outofalpha | Sept/Oct Test Drive Meme

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test drive meme

Sept/Oct Test Drive Meme

Alpha Complex Test Drive Meme

Please feel free to take a Test Drive to see if the environment would suit your character! All potential players are welcome.

It may be your first day in Alpha Complex or your hundredth, either way, you are in serious trouble.

Scenario One
Your character has been accused of treason!

Whether the accusation is true or not, you are a wanted citizen! Do you turn yourself over to IntSec (Internal Security) for questioning? Do you make a run for it and go AWOL? Will you fight for your right to exist or hole up somewhere safe until the chaos passes? Do you become The Fugitive and try to prove your innocence? Or are you guilty as hell and seeking help from friends or other parties who would be willing to assist you for a price?

Beware of the security cameras everywhere - some of which actually work - and being spotted by citizens who might be willing to turn you in to gain points with The Computer or to prove their own loyalty.

Scenario Two
Your character has been given the mission to hunt down a traitor!

It is your job to hunt down and apprehend the traitor by any means necessary. If you fail or refuse, you might be accused of being a traitor yourself. It doesn't matter if the person you are hunting is innocent or had good reasons for their treason. It doesn't matter if their crime was major or some minor form of treason, Friend Computer wants their head. You have twenty four hours to complete your mission.

Please post your character name and fandom in the subject line.
Work Together. Turn On Each Other. Survive.

Premise | Setting Information | New Arrival Introduction

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's deja vu all over again. His memory is shot (not for the first time, he suspects), a patchwork of blood and corpses stretched across deceptively delicate webs, drawing him into a trap that could entirely be of his own making. Or a trap designed for him specifically. Either way, it spells trouble in a tongue that everyone understands, regardless of nationality.

Violence (pain) is the universal language.

Bucky runs, because it's the least offensive choice. He can run, stay one step ahead of whoever wants him. He could stop running, turn and fight his pursuers. Or, he could stop running and let them bring him in. The first allows for the least amount of collateral damage, third means almost certain torture. The second -- well, that one is a last resort.

First he has to find out why he's being hunted this time, because nothing in his admittedly sketchy memory provides any frame of reference. Once that's accomplished, he can work on fixing it. But only if he stays alive and free. It would help if he could figure out the layout of these corridors. They all look the same. Not for the first time in his life, Bucky rather suspects this is how a rat in a maze feels.

The PDC device that Bucky had been given at orientation, it's vibrating. Bzzzzt, bzzzzt, bzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Pause. Bzzzzt, bzzzzt, bzzzzzzzzzzzzt.

Felicity had been setting up her new station in the Specials hideout when her computer started lighting up. She was testing out a hack on Internal Security — made easier by the fact that she worked there during the day, and had been given too much leniency in what she does. She hadn't expected to get any type of signal for weeks, honestly, since the trigger was specifically set to go off when Specials were targeted as traitors.

Fumbling with her headset, Felicity slides into her seat as quickly as possible and dials Bucky's number. She's never even met him, so calling was crazy, but she can help — if he would answer.

What the hell is that nois-- oh.

He'd momentarily forgotten about the communication gadget, tucked away safely into a jacket pocket. As quiet as the vibration is (in contrast to the shrill tones of ones he remembers from various missions in Europe), hearing any kind of sound while he's trying to sneak silently through unfamiliar territory is still startling. His heart rate speeds up for a few seconds before Bucky pulls the device out with his flesh hand and stares at it.

There's probably some sort of tracker hidden inside. If he answers, someone will be able to pinpoint his location. Assuming they haven't already and are playing some twisted game of cat and mouse. But if he doesn't answer, he doesn't get answers. And those would be nice about now. Decisions, decisions.

Fuck it. "Yes?" Sergeant Barnes Home for Wayward Assassins, how can he help you?

"Oh-" And then just complete silence for one, two, three seconds before: "Oh my god. I didn't think you'd actually pick up." The voice on the line is a woman's, and she's clearly a little flustered at the moment.

"Is this ... James?" Said like she had to find his name in a list, and then just read whatever the first word was off that line on the page. "My name is Felicity Smoak. I know we've never met, but I can help you."

He can hear her typing, frantically, on her keyboard. "You're in the NE section of Armed Services. That's actually kind of terrible." Frack she said that out loud. "But if you can take a left at the next intersection, open the first door on your right. It should be unlocked."

Her directions, if he chose to follow them, should lead him to an empty maintenance closet.

There's silence on his end for a moment, followed by a low snort of -- something close to laughter. If you blend film noir with a bag of nails and aged whiskey.

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do with phones?" He looks around casually, noting visibly cameras in the hallway he's currently loitering. "Yeah, I ... James'll do."

God this is bizarre. Like one of those science fiction movies people keep telling him to watch. Or fantasy, like the little guy who takes on a dragon with a wizard. Or the little girl who kills a witch with water. He's been informed those are just glitches, but they seem real. Maybe that's why he's a traitor. (Or the rules. He read those.)

"Okay, Felicity Smoak. I hope you're not leading me into a trap." Because neither of them will enjoy that. But he follows directions, because why not. And she sounds cute. (Never let it be said he didn't do as a dame asked.) When he makes it to said door, and slips inside, the whole 'trap' part sounds more plausible than it might have a few minutes before. "Am I just supposed to wait here and get caught, lady?"

As far as plans go, that one sucks.

Natasha told herself that she'd rather die than kill another innocent man on the orders of some blood thirsty power hungry entity, and yet here she is.

When she's chosen for the assignment to hunt down the new traitor she accepts with little choice; to deny in a place like this is treason in and of itself. She doesn't actually plan on killing him... all she can do is hope to bring him in alive and let him go through the reconditioning process, maybe she can even find him afterwards and help him realize his true memories in secret. That's her plan, until she sees his picture.

These boys are like a disease.

This has to be the second - third? maybe third - time that Natasha is put in the position between not breaking the law, and doing the right thing. And every time it's been because of a Super Soldier in one way or another - at least, within the past five years. There's no way Natasha can allow Bucky to be brought in for reconditioning, not after what he's been through. He may be able to withstand it but that's not the point; she knows what that's like. Morally, she can't allow herself to condone it.

She briefly considers trying to get out of it, telling Computer that she's not physically prepared for such a target but she knows that would only make them send Steve. Steve is doing good work, and Natasha isn't foolish enough to think that he wouldn't throw it all away in order to save Barnes' skin. Somebody has to take the fall, and it's better off being her.

It doesn't take her long to track him down, not with how familiar she is with the place now while he's still trying to learn his way back from the bathroom. When she first sees him it's from behind, his back facing her as he runs down a hall, and Natasha wets her lips nervously as she watches him run before she calls out from the other end of the corridor. "Barnes!"

Maybe she should let Steve handle this. Very little of her past experiences with Bucky have been anything but violent, and Natasha doesn't know what state his head is in right now. She has to try, though, and when she catches his attention she stares at him for a few moments anxiously before she speaks again. "We need to get you out of here, you need to follow me." It's treason. She's been working pretty damn hard to not commit that this time, but apparently it's true what they say. Old habits and all that. "They're going to find you if you keep this up, you need to come this way." She knows how laughable her next comment may sound to him but she can only hope that she's built some sort of rapport after the call she made. If it even matters. If he even remembers. "I need you to trust me right now."

'Like a disease'. How rude, Natasha. It's probably true, but still. So rude.

He feels like he's going in circles, having come to the conclusion about three corridors ago that this really isn't the Wakandan palace. That the room he woke up in, the video he was forced to watch, the papers he was forced to sign are all real. Horribly, tangibly real. This scenario is close to his worst nightmare. The one where he loses everything he's built in the last year. If Friend Computer turns out to be HYDRA, then he just might snap. Well, no. He will snap.

Take himself, and the others, out. Better to be dead than mindless slave to someone else. Again.

Which is the trick now. Deciding if the glitches of memory are just little cogs in the otherwise benevolent machine, or if he's been broken down into nothing. As much as the former option comes with deceptive peace of mind, the latter -- as horrific and demeaning as it might seem -- means something. It means he's himself (and not a stranger). James Barnes. Not an asset, not a thing.

About this point he realizes he's been tracked, limbs already tensing up as he turns around to confront his pursuer. There's the high possibility of his jaw dropping at this point, because he knows this woman. Recognizes her face. Knows her outside the confines of this place, although the particulars escape him at the moment. Bucky watches her for a moment, looking for suggestions that she's about to attack. Listens for the sounds of back-up in either direction.

"Why?" Why follow, why not engage the enemy. Why take her words at face value. Give him something, Nat. " Why should I trust you."

Edited 2016-09-06 21:54 (UTC)

That's the polite version, Barnes, she's called men who shot a hole through her much worse in the past.

Seeing the way his eyes fall on her when he turns makes Natasha's stomach turn in discomfort while her heart tightens in optimistic hope, a strange mixture of emotions. He's tense, on the defensive and ready to attack if necessary, but she sees that glint in his eyes - that split second of hesitation. Of recognition. Right now, that's all she has with him if she wants to get him out safely.

She's careful not to move, because this isn't just any poor idiot who got on Friend Computer's bad side. This is James Barnes, Winter Soldier, a man who was easily an equal match for her in this state and an unfair one when the serum pumping through his veins is actually working. He knows her tactics; he knows how to recognize someone trying to slowly advance in an effort to get his guard down, and he can recognize subtle signs of manipulation just as easily as Natasha. She feels stripped of all advantage with him because he's not a potential victim of her unorthodox approaches, he's an equal. That's unsettling.

She doesn't have time to convince him the way that she knows he needs her to, not with other Troubleshooters on the hunt for his head. She doesn't have time to tell him what she knows about him, and that she's a friend of Steve's. There's no free moment to express how much she understands where he is right now and how the confusion and foggy head is effecting his judgement, so instead Natasha does the only thing she can do and she speaks with stark honesty, certain to meet his eye when she does.

"Because you know me."

She can hear them now, other Troubleshooters running down the corridor behind her, and she looks over her shoulder before her attention turns back to him with more urgency. "There are cameras, we need to get out of the building." She needs to get him off the grid, as well as herself now that she's been caught approaching the Traitor without immediate intention of disarming him. They're always under the Computer's watchful eye here, and she's confident enough to say that Bucky doesn't want that any more than she does.

The voices are getting closer now and Natasha can hear footsteps - they're out of time. She runs towards Bucky, but instead of advancing on him she makes the first turn down a corridor branching off of the one they're having their standoff in, and she only lingers at the mouth of it for a second to look back at him. "This way. You can ignore me if you want but we're both in trouble now. I suggest you take a chance, James." And she truly hopes that he decides to follow her as she turns to run down the side corridor away from him. Just like that, she's a fugitive. Again.

Yes. These boys are absolutely a disease.

Edited 2016-09-06 23:02 (UTC)

Bucky doesn't expect the honesty. That's a weapon only used in dire circumstances.

You know me.

He does indeed known her, something solid and certain acknowledges that in the pit of his stomach. They've fought before, another certainty despite the lack of proof. The problem is whether or not to trust this gut instinct. The redhead is a talented liar, he knows this like it's set in stone too. But he can't detect a single false note in her voice, and they both know he's capable of seeing through all but the most intricate of deceptions. Like magically enhanced ones. And even then ... he's still got a fighting chance.

His head tilts at the sound of boots pounding against the floor, reflection turning outward again while he mentally replays her last comment. There is almost no time to think, to make an informed choice, and that pisses him off. Bucky's jaw sets as the sounds grow louder, and his muscles tense again, like he's preparing to engage in hand to hand combat. Take his chances with security.

Then: "Okay. But if you betray me..." it'll be your last mistake is unspoken, but she's smart enough to understand the threat.

Even without the serum, he moves quickly, pushing away from his position and throwing himself into the corridor after her, shifting from stumbling newcomer to Soldier mode in a matter of seconds. He's not armed, and doesn't know if Nat is, but it doesn't matter. Between the two of them, very few people will stand a chance of remaining in their way.

The wave of relief that courses through her is undeniable when James falls into stride beside her, and despite the fact that she knows his comment is more of a promise than a threat she rolls her eyes. "Was 'flair for dramatics' a mandatory drill in the army during the 40's? I'm not going to betray you, you've already almost killed me three times, I'm not looking for a fourth. So an apology or a thank you would do better in this situation right now than a threat. For future reference."

Natasha stops short before they run past a door and she grabs Bucky's arm to stop him from continuing on without her, opening it and pulling him in with her before releasing her hold and hurrying across the dark office. There's a window on the far side behind the desk and Natasha knows for a fact that the roof of a smaller building is within jumping range, something that she noticed almost two days ago while filling out useless paperwork. Apparently one notices escape routes when freedom is the only thing on their mind. She shows no hesitation in grabbing a large paperweight and using it to shatter the window open, trying to knock out as much stray glass as she can to minimize how much this is inevitably going to hurt. Green eyes survey the drop below them, a good ten, maybe twelve feet, and she takes a deep breath before moving to plant her foot in the shattered sill.

"Hope you remember how to tuck and roll, big guy." Alright, it's not the best escape plan, but it is an escape plan and right now neither she nor Bucky could be picky. She goes through the familiar steps; deep breath, don't think, eyes on landing target, and jump. Her arms rotate a bit in the air to control the position of her body as much as she can before she feels herself hit the solid concrete of the roof, legs giving way to absorb the shock as she allows her body to drop into a roll until she can slow herself down. That always hurts.

She looks back up at the window, moving to get herself into a standing position in preparation for more sprinting as soon as he follows.

His eyebrow shoot up. "Less talk, more moving." If he feels like it, and if they survive this, then he'll think about thanking her. Or not think about it, isn't there some sort of gentleman's code that practically demands you do that if a lady rescues you from almost certain doom? Probably. It's just that saying so out loud rankles a little.

The first rule of Escape Club is ixnay on the mentioning of gratitude. Or something.

Bucky proves himself to be almost as agile without the enhancements, righting himself through the doorway after being grabbed. While she takes care of the window, he closes the door firmly, and drags the desk over as a blockade. Every second counts, right?

He's tempted to snark at her for the reminder, but Nat is already launching herself through the air to the roof. He waits long enough to make sure she makes it over safely and follows suit - one deep breath and a leap. It feels like falling for about three seconds, just enough distraction for the tuck and roll to become a sprawl at the end. He muttered a curse under his breath in Russian, before dragging himself to his feet and following where she goes. This is starting to feel muscle-familiar, trailing after someone with sketchy ideas about safe traveling procedures.

"Right behind you."

That's definitely supposed to be comforting. Probably.

She watches him throughout his fall, rushing to his side when he lands in a sprawl, and Natasha can't help but smirk when she hears that swear. "Vy vse v poryadke, printsessa." She mumbles it fluidly under her breath with amusement, but she's there to help him back to his feet before they're moving again. She's being careful, because despite the fact that Barnes was in good (great, if she's being realistic) shape, she can only imagine the difference he feels from losing the effects of his serum. The last thing she needs is for him to break his leg right now. After she leads him down the side of the building Natasha sprints, listening closely for his footsteps to make sure that he's still behind her, and she leads him through a complex system of back alleys and private property.

It takes almost thirty minutes of running before she finally slows down, and they haven't seen another being for at least the past ten. The warehouse she brings him to looks abandoned and somewhat decrepit but it's definitely off the grid, her fear of cameras and the Computer's wandering eye quelled, and she drags open the large door before leading him inside to an open and abandoned space.

It's not clean but it's not terrible. She obviously knows it, shoulders immediately relaxing of tension, and Natasha's footsteps get heavy as she drags herself across the empty floor to sit down and let her back rest against the wall. She needs to catch her breath, but for now, she nods at him. They're safe here.

"Found this place a little while ago. Just in case I needed somewhere to go." She explains after her pulse slows a bit, and her eyes close as her head falls back against the brick wall, hand moving to unzip the front of her jumpsuit a little. She keeps it modest, bringing it down only to her collarbone, but these jumpsuits don't breathe worth a damn and she didn't exactly have time to grab her deodorant while becoming a fugitive. "I already swept it. No camera's, no nothing. They won't find us here." Eyes open again as she turns her head to look at him, falling silent as she does.

Being around Barnes is always a gamble, one with bad odds. She's been attacked three out of three times so far when it comes to their interactions, but she's not stupid. She knows what his motivations were. Natasha knows what it's like to see the enemy everywhere. "You alright? That tuck and roll was a little too tuck and a little less roll, from what I saw." She frowns. "Are you thinking about killing me right now or is that just your face?"

Edited 2016-09-07 03:31 (UTC)

Bucky gives her a flat look, then retaliates with something slightly cruder this time, but the insult lacks any real heat to it. In fact, the tone isn't that far from one he would have adopted with Steve when they were younger. Less broken by war and life. Nor does he pull away when she touches him. Oh, there's a flinch, but Bucky stuffs it down and seems to accept that help isn't going to be seen as a weakness. Not this time, anyway, although he doesn't trust her not to bring it up in the future.

If they get away far enough to have one of those.

Determined now not to fuck up, he keeps pace with her, ignoring the uncomfortable situation of following anyone's orders but his own, and simply concentrates on staying as quiet as possible. Serum or no, the people who trained him in assassination went on to train people like her, and that kind of physical condition doesn't go away as easily.

When they're finally somewhere she deems safe enough, he makes a quick perimeter sweep before finding a space along the wall that gives him good line-of-sight, and just leans there for a moment or two. Trying to assess any damage. Trying to figure out why she helped him. Why ... a lot of things.

"You hope they won't find us here." Bucky finally looks up, peering at her through an untidy curtain of dark hair. "Yeah. I'm okay. Nothing broken." In case she's worried about having to drag his ass around. "What kinda question is that? My face is just fine, lady. And no, I'm not looking to kill you." Right at this moment.

Then, quiet but clear:

"Thank you."

Edited 2016-09-07 03:43 (UTC)

Natasha shoots a look in Bucky's direction, a glare with a sharp edge to it, because she doesn't need to be reminded that there's nothing truly safe in this place. "That's all you can do here is hope, Barnes," she responds flatly, holding the look for a lingering moment before she lets it fade away in favor of closing her eyes again. "Really?" She sounds genuinely annoyed now, eyes still shut but brow pinching in frustration. "You still can't remember my damn name? Still?" Perhaps he doesn't remember anything, but he's got some semblance of logic to him. He's not mindless. He's not the same creature that she still has nightmares about with cold metal fingers wrapped around her throat, closing her windpipe...

"Natasha." She finally corrects, sounding both exasperated and defeated. "It's Natasha. It's not that hard to remember. Natasha." Her rigid look fades a little at the muttered show of gratitude though, and Nat slumps against the wall a bit more before giving an audible sigh and opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling through a veil of floating dust. "You're welcome."

He's afraid. He won't say it, but he is and Natasha knows it. It's not that crippling sort of fear that makes you crumble to the ground, gasping for air. People like them don't experience that fear anymore, it's been erased along with the little piece of humanity that it was attached to. It's the kind of fear that you feel in your shoulders. The kind that keeps you up at night with pulsing adrenaline and a racing heart despite how exhausted you are, the kind that makes you realize you may have to put your life into the hands of someone you don't trust. It's the worst kind of fear there is. Sometimes Natasha wishes she knew how to crumble instead.

Knowing that fear herself also means that Natasha knows how hard this is for him. She's sitting right there and yet she's not foolish enough to think that James feels anything but completely alone in that moment. She looks at him again, this time with a softer gaze that Bucky would have no way of knowing is remarkably rare from her. She wants to ask him what he remembers but that's not going to help. The last thing he needs right now is to be interrogated. He'll ask questions if he has them. She doesn't know whats going on in his head, but she does know that she's got more answers now than he does.

"Sit down, James." She says it almost kindly, voice serene now. It's not a demand. "We don't know how much downtime we're going to get, we need to rest as much as we can while we can do it. You haven't had to run like that without a performance enhancement in a long time, your body needs time to bounce back. You can't push yourself too hard."

It takes about three minutes of utterly silent indecision, but eventually he slides down to the ground in a jumble of limbs just inches from Natasha. Very definitely within striking distance, if he decides trust isn't on the table any more. But, what may be less apparent, at least to the Russian at his side, is that he's also close enough to block a few bullets with his arm. You know, in case her little hideout is suddenly overrun with problem solvers shooting at them. Troubleshooters. Whatever.

He remains quiet, allowing his head to tilt back and rest against the wall doing an admirable job of holding him up. Bucky doesn't close his eyes, that damn trust issue popping up again, but he otherwise seems content to just exist in the same space with her. Listening to the sounds of breathing, and faint noises outside the building. It's the first time since arrival that he's had to contend with the knowledge of his own helplessness. Or, rather, the absence of serum-based abilities. As for the fear that he's not ready to own up about, only the tense set of his shoulders gives any clue that this man didn't just decide to choose the weirdest vacation spot in history.

"I'm sorry." His voice is still a little rough, but level. "For trying to kill you. It was three times, right? I can only remember three." A hint of annoyance creeps in, self-turned, like he's personally at fault for the scrambled state of his brain. Bucky falls silent again, staring down at his metal hand. All five fingers flex and curl into a brief fist, before he drops it down to rest against his thigh. The flesh and blood one lifts into the air, held out towards her in what should be an unmistakable gesture of greeting. (Shake the hand, Nat.)

"Natasha. I know my birth certificate says James, but I kind of prefer Bucky."

Not in the least because Steve used that particular nickname to give him identity and personhood back.

He doesn't listen to her immediately and Natasha doesn't bring it up again, because she knows doing so will only make him feel the need to be defiant. She is, however, silently relieved when he slides down to sit next to her, despite the way her body tenses for a few moments due to his close proximity. She forces herself to relax; he's not looking to hurt her, not this time. She just has to remember that.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound between them steady breathing and her own pulse pounding in her ears, until he breaks it with an apology that she doesn't expect. For a split second her surprise is evident on her face with wide eyes and parted lips before she regains composure, gaze moving down to his hand before she reaches for it to give it a firm shake. "You have nothing to apologize for." She manages, her voice still quiet as her hand falls away to return to her side. Her head leans back against the wall again, gaze moving to the ceiling. "You remember it now. But at the time it wasn't you, conditioning doesn't work like that." Natasha couldn't help but scoff at herself before he could disagree aloud, her eyes closing. "Not that it matters. I can't count how many times someone has said that to me and I know it doesn't matter. But it's true, for what it's worth." All Natasha can do is tell him what might matter, and she does when her eyes open once more. "I don't blame you. I know that you didn't know who you were. I don't blame you."

Natasha lets that hang in the air before she looks at him again, this time with the shadow of a one sided smile. "Shame. I like James." She gave an audible sigh as she finally looked away from him to eye the door they came in. "This part of the Complex is abandoned, which is what we want, but we're going to need somewhere to find food. Sleep. There are underground systems we can use, ones that the Computer isn't aware of but..." Natasha's fingers move to run through her hair in frustration. "We need to lay as low as we can right now until they stop looking for you. Us. We're not going to be able to establish anything solid until then, so I hope you comfortable sleeping on a floor for a night or two."

No, he's not looking to hurt her. Not this time. It's enough that she's sticking her neck out for him - that moment of indecision, that hesitation back in the corridor. Natasha had ample time to corner him for the police, but she chose to help him instead. It's not something he plans to forget. Or leave unrepaid.

"I have everything to apologize for," he mutters almost under his breath, but the tone of voice is tinged with something close to resignation. Yes, he's heard that before. Recently, in fact, from a guy with a heart that's still too big for his body. If he has a problem believing it from Captain Fucking America, stands to reason that the Widow trying to tell him the same thing isn't going to have miraculous consequences. But at least he's listening. "James was my father. It feels -- weird, I guess, having someone outside the family use it."

His mother, his sisters, even Steve on occasion. But he's been Bucky for so long - and no one at all for even longer - that being addressed in such a manner is fairly unsettling. He shifts, allowing his shoulders to slump down further against the wall, and tilts his head. A part of him is primed and ready to move, but most of Bucky's attention is now focused on Natasha.

"I've slept on worse things than the ground." Corner of his mouth lifts briefly. "It's your call, Widow. Having a weapon or two would make the sleeping a little easier, though."

Edited 2016-09-08 15:18 (UTC)

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The assignment, she had been told, was simple. Find those charged with treason and make sure they were brought in by any means necessary. And they're right, the hunt is easy; Allison knows how to track and hunt like a pro despite her age, and the computer wants those skills to be put to use for this.

What isn't easy is understanding why. Why are those people considered traitors? Why does she have to hunt them down? What had they done? This wouldn't be the first time that she goes into a situation blind, but it was supposed to be different now. She's not who she was back when she was first dragged to fulfill her family legacy, and she can't help but wonder the why behind it all as she loads up on ammunition.

She's not supposed to ask, though. She's supposed to do her job, and she knows every time she hesitates she inches closer and closer to the 'traitor' side of the list. Which wouldn't be a bad thing, if it wasn't for the fact that she's trying to stay on the Computer's good graces because she's trying to find her friends. To make sure they're safe, to find a way to protect them if they aren't.

When she comes across the next target on her list, Allison keeps her distance. For a moment she's able to tail him, it allows her the opportunity to even think that she can just tase him and drag him in, but he slips away easily before she can even make her presence known. Locating him again is hard, he's like a moving shadow that always seems to be three steps ahead of her, but still. She tries, and it's in an alley that she finally makes her presence known as she herself steps out of her own shadow.

Except, as she looks at him, she can't help but wonder if she really is the one that is cornering him or if he's the one that purposely let her catch up to him. Is it her game or his? She's out of her league with this target, and deep down she knows it, but the fierce determination is there nonetheless. She keeps a firm grip on the taser gun at her side, but it's hard to figure out if she's doing it more out of protection or because she's planning on using it right now.

"Are you James Barnes?"

Why is always the one question that gets people into trouble. Why demands accountability. Why am I doing this? Why am I tracking down this person? Why am I killing them? Is it for the greater good? Or something less noble? Whose hand is directing my actions?

Bucky can't answer any of those questions. All he can do is stay one or two steps ahead of the troubleshooters, learning his way around the city street by street. Block by block. Until he knows the layout. It's not entirely unlike New York, in that there is a plan, a deliberateness to how the place works. It's his job to find all the little imperfections, mark them down so people with better strategy can use the information.

He can't do that when he's being followed, though. The assassin hesitates just long enough to memorize the face of his shadow before doing what he does best these days - seemingly disappearing into thin air. It's a culmination of brutal training tactics, and he was already good at remembering things before the serum ever touched his veins.

The girl is good, better than she should be if her youth is anything to go by. Not that Bucky can talk about looking young. (With a straight face, anyway.) He lets her flail around for a while, noting how fast she can pick up a trail with just a hint of cooperation from the target, and how long it takes her to find anything he's left behind all on her own. Eventually, though, his curiosity gets the better of him. If she manages to bring him in, nothing on him will lead back to the others. Especially if the computer tries to wipe him. He steps out into the mouth of an alley, deliberately seen, and waits for her to catch up.

He may not have super soldier reflexes right now, but the Winter Soldier is still pretty damn fast, and he's banking on getting to the taser before she can effectively use it on him.

"Depends. Who's asking?"

"I'm Allison."

She can hear her mother in her ear - Does it matter what your name is? What are you waiting for? - but Allison tries to ignore it. It's a glitch, according to the Computer, but she knows it's more than that. It's impossible not to, especially when she unconsciously tightens her hold on the taser.

Still, she doesn't move. Not yet. Right now it's hard to tell who's the predator and who's the hunter, and she doesn't want to make a sudden movement that won't get her the results that she needs.

"How long have you been running for?" It's asked almost conversationally, as if she doesn't have a taser ready to go, but she really is curious. He's too good at it for her not to ask.

"Not long enough, apparently."

God, she is so young. He wants to say teenager, but people aren't always the age they look, and this could be one of those moments. She could be near his own age. Older maybe. Or she could be a proverbial babe in the woods. Without certain abilities, it's harder to tell.

"So, Allison. How long have you been hunting?"

Obviously he means doing this, tracking down people deemed traitor, but who knows. He could be reading something more in her stance.

"Hm, I wouldn't say that."

He's not wrong, she really is too young to be doing this. To know what to look for when hunting, to look like a soldier ready to strike. She's barely eighteen years old, but there's a darkness in her eyes that contradicts her age altogether. Allison no longer knows what it's like to be just a regular teenager - she probably wouldn't even be able to fake it at this point. Whatever innocence remained in her disappeared lifetimes ago, and now she's a hunter, a solder in her own right.

His question about hunting makes a small smile cross her lips, mainly because he really is onto something there. "Long enough, but I guess not enough, either. Guess we have something in common." She watches him, as if waiting to see if he's going to run, but the words slip out without even thinking about the question.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"You didn't."

Exact words and all. Bucky's chin lifts, not in a demonstratively defiant manner, but enough to suggest that if she does attempt to take him in, he's not going to go quietly. No, he's going to take Dylan's words to heart and rage as much as he can. Go down swinging. It's something he promised himself recently.

"If I had to guess, it'd be because you're a flunky of the system."

That's another thing he's discovered; a new penchant for brave words in the face of danger. Nowhere near as inspiring or straight up courageous as Steve, but just enough to get him into trouble. Which he's already in by running, so hey. Why not make it worse.

"Am I right? Do I get a cookie?"

Edited 2016-09-09 04:34 (UTC)

She can't help it; when he calls her a flunky, it makes something inside of her recoil. She's an Argent. She's a leader. She's no one's flunky, and just the implication alone is enough to make her want to point out that he's wrong.

At the same time, though, she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her even if she's not so successful at that. Her lips twitch into a sort of smile, but it's almost strained. Defiant, in her own way.

"I'm all out of cookies." She pauses, but it doesn't last long. "What did you do, to land in the traitor list?"

She herself is toying with that line just by delaying all this, but she has come this far. She has to ask.

Well, if she's chasing him down because of reasons to do with the word 'treason', intending to drag his ass back for reconditioning, then she's a flunky. Argent, Vert, Azure. Doesn't matter. Even worse if she kills him. Grade A flunky then.

Bucky tilts his head, watching for tiny movements, and not so tiny ones. Anything to help him read her more clearly.

"Shame. Might help these situations."

He shifts, stance still fairly neutral, but an inch closer. In case he has to lunge and wrestle a weapon away from her.

"I read the rules. Seems knowing them amounts to treason."

This is the reason he's willing to give, anyway. Also, informative for everyone involved.

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