[ It was too easy. Too easy to slip back into the well-worn footpath of brutality, of silent compliance. Too easy to ball his fist up and punch hard enough to break bone. Too easy to stomp his foot down and crack a knee out of socket. Too easy to wrap metal fingers around a throat and squeeze.
Bucky feels sick, Sam's murmured You okay? echoing in the empty cathedral of his hollowed-out mind. He'd been calm yet near-feral, eyes flaring and wild even as he conducted his body like a finely-tuned instrument of pain. Order through pain. Hail HYDRA.
Fuck. All the work to forget, to push past it, and everything comes crashing back with a few words.
He'd been in control this time, that's the part that makes his stomach clench. No blaming a handler, this was all him. Every choice, every punch, kick, or chokehold. Maybe if he tries hard enough he can blame it on being pent up, on suppressing all his rage for the sake of passing his weekly therapy bar. Don't break the rules, don't kill people. But this will take more rationalizing, more wrestling in his quiet time-- those mooks deserved it. Pirates and thieves and hitmen and pimps.
"To watch you is a rare gift"
Bucky's fist clenches, something dark and stormy rolling across his features. One of the last things Pierce had said to him was that the Winter Soldier's work was a gift to mankind. For over sixty years, the only gifts he gave were bloodshed and death. Maybe that's the only gift he can give. But there was a mission--still is--and he has to do whatever it takes to complete it. Zemo certainly will. ]
I think you enjoyed it a little too much.
[ He remembers Zemo shoving people towards him, feeding victims to a pit of lions while he watched from the stands. Bucky moves to find the strongest liquor available, anything to take some of the edge off. Anything to help him pretend. ]
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branchandroot
SCREAMS
Date: 2021-04-29 02:18 pm (UTC)Bucky feels sick, Sam's murmured You okay? echoing in the empty cathedral of his hollowed-out mind. He'd been calm yet near-feral, eyes flaring and wild even as he conducted his body like a finely-tuned instrument of pain. Order through pain. Hail HYDRA.
Fuck. All the work to forget, to push past it, and everything comes crashing back with a few words.
He'd been in control this time, that's the part that makes his stomach clench. No blaming a handler, this was all him. Every choice, every punch, kick, or chokehold. Maybe if he tries hard enough he can blame it on being pent up, on suppressing all his rage for the sake of passing his weekly therapy bar. Don't break the rules, don't kill people. But this will take more rationalizing, more wrestling in his quiet time-- those mooks deserved it. Pirates and thieves and hitmen and pimps.
"To watch you is a rare gift"
Bucky's fist clenches, something dark and stormy rolling across his features. One of the last things Pierce had said to him was that the Winter Soldier's work was a gift to mankind. For over sixty years, the only gifts he gave were bloodshed and death. Maybe that's the only gift he can give. But there was a mission--still is--and he has to do whatever it takes to complete it. Zemo certainly will. ]
I think you enjoyed it a little too much.
[ He remembers Zemo shoving people towards him, feeding victims to a pit of lions while he watched from the stands. Bucky moves to find the strongest liquor available, anything to take some of the edge off. Anything to help him pretend. ]