One soldier, bound for glory WHO: Bucky Barnes (got_your_back_) and Silas Silverspur (arbalestier) WHAT: Bucky's arrival in Enchantia WHERE: in a field, near the others WHEN: early in the morning WARNINGS: tbd STATUS: ongoing
You and me, we used to be together Every day together, always I really feel that I'm losing my best friend I can't believe
Bucky became aware by slow degrees of sunlight as it attempted to make inroads into his closed eye lids. "Not yet," he insisted. "No, it's Saturday, Steve. C'mon, let a guy sleep." He tried to borrow his head beneath the single pillow on his bed, but his fingers clutched what felt like grass, not linen. And as he stretched out his long lean body, he realized this was no mattress beneath him, it was damp dewy earth.
What the hell?
He opened his eyes just a little, and then a little more, and then he sat bolt upright. That movement was a mistake. His head ached something fierce. He put his hand up to it, trying to make some sense out of what was happening. Steve. Where was Steve, and where were the rest of the guys? And where the hell was he?
Slowly and painstakingly, he fought through the fog that was his mind, seeking answers to the mysteries. He remembered lining up and Steve explaining how they were going to take the zip line down to the train, and how he asked Steve if this was payback for Bucky making him ride the Cyclone on Coney Island. That thought produced a chuckle which became a wince.
The train. Following Steve. Becoming separated. Fighting their way back together. Being attacked. Steve knocked off his feet. Or should he say Cap, although he'd always be Steve to Bucky. Taking up Steve's shield. Being blown out the open side of the train. Clinging to the side of the moving train, desperately. Inching his way back toward Steve. Steve calling his name. Trying... trying... to reach... but the metal was not secure, and could not bear Bucky's weight, not with the way he was moving, and it snapped, plummeting him downward..
And then nothing.
Bucky ran a cautious hand over his extremities. Nothing seemed broken, surprisingly so. He wasn't sure how far he'd fallen, but he was fairly sure it was a good long drop. So why no injuries, other than his head, which kept aching?
He felt for his holster. His gun was still there, thank God. He glanced around him. He appeared to be in a field of some sort, near a woods or forest. But this was not the valley he fell from the train into. He knew better than that. For one thing, there was no snow. Nor was there a train track, or anything remotely resembling one.
First order of business - stay calm and assess the situation.