Chapter 2
Two weeks after Bucky got back to Brooklyn, he got a letter from Howard Stark. Though Howard tended to chatter and wander his way through a conversation, his written correspondence was always brief and to the point.
Sergeant Barnes,
I think I have a prototype ready for you. Come to my lab at Stark Industries.
H. Stark
More than a bit nervous, Bucky headed out the next day for Manhattan and the skyscraper that housed Stark Industries. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d ever gone to Manhattan. Though it was only about an hour away, there wasn’t much for a guy like Bucky on that island. He tried not to look like a tourist as he navigated the bustling streets, staring up at the buildings filled with jobs he had little grasp of the qualifications for.
When he entered Stark’s building, he had another moment of trepidation. Howard had more than a touch of the absent-minded eccentric about him. How mortifying would it be if he’d told Bucky to come see him but the damned receptionist had no idea about it? Prepared to have to do a lot of explaining, Bucky approached the front desk.
A chipper red-head smiled at him. “Good morning, sir. May I assist you?”
“Ah, yeah. Um, I’m Bucky Barnes—Sergeant James Barnes, I mean. I have an, um, appointment with Howard Stark?” Way to sound convincing. Even I think I’m bullshitting now. I’m supposed to be charming, aren’t I?
The receptionist thumbed through a rolodex. “Oh, yes, I have your name here. A standing appointment for whenever you arrive.” She winked. “Not many people have a direct line to Mr. Stark.” She pushed a button on her desk. “You’ll be shown to the lab. I’ll let Mr. Stark know you’re here.”
A direct line to Stark, huh?
A few minutes later, a young, slim man in a pin-striped suit stepped out of an elevator and approached Bucky. “Good morning,” he said in a British accent. “I am Mr. Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s assistant.”
Bucky offered him his hand. “Sergeant Barnes.”
The assistant shook the proffered appendage. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant. I’ve heard a great deal about you. May I offer my condolences for your loss? I understand you and Captain Rogers were quite close.”
Bucky’s face tightened. “Yeah, we were. Thanks.”
Pleasantries mercifully out of the way, Mr. Jarvis led Bucky to the elevator. Once they reached the correct floor, he showed him down a series of halls to a spacious room with large windows looking into it. “Right inside, Sergeant.”
Bucky nodded his thanks and walked inside. Howard, he found, was bent over a table, muttering to himself. So nothing’s changed, really.
“Figured out how to make that car fly yet?”
Howard straightened and turned to face him, a smile splitting his handsome face. “Bucky! How are you?” He crossed the room and grabbed Bucky’s hand, shaking it fiercely. How do I forget every time I see this guy how much fucking energy he has?
“I’m good,” Bucky answered, surprised to find it wasn’t actually a lie. His arm wasn’t hurting at the moment, and he had a welcome distraction in the form of his prospective new arm, so his mind wasn’t lingering on painful topics. All in all, he’d actually say he was having an alright day.
“Excellent!” Clasping Bucky by the shoulder, Howard guided him over to a different table from the one he’d been working at. Bucky sucked in a breath. On the table was an arm. It was powerful and sleek, shining silver-gray in the fluorescent lighting. It was made up of many inter-locking plates of metal from the shoulder all the way down to the tips of the fingers. For a full range of motion? He’d been expecting something else—something less beautiful, certainly. Something more similar to the rudimentary prosthetics he’d seen on others, just one Stark enabled him to move. It really will be better than the original.
Noting the direction of Bucky’s attention, Howard preened. “You like it?”
Bucky reached out and ran his fingers over the cool metal of the forearm. “It’s amazing.”
“Now, I want to prepare your expectations. This is a prototype and the only one who can properly test it is you. There are some things I know I can’t do yet. I just can’t give you full nerve compatibility.” Howard held up a hand when Bucky tried to speak, to tell him that that was fine, he hadn’t expected that much. “I haven’t given up on the idea of it, but I Just don’t know how to integrate that sort of thing with a metal prosthesis yet. The arm does have pressure sensors, so I’m confident that, with practice, you’ll be fully capable of using your left hand for delicate things as much as brute force.”
Bucky quirked a brow. “Brute force?”
“Well…it’s a metal arm. It’s going to be strong, Bucky. I can probably tweak it if you really want me to, but I did promise you better than original. It’ll be a phenomenal weapon for you.”
Bucky started to ask, What the hell am I going to need a weapon for with the war over? But he caught himself. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared, could it? He gave Stark an expression that said, Fair enough—continue.
“I know I mentioned vibranium to you, before, but this one is a titanium alloy—a few other things blended in there, but your face tells me you really don’t care about the details. I still have my feelers out for vibranium—ah, ah, shut it. I’m going to give you the best of the best, so don’t argue. Anyway, this is a prototype. If it works for you for years, super-duper, but I anticipate that I’ll be refining and creating new models for you for some time. With vibranium as rare as it is, I wouldn’t want to waste it on the MK1, anyway, right?”
“Makes sense,” he agreed. It didn’t matter a lick to him if it was made of fancy vibranium. As long as it wouldn’t crumple under everyday wear and tear. He wasn’t planning to run around catching busses.
Howard chewed his lower lip, some of the fire in his eyes going out. “There is one issue.”
When a beat of silence passed, Bucky urged, “Which is?”
“Well, pick it up and you’ll see.”
Frowning, Bucky did as he said. He wrapped his fingers around the bicep and hefted the arm up. Oh, that’s fucking heavy. He lifted it easy enough—he was strong as hell now, after all—but he could recognize that it was no feather. He eased it back down onto the table. “Just a guess, but that’s not the average weight of an arm, huh?”
“Not so much. That’s one reason I’d love to get my hands on vibranium—it’s so much lighter than other metals! I’ve pared down the weight on this model as much as I can, but I’m afraid that if you want something that’s more than a pretty block hanging off your shoulder, it’s going to be weighty.”
“I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”
“You will, but my concern is that your bones won’t.” Howard turned away and grabbed a stack of papers which he spread out on the table for Bucky. It looked to be a collection of diagrams of the human body. “I’ve consulted with an orthopedic surgeon on this, Dr. Richard Wilson—top of his field.. He believes that your entire left shoulder will need some support to allow you to comfortably carry the weight of a prosthetic like this.”
Bucky frowned at one of the diagrams. The figure had a left shoulder and part of the bicep, the same as Bucky did. But metal plating had been applied all the way up the shoulder joint. “You want to replace my entire shoulder?”
“Not…exactly. Not if we don’t have to. My idea is to reinforce your left shoulder with titanium.”
“Potato potahto, Stark.” Bucky tapped the diagram. “This looks like a helluva lot more than reinforcement. My whole shoulder will be metal.”
Howard grimaced. “Well, yes,” he admitted. “Even your skeleton just isn’t meant to deal with an appendage like this. It could cause lasting damage if we slap this onto your unaltered shoulder.”
“I heal pretty fast.”
“You could be perpetually having to heal micro tears on your muscles and bones, though, which I am certain will not be comfortable. You’ll carry the weight more evenly if the whole shoulder is reinforced to spread the weight out.”
Bucky hated that he was making sense. He looked at the diagrams. Looked at the arm. He could say no. He could keep his stump and his one arm and go about his life. Even with one arm, he was stronger and more dexterous than any regular man. He could go on and get himself a job back at the docks, just like he used to have before he got drafted, and throw around heavy cargo. He had limitations, things were plenty awkward with just one hand, but he could be just fine without chopping up his shoulder and getting a giant metal plate soldered to his flesh and bone.
Pain flared in his left arm as his brain sent a signal to clench his fist with frustration but there was no fist there to clench. He’d been able to put up with that phantom pain bullshit when he’d had a new arm to look forward to. The idea of spending the rest of his life telling a hand that wasn’t there to do something made nausea roil in his stomach. What was a little more metal if he was already willing to accept a whole arm of it? It was only luck that he’d kept as much of his shoulder and arm as he had. Did it really matter if a surgeon scraped parts of it away and molded it into something new?
If I can have this, maybe someday everyone who has lost a limb can have it back, too. That thought bolstered him further. He’d cursed Steve for letting himself be Erskine’s guinea pig and still woke up from nightmares of his experiences on Zola’s table, but this was different. He trusted Howard. They could learn from the development of this arm. Howard could learn from refining it and making new ones for him. As science progressed, maybe Howard could find newer, lighter materials so that nobody else needed to make a choice like Bucky’s.
“You ever think while working on this about the other guys who lost arms and legs over there?” Bucky looked up at Howard. “It’s not just me who needs a new limb.”
The smaller man’s eyes lit. “Yes, actually.” He tapped the arm. “This kind of tech is out of the realm of possibility for now for all but the wealthiest, but I’d like to keep looking into this. For you, but for others, too.”
Yeah, Bucky liked Howard. He was willing to be the test subject for Howard Stark. For himself because he wanted to feel whole again (in body, if not in soul) and because working on prosthetics for Bucky could lead Howard to a breakthrough that could help millions of people around the world. Bucky had never had a savior complex, not like Steve. Bucky had not made it a habit to look for fights and bullies to teach a lesson to. Bucky had waited to be drafted into the war, not keen at all to sign up for the fight. I guess if Steve’s not here, I’ve gotta pick up some of the slack, Bucky thought wryly.
“Alright, Howard. I want this arm. You set up whatever you need to and do whatever you need to do to me for it.” He paused. A thought floated through his mind, snagged, and refused to budge. He looked down at the arm. “Actually…” He tilted his head and reached down, running his fingers over the bicep. “Could you add something to it?”
Stark blinked at him. “Add something? Like what? I joked about lasers, but I don’t really think—”
Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good without lasers. I was just thinking it could use a little something. I guess kinda like a tattoo.”
Slowly, Howard smiled. “What did you have in mind?”