Chapter Text
It was there in the dead of night that these streets, though abandoned, had constant slinking shadows. Large neon signs hung both low and high, humming inconsistent tunes as they flickered with the struggle to stay alive. Long, thick wires connected every building, every person, every life to one another. Some were frayed and hanging, lightly swaying in the breeze of powerful iron fans that were consistent in every factory. It was a city that never slept. Not easily, anyway.
This was Iron City, plagued by disease and violence, never quite the safe place it tried to be. War had that effect across every century, in every world. While there were no monsters, hardly anyone was fully human. And if you were, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Zalem quite literally floated above it all, and no one was ever lucky enough to see what the sky looked like from that high up.
Somewhere, in the slick darkness of the cobbled, trash-haven alleyways, a screen flickered to life.
<Processing request…>
. . .
<Request granted; transferring resources…>
. . .
<Resource transfer complete.>
. . .
<How do you wish to proceed?>
Bucky startled awake with a groan and a monstrous headache pounding at his skull. He braced his hand against his forehead, trying to rub the pain away but to no avail. What the hell happened last night? He remembers drinking with Steve and the other Avengers, and then… nothing. Everything was black from that point onward. That Asgardian liquor was hella strong stuff. He was starting to think maybe he needed to give Thor more credit.
His skin was oddly damp, and he wondered if he’d actually overdone it with the alcohol. He didn’t think such a thing was possible but then again he also never thought he’d get drunk again in his life, and judging by his migraine-in-the-making, he most definitely had. He blinked his eyes open, wincing at brightly colored neon lights that violated his sensitive eyes. Since when did Stark…? No. That wasn’t right. With a jolt, Bucky sat up despite how his vision swam with black spots as he did.
Stark didn’t have any neon lights. He took in his surroundings. Strange alley, just before midnight if the color of the sky was to be believed. On wobbling legs, he stood and braced himself against the nearest wall. It was damp to the touch, everything smelling of piss, vomit, and trash. All life, supposing there was any, was eerily quiet despite what he assumed was the everlasting hum of machinery all around him.
Was this a dream? He pinched himself and winced. Not a dream. He peered out of the alleyway into the main street to find it utterly deserted. This would worry him, especially considering everything looked to be in some state of disrepair or another, if not for the fact that the disrepair looked oddly maintained. Like a rusty and sun-dried old truck that, despite the damaged and mottled exterior, had all-new parts on the inside and a powerful engine that thrummed healthily with life. This meant that people did live here, or at least they did until just recently (for all he knew), which also meant Bucky was not safe to let his guard down just yet.
He looked to the sky again to see if the stars were visible enough through all the light pollution for him to discern where he may be (if the time of year was consistent with how he left it, that is. God, he hoped). This was the precise moment he discovered that just above him, there was a… UFO? It wasn’t exactly flying, per se, but it was an unidentified object. Bucky took a breath to regain his composure. Now was not the time to lose his cool. He studied its architecture closely, noticing with his enhanced eyes in the dim lighting that it was not a spacecraft of any kind.
It was huge, just a few thousand square miles short of being the size of a megacity. As he scrutinized it longer, he noticed the main body was circular with a thick outer band connected evenly by bridges. Looking through the gap between the band and the main body, he discovered that megacity hadn’t been a far-off descriptor if the skyscrapers he could just barely see were any indicator. On the outer band there were four tubes descending steadily to the ground at an angle. They clearly weren’t sturdy enough to be what held it up and he surmised they were perhaps transport tubes for cargo. In the middle of the main city, there was a giant tube going straight down that was severed over halfway up. The metal was almost frayed-looking as it splintered outward and down in sharp, uneven twists. Huh, Bucky thought, a little dazed, looks kinda like when Stark blasted off my arm. He shivered.
Vaguely, he noticed his headache rapidly fading. He continued to gawk at the sight before him. By all intents and purposes, he guessed what he was looking at was… a floating city. Like Sokovia, his brain helpfully supplied. Though this looked much more purposeful in its position, unmoving as it was in the sky. The air must be thin up there. He looked back down at himself, noting how odd it was that he was in his Winter Soldier gear. He found he didn’t care. They couldn’t control him anymore, and his clothes were by far the least odd thing to happen currently.
It was about now that he belatedly realized that he hadn’t fully checked his vicinity to see if he was alone. He was made aware of this fact when there was a soft whimper from behind him. In a flash, he’d turned on his heel to reach for the knife by his hip, only to be startled by the appearance of two blonde teenagers. Slowly, he straightened up. There was a boy and a girl. The whimper had come from the girl, whose blonde hair was braided into two buns by the nape of her neck, neatly held in red ribbons. Her fringe hung over her face as she leaned forward while pressing the heel of her gloved palm into her forehead, so he couldn’t get a good look at her face. He could see that her lips were twisted in a grimace. Headache too, he supposed.
She was dressed in a very fancy white dress that fell just below her knees. It had adjacent crisscrossing leather strips curving around her hips and torso on either side and continuing down the length of her skirt. Over her dress, she wore a long-sleeved cropped navy overcoat with a triangular collar that was neatly ironed on flat and held tight with clasps on each side. The coat was clasped with a leather strap that went loosely under one of her breasts and buckled neatly in the center. Her sleeves gave the impression of Victorian-era gigot sleeves if they were significantly smaller in the upper arm puffs. The gigot had a split down the middle on both sides to reveal the cream frills of her dress underneath, and the bottom of that split had a tiny marigold bow on either side. Both of her hands were covered with fitted brown leather gloves. Tied around her neck and tucked into the opening of her jacket was a lacy cravat and over that was a large emerald brooch that sparkled in the colors of the neon lights.
He looked at her shoes, noticing they were tall with strong heels and laced leather that went so high up her legs that they disappeared under her dress. All in all, she didn’t look like much of a threat, though he knew not to judge her by her appearance. Distantly he mused that it was a very pretty dress that his sisters may’ve appreciated back in the day, if not terribly old-fashioned and blatantly out of place from the rest of the scenery. Currently, she was sitting sideways on her shins with one hand pressed into the grimy cobbles for support. Bucky decided she’d probably just regained consciousness.
Turning his gaze to the boy, he saw that he was dressed much simpler than the girl in a fitted, hooded tank top with black skinny jeans and combat boots. He was also very clearly made up of almost entirely cybernetic parts. Definitely a threat. Bucky’s hand went back to his knife, not drawing it but also not daring to pull his hand away just yet. The boy was sitting criss-cross with a very focused expression on his (noticeably handsome, suspiciously flawless) face. He could see the glowing of his superficial eyes through his eyelids, data flying in a linear pattern too fast for Bucky to read.
Perhaps these people were not enemies, though he wouldn’t be getting his hopes up. Straightening his defensive posture, he cleared his throat. The girl's head snapped up, looking at him with wild blue eyes. She said something he did not understand. It sounded like it should be German, but he could speak German and knew that this was not it. It felt identical, nonetheless.
He blinked, “Do you speak English?” That felt like the safest question to ask.
Pulling her hand away from her forehead, she looked at him warily, subtly adjusting the way she was sitting in case she needed to jump away at a moment’s notice. He reevaluated his threat-level perception of her; she was more aware than she seemed. She continued to look at him, not saying anything, so he repeated the question.
She wet her lips, nibbling on one anxiously. Bucky realized with a jolt that she was startlingly young. He estimated her age to be somewhere between fourteen and eighteen, which was a big difference but it wasn’t clear. She was definitely young, though.
Eventually, she said nothing at all but nodded in a show of understanding and affirmation. She moved to stand on wobbly legs and he reached forward to help her stand. She flinched before hesitantly accepting the help. He needed to change threat levels again, he thought as he held her hands in his. There was no give to them like normal flesh. They were metal, much like his own left one which was clearly visible. No wonder she was hesitant around him if that wasn’t already how she usually acted. Bucky couldn’t be certain.
At the intake of breath, he looked back at her. Thereafter he realized he was still loosely gripping her hands and quickly dropped them, taking a step back so he wasn’t in her space.
“Are you an enemy soldier?” She asked lowly, in a voice that was just as light and soft as the rest of her, prosthetic hands not included.
Bucky raised his eyebrows, “I don’t know. What constitutes an enemy?”
“Allied soldiers,” She answered bitterly. Odd. Those were World War terms. He would know, as a former Allied soldier. He was going to milk the ‘former’ part for what it was worth, for now.
Deciding to word it as carefully as he could to not be a lie, he replied, “Not currently one of those, no.”
With a jerky nod and a nervous swallow, she looked him in the eyes, “My name is Violet Evergarden,” She— Violet— said with startling surety, “What may I call you?”
“Bucky,” He answered cryptically, not yet prepared to give her his full identity until he’d scoped out the whole situation. Violet nodded again, looking over her shoulder to the other boy who had finally opened his eyes. They glowed molten gold.
He looked at Bucky and Violet with an analytic gaze, hard and calculating, “地元の人ですか?” (Jimoto no hito desu ka?)
Violet looked confused. Clearly English and Not-German were her only two languages. She looked at Bucky questioningly. Probably hoping he could tell her what was just said, even though there was no way she knew what languages he spoke.
“He asked if we’re locals,” He translated for her. He saw the boy open and close his mouth at their use of English. He certainly hadn’t been listening to their prior conversation and did not know that they spoke a different language from him. Either that or he was surprised that he found himself in a place where an entirely different language was spoken. Bucky would place bets on either option, as he knew the feeling well.
Violet took a moment to think about that, looking around at her surroundings before looking to Bucky and shaking her head ‘no’, eyes wondrously wide at all the technology, “Same here,” He mumbled before turning back to the boy and speaking louder, “No, neither of us are local.”
The boy nodded. Bucky counted his lucky stars that everybody here spoke English, though it fed his theory that maybe this third person wasn’t human at all.
“I am also not from here,” He said in perfect English, looking grim and stern-faced, “My scanners detect that our coordinates are located somewhere in Latin America. I’ve compared my specs with those of local servers and can determine that the information is completely mismatched. If the data is to be believed, we are in a place called Iron City in the year 2533 A.D.”
Violet sucked in a breath and Bucky blinked, brows furrowing skeptically, “And you know this… how, exactly?”
“Remote information processors,” He said blankly, “I am able to calibrate my systems to be compatible with any and all technology in any given location in case of emergencies.”
“Uh-huh,” Bucky said dimly, “And you are?”
Looking momentarily stricken, he hastily replied, “Forgive me for my rudeness. I am Genos, with the Hero Association,” And then Genos looked oddly sad, “Which… does not exist here, given the records dug up, though I figure you know what that means…?” He looked briefly like a kicked puppy, and Bucky figured maybe he was just a cyborg and not a robot.
“Yeah, yeah kid, I do,” He said gruffly, “I’m a hero, too. Name’s Bucky,” He nodded to Violet, who looked too overwhelmed to really remember the manners she had earlier, “This is Violet.”
Genos nodded once, looking like a soldier taking orders and that comparison sat very wrong with Bucky. The teen looked between Bucky and Violet, “Do you two know each other? Is she a hero too?”
“We just met,” Bucky supplied, shaking his head.
“He-ro…?” Violet said faintly, which both Bucky and Genos knew to take as a solid ‘no’ to the second question. She looked very lost.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky assured, which did its job of making her shoulders lower a bit. He mentally patted himself on the back.
“Are you with the Association?” Genos asked, tilting his head.
He made an ‘eh…’ expression on his face, “Don’t have one of those, sorry.”
The teen looked to be thinking about his options. It made Bucky feel a tad bit better to know they were all equally lost in this situation and completely unsure of where to go from there.
“So,” Bucky said, very conversationally, “I’m getting the strange feeling that we’re all not from here in more of a sense than just country of origin.”
Genos and Violet both nodded, looking varying levels of pained when Genos spoke, “I’ve gathered much the same. From land maps to the calendar, I am in a different time and place than I originated.”
“What year?”
“2016,” Genos said. Violet was looking increasingly pale. Bucky placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on her back, rubbing small circles. If he guessed right she was probably from a time earlier than them, however mentally and physically she was the youngest, and therefore probably the most ill-equipped for this situation. She sagged into his hand only the slightest bit.
“2019,” Bucky answered back, looking at Violet as gently as he could manage (which was no easy task, in all the time that had gone by), giving her an imploring gaze that he hoped conveyed that she didn’t have to tell them anything she didn’t want to. He could feel the tremor of her heart through her ribcage.
“N-n…” She stuttered, eyes frantic and watery, “1922.”
He nodded, even though Genos looked surprised. Bucky spoke in a soft whisper, the way he’d always managed to calm down the girls back when he was on loan to the Red Room, “Hey if it makes you feel better, I’m a lot older than I look.”
Violet gave him a puzzled look through her impending tears. He always thought it was funny that the best way to get someone out of a freak-out was to say something so random or outlandish that it confused them enough to make them literally forget why they were upset.
“I was born in 1917,” He says in a stage whisper. If Genos was surprised before, now he looked like his eyes were about to bug out of his head. Which was saying something because Bucky got the impression this kid didn’t have the widest facial range. Violet looked surprised but her tears dissipated as he asked, “What about you?” Maybe he was trying to subtly figure out how old she was, too.
She shrugged meekly, “The Major always guessed it was sometime around 1904.”
The mention of a Major reminded him of her earlier statement about Allied Soldiers. If his math was right, she was only ten years old when the war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia had started, but…
“Hey, Violet,” He prompted, waiting until she looked at him again, “Did you fight in the First World War?”
Genos watched them but stayed dutifully silent for the exchange. Violet leaned away from him slightly, and his hand slipped away. She tilted her head as if she needed a better look at his eyes, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Only too late did he realize his mistake, quickly amending, “The Great War. The War to End All Wars.”
Violet studied him briefly before nodding wordlessly, chewing her lip again, and looking away, “When I was ten, the soldiers of the Leidenschaftlich army found me as the lone survivor of an attack,” She paused, nervous, and Bucky hoped she didn’t think she was inclined to tell them anything, “I had killed several of their soldiers, and since they didn’t know what to do with me, they had me join their ranks.”
It was just as bad as he’d feared. A child soldier fighting in a war against adults. A little girl stuck fighting grown men probably three times her size. He felt like he was going to be sick, could feel the bile climbing his throat, but did his best to say nothing and keep his turmoil off his face. She didn’t need to know what his opinion on that was, lest it burn the bridges they so desperately needed right now. And her arms—
As the silence started to stew, he could see a conflicted expression forming on her face as she started thinking. She sat straighter after a moment, looking him in the eyes, which were so blue, just like Steve’s— God, Steve, where was he, even? How the hell was Bucky going to get home? Did Steve notice his absence? He hoped this was some odd scenario that once it was over, he’d return to the exact time he’d left. Save Steve the emotional turmoil of losing Bucky all over again, and his own guilt for going missing again. God, he wanted to go home. To be held. He felt the sudden, aching urge to cry right alongside Violet.
Violet put a gentle hand on his chest, pressing against his manubrium just hard enough to pull him out of his head. Her eyes flickered back and forth between his, before she stated softly, “The First World War… implies there will be a second.”
He sighed, “Yes, there is. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
She shook her head, “No, I’m glad to know. I won’t have to fight in it,” Violet said, flexing her gloved hands, “Did you fight in the second one?” She asked, unprompted.
“I… did,” He said after a moment, wondering why the events of their conversation turned in this direction and trying to figure out how to get them back on track.
“Which country?” She added, although it could mean anything. Which country did you fight for? Which country started it? Which country was really to blame? He chose to answer the first option, it was the easiest.
“The United States,” He looked away. He couldn’t hold her gaze any more. This little girl was stronger than him. And he knew he wasn’t exactly on her side, with how she saw things. Genos had stopped listening at some point and started doing something else. Hopefully related to solving this whole mess.
“So you are an Allied soldier,” Violet said, and it sounded less like the accusation he thought it would be and more of an ‘I knew it.’
“Well,” He disagreed placatingly, “Not anymore. The war ended.” Without me. He didn’t say. I never got to go home. He also didn’t say. Because she knew what that meant. And he knew that if she knew he’d stayed a soldier, she still may have a hard time trusting him, which was not what the three of them needed. It was hard for soldiers to trust people who had once tried to kill them. The feeling was mutual. Even though there really were no hard feelings, except for the ones war propaganda tried to drill into their heads, it didn’t change what happened.
Briefly, he thought about the ‘Private Snafu’ Dr. Suess cartoons he’d been made to watch in basic training all those years ago. Those were technically propaganda. He wondered if what he was doing right now would’ve fallen under anything he was taught not to do. He couldn’t be sure. And he didn’t care. The point was; that foundations built on lies were weak ones, but Bucky hoped that they either weren’t here long enough to matter or they were here long enough that they didn’t need to worry about old lies because they knew better. The latter of those two was only favorable amongst all the others in the realm of oh, God, we’re stuck here forever.
As if Violet could hear his thoughts, she ghosted a hand over her brooch, a clear nervous habit. He followed suit by twirling his wedding band on his finger, his second, quieter monologue in the back of his head still chanting a mantra of Steve. He hated being this on edge. He hated being helpless in the grand scheme of things. The universe always seemed to like pulling the rug out from under him the moment the ground settled beneath him. It liked making him feel small, reminding him he was small. And there was nothing he could do to stop any of it. He couldn’t blame the universe, either. He knew he wasn’t actually important enough to be singled out by a celestial body of all things, even if it sometimes felt like it.
‘An ant has no quarrel with a boot,’ He remembers Clint saying when he told him the story about Loki as a means to calm Bucky down from an episode when Steve wasn’t there. We are the ants, He thought with no amusement. He was pretty sure that was the title of a book.
Genos cleared his throat, and both Violet and Bucky looked at him, “It is time for us to start organizing.”
Bucky nodded, and Violet listened without stepping any closer. There was probably a lot she still hadn’t said, and he thought maybe right now it was running around in her head with sentience hoping she’d unlock the door, knowing she wouldn’t. She needed space, she was just giving it to herself in the wrong way.
“Let’s start with what we were doing before we ended up here. It was sudden for all of us, right?” He looked between Violet and Genos and nodded when they did.
“We had just gotten back to Gilbert’s cottage, drying off on the couch,” From what, Violet didn’t say. Bucky vaguely wondered who Gilbert was, since it was the first name she’d given him that alluded she did have people she cared about. Maybe Gilbert and the Major knew each other.
Genos nodded, clearly making a digital mental map of these details. Bucky spoke next, “I had been drinking with my husband and friends, celebrating my a hundred and second birthday,” He said, before adding sheepishly, “I think I passed out?”
Violet looked at him sharply, but with a blank face and said nothing. He couldn’t tell if it was the husband part or the I’m one hundred and two part that startled her. Maybe both. Maybe he shouldn’t have said those things around people he still wasn’t sure were safe. Briefly, he wondered if it was still his birthday. Was it even still March? He found it didn’t matter to him.
Genos continued to document their answers, seeming unphased, “I was sitting on my futon drinking tea while Saitama-Sensei was reading manga.”
Bucky thought that arrangement was curious, specifically the part where Genos’s supposed teacher was anywhere near Genos while Genos was sitting in bed. But what did he know? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t ask.
The boy furrowed his eyebrows, probably mentally reviewing their answers side by side or however, the hell that worked.
He hummed, finally, “We were all in a state of rest when it happened,” Genos finally said.
That made sense in a way he couldn’t really explain with words to himself or anyone who asked, but he still understood nonetheless. Violet pulled off her gloves, revealing gleaming metal hands that almost looked skeletal with how delicate they were.
“We’re all missing arms,” Violet said, touch too literal.
Bucky looked at her, “Arms, as in, you’re missing your whole arm?” He asked. The distinction felt necessary to him.
She nodded, drawing a line with her fingers on one of her arms to show where her real arm ended and her metal one began, “It’s the same on both sides.”
Genos tilted his head, “So your arms are fully cybernetic, then. Since you can move them despite your original arm joint being no longer present.”
Violet looked confused, and if Bucky assumed right it was because she had no idea what the word ‘cybernetic’ meant. He leaned down and whispered, “He means your arms are wired to respond to your brain,” Her mouth formed a small ‘O’ of understanding before she nodded that, yes, that was the case.
Genos turned to Bucky, “You, too,” He said, nodding to Bucky’s vibranium arm (recently fitted with nanotech as a birthday present from Stark) which he’d been moving this whole time. Bucky just gave a half smile. He didn’t need to say anything.
“That means we’re all cyborgs,” Genos eventually said, “If it was a regular prosthetic, then you two would just be regular amputees. But having machinery wired to your brain officially makes you cyborgs.”
“So, you are a cyborg, then?” Bucky felt the need to confirm. The importance of his ‘cyborg-or-robot’ theory had hit the back burner, but he still felt the need to ask.
“...Yes,” Genos said slowly, as if it was obvious. Maybe to him, it was, since he spent all his time in what he knew was a human brain, but it really wasn’t. The ‘skin’ on his face was obviously some kind of silicon, his eyes were black with glowing gold irises, his hair was clearly synthetic, and the rest of him was all metal. It was really not that obvious. Bucky told him as much.
“Okay,” He eventually said, “State of rest, cyborgs. What else?”
The teen boy thought back to all their previous conversations as Violet leaned into Bucky’s shoulder, yawning. It was a very contagious thing. He was tired, too. It’s been a very exhausting— he looked to the sky, which had started to lighten overhead— several hours, give or take.
“We’re all combatants of some kind,” Genos said, “Heroes and soldiers,” He looked between the two, who probably both looked equally sleepy, “And I’m assuming highly specialized ones, too.”
Bucky blinked lethargically, “You sayin’ someone brought us here from other dimensions because they wanted us’ta fight somebody?” As he started to slur his words into a more Brooklyn drawl, he realized just how tired he was. Whatever nap he’d woken up from when he got here clearly hadn’t been very long. Which if that were the case, he’s been awake for almost two days straight. His birthday party had been very chaotic.
Genos shrugged weakly.
Before Bucky could open his mouth to reply, there was a new machine sound that started up over all the other ones that he’d gotten used to hearing in the background. The three of them looked over to where an old, box computer with plastic white casings suddenly booted up. It was especially old now, considering what year it was. He wasn’t sure whether he’d have seen this as odd or not if hadn’t been for three things.
- The computer was lying slanted against trash in a giant puddle of water
- The cord to it was strewn curled and astray to the side of the computer, not plugged into anything
- That computer had most definitely not been there when Bucky had originally surveyed his surroundings
Cautiously, he went to walk over, putting a hand on Violet’s shoulder to keep her from tilting over as he moved away from her weight leaning against him. She sighed sleepily and watched him with drowsy eyes as he walked over to the computer and crouched in front of it. It was a Dell desktop, which somehow made sense to him. There were a lot of things that had been making sense to him for no reason today.
<Transferring Data…>
Bucky made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, suddenly getting a very, very bad feeling about this. At his verbal display, Violet and Genos both started cautiously making their way over to him to crouch on either side of him and peer over his shoulder.
. . .
<Data Transfer Complete.>
. . .
<Do you wish to proceed?>
[...|]
. . .
He stared at the blinking cursor for what was probably a little bit too long. Proceed with what? This felt like some kind of contract, almost. That if he typed in yes, they’d all be doomed into whatever they were proceeding with. His mind ran with all the possibilities. Violet nudged the back of his neck under where his hair was loosely tied in a bun. She still hadn’t put her gloves back on. Her fingers were cold. A shiver ran through his spine for a completely different reason. His fear always turned into ice. It was no secret why.
Bucky turned just enough to catch Genos’s eye from his peripheral vision. His glowing eyes kept flitting across every aspect of the screen like he was trying to find the nonexistent fine print he missed somewhere. Like this really was a contract, and they were severely lacking in lawyers. Too bad he couldn’t exactly call Nelson and Murdock right now. He doubted even Stark’s data plan covered dimension travel. Genos finally looked at him, giving the slightest and most imperceptible nod. He got the go-ahead, but he was afraid that if he actually went ahead, there’d be no more going back. And fuck, did he want to go back.
Numbly, he noticed a janky white keyboard sticking out of the garbage bag the computer was half on top of. He grabbed it with his metal hand, setting it down without trying to plug it in. If the computer didn’t need it, then why the hell would the keyboard? He typed slowly, methodically, hoping to drag out their inevitable dooms as much as possible in hopes that a way out would show itself in the time it took him to type three letters.
[Yes|]
Even after he’d typed in the word, he hesitated on hitting the enter button. The cursor kept blinking, consistently paced like a heartbeat. As if this computer was a living, breathing thing, and it was telling him he could still go back. But he wanted answers, too. He wanted to be able to think more positively like Steve had always been trying to get him to do. He wanted to look on the bright side of the cloud, where he’d be able to see the silver lining. And, this’ll sound dumb, but he’s afraid that if he looks on the bright side, it’ll just hurt his eyes. Also, he thought, briefly looking at the still dark sky, the sun isn’t even up yet. Only lights around here were artificial and there’s no vitamin D to be gained from that bright side. Fuck.
He breathed in until he felt his lungs were full, held it, and then breathed in the tiniest bit more before letting it go. He looked at Violet for a moment, who was staring at the screen without any idea what was going on. And Genos gave him permission. If anybody knows what’s going on, it’s cyborg-maybe-robot boy.
He hit enter.
Nothing happened.
The world didn’t end, the skies didn’t collapse (which is good, he thought, remembering the whole city that was floating there), the planets didn’t collide. Nobody died. Nothing happened. They were fine.
. . .
<Welcome. Barnes, James Buchanan. Codename Winter Soldier.>
And fuck, if he didn’t speak too goddamn soon. Neither Violet nor Genos made a comment about him being named after a president, so either they didn’t know or didn’t care and he figured both of those were good things.
<You are one of three who have been selected for a mission.>
And fuck, if he didn’t hate missions. He hated the word mission. It made sense why he was wearing his Winter Soldier gear, though. If with less buckles and straps, so he could actually get in and out of it on his own unlike how HYDRA had originally designed it for his own dehumanizing humiliation. The computer continued to list all his skills, achievements, good personality traits, and what have you. All the reasons he was chosen and why he was qualified. He hated it. Especially with Violet and Genos peering over his shoulder reading all of it.
. . .
<1 out of 3 items completed>
. . .
Items. Like they were fucking objects to be used. He wanted to scream. And cry. And curl into a ball in the corner for Steve to find and reassemble him piece by piece like a broken toy. Because toys were objects, and they got used and they got broken and when they weren’t needed anymore they were left to rot.
. . .
<Welcome. Evergarden, Violet. Codename Soldier Maiden of Leidenschaftlich.>
Violet said nothing, only leaning harder into his right shoulder and muffling a yawn by his ear, resting her chin there. Bucky thinks, distantly, that he and Violet have so much in common, and yet somehow she’s still dealing with it monumentally better than him. He looked at her accomplishments. If she hadn’t already seen his, he would’ve looked away out of respect. But the bitter, petty side of him thought it was only fair.
Entire units of soldiers she killed single-handedly at the age of fucking twelve with her bare hands and the butt end of a gun. She didn’t even have to shoot them with the gun. She just knew where to strike perfectly with the blunt edge of a weapon. He thought of Natalia, what she would say, as a child soldier. He thinks maybe she’d be as displeased as he is.
. . .
<2 out 3 items completed>
. . .
<Welcome. Genos. Codename Demon Cyborg.>
Out of surprise, he laughed, “Demon Cyborg? That’s almost as bad as my friend Tony who uses the name Iron Man.”
He could’ve sworn that Genos blushed despite his silicon skin, “I didn’t choose it.”
A pit settled in his stomach, heavy enough to push the air of his laughter right out of his lungs, effectively silencing it, “Yeah. Me neither,” He said solemnly. He doubted any of them chose it. Because why the hell would they choose this? None of them focused on the words on the screen anymore, listing Genos’s achievements and all that made him good for the job. They only started paying attention again when it stopped.
. . .
<3 out of 3 items completed>
. . .
<Reconfiguring…>
. . .
<Randesvous Point; Dr. Ido’s Clinic>
. . .
<Objective; Assist [Alita]. Exterminate [Nova].>
. . .
<Limitations; Guns are outlawed in Iron City.>
. . .
Bucky cursed his luck.
. . .
<You are not free until this city is free of [Nova’s] rule.>
. . .
That pit that had been in Bucky’s stomach earlier felt like it’d just gained ten pounds. They all sat in silence as it washed over them that they were stuck here unless they did as was asked of them. Until they killed some guy— dictator, person— that they didn’t know. They were so royally fucked.
Violet leaned over Bucky’s shoulder to look at Genos, “Do you know where Dr. Ido’s Clinic is?” She asked softly, genuinely, innocently.
“My scanners pulled up a map a millisecond after processing the information,” Genos replied.
Which was hilarious because he still hadn’t processed any of the information himself. His brain just sputtered and failed every time it reviewed the words like it was unable to comprehend them. Like he couldn’t speak English. Translating them to Russian just served to make him feel like the Asset again. And this situation made him truly feel like that was all he was good for. If even some greater being recognized that and was making him do it again, then it must be true, right?
“I might kill Dr. Ido when we get there,” He said darkly as he stood up, helping Violet to her feet even as his own legs felt like static fuzz. He hated doctors.
Genos looked at Bucky sternly, “No unnecessary deaths. I assume Dr. Ido and his medical center are the safest place for us to stay, which means keeping him alive is in our best interests if not also the morally correct action.”
If looks could kill, he mused, Genos would have died with the glare Bucky shot him. He’d just gotten those stupid codes out of his head— He got to marry the man he loved! His best friend! He’d been fully pardoned under the crimes he’d committed during his time as the Winter Soldier and his life had just started turning around, and then… then somebody had to toss a fucking boulder into the still water in the lake of his mind. The waves crashing against his skull threatened to bring his headache back.
The walk to Dr. Ido’s was short and Bucky grumbled the whole way there, making sure his displeasure was known. Violet was tired to the point that she ended up linking her arm with his and leaning heavily into his back as they walked. With all that was going on, he found that having a tired teenage girl using him as a crutch actually made it slightly better. It was comfortable. Familiar. His sisters used to do the same thing. The short trip was enough to show him how strange and potentially dangerous this new place was, with giant metal robots patrolling the streets threatening to roll out cease and desist on your life.
While he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he knew Violet was capable of defending herself, and despite that, he still had this deep, paternal, brotherly urge to keep her safe from all these new dangers. It was strange and new to him, feeling like this for someone he didn’t know. But he was comfortable in the familiarity of when he did it in the past, with Steve and his sisters. This was a dangerous situation, and he’d be ready to protect these kids the moment it came down to it.
By the time they’d gotten to Dr. Ido’s, the sky was a dreary gray that showed the sun was close to peaking over the horizon. There was a thin, older man pacing out front while wringing his clasped hands. He looked frazzled. And maybe overworked. As they got closer, he suddenly stopped in his effort to wear a deep groove into the pavement. He looked at the three of them with wide eyes and a slack jaw, before he seemed to remember himself and shook his head. Bucky watched him with careful eyes, wondering what he was up to.
The man stared at them for a second long before hurriedly walking over. Bucky’s hand immediately reached for his knife, hackles rising. The man noticed and didn’t deign to get any closer, staying a good two feet away. Nice instincts.
“I was warned you would be coming,” The man said without any preamble, straightening his glasses on his nose, “I just hoped it wasn’t true.”
Genos stepped a little bit further ahead of the group, “Are you the man we were supposed to meet?”
He sighed, “Why, yes, I suppose so. Dr. Daisuke Ido, I would say it’s a pleasure but I’m still not certain of that. And you all are?”
“Did they not tell you our names?” Genos asked, voice mirroring Bucky’s own surprise. Haltingly, he finally dropped his hand away from the knife holster at his side. He didn’t think he’d be needing it.
Dr. Ido shook his head, “I’m afraid not. All I was told was that reinforcements were being sent for Alita.”
“Oh,” Genos said smartly, “My name is Genos. The others are Violet and Bucky.”
He nodded, walking towards the clinic and gesturing for them to follow. Just as he unlocked the door, he blurted out, “She won’t let you.”
Bucky watched as Genos’s brows furrowed, “Won’t let us what?” This caused Bucky to briefly wonder if Genos was actually as smart as he’d originally thought because the meaning of that had been pretty clear to him. Exchanging a look with Violet, she agreed with him.
“Help. She won’t let you help her. Alita,” Dr. Ido said in a rush as he held the door open for each of them to come inside, walking in after them.
Despite Bucky’s horrible history with doctors, the clinic was not at all what he thought it’d be like. Nothing was white or sterile looking. It was homey, spacious, and smelled vaguely like fresh-cut oranges. He let his shoulders relax minutely. No one with a needle was going to strap him to a table. He was fine. Everything was fine.
Nobody said anything to quell Dr. Ido’s concerns. Instead, the man changed the subject, “I take it you’re not from around here?” He asked, eyeing their clothes.
“You could say that,” Bucky responded gruffly, scratching his cheek.
Dr. Ido studied him for a moment, pursing his lips. It made Bucky feel itchy and insecure, still an ant, and one that was stuck under a magnifying glass. The man looked at all three of them, then, “Does not from around here happen to mean dimension hopping or time travel, perhaps?”
“Yep,” Bucky said with a sigh, watching as Violet walked over to the nearest chair and collapsed into it limply like a sack of potatoes. None of them paid her any mind.
The doctor nodded, “Alita won’t be home for another few hours. We might as well pass the time. May I take a look at your arm, if you don’t mind?” He half-heartedly gestured to Bucky’s arm.
“No,” Bucky gritted out, harsher than necessary. He grabbed his arm and held it protectively to his chest. Having someone take a look always meant being poked and prodded, and he wasn’t a damn science experiment. Not anymore.
“I’ll stop if you don’t like anything I’m doing,” Dr. Ido assured as if he could read minds. Bucky sure hoped not. He has enough people up there already, thanks, “Nurse Gerhad isn’t in yet, so it’ll be just me.”
Bucky watched Genos walk away, presumably to find a blanket for Violet who was now fast asleep. If that wasn’t what he was doing, Bucky would be supremely disappointed. He looked over at the doctor skeptically but found nothing but kind eyes and a gentle smile. That, alongside the white hair, glasses, and wrinkles, with a white lab coat that hung loosely around a threadbare baby blue shirt and beige khaki pants, reminded him of how Steve always described Dr. Erskine. Now he understood why Steve always said he just immediately felt like he could trust the man. The comparison made him want to do the same, despite the lab coat.
Chewing his lip, he eventually said, “Fine,” And followed the doctor over to a white reclined chair that was probably the closest this clinic came to being sterile. It put his nerves on edge, but when he saw there were no straps or needles in sight, he willed himself to calm down. Dr. Ido looked at him for a moment before Bucky finally lent his arm over for the man to look at.
Humming, he turned it this way and that, briefly looking at Bucky’s face over the frames of his glasses before turning his attention back, “How did you lose your arm?”
“Fell,” He said, looking straight ahead at the wall and studying the cracks in the masonry.
“I’m going to need you to be more specific. Did you fall down the stairs?” Dr. Ido asked jokingly, a small smirk at the corner of his lips conveying it wasn’t a genuine question.
Bucky sighed, “I fell out of a train,” Never mind that it was less of a fall and more of an ‘I got blasted through the closed door of a speeding train down into rocky cliffs.’
“And?” He prompted, testing the bend of each of Bucky’s joints; how far they went, and how smoothly the plates slid against one another. He looked vaguely awed as he did so.
“The train was on the top of a ravine and I hit rocks on my way down. Severed my arm.”
Dr. Ido raised an eyebrow, “And you survived that?”
Clearly, he thought with no small amount of sarcasm, “The snow at the bottom cushioned my fall,” Bucky said, knowing that wasn’t the whole reason why but was unwilling to make this man aware of the supersoldier serum. It didn’t matter how kind his eyes looked; that technology was not allowed to fall into the wrong hands. He of all people knows exactly what happens when it does.
He hummed appraisingly, “Any scarring?”
“Lots. Spiderweb scarring all along my chest and shoulder blade,” That information was probably more than he would’ve given on any regular basis, but he supposed this man wouldn’t do anything with it, so it didn’t hurt for him to know.
“What is it from? That doesn’t sound like the kind of scars you’d get from a fall,” Dr. Ido said, doing Bucky the favor of avoiding looking at his face. It made him feel like he wasn’t being studied for every expression he’d pull when giving his answers. Made it easier for him to answer the questions when he didn’t need to worry about eye contact. It especially helped that it was just one man and not a team of guards and scientists.
Bucky licked his lips nervously, mouth feeling dry, “When I got my first arm, they welded it to my body after cutting off the rest of my arm,” He said, placing his right hand lightly over the upper half of his bicep.
The doctor winced, also looking vaguely alarmed as he finally made eye contact, though his hand was still holding Bucky’s forearm loosely, “What kind of Doctor would do that?”
“I don’t know what kind of history this world has, or how far back they teach it here, but the doctor that did it wasn’t one from my side of the war,” He said, not turning his head and only holding his gaze through impassive side-eyeing.
Dr. Ido nodded, seeming to sense that while there was a lot Bucky wasn’t saying, this topic was very sensitive, and he effectively dropped it, looking back at Bucky’s arm, “What metal is this made of?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious as he ghosted the tips of his fingers over the black metal, “I don’t recognize it.”
“Vibranium,” He said, “Only exists in a country called Wakanda. Heard of it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Ido answered, sounding genuinely sorry, “This is a nice metal. Sturdy, but light. Good choice for a prosthetic.”
Bucky remembered when Steve had told him what Howard Stark had said when he’d gotten his shield, deciding to repeat the same thing, “Stronger than steel, and a third of the weight.”
“Impressive,” The doctor remarked, sounding like he sincerely meant it, “Rare?”
“Technically, no, despite only being found in one country. But they do make it incredibly expensive and not buying it directly from King T’Challa is illegal. Keeps it from falling into the wrong hands.” He said, sniffing.
Dr. Ido nodded, “It’s good they do that. I know many people who would greatly abuse something like this if they got their hands on it, so I’m glad they can’t,” He said, looking rather closely at the lines between the plates like he noticed something he was curious about, “So how did you get it?”
“Shuri— the Princess of Wakanda— made it for me as a gift when my old arm got destroyed,” It was good knowing he could tell somebody all of this without putting anybody in danger. Well, except maybe himself, but he wasn’t too worried about that.
The doctor’s eyebrows rose in astonishment, “That was very generous of her, you must be well-liked, I take it?”
Bucky winced, “Not really, I think it was also supposed to be an apology from her brother— T’Challa, the King— for trying to kill me.”
Dr. Ido hummed, which he figured meant the man was curious about that story but wasn’t going to ask. Instead, he ran a fingernail under one of the grooves in Bucky’s arm, “I want to test something. Can I poke your arm?” At the look that was probably on his face, he quickly amended, “You can say no. I won’t bother you if you say no.”
He really, really didn’t want to get poked (or prodded) but he figured if he really needed to, he could throw him off, take Violet (who Genos had in fact grabbed a blanket for, good kid), and run. Hesitantly, he spat out, “Sure.”
Looking delighted, the doctor grabbed a utensil of some kind that distantly resembled a letter opener and started poking at Bucky’s arm. He watched him do it, guard up and alert to anything that could go wrong, only vaguely paying attention to the nanotech starting to ripple and move at the enthusiastic prodding. Dr. Ido seemed very fascinated, staring at it with rapt attention like a kid in a candy store.
“Nanotech,” He breathed, “I thought only Alita had that.”
That caught Bucky’s attention away from his arm, “Someone here has nanotech?”
“It’s a lost technology, Alita is the last of her kind. Did the Princess also do this?”
He blinked, “No, my friend Tony just upgraded it with nanotech. It’s his way of showing affection, I’ve noticed. Supposedly it regularly repairs and upgrades my arm. I haven’t tested it yet, but I do know it can change my arm’s color and texture however I please. I’m not entirely sure how it works,” That reminded him to ask what day it was, since he had gotten this gift for his birthday, “Also, what day is it?”
The doctor went from looking supremely interested to blank confusion for a brief moment, “March eleventh.”
“Yeah, so by recent, I mean three days ago, since my birthday was yesterday?” Bucky scratched the back of his neck, wondering when this would be over. The doctor was a very friendly man.
“How old did you turn?”
“A hundred and two,” He said quietly, wondering if the doctor would have the same reaction everyone else did. But to Bucky’s surprise, Dr. Ido didn’t even bat an eye. That was definitely a first.
“You and Alita have that in common, then. She looks and acts eighteen,” He sounded like a vaguely annoyed father with a rebelling daughter. For all Bucky knew, he was, “But she’s technically three hundred.”
It was safe to say Bucky wasn’t used to hearing about people older than him unless they were Norse Gods, and he only knew of two. He kind of wanted to meet this Alita now, which was strange considering how much he’d been dreading this whole situation. If they could get this done efficiently, he wouldn’t mind making some interesting friends out of it. There, Steve, he can see the silver lining. He was a little proud of himself.
“Welp,” Dr. Ido said, gently setting Bucky’s arm back down, “There’s definitely no upgrades I can give you. This is a very advanced piece of technology you have here.”
“Was that what you were doing?” He asked, surprised. He had a small thought that if Dr. Ido had opened with that, maybe he would’ve been less hesitant. Just maybe.
The doctor gave him a look, “If you’re all going to be helping Alita, I want to make sure you all have the best technology I can provide you so nobody’s at a disadvantage. I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it to protect my daughter.”
Unless Dr. Ido was really old, he suspected Alita wasn’t actually his daughter. But he respected that, and it made him trust the man more. Yeah, definitely should’ve led with what his motivations were from the start.
“Now, could you get me the other boy? I’ll save the girl for last, she looks like she could use the sleep.”
“You should explain what you’re doing to him, by the way. The whole story, Alita included,” Bucky told him honestly, “I would’ve been less hesitant if I’d known.” The doctor nodded in acknowledgment and Bucky went to find Genos, who wasn’t far away from Violet. He’d been looking out the window and watching the sunrise. He looked inexplicably sad, and Bucky had the urge to hug him but refrained. Genos was probably not much older than Violet. And by the sounds of it, Alita wasn’t either, despite her chronological age. These were a bunch of kids who were all going to be burdened with this, and maybe they were used to it (as terrible as that was), but Bucky knew they were probably much less prepared than he was, which given how unprepared he was, meant this was probably very overwhelming to them. He didn’t know how to help, but dammit he could try.
Despite his silent footsteps, Genos turned to look at him before he even spoke, after suspiciously wiping his eyes. It was unnerving, but he supposed maybe Genos could sense his vitals or something. That made the most sense.
“I have successfully scanned a full 3D map of this building and all surrounding areas, marking all exits and weak points,” Genos promptly informed him, before handing Bucky a printed version of the aforementioned map. While he was impressed, he didn’t trust anything he didn’t figure out for himself and would still go for a jaunt around to come to his own conclusions. The kid watched him for a moment before continuing, “Are you done with the doctor?”
Bucky put on his best smirk, “Yep! Your turn now, kiddo,” He said jovially, patting the kid on the shoulder and only lightly shoving him in the general direction of the doctor.
He walked over to where Violet was still fast asleep, curled into a plush armchair with a blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders. Pulling up another chair, he went to sleep right alongside her. He figured he’d need the energy. As he fell asleep, he distantly listened to Genos arguing with the doctor that some guy named Dr. Kuseno already gave him top-of-the-line technology and that there was nothing better Dr. Ido could give him. The last thing he heard was Genos finally agreeing to at least be examined.
Bucky woke up to Violet gently shaking him. She had changed clothes into something much more modern; a soft-looking, short-sleeved light blue t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some worn sneakers. Her hair was no longer up, instead hanging loosely around her shoulders in soft blonde waves. Her hands looked different than they had before, or maybe he was just remembering wrong with all that had happened in the last twelve hours. She was holding what looked like a change of clothes for him, so rubbing his eyes he stood up to go get changed, using the map Genos gave him to find the bathroom.
His change of clothes was similar to his usual civvies, which was a burgundy henley and ripped jeans. He kept on his combat boots, figuring they didn’t really look that out of place. He untied his hair to brush it, finding some dry shampoo and hoping whoever it belonged to didn’t mind him using it. There was no time for him to shower just yet, and if he didn’t want oily hair, this would have to do. Retying his hair into a slightly different messy bun and washing his face, he went back to the others.
Violet and Genos were sitting at a table eating fresh fruit (which may be the explanation for the smell of oranges), talking to a beautiful African woman in blue scrubs. She, just like Dr. Ido, had a very friendly face and a kind smile. She wore her hair naturally, one side shaved and the rest in a fluffy, asymmetrical puff of curls. As he said, she was very pretty. On her scrubs, there was her ID, which read Gerhad, Nurse, and was pinned to the pen pocket with a Badge Buddy. He figured this was the woman the doctor had mentioned earlier.
When she saw him, she smiled a genuine smile, “You’re awake! Bucky, right?”
“Yeah,” He said, sitting in the empty chair next to Violet, who gave a soft smile and handed him an orange, already peeled. He ate it. It was good, “Thank you.”
“I’m Nurse Gerhad,” The woman introduced, even though he already knew, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad Alita has people who will help. After what happened to Hugo, she’s been so angry… I was worried she’d get reckless.”
He had a lot of questions, like what Dr. Ido told her about them or who Hugo was, but he decided not to ask. What it did sound like was that Alita was hellbent on revenge and refusing to accept reason. Reminds him of himself, back when he first got away from HYDRA. It also meant he knew exactly how liberating it could be to have help. Bucky didn’t know where he’d be without Steve and the others. Now he understood why this Alita person needed help. She was going to get herself killed.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, I have to get the clinic ready to open for the day,” Gerhad said, smiling at them as she stood up and left the kitchen area.
Bucky turned to Violet, “Did Dr. Ido already look at your arms?”
She nodded, “Yes, he did. My arms were the only ones that were not structurally sound enough for what we needed to do,” At least that explained why he thought they looked different. They were different, “He did seem impressed when I told him they were made in 1918,” Her voice was light, like she didn’t really mind that she’d lost her arms at fourteen years old, “And he made sure to keep my fingers nimble so I’ll still be able to use them for my job when I get home.”
He raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t really thought about what her job might be, after he’d learned about her history as a soldier. He supposed there was a possibility she did something, though he didn’t know of many women who worked during that time period. Bucky also wondered what it was that she needed nimble fingers for. Secretary work? Women did do a lot of writing jobs if he remembered right.
“And what is your job?” He asked, genuinely curious, “You already know Genos and I work as Specialized First Responders of sorts,” Since she didn’t understand superheroing, he figured this was the most diplomatic description he could’ve come up with.
“I’m an Auto-Memory Doll,” Violet answered as if he knew what that was, “I write letters for people who can’t write for themselves. I’ve also helped translate historical texts,” His curiosity ended up being short-lived. How nice of her.
“That makes sense,” Though I’m not sure why they have to be called that, “I’m curious about the ‘Doll’ part of that name.”
She blinked, confused, “Because writing is a woman’s job?”
Bucky kind of wanted to laugh, but that would be rude. He figured it made sense that Violet may not have an education, and the only reason she knew how to write was because of her staunch career in the Military, but it was still hilarious to him that she was completely unaware of how ironic that statement was. He wouldn’t tell her that women used to not be allowed to read or write, once upon a time.
Instead, he thought of Pepper, smiled, and said, “Women do tend to be much better at it,” That seemed to make her happy and she grinned before turning her attention to peeling another orange.
They continued to eat in silence until eventually the front door opened and closed, and a female voice called out, “I’m home!” And loud, unhurried footsteps made their way towards them at the kitchen table. If Bucky had thought Violet had a very doll-like face (pun intended), this girl’s face was even more so. He wasn’t entirely how those facial proportions were possible, but he attributed it to being metal like Genos’s.
Apart from her… humanoid-ish face, her entire body was made of a purple substance with a metallic sheen despite being completely smooth. He figured this was Alita, and the reason her arms looked smooth was nanotech. Her eyes were a warm brown and her hair was black, chopped short an inch or two below her jaw. She was dressed very similarly to Genos, with a tight black leather tank top and matching tight black leather pants. There was a sword hanging off her hip that looked like what he imagined if somebody who specialized in cybersigilism had tried to make a katana. It was thin and curved like a katana but that was as far as the similarities went. It had a few spots of blood on it. He looked back to her face.
“...Hello,” She eventually said, eyes jumping between the three of them like she was trying to decide who to talk to, “Who… are all of you?”
Just as Bucky could open his mouth to speak, turning in his chair to face her, Dr. Ido came up behind her in the door frame and slid past, “Alita! You’re home,” He said amiably, clapping his hands together.
“Hi, dad,” Alita said blankly, like it was more of a formality and she just wanted to get it out of the way, “Who are these people in our kitchen?”
“These… are,” Dr. Ido started, wavering a little bit as perhaps he still wasn’t sure where to start with the explanation. Bucky would be worried too, he mused, eyes flicking to the sword again briefly. He wondered if it was as sharp as it looked. He didn’t know if he’d be happier with it sharp or not. The pros and cons of both were evenly matched. He decided not to think about it.
Alita leaned forward, waiting for the doctor to continue.
“...Reinforcements!” He finished lamely. Alita’s face darkened, looking a tad rageful and unamused. Dr. Ido gulped and smiled awkwardly. Bucky had to resist the urge to do the same.
“Reinforcements for what?” She asked, speaking like a teenager (which, yeah) who was warning you that they knew what you were going to say and was giving you the chance to take it back. After a pause, she sweetly added, “Dad?”
“Well,” He said, “I know you had tried to recruit Hunter Warriors, and that… uh, didn’t go so well. So I found—,” And Bucky knew that was a lie, though a necessary one, “—Some qualified people who could help!”
“I don’t need help,” She said bitterly, finally looking at them with narrowed eyes, “You are not needed here. Go home.”
Bucky stood up so fast his vision blacked out, “We can’t,” He snapped, scowling at her.
“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” Alita snarled, taking a step toward him and getting in his face, pointing a hand behind her to the door, “The door’s right fuckin’ there. Pick yourself up, walk through it, and go the fuck home. It’s not rocket science.”
He worked his jaw, nostrils flaring, “We can’t go home.”
She looked about ready to berate him again when Dr. Ido stepped between the two, “It’s true, Alita,” He said placatingly, “I lied. I didn’t bring them here. Some… entity brought them here in order to help you. I got a letter and everything. Their homes are in other dimensions.”
“You really believe that?!” She barked, sounding hysterical, “And if that’s true, then just have that ‘entity’ send them home!”
Bucky stayed silent this time. They needed to get along and arguing with the person they were supposed to help was not a good start. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the table and watched the both of them. Violet looked worried while Genos’s face was oddly serene. He had a feeling he’d never know what that kid was thinking.
“It’s not that simple, Alita!” Dr. Ido frantically tried to reason.
“What, did the letter not have a return address?” She said snidely, glaring at him, “After what happened to Hugo, I don’t want to get anybody else involved in this!”
“Don’t you think I understand that?” Something about the implications of that made Alita wilt, looking guilty, “But these people were specifically chosen for their qualities,” The doctor walked over to the kitchen counter, pulling a folded letter out from under the coffee machine and handing it to Alita.
Opening the letter, she started to read it under her breath just loud enough for them to hear, eyes rapidly scanning over the text, “‘Dear Dr. Daisuke Ido… I am pleased to inform you that I have decided to assist your charge Alita in her quest to give Zalem back to the people of Iron City by getting rid of Nova once and for all… I have humbly chosen three individuals who I think are the best suited for this task. All of them are highly intelligent, skilled combatants, who always dedicate themselves to good causes when able. This is not the only reason I chose them, however… I also think their personalities and life stories are the most compatible with Alita’s out of the other options I had to choose from. Given they are all cybernetically enhanced individuals, I also figured they would be able to fit in among the general public. Tell Alita I wish her luck and only the best of wishes. Sincerely yours… B.’”
That… was a lot to unwrap, Bucky thought. The reasoning logically made sense, but it genuinely left much to be desired. Alita seemed to feel the same, as her eyes kept roving over the paper again and again. Her face morphed more into offended disbelief with each reread. Eventually, she threw her hands up, the paper flittering slowly to the floor when she did.
“This is ludicrous!” She shouted, “I don’t need help. I don’t want help! What if they get killed?!” Alita waved at them with her hand, “I don’t want anyone else to die helping me defeat Nova. And what happened to Dr. Chiren… I already lost Hugo. I already lost somebody I loved, I’m not getting people involved again. If we really will be such great friends like that letter suggested, then it’ll only hurt me more when they die, too. Love has no place in this fight.”
Dr. Ido stared at her in shock, leaning back from her only a bit. Bucky thought about all they had to lose if they didn’t get to go home. He wasn’t so sure about who Violet or Genos had in their lives, but he figured they had someone. Leaving Steve behind again was not an option for him. So what if he did die here? It would be better if he died trying to get home than to not try at all. Steve, at least, was worth more to him than that, so like hell he was going to roll over and take this.
“Alita,” He said calmly, “You don’t get to decide that for us,” Anger spiked on her face and he held up a finger to tell her he wasn’t done. She pursed her lips but deflated, “I know you’ve already lost somebody you loved. We didn’t ask to come here, didn’t volunteer to leave home, you know. When doc said we couldn’t go back, he meant it. We aren’t allowed to go home until we’ve helped you kill Nova.”
“But—,” She tried interrupting and he silenced her again with an icy glare.
“You lost somebody you loved,” He repeated, uncrossing his arms as he stopped leaning on the table and stepped forward, “And if I don’t do this, I will too. My husband’s probably at home right now wondering where the hell I went. Knowing him, he’s worried sick and making some shitty, self-sacrificing decisions. I know you don’t believe in love right now, but I sure fucking do, and you don’t get the right to take that away from me. Do you fucking understand, Alita?”
It looked like it dawned on her, then. That Bucky, Violet, and Genos were people too. People with lives and families. People who were now stuck in this shitty situation right alongside her and her martyrdom prevented them from getting out of it.
She looked away from his eyes, “I… I understand. I’m sorry.”
“Good,” Dr. Ido said in place of Bucky, “They just want to help Alita. Let people in,” He grasped her shoulder firmly before leaving the room.
Alita turned to them, studying each of their faces. Violet looked inexplicably sad and Genos’s eyes were boring holes into the table. Alita slumped into the nearest chair, arms on the table and hanging her head, “Shit,” She said, with feeling.
Bucky sat back down in his chair, waiting for her to speak.
“So you…” She paused, still staring at her thighs under the table, “You have a husband back home, huh? What’s… what’s he like?” Then she finally looked at him. She was building the bridge. Alita looked hesitant and guilty, but she was trying.
Letting a fond smile grace his face, he started, “Well… he’s a sarcastic little shit, always getting himself in trouble. I’ve known him my whole life; since we were kids, and all that time he’s only ever gone out of his way to do what was right. He’s blonde, got the bluest eyes, the sweetest smile. I love him more than anything else.”
Alita’s eyes looked suspiciously wet as she met his eyes, “What’s his name?”
“Steve,” Bucky said, smiling at her.
She nodded and looked at Violet and Genos, “And… you two? Who… who are you leaving behind?”
Violet sniffled, also on the verge of tears, “Major Bougainvillea… Gilbert. He’s the first person I’ve ever loved,” Her lower lip wobbled, “He saved my life when I was ten. Always took care of me. After the war, I was told he was dead. I just found him,” She sobbed into her hand and Bucky pulled her close by one arm so she could cry into his shoulder.
The implications of that made Alita look even more guilty. Violet had just reunited with the man she’d thought died and then was immediately brought here, where she wouldn’t be able to see him again for who knows how long. It was cruel. But there was nothing the four of them could do except keep going until they either got to their destination or dropped dead trying. He refused to not try.
Bucky and Alita looked at Genos then. His face looked stern and determined, “My Sensei and Dr. Kuseno. Who’s going to do all the chores around Sensei’s house? Who’s going to keep him and Dr. Kuseno company? Dr. Kuseno doesn’t have anybody.”
He hated to even think it but Genos’s sounded much less sad than either his or Violet’s, but to each their own, he supposed.
Alita chewed her lip, “I’m sorry I didn’t think about that.”
“We all make mistakes. What matters is that you learned from them and tried to make it right,” Bucky assured her, “I know what it’s like to be hellbent on revenge. But you should know, we’re all in this together.”
She met his eyes searchingly like she was trying to see if her reflection was visible there. If she could see in him the same complicated tangle of painful memories that also resided in her. He hoped she found what she was looking for. Violet finally pulled away from his arm, seeming to have collected herself.
“So, about those Hunter Warriors,” He diverted, “What are those? Actually, explain everything to me. Zalem and Nova, all of it.”
Looking caught off guard, she blinked, “Hunter Warriors are like the police here since guns are outlawed. They’re bounty hunters. I am also a Hunter Warrior. We basically kill all the criminals, here,” She explained with a shrug.
“I understand the gun thing but it still sucks for me. I’m glad my only skill isn’t my sniping, otherwise, I’d be screwed,” He mumbled, “So none of the other Hunter Warriors are good people? Seems counterproductive.”
Alita shook her head in disagreement, “There’s Murdock, he’s good. But his schtick is his pack of cyber-dogs. He wouldn’t do anything to risk their lives, and he’d have to leave them behind to go to Zalem. The others just don’t want to stand out as threats, I don’t think.”
Bucky scratched his chin, “Huh. I know a guy named Murdock.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, he’s the reason I’m not in jail.”
“...Oh.”
“Tell me about Zalem,” He prompted. Violet and Genos had stopped paying attention and were talking to one another about the guidance figures in their life. At least, that’s what it sounded like. He wasn’t listening.
Alita raised an amused eyebrow, “You did notice the giant city in the sky, yes? That’s Zalem.”
That made sense, “And nobody can go up there, because…?”
“There’s only one way up and it’s through being the best Motorball player. It’s like a cross between Basketball and Roller Derby, I’ll show you later. I’ve been playing competitively so I can go,” She put an elbow on the table, leaning into it, “I have theories about the rest of it. Ido says Zalem is the last of the Great Sky Cities, which basically means it's an exclusive club, in my opinion. Ido’s from there. But his daughter was born without usable legs, and he and his wife were forced to come down here with her.”
“Where are they now?” He asked softly, sensing this wasn’t a good story.
“His daughter was murdered by a drug addict. Her name was Alita, too. That’s why he gave me this name,” She saddened, her shoulders sagging, “As for Dr. Chiren… she sacrificed herself to try and save Hugo.”
“Is it Nova’s fault?” He wondered aloud. He had a sinking feeling it was if he was the one Alita decided to get her revenge on.
“Everything is Nova’s fault,” Alita spat vehemently, “Three hundred years ago, I fought in a war against him and lost. All my comrades died. And he’s doing it again. That’s… that’s why I didn’t want your help.”
He nodded, fully understanding as he crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair, “I get it. Seeing everybody die so often’s gotta hurt. But I don’t think we would’ve been chosen for this if we couldn’t do it.”
“I hope you’re right,” She sighed, before perking up with interest, “What are your names, by the way?”
Right, they never did introduce themselves, did they? Bucky extended his hand for her to shake, “James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky,” He grinned at her when she shook his hand. He pointed a thumb behind him, “The others are Violet and Genos.”
“It’s good to meet you,” She said earnestly before seeming to finally notice the basket of oranges and reach for one.
“You, as well,” He agreed, “I got one question. How does one become a Hunter Warrior?”
Alita ended up throwing the orange at him with a very deadpan look on her face, “None of you are becoming Hunter Warriors.”
“I turned a hundred and two yesterday,” He said with mock seriousness, holding the orange up with a raised eyebrow at her immaturity, “I think I can do whatever the hell I want.”
“I’m still a hundred and ninety-eight years older than you,” She pointed out, “Can you give me the orange back?”
“Will you throw it at me again if I do?” He asked.
“No,” She said, like a liar, throwing the orange at his face the moment he gave it back to her. He ate the orange as payback. She had to grab another one.
They spent the entire day just getting to all know each other. The conversation came easily and the banter came even easier. Whoever ‘B’ is, they were right when they said the four of them could get along. It was almost alarming how easy it was. At one point, Alita challenged him to arm wrestle and was surprised when he won. He ended up braiding Violet’s hair while they all talked. It was nice to have the company.
Violet turned in first by nightfall, claiming she really hadn’t been getting the sleep she needed. Soon after her was Genos, who said something about having not charged his battery this morning and needing to power down. That left Bucky and Alita alone in silence, drinking decaf coffee.
She broke it first, “You’ll all be needing IDs, you know. People will get suspicious of three new cyborgs showing up all at once.”
“Eh,” He shrugged, “I can just say Violet and Genos are my kids. Say Dr. Ido is giving us a place to stay since we can’t make ends meet. A family moving in together isn’t suspicious.”
Alita allowed him that much, “If you do become Hunter Warriors, don’t use your real names. Hide your faces.”
“May I ask why?”
“If Nova finds out I have support, we’ll all be in a lot of danger,” She said, shaking her head.
Bucky raised an eyebrow, pointing at the ceiling “And if he’s in Zalem, how will he find out?”
“Nova sees everything. He has the ability to look through the eyes of all Iron City’s citizens. I’ve seen him take over people’s minds before, though I’m not sure how it works,” She informed him with a shake of her head.
Bucky was put on edge by the prospect of yet another person who could get inside his head and control him, “If he can do that, then can’t he know what we’re planning?”
Alita looked thoughtful, “Well, I’m not sure, since you’re not from here.”
That did little to make him feel better, but he didn’t press the issue, “Well, soon we’ll get to Zalem and get rid of him, so it won’t matter.”
“It’s hard,” She said, “You’ll want to give up.”
He wiggled a finger at her, “I gave up on giving up a long time ago. Like hell I’ll turn back now.”
Alita huffed in amusement, sipping her drink, “So what’s your plan?”
“I don’t have a plan,” Bucky said, shrugging but flashing her a cocky grin, “We’ll come up with the plan as we go. When one is a cyborg, one must improvise, adapt, and overcome. It’s as simple as that.”
She snorted into her coffee, “Yeah… we’re all gonna die.”
And, well, he didn’t see it necessary to dignify such pessimism with a response. This wasn't his first rodeo.
They had a dictator to take down, after all.