One Of These Days The Ground Will Drop Out From Beneath Your Feet
Characters: Bucky Barnes and (OTA) Setting: September 29th, La Zarza Lounge, 1:30 AM Content: Violence, Death (flashback) / Suggestive Themes, Language Summary: The Winter Soldier has been out working and comes to a swanky bar to drink high-priced vodka and watch Americans act like buffoons. And probably hit on a lady or two, because its boring when he's not shooting people.
The bass pounded through the steel beams and concrete of the building around him, but it wasn't the constant pressure of the sound waves around him that made him sick. It was the constant banter of the two men behind him, talking about the woman that neither was going to summon the courage to speak with. The fantasy of grabbing the bottle of rum under the bar in front of him, turning around, and bludgeoning them to death with it replayed more times than was acceptable for their safety. Another deep sigh and he pushed away from the bar, turning slowly on the ball of his foot as he took the tumbler filled with vodka. A slow slip taken from it as he passed the two males, noticing one of them size him up territorially and getting a roll of his blue eyes in response. It was the easiest way to help suppress the sudden, white-hot fire to slam the idiot's head through a table. A small curse uttered in Russian beneath his breath as he made his way through the posh club, skirting the edge of the dance floor and offering a small wink to the woman the two had been speaking to beforehand. The smile he got in return was rather pretty and he noted it for later, never know what might happen once you've gotten enough vodka in your system. Of course, he hadn't had anything planned for another two weeks and that was one way to spend those two weeks. As he neared the lounge area he was aiming for, his mind was allowed to drift back a couple of hours.
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The docks was filled with the pounding footsteps of the three men as they fled, each slap of rubber or leather on the concrete punctuated with a gasp or grunt of exertion. The middle one had his eyes widened to such a degree that the Soldier might have found it comical had he the luxury of seeing it. The large man on the right spun quickly on his heel, AK-47 held high and tight at his shoulder as the adrenaline dump took its toll on his technique. The Soldier ducked down, diving down to the ground and rolling off his left shoulder, the movement taking him diagonally to the man's left--as well as out of the line of fire. His hand snapped up from his belt, the knife tumbling through the air so quickly as to seem like a small disc of light and then sunk into the man's skull. Hilt-deep through the eye socket with a wet impact that sent the man crashing backwards, cranium bouncing off the asphalt as he was dead before he hit. The man on the left had watched over his shoulder while barely losing momentum, then he dug into his coat and wheeled with a pistol gripped tightly in his hand. Only to find..nothing. The dock was empty except for his friend's dead body, AK-47 having fallen to lay only inches away from his motionless hand. The enforcer shouted for his employer to halt, but the man clutched the briefcase even tighter to his chest and kept running. The long-haired Russian looked over his shoulder to follow the fence's trail, though there was a sudden searing pain like someone had dropped a red-hot iron ingot down his throat. He turned quickly and found himself staring into the masked eyes of the fellow had dropped his three friends, a cold focus drilling into his skull.
The Soldier watched the man's mouth work as he realized that there was no sound coming from it and the pistol dropped from his fingers as the motor control to hold it failed him. Blood pouring over the front of the man's expensive shirt as he slowly slumped to the ground, the Soldier stepping over the body with a final glance back at him before shooting forward at a sprint after the former Mob man. It wasn't much for a man in the shape of the Soldier to catch the middle-aged fence, a world-class assassin and commando was one hell of a hunter. As he neared, he noticed the fire escape in front of him and the ladder just close enough for him to grab. Leaping upward, he allowed his left hand to curl around the bottom rung and snatch him forward..the bionic appendage sending him hurtling through the air at tremendous speed. As he crashed down on top of the fleeing mobster, the knife found its way into the man's spine and both of them spilled to the ground. The Soldier rolled through and back onto his feet almost instantly, turning to look back at the man as he strolled towards the prone figure. Grabbing the briefcase off the ground, he pulled the knife free and wiped it on the the back of the man's business jacket. As booted foot was used to roll the body over, though nothing expressed itself in the man's face and his arms remained limp..the eyes..they were alive. With fear. An absent quirk of the Soldier's brow and he hauled the man off the ground with his left hand, dragging him to the edge of the dock. A pause was given as he pulled the man almost upright and tilted his head. "Lukin sends his regards. And requests you to send a message along to your peers. You don't cross us." His words were soft, but edged and colder than the wind that whipped off the ocean on such a cool evening. Then the man found himself flung off the pier and into the water with a loud splash, the Soldier turning his back and walking towards the shadows with a second's pause.
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He was brought back to the present by the flash of a sparkling blue as it passed by him, moments later the blond had sat herself right down beside him and he glanced over at her with that chilling gaze. It wasn't quite a glare, not possessing the intensity needed, but it did the job of getting the woman to immediately pick up her drink and continue her circuit through the club. He reclined further into the couch and glanced over at the chair nearby on the left, idly rotating the tumbler in a clockwise motion. The vodka with in oscillated lazily in the motion before he lifted it to his lips and took a long sip from it, allowing the liquid to make its way down his gullet and start the warming process. Not bad, actually. His legs crossed idly, ankle resting on the top of his knee as he draped his free arm over the back of the couch. Not a bad start to the end of the night.