Chapter Text
The Winter Soldier discovers the internet, and ruins his own life.
Which in hindsight sucks, but isn’t all that surprising given his track record. Ever since he managed to ditch Captain America and his merry men with King T’Challa, and return to his quiet existence in Bucharest, the Soldier was anxious for the other shoe to drop.
In his experience, any moment of peace was inevitably followed by absolute bullshit, and he wasn’t going to risk lulling himself into a false sense of security.
In the end, it had been his own damn fault.
While Shuri was able to scrub his mind of the triggers; she couldn’t make him remember what time, torture, and a noxious cocktail of drugs issued with zero rhyme or reason to prevent developing a tolerance, eroded. He had no way of knowing who he was before Hydra, or who he was now without the Captain’s nostalgia shaping him into someone who didn’t exist any more.
Shuri’s shrugged recommendation of, “I don’t know, google yourself” seemed as good a solution as any.
He’d been reasonably fine when he’d landed on Wikipedia, after all.
According to the listed biographies, his life wasn’t particularly interesting before the draft. After it, he’d been a good soldier, an excellent marksman. But then came the fall from the freight train, and his life devolved into a laundry list of suspected targets and accomplished kills. There are names there he thinks he remembers, but more he doesn’t. Continuing his search in that vein seemed the only real way forward.
If anyone would know who he is - Bucky Barnes and Winter Soldier both - it would be the people he hurt. And he'd hurt plenty.
Eventually, the verified and cited sources dry up, though, and he ends up on Youtube. That’s the beginning of the end. One video turns to twenty, an hour of them turns into a week, and his regrets could build a mountain range.
See, he'd expected the indifferent accounts of torture and horror, given and received, retold in articles and history books and documentaries. He'd expected photographs, snuff films and hideous mementos of those that crossed his path.
What he did not expect was the other stuff.
He could’ve lived his whole life not knowing people “shipped” him with the Captain. He definitely could’ve gone without seeing the different formats people choose to do it in, that’s for sure.
But he does find himself grotesquely fascinated with all the conspiracy theories about himself. He even joins Reddit with the sole purpose to reply to the “Who really killed JFK” thread with, “Probably me.” You know, like a normal person.
With that said, it's actually surprising that he is actually capable of being one. A normal person, that is.
While Shuri wasn't in the least bit perturbed by his search history - she had suggested the bulk of it - she draws the line at the newest focus of his hyperfixation: Tony Stark.
Latching onto the man had been an accident in some ways, a result of sheer concidence, in others.
Much like himself, Tony Stark was a man of several lives, and several legacies. First, as the genius playboy prince of Howard's Stark Industries to Iron Man. Tony had been everything from war peddler to superhero to a man just trying to do better, and the Soldier's fascination with him was hardly unusual.
Tony had entire communities dedicated to him, discussing everything from what he wore to guesses on what the next industry he'd revolutionize next. Whether it was talking about his social exploits or his business ones, his advancements in technology, or his effortless ability to piss off and entertain in equal measure by just breathing, Tony Stark was a polarizing figure.
Something the Solider understood.
"I get that," Shuri says with thinly veiled impatience. "That does not excuse you going 'hunting'."
Setting aside his newly cleaned gun before picking up another, and tossing the blood covered rag over his shoulder for later disposal, he doesn't respond. From the monitor, the princess' expression is unimpressed. Shrugging, he defends, "No one will miss them."
"That is far from the point." And, sighing, "Do I even want to know where you uncovered a plot to assasinate Tony?"
"The internet is a dark place," is his solemn response.
She deadpans, "Clearly." With a more aggravated exhale, "Probation means you don't kill anyone, you know."
"That don't deserve it," he amends.
Her expression is caught between a careful, blank mask of grudging agreement and amusement, before, she orders, "Clear your search history like an adult. And for god's sake, at the very least, use incognito mode on your web browsers."
With a placid smile and a salute of the gun he'd just cleaned, the princess signs off with a mutter of, "Don't want anyone to think you're some kind of serial killer or something." Which is hardly fair. His pardon said he'd gotten a clean slate. For all intents and purposes, three men hardly counts as a massacre.
When he does reach the legal definition of serial killer, which isn't difficult given the number of enemies Tony's acquired, Shuri makes a face. "I'm afraid to ask, but what did it count as before we got here?"
"A bad day."
Hopeless, she shakes her head. "You realize most people with internet crushes go in the completely opposite direction, right? Instead of hunting down their obsession's enemies, they usually go after their obsession themselves." A pause. "This isn't encouragement, by the way. You may be taking out some of Tony's trash, but I've met his kids. DUM-E will definitely find a way to poison you."
He grunts. "I don't have a crush."
"That's what you take issue with?" His expression makes her eyes roll. She shooes him away, "Go argue with a bot in the comment section or something."
So, he does. That he's managed to have opinions on the public record of Tony's life is neither here nor there, and Shuri can't be too upset with him.
(He cites his sources, uses the correct format, and everything. Shuri is convinced the Soldier could get a degree in Anthony Edward Stark.
"I don't have my GED."
"Again, that's what you take issue with?")
"It's incredible how you've killed people for him, know as much as you do enough to argue about him, and you've yet to see any of his thirst traps," the princess muses, not a little bit baffled.
It isn't even that Tony has a particular place to post such things, but she's seen the Soldier's search history. It's a miracle he hasn't accidentally seen Tony's ill-fated sex tapes.
Then, just as the thought enters her head, she thinks oh, fuck. No. No. No. And automates the clean up of the Soldier's search history immediately thereafter because absolutely fucking not. She may have signed on to ensure the Soldier wasn't out murdering people willy-nilly, but she'll be damned if she can't look a colonizer in the eye.
"I'd tell you just to talk to him," Shuri says, exhausted. "but I'm worried what the result of that would be."
"He wouldn't want to speak to me," the Soldier points out, grim but resigned.
"How would you know that?"
The Soldier's expression is blatantly offended, like anyone could possibly think he was dumb enough to forget his role in Tony's life between the years of his parents' murder and the "Civil War". It's not the Shuri isn't sympathetic, but between she and the Soldier, only one of them has actually spoken to the man in question.
Having known her well enough to know what her returning look conveys, he asks in a sigh, "Well, what would you suggest?"
The Soldier had to look up what "sliding into someone's DMs" meant, but because Tony didn't have social media - and it wasn't like his email was public knowledge - he settled for the connecting line of one of Tony's phones, manned by one of Tony's many robotic children.
"Didn't you say his kids could poison me?" he asked, incredulous.
Sniffing, Shuri retorted, "Then you better make a good impression."
After much deliberation and many deleted attempts - including a text that simply said "hello" like a nerd - he settles on a video. Or two, rather.
"You're cringing," the Soldier notes as he watches her watch his recording. He's got his shoulders to his ears, and his face feels so hot he's pretty sure he's going to pass away from embarrassment. He'd complain that she's only made him feel self-conscious in wanting to see what he'd sent Tony, but frankly he's glad for some feedback.
He'd already sent his messages to Tony himself, after all.
The princess sighs. "No, no, it's sincere. It's earnest. It's a lot of feelings, I am not comfortable having to witness because it makes me feel all squishy inside." He can practically hear the 'but', and she flashes him a smile. "But you meant what you said, and more than that, he knows that you're sorry and that's way more than anything he's gotten from the others."
It's the best endorsement the Soldier has, and his relief wooshes out of his chest in a huff.
Fond of his apparent nerves, the princess prompts, "What was in the second video?" And there's really no point in asking when she immediately starts playing it anyway, and deadpans, "You sent him a thirst trap."
"You said make it count," he argues.
Shuri sighs, "I hate you."