Chapter Text
There were many things about Steve Rogers that stood out. Many things that seemed to cause others to avoid him, or even target him. His small stature, constantly bruised knuckles and giant chip on his shoulder were only pieces of the puzzle that worked to keep the general population of New York away from him. Well, unless they were beating his face in.
It wasn’t any of those, nor his laundry list of ailments, that he himself used as an excuse to avoid human contact. It was a deep seated fear of anyone finding out that human wasn’t an adjective he could assign himself.
Growing up, there had been no hiding it. His bones were too long for his skin, jutting out against the pale veiny expanse of white making him much more angular than the average boy. The golden hair on his head was too downy to properly cover the thin points of his ears. Small, sickly Steve Rogers looked every bit of the Irish Fae he was.
He and his mom stood out even within a community of fellow Irishmen. It was no secret to his neighbors that his late father, and thus himself, were gancanagh. For merely being born as he was, Sarah was pitied and Steve was feared and ostracized by their respective peers. It didn't even matter to them that Steve was nothing like the rumors of his kind.
Not only did he have no desire to manipulate the girls around him, but he didn't even have any of the fae abilities. It didn't matter to the bullies that he was too sick for the glands that created the addictive substance his kind was known for to work. He had none of the allure. None of the looks. But none of them cared.
One day he came home angry and jaded, his small form slamming the door as hard as he could. Despite his small stature it closed satisfyingly hard and he stomped himself over to the couch.
“Steve?” his mom’s voice was worried as she appeared beside him. “Oh, baby, what happened?”
“Ev’ryone thinks imma monster.” he muttered angrily, kicking his heels against the couch. “I don’t have a single friend Ma, noone will ever like me.”
“Oh, my sunshine boy, that's not true!” she said gently as she cupped his thin face in her hands. “You will too make friends baby, you just have to find the right ones.”
“Billy Miller says I’m poison. He says no lady will eva’ love me for real.” Steve sniffled and wiped his slender hand across his eye, wincing at the pressure on the growing bruise.
“Did he hit you too?”
“I hit him first,” he muttered and Sarah gave a small sigh.
“Oh, Steve.”
“He said that papa hadn't really loved you for real also!” he exclaimed, looking up to meet her identical blue eyes. “Said that, that not even you really want me. That you’d be better off sellin’ me to a circus.”
She gave a small gasp and gently threaded her fingers through his golden fringe. “Don’t you listen to them Steven. Not even for a second. Your father loved us, and I love you more than anything and anyone.”
“Why does everyone think I’m jus’a monster Mama.” he asked in a small voice. “I ain’t got any of the fae things. It’s not fair!”
“Oh baby, I know.” she bent forward and pressed a kiss to his head. “You are such a good boy, and they are just bullies. Bullies always just want to knock you down, but Steven, you have to promise me something.”
He sniffled and brushed the back of his hand across his nose. “What’s that Ma?”
“No matter how many times people try and knock you down, you always, always stand back up.” she said firmly. “There is not a thing wrong with you baby, and you don't let a soul tell you otherwise.”
He nodded and tossed his arms around her neck, pulling himself as close to her as possible. “I promise Mama.”
“I love you my sunshine boy.” she said into his ear as she squeezed him tightly. “And someday, someone who will be just as amazing as you will love you for everything you are.”
His mom’s love and reassurance were enough for him as he grew up, loneliness and lack of friends be damned. Yet he still did everything he could to fit in, even if it brought him no companionship. Though he barely grew into his sharp frame, he did his best to blend in with those around him. There were no muscles covering his body , but he started wearing larger clothes to hide the fae like form. He also began to wear his hair longer than was socially normal in order to hide the points to his ears.
So as camouflage became easier, the bullying to himself slowed down. Those that knew or cared about his species dwindled to just he and his mom. The fights he got into were less, and almost entirely just in defense of others. He was still lonely, but without the constant belittlement he was able to see the light in the distance that was the mystery person his ma swore was out there for him.
Until the day that Sarah Rogers died and he was well and truly, completely alone.
From then on, Steve wasn't sure he could feel anything other than lonesome and jaded. He was too shy and insecure to attempt to attract a dame; part of him was afraid that any attraction a woman would have to him would purely be based on whatever small amount of gancanagh allure he had. So he did nothing to truly try and find love, at least not with a woman.
He knew any powers he may have were entirely useless against men, and despite knowing that he was just as attracted to his own gender as he was to the opposite, any relationship he would start didn't go any further than the queer bars.
So his life fell into a monotonous routine of artwork, menial jobs, and getting into back alley fights. He’d occasionally shake things up by going to a bar, mostly the secret queer ones in his neighborhood. Generally, the extent of his social interactions was helping his elderly neighbor with her groceries. He was fine with it too. A lifetime of having no friends had progressed into an almost gripping fear of socializing, so he let himself stay secluded.
Then December seventh of forty-one happened and his world changed. From the moment that war was declared he did anything and everything to enlist in the military, but once again he wasn’t wanted. It took almost a year of trying before anyone would give him a chance.
Doctor Abraham Erskine was the first person to see in him what Sarah had. He was the first outside of her to know fully what he was and to not see him as an abomination for it.
“I have known monsters Steven.” he said softly when Steve asked if he was sure he wouldn't turn out like the last man to receive the serum. “You are the furthest thing from a monster. I see you, see your goodness. It is who you must always remember to be. The good man within your heart, not what anyone else expects. Not a perfect soldier. Just a good man.”
Steve took his words to heart, keeping the advice as a mantra as he felt the excruciating pain of the serum coursing through him. He felt as if he was being torn apart and remolded, and knew without even having to check that all of his gancanagh genetics had come out full force. He didn’t know how, but for the first time in his life he truly felt like a fae.
The awe and magnetic attraction in Agent Carter’s eyes was proof enough and he was only barely able to gasp out a no as she reached out to touch him.
Her hand jerked back as if burned, and before he could apologize or explain himself everything around them was exploding.
Time seemed to dilate and suck him through a tunnel as Erskine was killed and he chased after the Nazi. He was in a haze as Phillips wrote him off as a failure and was shoved to the remaining scientists. He was barely aware of gently reusing for the female nurses to touch his skin as blood was drawn and tests were done. He didn’t come back to himself really until it was just Agent Carter standing before him.
“I am really sorry Steve.” she finished her small speech to him, her dark eyes reflecting the sentiment honestly. “Doctor Erskine was a good man, he didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“No, he didn’t.” he agreed softly with a shake of his head. Her eyes followed the movement and he flushed. He knew she was staring at his ears.
“So you’re a fae?”
“Gancanagh.” he replied quietly. “I’ve always been too sick for the genetics to really be active. We’re supposed to be playboy seducers. A succubi even.” he let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand over his forearm. “Women are supposedly naturally drawn to us, and we excrete a substance that is said to be addictive. It’s why I wouldn’t let you touch me. I’m sorry.”
“What on earth are you apologizing for?”
He shrugged sheepishly and refused to meet her eyes. “For whatever it is I’m making you feel. It's unnatural and unfair. Violating.”
“Steve.” her voice seemed sad and he jolted when she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You have no reason to think such a thing. Apologizing for your genetics is asinine. It isn’t as if you are forcing yourself on anyone.”
“I would never!” he exclaimed, head jerking up so his eyes met hers. “Agent Carter, I swear.”
“I know Steve.”
She made to speak more, but Phillips was dragging her away a moment later and Brandt was taking all of Steve’s attention, offering him what he swore was the most important role in the war. Steve accepted eagerly.
“Though we’ll have to do something about those god awful ears of yours!”
With that, Steve found himself in his new role of Captain America. It was hell.
He honestly couldn’t see how there was anything worse for him to be doing. The stage and the costume, the lights, the movies and all the attention were all terrifying and uncomfortable. He knew that war bonds and movies and show tickets were only being sold because women were being drawn to him like a drug and it made his stomach twist up in nausea and disgust.
He thought maybe it would be better when he was shipped out to the front lines, but all that it showed him was that he was right. He was only doing any good because he was performing for women who had no choice but to be interested in him. It made him feel like a sideshow attraction. He supposed that's all he really was.
“Tough crowd,” a familiar soft voice said from behind him after a truly disastrous performance. He nearly dropped the pencil and drawing in his hands as he turned to face a softly smiling Agent Carter.
“Agent Carter! Hi, yeah, they’re uh, they’re not my normal crowd.”
“No I suppose they wouldn’t be.”
He blushed even more and she directed her smile towards him as she stepped closer in order to peer over his shoulder. “Interesting drawing. Is that how you see yourself?”
He shrugged and looked down, running his finger tip over the smiling monkey’s face. “Yeah, pretty much. Basically what I am. An addictive pretty face to sell war bonds.”
“Do you mean because of your fae blood?” She questioned quietly and he nodded.
“I’m basically tricking women into giving up their money. They fawn all over me and have no idea why. I feel, wrong about it.”
“Oh Steve.”
He shrugged and gave her a falsely cheerful smile. “It’s okay, could be worse. I mean, Phillips wanted me in a lab.”
“And is that all you are Steve? Either a lab rat or a dancing monkey?”
“At least it’s something.”
“You have every right to be who and what you want to. You are just as much, if not more, of a soldier as these men.”
He followed the line of her arm with his eyes to the men around them. “They don’t think so, and they’re right. These men are laying down their lives and I’m dancing in tights.”
“They’ve been through hard times, yes. This is what remains of the 107th. The rest have been taken captive. But Steve, you would be doing just as much if you were given the chance.”
Steve frowned and looked back up at her face. “Captive? Is Philips going to send out a rescue?”
“I don't think so, no. Hey Steve, wait!”
She had barely finished saying no and he was out of his seat and running towards the command tent. She ran after him as he questioned Phillips on a rescue, never once leaving his side even as he stormed angrily away from the Colonel and back into the rain. “Steve, wait stop!”
“You said I could be a soldier.” he stated, hands on the door of a jeep as he stared at her.
“I did.”
“And you meant it? It’s not just my damned genetics making you think there is more to me than that skinny little nobody from Brooklyn?” he asked, true fear of her response in his voice. From the moment he had seen her punch Hodge out, he had admired her fire and beauty, yet knew that she was something he could never have. There wasn’t any chance she would see a partner in him if it weren’t for the fae allure he knew he exudes. He just hoped it wasn't that allure that made her see his potential for more than a show horse.
“Of course not! You’re a good man Steve.”
He nodded. “Erskine said the same thing. He said it was more important than being a good soldier.”
“I agree.”
“Then please don’t stop me. I can’t just leave those men to die.”
She glanced around them and smiled. “I know you can’t. That’s why I am going to help.”
Rescuing the men of the 107th and beginning the Howling Commandos was the most thrilling thing that Steve had ever done. Hydra and Johann Schmidt were like things from a twisted nightmare and from the moment he watched the man remove his own face, bringing them down became his life’s mission. Fighting alongside his Commandos as he did so was an added bonus, like finally having a family, but it made him no less willing to sacrifice his life to end the Nazi faction if need be.
As he stumbled into the cockpit of the Valkyrie it became apparent that he would have to do just that. Peggy’s terrified voice when he said there was no landing the plane made his heart clench and he closed his eyes.
“Peggy, I’m sorry.”
She let out a small choked sound. “Whatever for my darling?”
“For being a coward.”
“Steven, you’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.”
He let out a watery laugh. “No, Peggy. I’ve been too afraid of what I am to let you know how much I care about you.”
“I care about you too Steve. Because of you . I promise it’s you.”
“That’s good to know,” he felt tears fall from his eyes at her sincerity and he took a shuddering breath to repeat, “so good to know Peggy.”
“So you have to take me dancing. Next Saturday, the Stork club at eight. Don’t you dare be late.”
He laughed gently at the order in her voice and nodded, even though she couldn’t see. “You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”
“I’ll teach you, just be there. ”
“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your-.”
His breath was taken away from him as the plane collided with a sheet of ice and his body was thrown harshly into the window. Pain exploded through him and he attempted to escape it by curling into himself. Freezing water was soon beginning to surround him, and as it filled his lungs, through the panic and the pain, the last thought he had was of Peggy. He hoped she lived her life to the fullest, and though he was sad for their missed chance, he was happy that he was about to see his ma again.
Waking in the future was an unexpected, and if he were honest, unwanted detour.
Director Fury and his fake room of deceit did nothing to instill trust in Steve. The man seemed to try to regain it by giving him all the resources necessary. Or at least the resources the spy deemed necessary. Which was basically just what he needed to be a soldier in a new century. He didn’t give him much of anything that Steve was truly interested in, and even became yet another person to add restrictions to his life.
“Non human species have gained a lot of rights and freedoms in the last seventy years Cap, but well, everyone thinks your human. The fact that you’re not, and exactly how you aren’t wont go down so well. We need to keep you human.”
And so Steve met a new team, fought amongst each other, and tried to save New York together all whilst wearing a restrictive, almost painful cowl over his pointed ears. All of his skin was covered in garish red, white and blue and he felt once more on display, only this time the spotlights were setting him on fire.
Seated amongst the five newly dubbed Avengers as they exhaustedly ate the thing called Shawarma, Steve was suddenly hit with the realization that he was more alone than he had ever been. He set the odd sandwich down and leaned into his hand, his eyes squeezed shut so he wouldn’t cry and for the first time in the last two weeks, really truly wished he had died in that ice. Anything would be better than being so lonely and fake. Than living in a lie.
The Barnes family were proud of who and what they were, were proud of their species. It was almost a rule, that being ashamed was not allowed. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was no different then his parents and extended family in that regard.
There weren’t many zmeu left, most having been hunted down and killed around the second world war. Many that had survived left to the west, and almost every one in New York Bucky was related to. It was the small population and huge sense of community that led to the pride they all felt, and honestly he was glad for it.
The first schools specializing in supernatural humanoid beings didn’t open until he was already in fifth grade, so he had seen plenty of what it was like for other non humans. He had witnessed both acceptance and hatred, from others and themselves. He himself was lucky though, due to being charismatic and charming, he drew people into his circle like flies to a spider web. He had no idea that bullying was such a horrendous thing until he saw it happen to his sister.
Becca was shy and quiet, unsure of how to interact with others that weren’t her family. She preferred one on one activities and was intimidated by her kindergarten class. At only nine, Bucky did the best he could to reassure her before her first day and he thought that it had helped. Until recess came along.
Bucky had never had an issue with people mocking his supernatural features. People would always say that the silver of his eyes, the elongated pupils, even the pale grey sclera were beautiful. When his skin sometimes rippled into growing scales his friends oohed and awed at how cool it was. Becca though, she didn’t have the same luck, or receive near the acceptance that he did.
Rebecca had their fathers eyes and complexion, the only one of the four children to be born with the supposedly dominant ruby red eyes. There was no mistaking that they were dragonoid and apparently the kids in her class decided it made her a target.
The first thing Bucky noticed as he walked onto the playground was the group of girls surrounding his sister and he smiled, thinking that Becca had made friends. At least until he saw the tears in her beautiful red eyes.
Concerned, he left his friends to make his way to his sister’s side. As he neared the concern turned to anger that flooded over him as he heard the words a small blonde girl was sneering.
“...like a gross little lizard! What even are you a Godzilla ?"
One of the other girls giggled. “That’s not real Chelsea! She’s one of those dragon monsters!”
“Eew!” the three others exclaimed and Bucky had heard enough.
“Hey! Leave her alone!” he yelled as he reached his sister who instantly gripped the back of his shirt and hid her face in his side.
They looked up at him with wide eyes. “Who’re you?” the little ringleader asked and he glared.
“I’m Rebecca’s brother. Leave her alone.”
“Or what?”
“He might blow fire at us!”
“Maybe I will.” he remarked, concentrating as hard as he could so that silver grey scales flickered out to cover his visible skin.
The girls screamed and ran off, leaving him alone with his sobbing sister.
“I’ve got you Becks.” he told her softly, running his hand over her head as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. “Its okay.”
“Why were they being so mean to me Bucky?” she asked with a hiccupping sobs. “I don’t know why they said I was so ugly and wrong!”
“I don’t know why either, but they’re the ones who are wrong. You’re beautiful.”
When they got home that afternoon, Bucky demanded an explanation from his parents. Winifred looked like she was about to cry as he explained what had happened, and George’s shoulders suddenly seemed very heavy.
“James, son, what you have to understand is that some people don't like the supernatural. They say that we’re wrong. That we shouldn't be allowed near humans.”
“That's stupid!” he yelled, crossing his arms petulantly and glaring. “Those girls ain't got any right to call Becca names!”
“Don’t have any, sweetheart.” his mom corrected gently. “And I agree, but we can’t change people's opinions, even if they’re hurtful.”
“I don’t want people to be mean to the girls mama.” Bucky said softly, eyes focused on the youngest girl, baby Daciana, playing happily with a stuffed elephant. “No one is mean to me. They shouldn’t be mean to them.”
“Some people just don’t know how to treat others with respect.” George informed him, his voice kind and eyes soft. “But what is important is that you always do. And that you always protect your sisters when they need it.”
“Always.” Bucky swore with a more somber nod then a nine year old should have been capable of.
“Next year, a school system is opening up that is only for supernatural's.” Winnie stated and both of her boys looked over at her curiously. “If bullying continues, or if either of you want, we can transfer you okay?”
Bucky nodded eagerly but George frowned. “I don’t know Win, what if the educational level is not so great?”
“Come on George, surely their happiness is better than going to some ‘prestigious’ school to get bullied.”
Bucky left then, not wanting to listen to their dumb adult talk. He made to go to his room, but was stopped by Becca, who must have been listening in.
“Bucky, I made you a present.” she told him shyly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as her tiny hands hid something behind her back.
“What’s that Becks?”
She grinned and pulled out a piece of blue construction paper. On its surface in Becca’s favorite dual tone crayons was a drawing of what he assumed was himself in his future dragon form. He was guarding a princess that looked like Becca from a group of trolls, one noticeably with bright blonde hair. Bucky loved it instantly.
“Its beautiful Becks!” he exclaimed, taking it from her hands gently as if it was the most important treasure. And to him, it truly was.
That gift began Bucky’s true first hoard. True, he had had small things growing up. Toys, blocks, even ants for a small time but this drawing was the first one that truly meant anything. From there it grew into dozens and dozens of other drawings from his sisters, each getting better as they aged.
It wasn’t just the Barnes girls’ either. His first job as a teenager was helping out at a daycare for supernatural's and he cherished the drawings they gave him just as much as those from his family.
“Why don’t you go into something with children Bucky?” Ms. Caelia, the kind middle aged selkie who owned the daycare asked him one day as he glared angrily at the pre-law book his dad wanted him to study. He had just been given an adorable picture of him as a chubby dragon and had immediately abandoned the text in order to fawn over it.
“Dad wants me to be a lawyer,” his reply was grumpy as he looked up at her with a frown. “I graduate soon and he’s pressuring me to study pre-law.”
“Is that what you want?” she asked gently as she bent forward to lightly touch his arm.
“No.” he gave a vehement shake of his head. “No I don't want that at all.”
“Then do what makes you happy. I’m sure George will understand.”
And so he did. He decided to major in education at NYU and couldn't have been happier for it. Luckily, she was right about his dad as well. He was disappointed that they would never get to work together, but when Bucky told him his decision he had smiled and hugged him tightly.
“You’re my son James. I’ll be proud of you no matter what you do.”
He continued to work at the daycare all through college, all the way until he took his student teaching job at the supernatural elementary in Brooklyn. It was a job that he kept after graduation, the former kindergarten teacher handing it over to him proudly.
“You’re the best student teacher I have ever had James.” she told him with a warm, weathered smile, the lines in the corner of her amber eyes wrinkling gently. “I have never seen anyone care more about children than you.”
It was one of the best compliments he had ever received, even more than the countless ones both women and men have lauded on him about his looks. Children really were the most important thing in his life, and he could never have loved a job more.
Kindergarten, in his opinion, was the best class ever to teach. You become the first adult outside of their family to teach and guide them through life, and Bucky sincerely hoped that his efforts to teach them to love and care for each other weren’t wasted.
The other teachers at the school assured him that they weren't. The two first grade teachers came to him after the first month of his second year, both with smiles of delight.
“Seriously Bucky, you have no idea how amazing it is to see all the little tykes getting along!” Lyla, a very slender fairy with faint golden wings fluttering behind her, exclaimed as they ate lunch. “Never have we had so many different species working together without insults and tears. Sure there are petty squabbles, but no all out teasing or bullying.”
“It is really nice.” Jonathan, a fire breather who adored having another pyromaniac species working with them, agreed. “What’s your secret?”
Bucky shrugged. “There isn't really a secret Jon. I just want the kids to realize that all of them are perfect the way they are, that their differences don't make any of them better or worse than any others. I make sure they know how much bullying and teasing hurts and that words have consequences. I think it helps that every one of them has had something harsh said to them at some point in their lives. No one wants to make others feel like that.”
“If only society would resemble that lesson.” Lyla said sadly and both men nodded in agreement, though Jon did grin.
“Well, if Bucky keeps teaching the kids maybe it will!”
Over the next few years, more of the teachers commented on the students that he taught being remarkably well behaved. One in particular, a beautiful nymph who taught third grade named Quilla, would lament on how the couple transfer students in her class were far different than the others. Bucky thought she was hamming it on just a little bit.
“Course she is.” Jon remarked when he grumbled about it. “She has a thing for you. You should ask her to dinner.”
“No way.” Bucky shook his head vehemently. “Not happening Jon.”
“Come on man, you’re depressingly single.”
“I go on dates.” he refuted with a frown as his arms crossed before him.
“One night stands don't count.”
He just shrugged and looked back to his desk and away from his friend. “Not looking for much more right now Jon.”
“Do zmeu mate for life?” he asked curiously and Bucky nodded.
“It’s not like a soulmate thing, but when you settle down its with one person. I want to make sure it’s the right person.”
His love life may not really be going anywhere, but Bucky was happy. He had the best job ever, a close family, and was finally gaining full control of his supernatural abilities. The first time he managed to fully shift his body to that of a dragon he was twenty five, and he truly couldn't think of anything more exhilarating.
It was a full extended family event held at their grandparents estate in upper New York. As his form at least quadrupled in size into that of a gleaming silver dragon, he could see nothing but pride and glee on all the gathered faces and couldn’t help but to let out a delighted roar.
He followed his dads brilliant red form into the air, joyously stretching wings that he had been slowly learning to maneuver in his human form. Here, in the air, in the body he was destined to have Bucky had never felt more free.
After mastering his dragon form, he was finally able to learn how to master the fire now residing within him. Which turned out to be an ability that became more important than he ever would have thought possible.
It was a beautiful April day, and Bucky as well as a few parent chaperones had taken the kids in to Manhattan to see the Children’s Inspiration exhibit at his sister’s gallery. Becca, like Bucky, had developed a hoarding taste in art. Though hers was much more refined.
The exhibit she had on now was beautiful. It was a series of paintings where the artist had worked with a kid, the younger drawing something for the professional to become inspired by. Bucky’s kids loved it. Every one of them was enthusiastically chattering about the paintings they wanted to do themselves as they walked towards the little sub shop everyone had agreed on for lunch.
Before they could even reach their destination, a giant beam of light exploded into the sky and a hole was opening up above Stark Tower. A hole that instantly was pouring out aliens by the dozen.
Chaos erupted and using the bit of his brain that wasn’t full of shock, he managed to usher his kids into a building and off of the sidewalk. He tried to keep them calm as the terrifying armed beings swarmed the streets. He had never seen anything like this and wasn’t sure what to do to stifle their panic.
The ceiling above them began to groan, plaster falling down ominously and Bucky shared a look with Canna, one of the children’s mothers. “We have to get back out there!"
“But those things!”
“If we don’t, the building could collapse on us!”
She and the other two reluctantly agreed, so he turned to his terrified and crying kids. “Okay babes, listen. This building isn’t safe anymore, we need to get out before it falls. But there are bad guys out there, so I need you all to hold hands and make sure you’re connected to one of us at all times okay?”
They seemed to reluctantly agree, so cautiously the four adults herded thirty tiny terrified children into a battlefield. Bucky kept himself to the front and was almost instantly grateful for it.
Not long after leaving the crumbling building, four of the aliens were coming right at them. Without a second of hesitation Bucky lit his entire body on fire, spreading a wall out between his kids and the invaders.
He glanced backwards towards them and let out a small sigh as he saw police a couple blocks down. Ironman flew over not but a moment later, some sort of flying whale behind him and Bucky shuddered before pointing towards the police.
“Go!” he called to the three women. “Get them the hell out of here!”
“Will you be okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, just go!”
They didn’t hesitate again and he turned back towards the aliens. They seemed to be brandishing some sort of electric gun that wasn’t doing much against the fire surrounding him. It was that realization that strengthened his resolve to stand and fight.
He wasn’t a soldier, or any sort of fighter actually. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but spreading the beam of fire towards the aliens wasn’t too hard. They lit up almost instantly and he couldn’t help but to grin. Maybe helping to protect his city wouldn’t be too hard after all, if all he had to do was essentially point and shoot.
His grin didn’t last too long though as more began to replace those four almost instantly. He kept sending jet of fire after jet of fire at them, but holding the burning light around him began to get draining way too quickly and the aliens just kept coming. Just as he was contemplating changing forms for more energy, a large piece of something was falling from the sky.
With a loud cry he dove as far away as possible from the falling thing, growing his wings out as quickly as possible to help him skid into the alley behind him. It wasn’t far enough though as debris rained down around him. He just barely managed to get his wings up, protecting as much of his head and torso as possible before it was colliding with his body.
A burning, grinding, excruciating pain suddenly exploded through his left side and he let out a blood curdling scream. It felt as if he was being torn apart and shredded into pieces and he wasn’t sure how he managed to stay conscious.
As soon as the dust around him settled, he opened his eyes and immediately gagged. There was a huge tear through the soft membrane of his left wing and a sharp piece of debris had completely severed his arm a few fingers width away from his shoulder.
There was blood everywhere and Bucky could feel more pouring out of what was left of his arm. He knew that if he didn’t stop it bleeding, he wasn’t going to make it through this. There was no way, and he refused to die in an alley from alien debris.
With a determined grit of his teeth, he used the last bit of energy he had to light his right hand on fire. He took a steadying deep breath before bringing it to the stump and pressing down.
Despite being essentially fire proof, he knew this would hurt. He just had no idea how much, but the cauterizing was even worse than the severing. He screamed until his voice disappeared as the flesh singed and the blood stopped.
As soon as he was no longer likely to bleed to death, his energy evaporated completely. His hand fell limply away from the stump of his arm and with a heavy sigh he fell into a pained unconsciousness.