keepcruising | Bucky and Brock's Excellent Adventure

That had to be a rhetorical question, or was it an indication that Bucky had figured out who he was allied with in the grand scheme? No, if that were the case, he had a feeling that they would be coming to blows rather than having a conversation. All of that shit was too personal not to take a front seat to any interaction between them. So for now, they were safe at least together.

As for where they were, he took a moment to look around the forest. It looked like many forests that he had been into, aside from the odd coloured sky peaking through the foliage. "No idea. One minute I was helping out in Olympia and the next minute I was waking up face down in some leaves. Maybe it wasn't just us affected?"

Don't let it be Steve. Don't let it be Steve. His cover would be blown so fast, he may as well dig a grave to lay in now. He preferred not to think about that.

"You have all your parts in order?" Rumlow wasn't so careful when he asked questions. If he needed to know, he'd ask.

Bucky snorts. He doesn't think he's had his parts in order in a long time, but he doesn't need to drop all of that on Brock, so instead he takes a moment to consider the question and if he's any worse than he already was.

For better or worse, nothing in his brain seems to have shaken loose, save for the odd sense of silence he's got now that he's now in a city surrounded by so many people and all their indecipherable feelings. It's almost like losing a sense.

"Good enough. You?"

He hasn't heard or seen anyone else, but maybe he just needs a better view of things, he thinks, and as he listens to Brock's answer he starts to pull himself up onto the lowest branch of the tree Brock is leaning against. His metal hand clamps on easily and then it's just a matter of hoisting up his weight.

"Stay there.

Physically, the Soldier looked put together at least, metal arm and all. That was good because he had no idea what was happening or if they were going to need that arm to bulldoze their way through certain scenarios in this forest.

"My neck hurts, but otherwise, I can't complain," he said, even reaching up to stroke his neck with a hand and discovering the raised curls of the tattoo. Well, shit. That was going to make all this crap a bit more obvious, not that he could see what it meant without a mirror, which he was sorely lacking at present.

He watched Bucky head up a tree and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah sure, I'll just stay here like I'm useless." He wasn't. He began to scout around the tree Bucky was ascending to look for signs of other people that might have also been pulled in, but the area seemed to be just them and a weird squirrel that stared at him like he might be a nut. Nope, he wasn't dealing with that.

Bucky's neck feels weird, too, and he can feel his hair rubbing against it, but his hands are a little busy as he climbs. One thing at a time and he' rather get a good view first.

"You're not useless. If I fall out of this tree, I want to land on something soft." There's a gentle humor in his voice, but Bucky had actually been a little worried to see Brock leaning against the tree. He wouldn't think the guy was useless, though, even if Bucky's a little more capable than most humans are.

Once he gets a little higher up, he starts running out of branches that can support his weight and he leans past the leaves to get a good view, but it's all greenery as far as he can see. Not much movement, at least not of the people variety, and no sign of people, but that doesn't mean much. He can't see too far past the rest of the trees, so he starts to climb back down, dropping the last ten feet to a catlike landing.

"I have a feeling we're the only ones out here."

"That's no way to treat an older, used up veteran," he called up the tree. And yes, he was keenly aware that older and used up were neither terms to apply to him when comparing him to his companion. After all, he had all his limbs intact and for all intensive purposes, the burn scars around his eyes were minimal at best.

He was tracking his way around the area, but much like Bucky's upper assessment of the situation, he had to agree. No obvious tracks, nothing more than a game trail, and no sounds that would indicate there were other humans.

He had returned to the tree to catch the Soldier dropping down to the floor. No one had any right to land that quietly. "Seems like it. I found a big squirrel, but he or she had no idea what to do about me," he said with a shrug. "We should find water and shelter before the sun goes down. You get an estimate on how far into a day it is while you were up there?"

"Can't be more than a few hours off from midday, but I have no idea how long a day is here." It looks enough like Earth, but so had the other planet they'd just been on. Who knows how many planets look like Earth, right?

Water and shelter are definitely a priority. Bucky can make them a fire once they find a safe place to settle. He remembers that much.

"We might have to eat that squirrel if we can't find something better." He tips his head to the left. "I saw a break in the trees that way. Could be water or a clearing. How up to a hike are you feeling?"

He really doesn't know what the terrain under the trees will be like, but he'll carry Brock if he has to. Bucky's not leaving him alone in what could turn out to be hostile territory right now. They're safer together, even if one of them needs help.

Now there was an excellent question for them. How long was the day and night cycle in this place? Maybe it was still part of where Dharma had sent them, but in unexplored territory? However, the sky was distinctly not that colour, which forced him to consider that this was somewhere completely different.

"So... there was only one moon right? Or was there even a moon?" Rumlow had excellent survival skills, all part of being STRIKE and needing to step into hostile territory and make a living for as brief or long as necessary. Of course, he didn't have all the supplies necessary to make living easier, but he figured between the two of them that they could survive. That's what they were both good at.

"Well, no point staying here if there isn't any of the things we need to survive, so hiking is the way of it," he replied and looked towards where Barnes had indicated. He was not interested in being babied in any way, and he figured he could hold his own. Of course, the Soldier wasn't likely to know that. "Let's head out. You got any weapons of use on you?"

He was already moving towards where the clearing had been indicated, trying to find a game trail that they could follow, but it was mostly pushing their way through the underbrush so far.

"One sun. No moon up yet." Who knows if they'll see one at all, but that could at least help them figure out if they're somewhere new or somewhere they've been before. Whatever this place is, though, the trees are familiar enough that he knows there has to be water. Brock had seen an animal, so that means there's meat around. Bucky can build a fire from just about nothing and he suspect Brock can, too, so between the two of them they just need to find water, maybe a cave or rock face they can bunk down next to and they'll at least be good for the day.

Long-term, they'll need to figure out more, but survival first.

"Only weapon I've got is my arm." Which isn't a weapon, strictly speaking, so much as Bucky is one all on his own. He'd prefer to have a knife or a gun, though. If something happens, he doesn't want to have to get close to something to deal with it.

"You got anything?" He follows Brock, falling into step next to him easily as his eyes dart around to take in their surroundings.

God, what the hell had he done with them? He could recall that clarity of picking a person, desperate for the pain of the tattoo to end and the sensation of being pulled in multiple direction all at once. And now they were here, wherever that was, and both of them were somehow cool as could be and taking it all in stride. Like this wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to them, which for the Soldier it might not be.

He nodded his head, aware of what they needed to do and at least they had two good heads to put together. "Well, you can punch us up some fire wood at worst," he pointed out, making a joke of it. He knew that arm was far more deadly than most; he had seen it in action and a tree wouldn't stand a chance.

"Knife and a sidearm," he said with a shrug, though now would be a great time to make use of his ability to make weapons out of himself. It might not be the time to talk about it. "You want my knife for now?"

"Sure, right after I punch us a squirrel for dinner." He watches their surroundings carefully as he follows closely behind. Distantly, he thinks he can hear water, which means it's moving and likely fresh. Maybe there will be fish, too. With no way to contact anyone (and he's checked every pocket he's got for that), he can at least be thankful that he's not alone. It's not even for a lack of capability so much as the fact that Bucky's not sure how much he could take being alone and isolated like this.

"For now, yeah. You might want to get your sidearm out in case there's trouble." He keeps his voice low and his footfalls quiet, but they're not being silent and they still don't know who or what brought them here.

He scratches at his neck, pushing his hair back for a little relieve, because he can feel the skin is raised there, raw and angry. "The hell?"

"I would watch that," he said with a soft laugh. He moved with purpose, aware that they likely had limited time to find the essentials and there was no telling what might come out in the dark. That also was assuming it would get dark. All the same, he was as determined to find supplies to keep them alive as he was to finding out more of what had happened to them in the first place.

He pulled out his knife first, offering it back to Barnes at the same time where was that question, and he looked back. He paused, noting the area and a chill went down his spine as he thought about it. Two sides. One coin. "You get a bug bite or something?"

He knew it wasn't that, but a part of him was uncertain he wanted to see.

Bucky reaches out with his left hand for the knife while he pushes his hair back with his right to show Brock his neck. It's not like he's got a mirror here.

"Doesn't feel like any bug bite I've ever had." He tilts his head to the side to make the area more visible as his metal fingers curl around the knife like they're welcoming a loved one home. There's such a familiarity to weaponry ingrained in him, far beyond his old Army training. Back then, he'd been comfortable with knifes and gun, but now they feel like a missing part of him.

He hates that feeling, because he doesn't want to use tools like this anymore, but he isn't going to lie down and let someone kill him, either, and he sure as shit isn't going to let a friend get hurt because he isn't ready to defend them.

That was definitely no bug bite. It was an intricate raised scar, loops and tendrils twisting along Bucky's neck, and he was certain that a similar, if not exact one happened to be on his. It sent ice down his spine looking at it, and yet, he also felt a deep sense of connection and familiarity that was entirely foreign. He didn't know the Soldier that well after all.

He stepped up closer all the same, risking being in the other's range so that he could reach out to push a few stray strands of hair up and aside. "Looks like some kind of intricate scarring, or a super deliberate tattoo. Does it hurt?"

So when was he going to admit he might have landed him in this mess? Probably when the situation became desperate and they had a better idea of their situation all around.

Bucky almost flinches away, because boy is he not used to anyone other than Steve or Peggy touching him and even then it's usually on his terms. Almost, but he only manages a twitch before he stops himself. It's fine, he reminds himself, and they're here together.

"Feels like a burn that's a few hours old." So the pain is there like an irritating dull thrum, but it's hardly pulling all of his focus. He can ignore it until later.

"Don't worry about it. We should keep moving." They have no information and no supplies. They can worry about this later. For now, maybe Bucky can get his personal space back because it makes the forest feel like a tiny cell.

His hand paused as he sensed tension in Barnes, ready to pull away if his contact was that unwanted. He could get that after all, the need for being apart, the amount of trust it took to let someone else in even for a simple investigate. He had seen what HYDRA did to the Soldier, how cold and sterile everything had been. Like tuning up a machine.

"Well, it's sealed over, so it's not a burn," he murmured, slowly withdrawing his hand so that it was within sight. "Sorry about that. I should have warned you." About the touch.

He eased away and then took the lead to heading for the clearing, stepping over roots and around bushes as they left the game trail behind for a more direct route. He paused every now and then to look around, to pause by bushes to investigate the occasional berry, but he didn't take any. There were a few animal tracks, but if they were close by, they were keeping hidden.

"It's fine." This is hardly the first time anyone's surprised Bucky like that. He's almost getting used to the surprise, if nothing else, and it's not as if he'd always been like this, either. Touching used to be something he'd liked a lot. He's just not used to it anymore, he figures. As for his neck, he'll worry about it when it becomes more pressing. There are other things to worry about.

He follows after Brock, taking easily to the terrain. It's not even his HYDRA training kicking in. This is familiar enough from before. The War hadn't exactly been a cake walk. Soon enough, he thinks he can hear the sound of gentle running water. He stays on guard for other people or predators, but there isn't a single sign of either so far.

Once they get through the thicker trees, it falls into view: a little brook. It's not much, but the water is moving, which means it's probably safer to drink than anything that's standing still. Shelter might still be a big question mark, but water is solved, at least.

"Wherever we are, I have a feeling it doesn't see a lot of visitors."

Much like Barnes, the terrain didn't bother him. He had hoofed it in worst situations and with heavier equipment, so this was more of a leisurely walk where there happened to be higher than usual stakes. They both moved well and easily, pausing here and there to listen and look for signs of predators or other people.

He looked down onto the brook, considering it for a long moment and then turning his attention North and South of it. That brook was moving enough to indicate that it would empty into something larger, but it might not be worth looking into their first day. Water was at least off the check list of essentials.

Food and shelter were the next most pressing.

"Destination vacation spot for loners," he remarked before he began to head his way down towards the brook itself. "We should see about finding a cave or construct a make-shift shelter around here, I think. Brook means animals will have to come here to drink." But he knew that Barnes knew that. "Let's hope it doesn't get too cold over night."

With water in sight, Bucky starts thinking of food. There are birds around, but they're not easy to catch and if they can conserve bullets, they'll be much better off. With the knife, Bucky knows he can catch something on the ground and make a quick and relatively painless kill, but he'd like to find something that will be big enough to feed them both rather than catching squirrels for an hour.

"Might have to consider your policy on cuddling if it gets that cold." Said with a smirk as he moves to rinse his hands in the water and take a drink. The cold isn't likely to be too bad for Bucky with the way his body manages, but that won't make it pleasant and he's not letting anything happen to the other man over some misplaced sense of manliness.

"You wanna get a little fire going while I find us some woodland creature we can eat?" Raw meat in the woods is something he'd rather avoid. He'd gotten sick in the field during the war enough times to know he doesn't want a repeat if he can help it.

Rumlow was also thinking of the food situation, but he could go a day or so without eating. Shelter was just as pressing in his mind. He knew that he was more likely to die of exposure compared to the Soldier who could weather the winter storms of Siberia. He was not quite so durable, which meant that he was going to have to put shelter over his own head sooner than later.

He snorted at the cuddling option, setting his hands on his hips and surveying somewhere that they could make some shelter. No rope, so they would have to make some. "Feels like being back in the army already. Two men spooning in the cold, taking shifts staying awake so we survived to see the next morning."

He nodded and began to gather up equal sized stones first around the brook, pulling them into an area that would give them a good place for a fire. "I'm on it, boss," he commented, moving off to get dry needles and some small sticks. There was hanging fungus from the trees that made good starter, so he set to work on that while Bucky went off to find something to eat.

Bucky laughs and give Rumlow a knowing smile and a wink. "For some reason I don't remember spooning with other men in the army. Sounds like some guy just wanted to spoon with you."

But then he starts to move back into the brush as he starts to check the ground for tracks. Food isn't going to come to them, especially not if they're talking, so without another word, he moves away from the site, mentally orienting himself to where he's leaving Brock so that he can find his way back.

It takes a little while to catch enough meat for the two of them, but after what he guesses must have been about an hour, he comes stepping back out of the trees with three fat rabbits tied in his belt.

He hadn't been worried about the fire. Brock's more than capable and the only reason he'd suggested he do the hunting is that he knows he's got an unfair advantage between the serum and the metal arm. The sun is still high enough in the sky that he figures they can skin and cook the rabbits, wash off in the water and still have a few hours to find shelter.

"Hope you like rabbit or that you're good at pretending you like rabbit."

Rumlow raised his eyebrows and rubbed the back of his neck. “You never did, huh? It was standard survival when I was in there. Pair off, spoon for warmth in the winter months, hope your hands and balls don’t freeze off.” He had thought that was a thing way back in the forties, but hell, what did he actually know? Maybe it was a British thing, stiff upper lip and all that.

By the time that Bucky had come back, he had nursed a fire into being and was currently feeding it up to something he could step away from in order to find more significant fuel for it. He had a pile of twigs that he was feeding the jumping, crackling flames, and he looked up from tossing a few on the fire to regard his companion. He gave it a ten percent chance that Barnes walked away from him after all, but here was the man of the hour with food to boot.

“It isn’t the worst meat I’ve had to eat,” he said agreeably, standing up and stretching. He tossed a few dried up leaves on the flames and nodded to a fallen log nearby. “That seems like a good enough place to gut and skin them, yeah? I need to get some more fuel if we want to cook these bad boys.”

He also intended to make a spit in order for them to make proper use of the fire. “Thank god no one around these parts is a vegetarian, yeah? Or god forbid… a vegan.” He shook his head, grabbing some twigs that were nearby to add to his pile. He separated two good sticks for the start of a spit, rubbing off some bark still clinging to them. “See anything else of interest out there?”

"I really wanna ask what the worst meat was, but I also kinda don't." He laughs as he settles on the log to skin the rabbits with Brock's knife. He didn't exactly grow up with these outdoorsy skills, but he's picked up enough in the army to know his way through it and after everything he's done, he's hardly squeamish about it.

He handles a knife like it's a part of him, grip easy and confident like a master of his craft. Even doing the somewhat unfamiliar actions, this is no different.

"Saw a few deer, but I figured they weren't worth the trouble with a knife. Didn't see much else besides birds and squirrels. No signs of civilisation, though." And he doesn't know what that means for them. Are they a day out from a city or are they on some dead world? He's got nothing.

"Don't worry, pal, I've got plenty of stories to tell and some of them may not even be bullshit too," he replied with a smirk of his own. He knew they both had their own share of stories, some of which weren't good for such polite company. He at least knew the Soldier had seen some terrible shit, but that didn't mean Barnes wanted to hear about it, be reminded of it or use it to connect the dots to who he associated with before he had come to El Nysa.

As he worked on the spit, he watched the Soldier's hands with that knife. It was a goddamn work of art. Those nimble capable fingers gripping, the flash and turn of the blade as if it were all second nature. The Soldier could take apart a grown man with the same efficiency as a rabbit corpse, and he found himself watching those hands rather than Barnes' face as they talked. What would it be like on the receiving end of that? Hot, painful, but masterful. Bet the Soldier worked fast enough to get much of the job down of opening a man up before they even died.

"Yeah, I figure we'll a long way off of civilization. All the trails around here are game trails, no signs of anything but animals on them. We might have to range far and wide to figure out what's going on. Maybe climb a mountain for a better view." High ground was always a good option in his mind, though it would take them time. They needed to figure out their survival situation before they went running off looking for people.

Quick, easy work is made of the rabbits. There's a little bit of blood on Bucky's pants, but he's careful to keep it off of his shirt, at least. Pants seem a little easier to ignore and he can wash his hands once they're done cooking it. The skins and parts he deems inedible are shucked to the side and he brings what's left over to Brock.

"Not a bad idea. If anyone's around, we should be able to spot them from high ground unless they're really hiding." In which case, they have a lot more to worry about. People hiding with that much effort aren't a good sign.

"So we eat, find shelter for the night and early tomorrow we look for a better vantage point?" Better to have the full day if they're going to explore so they can make it back to whatever shelter they can find easily or find a new place to hole up.

By the time the Soldier had finished up, he was setting up the spit over their fire and making certain that it was going work. He had to step away to grab a few more rocks in order to solidify to himself that all was secure and ready for use before he offered the stick to Barnes to stick the future meal through. Less chance of salmonella poisoning this way.

"Agreed with you there. We have no idea what the weather is going to do, and I'd prefer not to be freezing my dick off if I can at all help it," he remarked. Well, who knew what the weather was like in this place, but he wasn't about to sit around waiting for it to get too cold or wet or god forbid, snowing. Violet sky was weird enough.

He would prefer to be on the move and looking for a way out of this mess, but he knew better than to deny having a safe space to return to if things didn't work themselves out.

Bucky and Brock's Excellent Adventure

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