Confused Soldier Seeking Work (OTA Catch-all)

[worthallthis]

Who: Bucky Barnes AKA the Winter Soldier, and OPEN
Where: New Bark Town, Route 29, and Cherry Grove
When: May 31 through June 5 or so, first leg of the journey
Summary: A new breeder gets his bearings and is very confused by... everything
Rating: PG-13 at least, he kinda swears a lot


I. "Mom"? - Closed to Entrapta

It takes everything in him not to punch the woman who shoves things at him and pushes him out the door. While the whole "mom" thing and the house were all unfamiliar (Some kind of new handler? Some twisted way to try and win me back? Did they catch me again?), being outfitted and sent out on a mission isn't. And he doesn't want it.

The only things that keep him from doing it is the fact that there are no guns for this mission, and the white furry thing pressed to his leg. She's... comforting. He has no idea what she is, but he's pretty sure she's not going to hurt him, or let him be hurt. There aren't cute, white, furry animals in HYDRA.

So he's shooed out the front door, which closes and locks soundly behind him, and he has no idea what his mission is supposed to be, and-- there's a woman on the lawn in front of him tugging on her own long hair. He stares in consternation for a long moment, the plates of the arm shifting and buzzing.


II. The Tiniest Town

"Ma'am. You. I. Can't take that."

"Don't be silly, someone needs to take care of him, and you look perfect for the job."

"But I--"

"No buts! He's my last one, and I can't be toting him around all summer. Here, his name is Fuzzlebutt."

So the Winter Soldier can be seen prowling around New Bark Town with an Absol padding at his side, and a very tiny Skitty clinging to his shoulder with all four sets of claws and chewing on the collar of his tac vest. He's looking vaguely bewildered and a little nervous-- the Soldier, not the Skitty. The Skitty looks bitey.

He spends the whole day systematically mapping out the town, and then at a campfire just outside once the sun sets, reading through the shit in the two books he's been sent off with. The Skitty (Fuzzlebutt, Christ, what kind of a name even is that? ... Probably not much worse than Winter Soldier. Or. Fucking Bucky.) is curled up on his (black) backpack, and the Absol is sprawled against his leg while he tries to figure out how in the hell this place works.

And try to wrap his brain around the idea of no handlers.


III. On the Road

There's no work in New Bark Town. And there's a crazy lady claiming to be his mother. Got to get well away from that. (Even if the meal she made was pretty good.) The Soldier has no real idea what kind of work he could even do when he's not allowed any guns or knives or anything (Don't want to do that again. I'm done. I'm done. But. What else do I even know how to do?) but he knows there's none of it in that town. So, on the road it is. The map claims there's a bigger town to the west, and he knows how to make camp and scrounge for food, so off he goes.

With two animals who say a single word each-- pokemon, according to the device and the books, and everyone back in New Bark; weird name, but he's uses to just accepting things even if they're weird-- alternately bounding around him investigating things or begging for rides. He'll sigh and carry the pokemon in question whenever they do, though, so anyone passing by or lying in wait for new trainers and breeders will have a nice view of a big guy in tactical gear, carrying a furry pokemon in the crook of one arm.


IV. Capturing is Not Like Cryo

Running into wild pokemon is... an experience. He's read about catching them. That you're supposed to use the little red balls. That you're supposed to have plenty of them for battles (Hell no am I making these cute things fight if I don't have to. Even if Fuzzlebutt seems to want to.) and for breeding (Which is supposedly the mission, now.), so he's supposed to catch them.

He's not entirely sure what's supposed to happen, but the first time the Absol swats down a Starly that had been dive-bombing his head and he actually throws the little ball at it and it disappears inside-- well. Anybody with him, or just nearby, gets to enjoy watching him have a small panic attack while he tries to get the creature back out again.

"No no I'm sorry I'll get you out I'm sorry it's okay--"

He is never doing that again.


V. Too Cutesy to be Real

Cherry Grove is... pretty. Cute, even. Calm and quiet. And hopefully nobody deciding they need to fight his small furry friends, Jesus Christ. There's no way he's wasting money on the inn, either, so he'll just camp out on the beach. Eat at the cheapest restaurant he can find. Quietly and only somewhat guiltily "borrow" a steak knife that immediately makes him feel more at ease, hidden safely in a pocket where no one can see it, wrapped in a scrap of leather like a makeshift sheath. (Not gonna use it. It's just... just in case.)

Thus secretly armed and feeling a little less like every pair of eyes on him is a threat, it's time to explore the town and watch the people, see if there's work for an (ex-)assassin and a couple of furballs, and maybe move on if there isn't.

He even feels just barely safe enough to come up to someone and ask, haltingly and without any eye contact, "Excuse me. Is there. Work here?"

Comments

V

[cometkin]

The man he comes up to is balding, with his remaining hair long enough that it reaches past his butt. He's wearing a wife-beater and cut-off shorts and has a guitar slung across his back. He's being followed by a floating rock and a quartet of brightly colored small birds

"Uh, I heard you can wash dishes or clean rooms at the inn," the man says. "Me, I was going to be busking on the beach later."

[worthallthis]

This may be why the Soldier approached him: Greg looks pretty non-threatening. And the guitar looks kind of weirdly familiar, even though it's clearly not a weapon.

Metal fingers on breakable dishes in soapy water sounds like a bad idea. And the Soldier has no idea how to clean a room, and guesses that learning would require taking orders and he's-- not-- sure how well he'd do that, either. "Busking?" he repeats instead, after a pause. The word, unlike the guitar, isn't particularly familiar.

[cometkin]

"Uh, yeah," he says. "You know how you'll see musicians on the street with their instrument case out in front of them and they're playing music and then people throw money in the instrument case? That's busking."

[worthallthis]

No, actually, he doesn't know. As of today, the Soldier has six days of consecutive memories, and none of them include anyone playing music anywhere and getting money thrown at them. But he nods anyway, because he's sure that's what he's supposed to do here.

"Right. Not useful for me, then." Because at the very least, he's pretty sure he can't play any instruments. And the inn probably isn't useful, either. Maybe in the next town? The device suggests it's bigger. To Greg, he says, needing to be seen as non-threatening, "Thank you anyway."

The white pokemon at his feet says gravely, as if adding to the conversation somehow, "Absol."

[cometkin]

"Uh, do you need money?" he says. "Or something to eat? Because Rose--that's my wife--has a bunch of money saved up from trainer battles and I'm sure we could spare something for you. Or you could come to our caravan and eat with us. I toast a mean sausage."

[worthallthis]

Technically, he's still got P2865 in his backpack, but he has no idea how much things will cost, and how long he has to make that stretch. Especially if he continues to be unable to make himself catch more of the pokemon for this breeding mission thing. So if the round little man with the guitar wants to invite him for dinner, he's not going to say no.

"Thank you," he says, almost as gravely as the Absol. "That's very kind. I can't really offer anything else in return. I only just. Arrived. A few days ago. But if I can help with anything, I will." It seems only fair.

[cometkin]

"Don't worry," the round not-really-all-that-little man (unless he's standing next to his wife) says, motioning him to follow after him as he heads out of town. "We're camped a bit away from here. Oh, I'm Greg Universe. But you can call me... Mr Universe! Or just Greg."

[worthallthis]

Leaving behind the sound of other people means one hand goes to the Absol's head for reassurance-- his or hers, he doesn't know-- and the other into his pocket where he's got the steak knife hidden. That's definitely just for his own reassurance. But otherwise, he looks about as relaxed as he did before: which is to say, not really a lot, but not tense either. Just a very careful neutral.

Mister Universe. Sounds about on par with Winter Soldier, doesn't it. Maybe his code name won't stand out as much as it could, here, after all. (And I'm not using that damn. Other name. I'm not.) "Winter Soldier." That doesn't sound like enough. He hesitates, then adds, "Are you from here? A. Local?"

[cometkin]

Mr Universe shakes his head. "Naw. I'm from Beach City. I ended up waking up at the fake mom's house and then I wandered around until I ran into Rose. It was one of those weekends where everything's weird around here?"

I

[firstonesexpert]

This isn't right, this isn't riiiiiiight why isn't her hair moving? Did something happen to her when she got teleported here, is her particular brand of princess-ly power incompatible with the local metaphysical composition of this specific universe?

All of that is actually muttered out loud as a sort of wailed mumble, as she cards her white-gloved hands through her thick, floor-length ponytails as if she can coax them back to life. The Impidimp sitting astride her head is watching her with an intense curiosity; but when it turns its head, stands up on Entrapta's head and physically turns to stare at the soldier, that startles Entrapta into looking up too, and she pauses in her panic to give him a wide eyed stare, before she untangles one hand and waves at him.

"Uh... hi, not... quite Horde soldier, person..."

[worthallthis]

Only one word of that actually feels like it applies. The Soldier stares, back, before looking up at the demon... thing sitting on her head. That's easier to look at. "Uh. Hi. Are you. Okay?" Because that had been some definite panic-wail he heard. He knows what a panic-wail sounds like, somehow. Possibly because he has one inside his head right now.

He's wearing the tactical vest and combat pants and boots he left the river in, so the metal arm is on full display, or as full display as it can be when there's a backpack held in the crook of it. The Absol is at his feet, leaning against his knee, looking at Entrapta with some kind of wary confusion, herself.

[firstonesexpert]

You sure, Soldier? Because the Impidimp's eyes are even bigger than Entrapta's and he's openly staring.

Entrapta's hands tuck back into her hair again. "I'm... not sure," she admits. She doesn't mind him not meeting her gaze. "Technically yes, in that I don't suspect I've been harmed in any way, but also..."

Whatever else she was clearly planning on saying gets cut off when her eyes land on Bucky's arm. "Oh, hello!"

Her entire demeanor seems to switch, suddenly outward and alert as she dashes towards him to grab onto his robotic hand and pulls it towards her face - she is remarkably shorter than him. "How did you find this beauty?"

[worthallthis]

Very sure. The weirdness of it makes it strangely less threatening than an actual human face. Kind of like how the Absol is comforting. (The Impidimp is not comforting, it's just not giving him any kind of desire to hide or duck his head or anything.)

The sudden movement has his attention entirely back on her, though, and he scrambles back until he hits the front door he'd just been shooed out of, yanking his hand away in clear alarm. "I don't remember," he says automatically, even though it's not... quite... true. There's a flash of the sound of a bonesaw in his ear, a horrible face with horrible glasses making a horrible little smile. Then it's gone. The plates in the arm ripple and tighten, as if preparing for a fight.

[firstonesexpert]

Her eyes flick towards the man's face when he suddenly yanks his hand - and entire self - back, and her own hands rush back towards her chest in alarm.

She's not great at people but even she can see that this is a negative reaction - she's used to seeing fear, when her robots or experiments got a little bit out of control, but to have it directed at her is a very new experience. She's not sure how to feel about it.

She does take a step back, even if her eyes dart down towards Bucky's arm and the almost shivering motion that runs through his arm, and she can't help but mutter, "Responds to emotion on an instinctive level, fascinating..." before she looks up at its owner again with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry! I'm, uh. People call me obsessed with technology, sometimes, it... it makes more sense to me than people." She sticks one hand out, staying where she is so Soldier can approach on his own terms. "I'm Entrapta."

[worthallthis]

Actual perfect reaction, Entrapta. Between giving him space again, apologizing, and the statement about technology making more sense than people-- it helps a lot, to his own surprise. Not enough to completely get his heart rate back to normal, but enough that he unplasters himself slowly from the door, gives her hand a look a little like it might bite him, then gingerly reaches out for a very careful shake. With the flesh hand, for now. "Winter Soldier." It's not much of a name, but it's better than-- than--

--he's not ready for that. The stupid Target kept using it, and it made him so angry and afraid, and he doesn't need that right now. (Stick with what's familiar.)

Not quite moving on to the arm thing yet, he asks, "You said your hair is supposed to move?"

[firstonesexpert]

Huh. Winter Soldier, so clearly still one, but apparently not Horde related. She's certainly never seen something like that arm in the Horde's resources that wasn't attached to a robot, or part of Hordak's personal armour. Interesting.

"Oh, yeah." She lifts her hands and grabs two large fistfuls of her hair - the ends of her ponytails are spooled loosely on the floor, it looks heavy despite its ridiculous lift. "My hair is magic, I can control it completely. I like to use it as extra hands." She releases, and her hair flops limply back down. "Only now it doesn't work, so I have to assume there's something about this universe that's preventing it from happening."

[worthallthis]

That sounds both extremely useful and extremely horrifying. That much hair is going to be very strong. She could strangle somebody with that, easy, especially if she could just move it. Christ. His hand falls from hers to dig into the Absol's fur, letting her lean more heavily against his knee.

But beyond the wariness, he can make a connection. He knows his own stats; he knows the exact extent of what he can and cannot do. And he knows the extent of what he can and can't do right now. "I should be able to hear your heartbeat," he says. "From this distance, it should be loud. And I can't hear it. So it's not just you."

IV

[thestrongsilenttype]

Relatively new as he is to the wonderful world of pokemon, Link has had his fair share of battles at this point. The fully-grown Lycanroc trotting alongside him is proof enough of that, and while the pup is always eager for a battle when they cross paths with another trainer, the scene unfolding here is one that seems to call for a different response.

Approaching with a neutral expression on his face, he leaves a few paces between them so as not to spook the man before he speaks. Champion the Lycanroc comes a bit closer, sniffing and wagging his tail in a nonthreatening way.

"You okay there? Did something go wrong?"

[worthallthis]

There's too much panic and guilt to be self-conscious. "It sucked the pokemon inside!"

About then is when the poor Starly rematerializes, looking terribly confused to be scooped up on a metal palm and examined. Because the Soldier's brain is trying to compare that to cryofreeze and expecting to see ice on its feathers.

The Absol, currently nameless, gives Champion a wary look, keeping close to her person, but Fuzzlebutt, ever the brave and stupid little Skitty, takes a swipe at the poor rock pokemon's nose.

[thestrongsilenttype]

Champion snuffles in protest and shakes his head, making the rocks in his mane click and clatter, but doesn't seem otherwise bothered by Fuzzlebutt's attack. Link watches all this unfold, then he crouches down, elbows on his knees.

"It doesn't hurt them," he explains. He doesn't understand the tech in the slightest, but he's seen the pokeballs in action enough to know that the pokemon aren't harmed by them. "Wouldn't use 'em, otherwise. It just registers the pokemon to you and keeps them safe when you're traveling around. You don't have to leave them in there if you don't want to.

"I'm Link. That's Champion. You new here?" It's not asked in any kind of condescending way. Link is just curious, head tilting slightly in a way that makes his tapered elfin ears that much more obvious.

[worthallthis]

It was his first catch. And he can't see how it wouldn't be traumatic for a wild animal to be shoved into a small space like that.

The ears are hardly noticed, for now-- give him a minute to calm down and actually look at the guy he's talking to, maybe. "Two days. Never tried that before. Jesus. Didn't have any idea that's what it'd do." The Starly seems to be okay... he lets it (him? him, he thinks) flutter up to his shoulder and scrubs at his face with the flesh hand.

The Absol hooks a paw around Flufflebutt and pulls him back before he can launch right at Champion's face.

[thestrongsilenttype]

At two days in, Link had still been tempted to eat the wild berries as he wandered aimlessly around Johto like some feral child. Adjusting hadn't been difficult, at least. He was basically a clean slate then; he has more memories of this world than the one he came from.

"It's my understanding that the pokeballs were developed to keep them comfortable and happy, but you don't have to keep them in there if you don't want to."

[worthallthis]

The Winter Soldier actually read the materials given to him the first day, and prepared by buying a bunch of stuff from the New Bark grocery store. Because he hates forest missions, and yet here they are, on a road through a forest. At least the beach isn't far.

He looks deeply skeptical-- of the idea that a tiny ball could be comfortable, of the idea that anyone remotely cared about the comfort of a captured creature, or more likely both. About then is when he looks up, though, and takes in the ears, the blonde hair... (It's an elf, what the fuck. ... where did I even know that word.) The skepticism melts into a blank sort of blink. Entrapta with her supposedly magic hair was one thing, it's not like he'd ever seen it do anything magic; strange animals were another, they weren't like anything he could even imagine.

A person with pointy ears that makes him think of a word he's never heard of before is something else entirely. And it's weird. He's not quite staring, because he's not actually quite looking at Link, but there's an air of startled animal to him, holding still and quiet. At least until the Absol huffs and bumps his shoulder with her crest, and he twitches back into motion. "Sorry. You. Sorry for making a scene." Probably startled the guy, too, freaking out like that.

[thestrongsilenttype]

Link remains very still and quiet while the man's thoughts are processing, watching his expressions and his body language and wondering at what they mean. The arm is a curiosity, too, but asking about it out of the blue seems like it might be unwelcome.

"No need to apologize. When I showed up I made a recording asking the people here if anyone knew the voice in my head. Being worried about the pokemon isn't a scene."

There's more to it than that, of course, even if Link makes light of it now. Not a day goes by that he doesn't hope to hear that voice again, but she never speaks to him.

"Which way are you headed?"

[worthallthis]

Looking fully away again, at the Absol and Skitty she's still holding in place with a paw, the Soldier gestures vaguely in the direction of Cherry Grove. He's not going to think about weird words or pointed ears. This isn't like where he came from, and there's probably weirder things than just magic animals. Weirder people.

And the word probably isn't even right. Or maybe it's rude. It's not like he's been surrounded by polite people for as long as he can remember. (Focus on the actual conversation, asshole.) "Next town over. Not much to do where we came from."