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Now Bucky was no saint. He was about as far away from it as one could get. Though he supposed most of those wrongs were less condemnable due to the whole brainwashing thing. He was past that now. He’d escaped. Their fault really for assuming he didn’t need to be frozen again. Just because he didn’t flinch when he killed his targets didn’t mean was mindless like he was meant to be. It just meant that he had a lot else on his mind. Like escaping.
Every man for themselves and all that crap.
HYDRA had certainly skewed his moral compass but Bucky was well aware of the laws (that was important for his HYDRA missions so frankly he was more aware of them than ever). SO the basics were easy, murder: wrong. Assault: wrong. Stealing: also wrong. The nuances of those actions fell into kind of gray areas and he was on the run from HYDRA so a couple illegal acts on top of his pile of many, many crimes was practically inconsequential.
So when he found himself in a fancy looking parking lot eyeing up a motorbike - Bucky knew what he should be doing.
Leaving.
However as he skipped up to the bike he knew was absolutely going to blame HYDRA for his next actions whether it be their influence or not. Whoever used to own the bike had left it there for at least a week, if not more, so really it was on them for neglecting their property.
Now standing before the bike he ran his hands over the leather. The smooth unburdened surface contrasted his own rough hands. It was really quite an intimate moment. Unfortunately Bucky picked up on someone calling in his general direction. The higher than necessary ceiling and wide expansive lot gave a nice echo to the voice. Well there was no guarantee the man was calling to Bucky so he didn’t have to look at them. With a sharp nod and no blemish to his conscience (this was nothing after murder) he swung his leg over the bike and sat nicely on its seat.
Unfortunately that brought his gaze to a rather angry man. They had practiced neat brown hair with an equally manicured goatee, dressed in a full suit, tie and all. Frankly not the outfit to wear on a motorcycle.
Bucky sighed before tuning into what the man was yelling at him.
“Hey asshole? The fuck do you think you’re doing?” The man spat out incredulously.
Leveled with Bucky’s most calm but very disappointed look he replied to the brown haired man, “I’m getting on my bike.”
His reply only seemed to cause the man to stutter. “Your bike? Your bike?” Now Bucky didn’t buy the bike originally but the poor baby hadn’t been ridden in a week and Bucky had a key for it so finders keepers or something. It was his now. It took a moment but the man seemed to have recomposed himself. “Buddy look, that’s my bike and if you could just.. get off it. I would appreciate it.” The words were delivered with a sharp and clearly pissed off grimace.
Bucky didn’t know how to break it to the man that the bike was in fact no longer his, as Bucky had staked his claim on the beautiful creation. So he let his disappointed look fall into a placating one. The kind you looked at a small child with when they were being particularly stubborn. “It’s okay.”
The man held out for a brief moment waiting to see if Bucky would add anything more to his short declaration. “What-, no it isn’t? You- you don’t own my motorbike man! Look,” the man fished into his pocket revealing a shiny silver key. “It’s mine .”
Holding his gaze evenly, resisting the part of him that wanted to roll his eyes, Bucky reached into his back pocket. Bucky then pulled out a key of his own which seemed to be an action the other man had been completely unprepared for. The key he now held was made from a bright pink plastic sort of material. It looked like he might’ve just plucked it from a child’s hands. He hadn’t. And that was made obvious when he slid the key seamlessly into it’s slot and, turning it, the engine magnificently roared. A giddy smile lit up Bucky’s face as he felt the bike hum beneath him.
“How-?” The other man questioned.
Bucky’s face morphed into a strange mix between that earlier placating look and an unembarrassed shit eating grin. “Sorry, really, I tried to tell you. But I should get going now.”
“Wait! No, seriously, you can’t just leave? I'll find you.”
Bucky felt rather doubtful at that, he had avoided HYDRA this long, some neglectful motorcycle owner was unlikely to top that. Even if HYDRA’s equipment always seemed to be at least a decade out of date. Apparently this must have shown on his face however as the other man continued calling back to him.
“You know who I am, right? You know it won’t be that hard for me to find you.” They said.
Bucky just blinked. He didn’t know who they were but they didn’t know who he was either. So Bucky just shrugged, readying to take off before the man walked over in front of the bike. That made him pause. Bucky had killed people who made less dumb decisions. Yeah, he was trying to be ‘better’ and yeah, the man thought he owned Bucky’s new motorcycle but running them over might be a bit far? Still, road accidents happen all the time, this would hardly be out of the norm. Still he hesitated, the man couldn’t help being a little dumb.
The man seemed surprised by his lack of an answer, “you do know who I am right?”
“That didn’t seem necessary for claiming my bike,” said Bucky
“That’s now what I meant. Surely you know who I am, Tony Stark? And for god’s sake that isn’t your bike.”
Bucky wondered if this was what customer service employees felt when dealing with particularly difficult customers. Though the last name did spark something in the back of his mind, he could safely regard Tony Stark’s question with a, “no.”
That seemed to stump the man as he was clearly expecting a response in the positive. In the man’s bewildered state it was quite easy for Bucky to rev the engine one last time, shout, “it was wonderful to meet you,” and skirt around the unmoving rich man.
Stark’s call of, “Hey-, wait man!” Went unacknowledged as Bucky sped up and let out a cry of delight and a following cackle.