian’s frustration flared again. "So what? You want us to stick together forever?"

"No," Bucky replied softly. "Just until I’m sure you’ll make it on your own. When we split up, I need to know you won’t just survive—you’ll live. There’s a difference, Dorian."

Dorian stood there, fists still clenched, but his anger slowly dissolved into a mix of resignation and understanding. He didn’t like it, but Bucky was right. He didn’t know what the real world was like yet, not fully.

After a tense silence, Dorian let out a long, heavy breath. "Fine. We stick together."

Bucky’s hand lingered on Dorian’s shoulder a moment longer before he stepped back. "It’s the right call, kid. We’ll figure this out. Together."

Dorian gave a reluctant nod, knowing Bucky had won the argument, but part of him realized he wasn’t ready to face the world alone just yet.

After the argument settled, the motel room felt suffocating. Dorian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still angry. He hated feeling like a kid who needed constant protection. But deep down, he knew Bucky was right. Splitting up wouldn’t work, not with Hydra still out there.

Bucky sat back on the bed, rubbing his face, clearly exhausted. “We’ll figure this out,” he muttered, more to himself than Dorian.

Dorian stared at him, taking in the sight of a man who’s been through more than he’s ever experienced. Everything about this life felt wrong, like they were constantly running, with no clear end in sight.

“How long do we stay here?” Dorian asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky exhaled slowly. “Not long. Maybe a day or two, just until things quiet down. We need to keep moving. Staying in one place too long will get us caught.” He ran a hand through his hair, and his voice softened. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Dorian. Hell, it’s not easy for either of us. But we’ve got to play it smart.”

Dorian nodded but kept his gaze fixed on the scuffed floor. “What’s the plan after that? Just… keep running?”

“For now, yeah.” Bucky stood and crossed the room to the small, grimy window, peeking through the cracked blinds at the empty street below. “We’ll lay low. Maybe find a safe house.” He turned back to face Dorian. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Dorian frowned, his frustration bubbling up again. “That’s not a plan. That’s barely even a direction.”

Bucky shrugged. “Sometimes, that’s all we’ve got. You want a detailed strategy? A roadmap? Sorry, but that’s not how this works. We adapt. We survive. That’s the plan.”

Dorian pushed himself off the wall, his jaw tight. “I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered, his voice low but laced with anger. “I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “Neither did I.”

The weight of those words settled between them, and Dorian felt a pang of guilt for snapping. But it didn’t change the fact that his life was spiraling out of control, and every step forward felt more uncertain than the last.

As wrong as it sounded he would’ve rather been with hydra right now and following orders, that way he would know what to do and how but right now he just felt clueless.

After a long, tense silence, Bucky finally spoke. “You’re right. This isn’t fair. But we can’t change what happened. All we can do is keep moving forward.”

Dorian ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the room. He felt trapped, cornered by circumstances beyond his control. He had been trained to fight, to survive—but no amount of training had prepared him for the emotional weight of this reality.

His gaze landed on the old, worn backpack sitting in the corner. It held all of his belongings—his past, his present, and whatever fragmented future he could scrape together. He felt the sudden urge to get out, to breathe. “I’m going for a walk,” Dorian said abruptly, grabbing the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

Bucky glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “A walk? Where?”

“Nowhere,” Dorian replied, his tone clipped. “Just need some air.”

Bucky hesitated, his protective instincts flaring. “It’s not safe out there. Especially now. You should stay inside.”

Dorian stopped in the doorway, casting a glance back at Bucky. “I’ll be fine. I just need to clear my head.”

Before Bucky could protest, Dorian slipped out of the room, letting the door click shut behind him.

The cool night air hit Dorian’s face as he stepped out onto the street. It was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional sound of a passing car. The motel was in a rundown part of town, the kind of place where no one asked questions and people kept to themselves. Perfect for hiding.

Dorian stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking, his footsteps echoing in the empty streets. His mind raced, replaying the argument with Bucky over and over. Every part of him wanted to prove that he could handle things on his own, that he wasn’t just some kid who needed constant supervision. But Bucky’s words lingered, gnawing at him. He didn’t have experience in the real world. His entire life had been a series of controlled environments—Hydra, training facilities, cells. Out here, everything was unpredictable, and that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

As he walked, his heightened senses picked up the distant murmur of voices, drawing his attention to a nearby alley. Dorian slowed his pace, his instincts on high alert. He didn’t like the feeling creeping up his spine, but curiosity, or perhaps something darker pulled him closer.

In the alley, two figures were huddled near a dumpster, speaking in hushed tones. One of them glanced up as Dorian approached, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What’s your deal, kid?” the man asked, his voice rough.

Dorian’s heart raced, but he kept his expression neutral. “Just passing through,” he replied, keeping his tone calm.

“Then keep passing,” the man said, his tone more of a warning than a suggestion.

Dorian tensed, the air around him feeling thicker, more dangerous. He knew this feeling well, the tension before a fight, the way people’s body language shifted when they were ready to pounce. But he wasn’t looking for a fight tonight.

Without another word, Dorian turned and walked away, his pulse pounding in his ears. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t with Hydra anymore. He didn’t need to engage every threat. He just needed to survive.

By the time he reached the motel again, the tension in his chest had subsided, though his thoughts still churned. He opened the door to the room quietly, half-expecting Bucky to be waiting up, ready with another lecture.

But instead, Bucky was asleep, sprawled across the bed, his arm draped over his face. Dorian paused in the doorway, watching him for a moment. Despite everything, Bucky was trying. He didn’t have all the answers, but he was doing his best.

Dorian dropped his backpack by the door and sat on the edge of his own bed, the weight of the day catching up to him. For now, they were stuck together, whether he liked it or not. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.