#wait until she builds enough meter for her God Install

[nifinof]

mortis' projectile spam makes it impossible for sakiko to approach, bushiroad please nerf this broken chara

[fweeble]

Mafia Romcom (1/?)

Title: None Fandom: SVSSS Pairing(s): LBHxSY, LQGxSY, LBHxLQG, YQYxSQQ Warnings: unrealistic mafia, badly written romcom, unbeta’d Summary: Cang Qiong’s Shen Yuan has been kidnapped. His brother, Shen Qingqiu is in a frenzy. Liu Qingge and Cang Qiong’s greatest enemy, Luo Binghe, are determined to rescue him.  A/N: Thank you @freykugel, my favorite cannibal oniisan, for being patient with me and even reading some of it despite knowing fuck all about SVSSS, xianxia, and everything else. You are the best hyung I could ever ask for. This is what happens when the world is batshit insane, I’m allowed to play Piofiore and read yakuza manga, and know fuck-all about the Chinese Triad.

Liu Qingge is welcomed into the building with the muffled sounds of Shen Qingqiu shouting. A harassed looking underling bows, offering strained apologies and offering to bring breakfast up to his office soon. It isn’t the first time that Shen Qingqiu has thrown a fit that has shaken the Cang Qiong mansion to its foundation and it likely won’t be the last. No matter how soundproof Yue Qingyuan tries to make every room in the mansion, Shen Qingqiu’s voice carries. For a moment, Liu Qingge entertains the idea of tendering his resignation. When he reaches his office, all that will be waiting for him are piles of paperwork and an endless revolving door of men making their reports for their day. No matter how loyal he is to Cang Qiong, he feels his grip on his sanity bleed out through his ears with every tick of the clock as he is stuck behind a desk. He has done enough that he should be able to retire, surely? Weathering the continued existence of Shen Qingqiu is far and beyond his job description. Trading in a desk for freelance work is a daydream that helps Liu Qingge pass the tedium of his current position more often than he’d like to admit. Enough of his men have looked terrified during their daily reports as he silently sharpened Cheng Luan for word to spread that Cang Qiong’s head enforcer likes to threaten his underperforming underlings with the sword. Liu Mingyan had burst into laughter when the rumor had finally reached her. It keeps his men on his toes, so he lets it be. (If he imagines throwing himself out the nearest window, Cheng Luan in hand, and making a break for freedom, far, far away from paperwork and the endless droning of reports, no one but Liu Mingyan needs to know this. Everyone is allowed to dream.) Yue Qingyuan, as ill-suited to the mafia life as any leader can be, would likely let him leave with minimal fuss and no demands for recompense. If anything, Liu Qingge suspects Yue Qingyuan may actually send him off with a farewell party. Everyone knows how often Liu Qingge’s the trigger of one of Shen Qingqiu’s infamous temper tantrums behind closed doors. As excellent as Liu Qingge is at his job, Yue Qingyuan would be relieved to have Shen Qingqiu’s Most Hated Enemy #2 out of the way. After all, even the boss’s husband would have a difficult time throwing out one of Cang Qiong’s inner circle without good reason. It may have been easy to get rid of Luo Binghe, who had no reputation, power, or influence to his name, but the Liu Clan has a long and illustrious history, influence, power, and more money than it knows what to do with. Getting on the clan’s bad side would cause Cang Qiong more headache than Shen Qingqiu in all his righteous fury can. Shen Qingqiu’s voice ratchets up another dozen decibels. Liu Qingge thinks he can make out a few of the words. He signs a few more documents, checks the clock, and considers taking a break before the first of his men reports. Tea with Shen Yuan in the garden sounds appealing. He straightens his hair, smooths any wrinkles out of his waistcoat and resists licking his lips nervously. Maybe he should drop by the bathroom before visiting Shen Yuan’s office, make sure he is presentable. Don’t be stupid, he tells himself, even as he feels himself flushing. Five years working with the man and he still has all the dignity of a three year old when it comes to Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu’s voice continues to get louder. He’s nearly at the door when it is thrown open by Shen Qingqiu who proceeds to brush him aside. Yue Qingyuan sweeps in after his husband, shooting Liu Qingge a pitying look as he politely shuts the door behind him. If only he hadn’t taken the half-second to fix his hair, he despairs. He could’ve been long gone before Shen Qingqiu decided to descend like a plague of locusts. “Find him!” Shen Qingiu roars as he paces back and forth in Liu Qingge’s office, hair in disarray and face surprisingly pale. “Who?” Liu Qingge grunts as he reluctantly returns to his seat. “Shen Yuan!” Shen Qingiu slams his hand down on Liu Qingge’s desk, sending papers flying. The monitor shakes ominously, threatening to fall. Liu Qingge eyes the splintered surface and feels his own rage building. Until the name sinks in. He can feel the blood drain from his face as well. He turns to Yue Qingyuan who looks uncharacteristically strained. “Explain,” he demands. ---- In between the shouting and Cheng Luan being threateningly brandished against an inconsolable and raging Shen Qingqiu, Liu Qingge has understood three things: 1. Shen Yuan has gone missing. He is not answering his phone. The app Shen Qingqiu had secretly installed on his phone isn’t working. He cannot be located. 2. Shen Yuan was last seen the night before, wishing his brother good night before retreating to his quarters. 3. Shen Qingqiu is convinced Luo Binghe has him. Liu Qingge hates agreeing with Shen Qingqiu about anything. They once got into an argument over the weather because he couldn’t bring himself to agree with the other man. But Liu Qingge can’t help but agree that if Shen Yuan has gone missing, the prime suspect is his ex-disciple Luo Binghe. It’s no secret how much Luo Binghe desires his old teacher. Which is why Liu Qingge wastes no time in delegating his duties to Yang Yixuan and marching over to Huan Hua’s estate and demanding a meeting with Luo Binghe. He had told Yue Qingyuan not to worry, had explained that it would just be an exploratory meeting. It had been clear Yue Qingyuan hadn’t believed him, but Liu Qingge doesn’t feel too guilty about breaking into Huan Hua and raiding the estate. If Luo Binghe has Shen Yuan, he’d keep him close. Shen Yuan will definitely be on the premises. If Shen Yuan isn’t there, then that’s one suspect off the list. It isn’t his job to play detective, anyways. If either Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu had expected subterfuge or delicacy in handling the situation, they shouldn’t have turned to him, the head of Cang Qiong’s hitmen. They could have turned to Qing Qi and her hand picked spies or even sent some of Shen Yuan’s own grifters to put out feelers and gather information. One does not take out a hammer when precision work is necessary. If anyone is at fault, it’s Shen Qingqiu’s fault for demanding Liu Qingge to find his brother. (Liu Qingge ignores the Liu Mingyan in his head that giggles at his flimsy excuses. He’s absolutely not as emotionally compromised as Shen Qingqiu is. He’s making perfectly sound decisions. What else had they expected a trained assassin to do? He can’t smile and make small talk, tricking a target into exposing sensitive information like Shen Yuan does. What he can do is kill a man in seventeen different ways with his bare hands while blindfolded and shoot moving target with pinpoint accuracy at over six hundred meters. His only skills are beating people for information and killing people for information. He’s just playing to his strengths.) He tosses one terrified looking Huan Hua thug out a window and points Cheng Luan at another before taking a deep breath and hollering. “LUO BINGHE. COME OUT!” He waits one second, then two. After the third, he angrily incapacitates the terrified flunky hiding behind a potted plant and takes the stairs up. Wading through the endless waves of Huan Hua trash that come crawling out like cockroaches, Liu Qingge does his best to avoid permanently injuring or killing any of them. There’s no reason to start a war if Shen Yuan isn’t here. (But he is; he definitely is.) After half an hour of crushing every person who even tries to stop him, Liu Qingge makes it to a heavy set of doors. Luo Binghe’s office. “Luo Binghe!” The man in question sits behind his gleaming rosewood desk, Sha Hualing perched on the end of it, twirling her hair. Luo Binghe smiles thinly at Liu Qingge. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks lightly. “I never expected the great War God of Cang Qiong to visit Huan Hua.” Liu Qingge twitches. “Return Shen Yuan,” he commands, Cheng Luan still pointed at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe’s smile gets sharper, “If Shizun has had enough of Cang Qiong and wishes to be with his dearest disciple, I see why I should send him back.” “No reason?” Liu Qingge resists stabbing the smug bastard immediately. “Is death not enough motivation?” “Death?” Luo Binghe laughs lowly, “I’m not the one courting it.” Sha Hualing rolls her eyes, rising from the desk with smooth grace. “I’ll go check on our...products,” she says as she leaves, shooting Luo Binghe a look that speaks thousands of words, all of them which make Liu Qingge turn crimson. “Shameless!” He bites out, head turning from Sha Hualing’s retreating back to Luo Binghe, before swiveling right back. “Shameless!” He repeats, face hotter than it should be. Luo Binghe retrieves Xin Mo from its place of honor on the wall even as he taunts Liu Qingge, “Cheng Luan, really? Is Cang Qiong so old fashioned that even its War God brings outdated weaponry to battle?” “As if the peashooters your men had were of any use,” Liu Qingge snorts. No gun, no matter how powerful it is, is dead weight in the hands of the incompetent. “You know as well as I do how useful good steel can be,” he continues as Luo Binghe draws Xin Mo. There’s a heartbeat as they both size each other up. Liu Qingge readjusts his stance, eyes Luo Binghe’s shifting his grip on Xin Mo. They���re about to strike, when the doors slam open. “BOSS! Shen Yuan has been kidnapped!” Liu Qingge’s murderous rage shifts. “SHANG QINGHUA!” Shang Qinghua stands in the doorway to Luo Binghe’s office, eyes wide. He trembles. “L-L-Liu Qingge?” He stammers. “BOSS?” Liu Qingge repeats, pointing Cheng Luan at the suddenly stiff Luo Binghe. “LUO BINGHE?” If it were possible, Shang Qinghua would probably melt through the floor. “Kidnapped?” Luo Binghe repeats, voice dangerously low. Shang Qinghua shivers more. He looks on the verge of tears. “Explain. Now.”

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Worst Case

Read it on AO3

Chapter 3

"Don't try to concentrate on this thing, try to concentrate on your own arm."

Bucky groaned. The 'thing' Tony was talking about was a makeshift robotic hand propped up in front of Bucky. It was a simplistic model, reminding Bucky of the wooden articulated hand Steve once had for drawing references that was probably long lost to the ether. Except this hand had all kinds of cables connecting it to the machine and looked like it came straight out of a science fiction movie that Tony had 'just thrown together' last night.

The task was to move any digit on the hand. Simple really.

"What do you think I am doing?"

"Not that, because then it would be working, you're thinking too complicated and if you keep staring at it like you can move it via the Force it's never going to work."

Bucky gave up and leaned back in the chair, it's been over half an hour and he hadn't been able to move the thing, not a single millimeter. If it wasn't for Tony's constant reassurance Bucky would have despaired a long time ago.

"How about we take a break, order some Thai and we'll try it later again? Come on, I'll disconnect you." Tony rolled over with his chair and put a comforting hand on Bucky's thigh.

"No. Let me try again, please, Tony. I can do it."

"I know you can, Buckeroo, but you don't have to do it on the first try. Don't overexert yourself."

"Please let me do this, Tony. I need to do it. You've done all the work so far, let me get my part right." Bucky looked at Tony imploringly. "Please."

(More after the break!)

Tony gave Bucky's thigh a light squeeze and nodded. "Alright, but we have to do a break at some point or Pepper is going to have my ass."

"Wouldn't want anything to happen to that piece of art, would we?" Bucky pointed out, being dead serious.

"Have you been checking out my behind, Mr. Barnes? I am shocked!" Tony gasped overly fake and put a hand over his heart.

Bucky shrugged then grinned mischievously. "I'd like to do more than just checking out if you know what I mean." He made a grabbing motion with his hand and wiggled his fingers suggestively and a sudden noise made them both perk up. "What was that?" Bucky asked. It had sounded mechanical.

Tony scooted over to the mechanical hand on the table, suddenly excited. "Do it again." He gestured at Bucky to hurry up.

"What? You don't think that thing just moved, do you? I didn't even think about it."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Just do it, exactly what you just did." He grabbed the table with both hands and stared at the hand like he was the one trying to move it with just his thoughts.

Bucky opened and closed his right hand a couple of times and nothing happened.

"No, not like that. Exactly what you just did, no thinking, just doing."

Bucky wanted to protest again but seeing Tony's serious face made him relent, he had wanted to try again after all. He closed his eyes.

No thinking. He blended out the hand on the table and thought back to the moment when he had been teasing Tony. Just a spontaneous movement.

"Don't think, Buckeroo." Tony's voice smoothed away the last doubts in Bucky's mind.

No thinking...

Bucky lifted his right hand and -

The mechanical hand on the table whirred to life at the same time as he closed his right hand. Bucky's eyes shot open and the first thing he saw was Tony's bright and winning smile as he presented a half-closed hand on the table.

"You did it, Sunshine! You did it!"

"I did it! Oh my god... It worked!"

Bucky fought back tears. He couldn't believe it. All the hard work over the last months had finally paid off, he had done it. He wasn't a failure. He had done it, he would get a prosthesis with Tony's help. He would get back his left arm. The realization hit him hard and he couldn't hold back the tears anymore. He buried his face in his hand and sobbed with joy.

He had done it!

Tony walked over and stroked his back in comfort. Bucky grabbed for something to hold onto, getting a hold of Tony's shirt after a few tries and buried his face against Tony's chest.

"Thank you, Tony, thank you!"

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky and held him. "That was all you, Bucky, you alone."

They stayed like that for several minutes until Bucky was able to control his tears and looked up again, a big smile on his face.

Tony ruffled his hair. "I can't believe lewd thoughts about my butt made you finally do it."

Bucky's cheeks flushed deep red and he buried his face in his hand. "Oh god, don't put that in my file or anything. I swear I was just joking."

Tony winked. "No worries, your secret is safe with me."

They ordered in after that and used the waiting time for some practice. After the initial breakthrough, it was easy for Bucky to recall the sensations for moving the metal hand and it came to him easier and easier. After only five minutes he could open and close the hand without much problem, albeit still somewhat jerky, though Tony assured him that would go away with time and with an upgraded hand. The basic model didn't have as many options for moving it and in the coming weeks they would move on to more advanced models with finer motor control and a bigger range of movements until finally, Bucky would be able to move the whole arm without a problem.

The next couple of days Bucky continued to practice with the hand while Tony made adjustments to it. He continued to configure the apparatus that was translating Bucky's nerve signals to the hand until he was satisfied with Bucky's abilities to control it. Their progress was eventually halted when the basic hand was just not good enough anymore and Tony needed a few days to build a new model. They advanced slowly as Tony didn't want to overtax Bucky or his nerves with too much stimulus at once. Bucky was the first to test out the technology and he had no gauge on how fast the severed nerves would recuperate and heal with this method.

Bucky savored every minute he could practice with the model of the arm and be with Tony. Tony's flirting game was as strong as ever, stronger maybe now that Bucky's confidence grew with each week of progress and he finally reciprocated the advances. Bucky opened up more and more and they laughed, bantered, flirted every day. Tony even went so far to send him pictures of the new arm during the days they didn't meet up.

-----

James (6:18 pm) "I think I'm in love."

Nat (6:19 pm) "You only realize that now?"

James (6:19 pm) "...." "I'm going to ask him out" "After this is done"

Nat (6:20 pm) "Why not ask him right now?"

James (6:21 pm) "I'm technically still his patient" "Would be weird"

-------

Bucky knew the end of the program was nearing when one day during a normal practice session - he was doing bicep curls with the propped up arm on the table - a young black woman came into their room and Tony introduced her as one of the top prothesis technicians who was going to model the shoulder socket for his arm. She took rigorous measurements of his upper torso and finally made a mold of his shoulder with a white gooey substance that she then covered in plaster strips for stabilization.

After she left again Tony turned to him with a grin. "Guess it's time to schedule the surgery."

"Surgery?" Bucky's eyes went wide, there had never been any talk about surgery, he hadn't agreed to that. Flashes of hospital lights flying overhead crowded his vision, doctors yelling and his own screams filled his ears and he suddenly doubled over, pain shooting through his left side. Tony's hands were on him in an instant and held him up.

"Breath, Bucky, come on buddy, breath!" Tony's voice broke through the noise in Bucky's ears and he gasped for air. His breathing was ragged as his eyes started to focus again and Tony's concerned face came into view.

"Flashback?" Tony asked softly, not letting go of him.

Bucky nodded jerkily. "No surgery. I can't..."

"I should have specified. It's nothing that you have to go under for." Tony explained. "It's local anesthetic, we can do it right here, no operation theater."

That made Bucky glance up, he might be able to deal with that. Tony continued when Bucky nodded to affirm him that it wouldn't trigger him further.

"It's to install implants just under your skin, it's a few small cuts on your shoulder, not worse than getting a piercing. Maybe even less so, since the area will be numbed."

"What are the implants for?"

Tony smiled. "They're basically these things." He poked one of the electrodes glued to Bucky's shoulder. "Except you won't have to worry about gluing them on every time you want to use your prosthesis."

Bucky nodded, he had gotten his breathing under control again and sat back up in the chair. Tony pulled back when he didn't need the support anymore and Bucky instantly wished he hadn't done that. "Are you going to do it?"

Tony shook his head. "No, but I'll be there with you if you want me too."

A week later when the technician had finished the socket and the final position of the implants was determined, Tony sat with Bucky and held his hand. The doctor who had first examined Bucky months ago was doing the procedure and Bucky wondered why Tony wasn't doing it. It would have put him more at ease, but with Tony at his side, he was mostly calm while the doctor was working on his shoulder.

The implants were small flat discs not bigger than a penny and the whole procedure didn't take longer than half an hour, the doctor prescribed him some painkillers for when the numbing wore off and then it was over. Bucky had to take a two-week break until he was fully healed, which put him in a foul mood for most of it. The only good thing that came from being forced to sit idly was that Tony would be able to finish his prosthesis and the next time he came in he would be practicing with the arm actually attached to him instead of it sitting on a table. It always made Bucky feel like his arm was somehow 2 meters long when he watched it move on the table, even if he couldn't feel it. It would make everything worth it and Bucky couldn't wait to properly ask Tony out.

[dirtybombfics]

Operation Kira

For our next submission, we have an entry by a Dirty Bomber who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being. Please prepare your eyes for another installment of DBFics, “Operation Kira.”

--

“God, I hate Mondays. You have just got in the mood for the weekend and BANG, back to work you go. At least, it’s a work I like, but GOD DAMNIT, the weekend is still the weekend!”

Those were the thoughts of Fragger, light machine gunner and grenadier working under the Central Disaster Authority as a mercenary soldier, on his way to a briefing in a cold London’s monday morning.

“I wonder, are the other guys already there? The briefing begins when everyone’s in anyway. Or like Skyhammer would say: 'Party doesn’t start ‘till I walk in!' Funny guy, that Skyhammer, we go along nicely. I should teach him some proper door breaching, when we are out of here.”

As he imagined, the rest of the team was already outside of the room, small talking. He nodded his head to greet everyone, and the group entered the briefing room. As usual it was empty, aside from a desk with a screen and a webcam. The moment all the people sat down, the lights turned off, and a recorded message played on the screen.

-Good day, mercenaries. Today’s mission is important not only for the CDA, but for the entire world as well, so no failure will be tolerated.

The CDA logo disappeared and was replaced by the picture and the information about a blue-haired woman.

-In the past we successfully recovered the controller of an orbital laser stored in an abandoned military Underground carriage, too bad the woman who got it had the brilliant idea to steal it and start to work under The Jackal, her name is Kira, some of you have worked with her.

On the screen the picture of a dockyard appeared, and the voice continued.

-Our intelligence tells that at 1000 they are going to guard a ship as it unloads containers with content unknown. This is the right moment to go in and reclaim that controller. The content of the load doesn’t not bother us, it might be full of rubbish as far as we are concerned, but it’s of major importance to have that controller back! A chopper will extract you in the usual place at 0900, good luck.

In the outfitting room, the conversation about the mission went on.

-Kira, huh? You worked with her, right?- asked Fragger to Skyhammer.

-Yes, a good teammate, but nothing special until she got that laser thing. But believe me, she knows her stuff, microelectronics and shite like that.

-And she’s good looking too.

-Don’t tell me you want her to teach you about transistors while she whips your arse and says you’ve been a naughty soldier!

Fragger laughed.

-Quite the opposite.. If you know what I mean!

-You really are a naughty soldier then!

The voice of Fletcher, Nigerian mercenary and self-proclaimed field officer broke the banter:

-Team, come over here, let’s see a strategy.

The group joined around a table, with a military map representing what seemed to be a pier of London’s industrial port.

-The area is full of containers, we can take advantage of them to surrond and make a surprise attack, under the crossfire they won’t last long. We just must deploy a bit more distant than usual, and it will be a cakewalk.

Arty, the other fire support soldier inquired:

-They surely expect us, the defenses will be to the top.

-The defenses were to the top also when I blew up that oil refinery in Qatar, but strangely I’m still here. We will split as soon as we enter the container area, and then we will position in these places: - he then started pointing various locations on the map.

-As you can see, they will be completely surrounded. Now let’s move, time is money.

On the helicopter, Fragger pulled out of his pocket a flask and sipped a bit of it.

-Is that whiskey?- Asked Skyhammer -First off, you give me a sip of it too, then don’t drink too much of it, or you will think we are The Jackal’s guys!

-No alcohol on the job!- Arty stood up and tried to grab the flask, but wasn’t quick enough and Fragger put it back in the coat.

-HAH, you guys! First off, I need whiskey to wake up in the morning, and always remember I was the best drunk sharpshooter of my fireteam back when I was in the army!

-What do you mean?

-Drunk sharpshooting? You drink a full flask of whiskey, then you do a full magazine in the three hundreds meters range. If you hit the target with at least half of the shots, you made it! Actually, one of my fellow soldiers landed almost all the bullets, too bad they were on the targets in the adjacent lanes. We must do it someday too!

Fletcher interrupted:

-Cut the chatter, we have arrived. Let’s split, we will attack at 10 and 15, synchronize on my mark. Mark. Now let’s go.

The group quickly entered the container area, and soon they were split.

“This container maze is huge. Can’t see past a few meters, what tells me someone is going to jump behind the corner and pin me down? Just keep your cool, Skyham, last time you lost your mind you almost airstriked the entire team. Just reach the position and open fire when the watch beeps, regular everyday buisness.”

A sudden buzzing broke Skyhammer’s thought flow. He flattened on a container and peeked over the corner. An automatic turret was standing on the way, ready to lock on at the first detected movement. Skyhammer quickly hid the head, and whispered on the radio:

-Guys, there’s an automatic turret blocking my path, can’t go on.

In that moment a loud hooter announced the cargo ship had arrived.

-Carpe Diem! - Mumbled the mercenary as he jumped out of the corner and shot a bullet.

Skyhammer’s assault rifle was covered by the hooter, and the bullet safely landed on the turret’s motion sensor.

-No more turret issues, and I’m sure none of the enemy heard me shooting, going on as usual.

In the meantime, Arty was ready on the roof of the docking area’s building, and was reporting in to the rest of the team.

-I have a view on them. I see the mission objective, that Texan engineer, a woman with a grenade launcher, and what seems to be a man wearing a poncho, he just walked out of sight. The crane is unloading some containers. I see some proximity mines on the ground, be careful when navigating the area. Over.

Now, it was all a matter of waiting. Every CDA operative was waiting for the beep to begin the attack, each one picking a target easy to dispatch from their position. But they didn’t consider that The Jackal was not an unprepared man.

In a nearby building, a woman was spying on the situation and updating The Jackal’s men minute by minute.

-They are taking position behind the containers, one of them entered the docking area, I guess he will spy on you, just pretend nothing is happening. Bush, your turret was hit. Can you hear me? Goddamn hooter. I don’t know when they will attack, just wait for it and be prepared.

Five and more minutes passed, every man on the field was as nervous as ever. Then, the silence was broken by a beep.

“Party starts here!” thought Skyhammer as he jumped in the open and aimed the gun for the perfect shot. But he wasn’t quick enough, Bushwhacker readily moved behind cover.

A similar situation was happening to the other mercenaries. Not a single shot landed on the enemy, and they all fell back to safe positions

-Shit!- yelled Fletcher over the radio -They spotted us! Who is the imbecille that blew the cover?

-I don’t care, let’s get that shit back and fly back home!- replied Fragger, while throwing a grenade as a signal for the enemy Rhino to back off.

The explosion’s impact pushed Rhino to the ground, that was quickly knocked out by Fragger.

Bushwhacker was chewing his cigar, trying to figure out Skyhammer’s next move. “The first thing”, he thought, “Is to fall back, let him come to me, and I might find someone else too.”

Skyhammer, a dozen of meters away, was pondering the same.

“If I were that ugly face, what would I do? Of course, falling back and find some ugly faces to ask help to! Time for a little chase!”.

Fletcher, blocked behind a container under the crossfire of Phoenix and Proxy took the sticky bombs out of the belt, and looked at them. Were three enough to do the trick? He had gone through worse, and dying is not as bad as it sounds. In that exact moment, a machine gun burst announced the arrival of Fragger. The enemies backed off, and a container to container firefight ensued.

Kira was hidden near the control panel of the shipyard crane, in case someone wanted to do funny stuff with it, and saw Bushwhacker sprinting towards her. She shot a few bursts towards the figure that was seemingly chasing him, and Bushwhacker made a final dash behind cover.

-Thank goodness I found you, Kira. We need to flush out that son of a bitch from behind the cover, think your laser can do it?

-I can try, just give me a few seconds.

That laser had always done wonders, nothing had a chance against it, and its power was just a few seconds away. All you had to do was to acquire the coordinates of the user and point the designator, wait and..

-Damnit! It doesn’t work!

-What the hell do you mean doesn’t work!

-It can’t find the signal, they must have satellite jammers around here.

-”Around here” is a big place, don’t you say?

-Yes! The docking area! The Guardian Angel said someone entered the docking area, they must have placed the jammer on the roof.

-Makes sense. But we can’t leave the crane controls on their own.

-Nader, are you free?- Asked Kira in the radio -We need to check the docking area, they must have placed a satellite jammer up there.

-Ya, I will wait for you there.

-See you, Bush.

Kira shot a few more burst to dissuade Skyhammer from leaving the cover and sprinted away.

“Satellite jammers? This is new, I didn’t even know something like that existed. Not like my grenade launcher would be damaged in any way. Kira sounded worried, must be something serious.”

Nader took cover near the docking area, and was soon joined by Kira.

-What are we exactly dealing with?

-A satellite jammer, when it recognizes nearby satellite communications it sends signals that completely scramble the communication; its making my laser useless. There should be someone up there, too.

-Let me handle this.

Nader fired some grenades on the roof, and Arty backed off before they could detonate. He then blindly fired some shots from behind his new cover, hoping to hit something.

-What I told you? -said Nader, reloading the grenade launcher -Now it’s only a matter of hitting the soft spot. Let’s try again.

Meanwhile Arty was thinking how to sort out the situation. He was too exposed, and with grenades he couldn’t stand a chance. Suddently, an idea. It was risky, but it was the only one.

Near the entrance, Nader was ready to hit again.

-Now look at this, a textbook shot!

When the grenades detonated, a broken helmet landed near Kira’s feet.

-See, textbook shot! I think you can handle it on your own, now.

-Yes, go and help Bushwhacker. I’ll contact you in case of need.

-Ya, take care.

Kira entered the containers’docking area, and headed for the stairs to the roof. The building was silent, and she could hear the firefights taking place outside. The stairs were in a dangerous spot, someone could be hidden behind the corner. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to let Nader go back. It was all or nothing. Kira started walking cautiosly, describing a wide corner so that she could spot the enemy before the enemy could do the opposite. Suddently, a loud clang' Kira turned to the direction of the sound was coming from and found herself with a gun barrel planted in the back.

-Listen very carefully, I have a family and I think so do you. We are here for the laser controller, nothing more. Give it to me and I won’t hurt you.

Since Kira didn’t move, he took out a knife and threateningly approached it to the woman’s throat.

-I tell it again. Give me the laser controller, or I slit your throat.

There was no way out. Kira took out the laser controller and gave it to the man.

-Thank you.

And it was darkness.

Arty carefully laid the unconcious Kira on the ground, picked the pistol he threw to distract her, and communicated over the radio:

-I got the controller, meet you at the extraction point.

“Allright!” thought Skyhammer, “It’s show time!”

-Airstrike incoming!- he yelled from the top of his lungs while throwing the marker and quickly retiring.

In the meantime Fletcher used his sticky bombs as a decoy for him and Fragger to fall back, and soon al the CDA mercenaries left  the containers area.

-Arty, where is your helmet?- asked Fragger once the CDA men boarded the extraction helicopter.

-I gave it to a man that was minding his business.

-Ok, ok, no need to get angry. How did you get it anyway?

-Asking politely.

-You really aren’t a chatty person, aren’t ya?

-Time is money. Less talk, more action.

When Kira gained consciousness Phoenix, the Spanish medic, was bent over her.

-Are you ok?

-I have a terrible headache, I can’t think from the pain..

-Let me check. Yes, you have a big bump on the back of the head. You must have been knocked out by the butt of a gun. ¿Lo es? Aside from that are you ok?

-They stole my laser controller, just it.

-Ok, the rest of the team is ok. Rhino got some grenade shrapnels up his face, he will be fresh in a few days, Bushwhacker got his shoulder dislocated when being pushed away by an explosion, I took care of it on the spot, and my nanoparticles do wonders. Let’s go back and report in.

Over to the CDA base, Fletcher carefully put the orbital laser controller inside a briefcase, before handing it to a armored truck’s crew.

-There we go, safe and sound. We will send the report tomorrow at midday.

-Is the connection ready, Proxy?

-Ready in 10.

On the screen the dim-lit face of The Jackal appeared. Little was known about him, many discordant voices stated the most insane things about him. Some stated he was either a US scientist living in Brazil or an eccentric billionaire trying to profit from the Dirty Bomb aftermath. Some voices even theorized he was the man behind the Dirty Bomb itself, but it wasn’t Phoenix’s concerns, he was there for the money.

-Glad to see you are still alive, Phoenix. You are worth my money. Go ahead and report.

-Mission accomplished, the containers were successfully unloaded. We got attacked by soldiers probably sent by the CDA. No casualties, three wounded.

It was useless to thank The Jackal, informalities of this kind only angered him.

-Satisfactory. James was right about the CDA moves then. Other statements?

-Apparently the CDA men were to the docks not for the containers, but for Kira’s orbital laser controller. They successfully stole it, its destination is unknown.

-Let me talk to her.

Kira was nervous, and for obvious reasons. Among all the theories, The Jackal was well known for his mercilessness with people that weren’t up to the standards he expected. She sat in front of the screen, dead inside and expecting the worst.

-Kira, Kira.. Messed up big time, didn’t you? That orbital laser was worth a lot of money.

-Go straight to the point, Jackal. Am I just fired or executed on the spot?

The usually serious face of The Jackal was crossed by a snarky, almost cruel smile.

-What tells you, you had a working controller?

[triflesandparsnips]

the final part of “Compare and Contrast”

How long have there been three Buckys in the tower? Too long.

--

“Is there any sort of time line?” Natasha says, sitting on the conference room table and kicking her legs. On the screen in front of her is an oversized projection of Sue Storm’s face.

Sue rolls her eyes. “You know Reed.” Natasha is actually rather glad that she does not know Reed. “It’s either at some indeterminable point in the future, or it’s already happened in another universe, so why don’t we just check there.”

Natasha pauses delicately. “Is there anything actually preventing us from checking another universe?”

Sue breathes heavily through her nose. “How do you think this happened in the first place?”

--

Bucky, James, and Barnes. At this point, they’re pretty much a package deal. James is generally identifiable because, surprise surprise, he still has only one arm. Bucky and Barnes, on the other hand, have graduated to pulling twin-pranks on everybody. They’re successful about 40% of the time.

(“Steve,” one calls out from the elevator, “c’mon, I’m holding the door here.” “STEVE,” says another, wide-eyed and plucking at Steve’s sleeve, “that’s not the real Bucky.”)

(They find this hilarious.)

--

On a particularly overcast Tuesday, Tony and James find themselves unaccountably in the same room at the same time.

Tony is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He’s also got a couple of doctorates in various maths, so he’s pretty confident he can add up “no arm” and “hates my face” and get why James might have an issue with him.

Thing is, Tony knows what happened with the Winter Soldier and his parents. He’s known for a while -- before Bucky (his Bucky, their Bucky, whatever) ever made it to the Tower. He’s had time to process it, think it over, drink it over, and then get over it. (“Get over” is not entirely accurate, but this story isn’t about Tony, so we’re just going to skip all that.)

It is not outside the realm of possibility that a different universe’s Tony might have, uh, reacted poorly to the situation.

It’s an uncomfortable sensation, feeling like he needs to apologize for something he didn’t even do, but then again, he sort of did, so: “Sorry about the arm.”

James flinches, but turns his dead-eyed attention toward Tony.

(“Dead-eyed” is unfair. He just looks... tired. The kind of tired that Tony’s been for, oh, years.)

“I mean,” Tony says, “I’m sure I’m a dick across the multiverse, but that seems overly personal for the kind of assholery I prefer to espouse.”

James breathes, slow in and out breaths. “I deserved it,” he says, low and far away.

Well, and if this isn’t a carnival ride Tony’s been on too many times before. “Doubt it,” he says, and flicks his fingers at the air. A screen appears before him -- he shoves it in James’s direction.

James almost ducks it, at first, but the hologram stops a polite distance away. His eyes widen. On the screen is a new arm, based on the prosthetics Tony’s been building for veterans. Better, of course, because regular soldiers can’t really handle the kind of hardware that can be supported by the jacked-up internal support system that comes with invasive and dehumanizing seventy-year-old surgery.

It’s a good arm. Tony likes it. “It’s yours, if you want it,” he says. And then he gets the hell out of Dodge, before he has to hear James say no.

Better to give the kid some time to think about it, anyway.

--

Thor’s been kind of in the wind for a while, so he’s unaware of the current Bucky-in-triplicate situation. He might not show up, but, whatever, if he does, no big deal. Of all of them, he’s the most likely to take it in stride.

What no one realizes, unfortunately, is that James has never met Thor.

This becomes readily apparent when Thor does show up on a lovely Saturday, flying up to a window on the communal floor. He pushes it open, calls out, “Greetings!--” 

--and abruptly has a two-hundred-fifty-pound necklace of machine-like destruction delicately wrapped around his neck.

Thor is startled enough to actually botch his landing. Banner subtly slips from the room. Natasha blinks heavily, and Steve says, “James, no, that’s--”

It’s pretty embarrassing. Which is why Bucky decides that it’s the better part of valor to join James and see how long it takes Thor to shake both of them off.

--

“Any word?” Natasha asks Sue, this time over the phone as she gets herself a nice gelato in Helsinki. (It’s been a long few weeks. Sometimes work is its own vacation.)

“No,” says Sue. “Are everyone’s corporeal matrices still stable?”

“What?” says Natasha.

“What?” says Sue.

“Is that something we should be looking out for?” says Natasha.

“I think I hear Reed,” says Sue, and hangs up.

--

Speaking of Banner. You know who else James hasn’t met? The Hulk.

I mean, he didn’t know Banner, either, but Banner’s a pretty easy guy to get introduced to. All of the Bucky/Banner introductions, throughout the universes, have generally gone as well as two introverted weapons of mass destruction meeting could go. There’s a hi, hello, nod, and then quietly going about their day, with the implicit assumption that they each carry Death within them. The usual stuff.

The Hulk is a different matter entirely. The Hulk, when there’s an unfortunate explosion in the labs and he therefore has to make an appearance, does not appreciate there being three identical people who are indistinguishable by smell and have only slight physical differences. Bucky and Barnes had met the Hulk previously, and knew enough to make themselves scarce.

James, on the other hand, and unbeknownst to everybody else, is an idiot.

“Whoa,” he says, as the Hulk uncurls from his crouch and glares around the labs. There’s a glass partition between Banner’s and Tony’s -- James is therefore protected by exactly nothing much as he’s sitting in Tony’s lab and getting scanned by JARVIS. He’d shown up that morning to maybe get a new arm installed. He doesn’t have it yet, though, so sitting around and looking wide-eyed at a six-meter tall rage monster and, dear god, starting to smile, isn’t exactly the smartest thing he could be doing right at that moment.

“Should we set off the sleepytime drugs?” Clint asks, staring at the security feeds well, well away from the labs.

“No,” says Natasha. “The fire suppression system hasn’t put out the fire yet -- the Hulk needs to stay awake to keep Bruce breathing.”

Over in Tony’s lab, James is actually, literally saying, “Wouldja lookit that.”

Blond, flying gods -- hell no. Hapless scientists transforming into enormous green monsters -- well, gosh, that’s just neat.

“Now is not the time to get your geek on,” says Tony’s voice from behind a well-placed lab bench. 

“But--” says James. 

The Hulk, displeased by life, roars. James’s eyes get, if possible, even wider. 

“Wow.”

--

Steve, hearing this story later, is not impressed.

--

About Steve, though. That’s where things are getting a little tricky.

He just keeps watching all of them. Barnes has a disturbing habit of watching back, but Bucky and James are not comfortable with this level of interest in their persons.

The two of them are hunkered in one of the elevator shafts, because, well, why the hell not. Bucky cleans his guns in a disgruntled manner. “He was getting weird before this,” he mutters at James. “There was this thing. Wombats. Just-- weird.”

“Mine is-- different,” James says, the word ‘mine’ a little rough in his mouth. “More unhappy.”

Bucky considers the great and unending martyrdom of Steven Grant Rogers. “What the hell,” he says. James shrugs, and scratches little hash marks in his notebook.

“What do you think Barnes’s is like?” Bucky says after a few minutes.

James shrugs again. “Like him, maybe. Maybe he bakes. Maybe they own their own goddamn coffeeshop.”

Bucky contemplates his SIG-Sauer. “Boring,” he says after much thought.

“At least it’s not wombats,” James says, and then-- “Maybe he’s happy.”

Neither of them say it, but they both think it would be kind of nice if that was the case.

--

“Sue,” says Natasha.

“It’s fine!” says Sue. “Everything’s fine!”

--

And so it happens on an otherwise unremarkable Saturday.

In the middle of the common area, as the whole team is trying to teach the Buckys how to play a complex and nonsensical drinking game, two identical portals open.

Out of the one on the left steps a tall, black man. “I am T’Challa,” he says, a Wakandan accent polishing his words. James straightens up, but everybody else is uncertain. Natasha says, “The crown prince?” and, for a brief moment, the man is still. Then he shakes his head, smiles politely, and turns to look at James.

“Dr. Richards and I have been working together to retrieve you. Do you have anything you need to leave here? Only the smallest of particles from this universe can safely enter our own.”

James, face almost as blank as it had been when he’d arrived, waves his new arm. T’Challa’s attention snaps instantly to it. “Interesting,” he breathes. “We will have to see what can be done in our own laboratories.”

James takes off the arm. He hands it to Tony, and then steps toward T’Challa.

“Wait,” says Bucky, and then realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

Barnes, of all people, steps up. “Remember your purpose,” he says. T’Challa and, frankly, the majority of the people in the room all look uneasy at the words, but the faraway look in James’s eyes retreats a little, and he gives the smallest of smiles before stepping again toward T’Challa and the lefthand portal.

Actually, the lefthand portal has everything professional and serious. The lefthand portal represents everything a serious farewell and end to a multi-chapter journey of discovery should be.

To counterbalance this, there is also the righthand portal.

Up until this very moment, the righthand portal had done nothing except emit a fairly odd set of muted noises and some funky light effects. However, immediately upon James taking that penultimate step back into his own universe, the righthand portal roars, and out steps--

Steve.

A different Steve. Barnes’s Steve.

He’s in uniform, and it’s burned in some patches and covered in purple goop in other patches, and his cowl is off, and his hair is stupid. His eyes immediately flick between everyone present, and lands squarely on--

“Bucky,” he says, stepping toward Barnes, and--

“Holy shit,” says James.

Barnes and Steve have thrown punches at one another’s faces, but with their mouths.

Bucky’s Steve makes a faint sound.

Bucky himself doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, except he knows he can’t look away.

Barnes and Barnes’s-Steve finally break apart, and Barnes’s-Steve says, “You mook.”

“Sez you,” says Barnes, and then again with the kissing.

A moment passes, and T’Challa delicately clears his throat. “I’m going to assume that Dr. Richards aided in the creation of the other portal. We should not linger here, though; it’s unsteady. Make your goodbyes, yes?”

“Sure, sure,” says James, still staring at the righthand extravaganza. “Bye, guys.”

He waves a hand and distractedly walks past T’Challa and through the portal. The last thing Bucky sees is James turn around and, of all things, look speculative.

T’Challa makes a brief bow, goes through his portal, and a moment later, it collapses.

Barnes and Barnes’s-Steve come up for air. “My eyes,” Clint says faintly. Barnes snorts, and then the two idiots are practically giggling over each other.

Bucky takes the leap. “You didn’t say.” He tries not to sound accusing. He also tries not to stare too hard at where a bit of light glints wetly on Barnes’s-Steve’s mouth.

Barnes manages to look embarrassed. “Protocol,” he says. “Assess the situation, react accordingly. Didn’t seem to be a thing here, so I kept my face shut.”

Barnes’s-Steve may or may not murmur something about Barnes’s face, but Bucky isn’t close enough to hear it. Barnes, though, smiles. No-- grins. “Gotta go,” he says.

“Thanks for not getting him killed,” Barnes’s-Steve pipes up.

“Hey,” says Bucky. Barnes turns toward him. “You remember your purpose.”

“Yes,” says Barnes. He looks like he’s going to say something else, and then-- his eyes flick past Bucky. “Huh,” Barnes says, and then waves, and pulls his Steve back through the portal.

The portal closes. 

Bucky is once more the only Bucky.

And this is when Bucky hears the door to the common area slide shut behind him.