Backgrounder: When Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting were given the taks to take over Marvel's Captain America title, I'm sure it was with the strenght of knowing what they had planned for the Captain and his supporting cast. One particular supporting cast that most comic readers never thought they'd see again - with exception to World War II flashibacks or stories, was Cap's original partner Bucky Barnes.
Well it seems that Bucky is back, and Ed has come up with not just a plausible return, but a very interesting one at that. what I do here is complementary to his work in his first Captain America issue. Plus, I added a few more information that Ed has introduced (e.g. Bucky, now known as the Winter Soldier, was instrumental in the early training of Natasha Romanov a.k.a. the Black Widow, while enjoying some fringe benefits... the luck of some guys). In effect - I am merely playing in his sandbox... adding my own dimension.
By the way... this fanfic can likewise be viewed in avengersforever.org
New York - Manhattan, Evening:
The skyline looks vaguely familiar – as if he’s been here before… and yet, he can’t really recall when he was here… if ever he was. All he knows is that he had been instructed to be here to do an all too familiar task. Having remembered, he unzips a duffle bag, one left here by unseen colleagues, and starts assembling the sniper rifle that he knows is inside.
As he removes the barrel, he automatically files its make and model into his mind. AIAW? Why this? He would have preferred his weapon of choice, the Snayperskaya vintovka Dragunova – or the Dragunov, as referred to by westerners. Still, his is but to comply – never question. Such has always been his orders by his General – the hero of mother Russia, Aleksander Lukin. The orders were clear, go to the designated place, at a designated time – bring the disposable cellular phone and await the message. His orders are to focus at a particular building’s floor – wait for an individual to appear. That will be the target.
Waiting allows him time to think – a dangerous effort, his mind seems to think, yet with nothing else to do, he allows himself the luxury… after all, there will be time enough to concentrate on his task, upon receiving his orders. He reflects back to the skyline that is hauntingly familiar [he suddenly receives flashes of a somewhat different – older version of the skyline… one with more wooden and concrete buildings, less lighted]… What? What just happened?
He stands up, shaking his head. Perhaps the trip into the country was more tiring than he thought. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things [he sees old posters – all about war bonds] (swearing in Russian)… he sits down and rubs his eyes. What was that? What is happening to him? He wonders if he should call the general and tell him of this situation… No, that would be silly. He is, after all the Winter Soldier – nothing bothers him. It is merely the fatigue – but he’s had fatigue before, so he will handle this little bothering…
The cell phone vibrates against the ceiling. The signal! He shakes his head and lifts the phone – reads the instructions and upon doing so, he grabs the binoculars just a few inches away from the phone and searches the skyline. He is looking for a particular building – there! Now… counting the floors, he should spy… a dimly lit room. A lone figure is pacing from within – his target.
He adjusts the binoculars to see his target better – all he sees is a silhouette, but that will suffice. He just needs to locate the target’s chest – or even better, a head shot to splatter this enemy’s face… to die ignobly. Whatever reason for his or her death, again it is not his concern – his general has ordered it, and he is to comply. He picks up a handful of dirt – loose leaves and soil that he had scooped while on the way here, and tosses it up; scrutinizing how the wind would carry them, and invariably affect his shot – not too windy… is good. He need not adjust his sight too much. There will be no extra-ordinary compensation against the elements.
He hefts the sniper rifle, as he lowers himself to a crouch – it would not be a good idea to tempt the fates, and even in the dark, the shape of a sniper rifle can possibly be seen by anyone. He was ordered not to engage any law enforcement agent of this country, and he was given specific instructions to avoid any extra-security personalities… these so called American heroes. [ swift moving blurs suddenly penetrate his thoughts, two beings on fire?... a commanding voice and a flying disk] Shto? He lowers the rifle to see his hands shake a bit – what is happening?
He realizes that he is sweating – nyet, this cannot be happening. He has a mission to finish. He is a soldier… a product of Soviet training and battle superiority, he will not succumb to phantoms of his mind. He recovers. He picks up the rifle… chambers his first bullet – he needs only one, but in his current situation, he had best be ready to do another shot if necessary. He curses to himself for this sudden weakness – it has never happened before, so what is going on?
He looks through his cross-hairs and levels the rifle towards the target’s head. Training now takes over, as he relaxes his muscles, his breathing becomes slow and deliberate – he focuses into the cross-hair, squeezes the trigger and briefly sees the face of his target… a Skull?! […laughing and brandishing a lugger, as German… no, wait… Nazi soldiers stand between the Skull and… them! A brightly clad male, moving skillfully beside him, through the soldiers; deftly plowing through them… as he, no, they zeroes in on the Skull]. The scene feels familiar, like watching it actually transpire.
What in? He picks himself up… looks around and wonders where he is. It’s like a dream – a long and bad nightmare… one where he needs to wake up. He runs away from the roof, distinctly aware that he had shot someone – again! This has to stop! He finds himself slowly slipping back into darkness… back to sleep.
He finds himself inside a narrow stairwell, just behind the door leading out to the roof. What happened? Did he fire the shot? He races out, grabs the binoculars to look – and sees the window he was looking at earlier… sporting a new hole. A bullet hole. He next looks for traces of exiting or any trace of chaos in the scene – apparently, none are noticeable… either he was able to pull it off, or his prey had escaped. He notices a spent shell – picks it up, makes sure his surroundings are sanitized from any possible clues he may have left.
This was unprofessional and un-excusable – he will have to report this incident later to the General. Still, he needs to check if he was able to hit the Skull – he decides risking a visit to the location as soon as he disposes of the rifle, when he receives a short and curt message – it is Lukin, and he mentions a few words… code for congratulations, it was a success. He is to report back to the pre-arranged safe house before going back to the plane, and from there await further instructions. He starts to walk… it will be at least an hour before he arrives at his safe house.
New York - Manhattan, Morning:
On his way towards the rendezvous point, he spies a news stand and surreptitiously scans the headlines – he can’t remember when he learned the language… but he can obviously understand English. Possibly part of his training in preparation for these type of assignments. He tries looking for news of anyone being found dead… but sees none. That in itself is a clue that whoever was the target – it had best been decided not to announce such an assassination. Thus whoever it was he shot, must have been an important figure, either way for such a news black-out.
He starts waking and comes upon some pillars leading to stairs and entrances to an overhead train ride. He could easily cut many hours using this transport – but never the normal way… for his metallic limb would easily be detected by metal-seeking machines, and he need not want any undue attention, after all – he was a Russian agent in ‘enemy’ territory. He could have chanced riding on its roof in the evening… but in this time of day, he would stick out as a sore thumb – and may attract undue attention.
It is at this very instance that he sees a flying car giving chase to the train. His instincts quickly tell him that something is not normal – and he blends into the crowd, while observing what the disturbance is. He spies the car seemingly driven by a blonde female… and on the train, he sees him! [Him!]
…
The action is finished in mere seconds – the terrorists never had a chance – he knows this… he does not know why he knows it, but he does. He hesitates, and in an instance – the flying car is receding in the distance, and with it, the vaguely familiar, brightly-clad man. He looks at his watch, he has approximately 45 minute to reach his destination.
He decides to give chase – but in a discreet distance. He follows the car, until it enters a garage – he observes for a while, and when both car and occupants do not emerge, he decides to return to his original intent… there will be other times to revisit this place. Something tells him this is important – but for what purpose? All he knows it that the man seems very familiar – he seems to be the same man in his dreams.
This, however, is a mystery for another date. After all, the dream does not make sense. How can he know this man and be in a battle that happened in the last world war? The Winter Soldier arrives early and enters the plane, vaguely registering the Kronas symbol on the plane’s tail. He sees familiar equipments – it seems that he will be expected to ‘stand down’, perhaps rest soon – good, maybe this is what he needs to remove those strange thoughts. In the meantime, he spies a computer console and he does a quick search on the person he saw… and dreamt.
He hears, voices – and spies the pilot talking on a cellular phone… his body language relaxed, intimate, and he hears one word… [возлюбленный… he whispersas he clasps her bosom, and she gasps at his strength, I will never leave you. You had better not, she teases – or I will hunt you down.] He reels back and nearly falls… “Natalia?” Why does the name suddenly come across his mind? Who is she? When did they meet? Why does he have no recall of this? He tries desperately to remember, but it flits away.
Something is definitely wrong, and he resolves to track these mysteries on his spare time. Stepping into plain sight for the pilot to see, he feels a slight sense of happiness in observing how the pilot jumps upon realizing that he was not as alone as he thought, and a sense of unease to see that it is the Winter Soldier he will be sharing the plane with. Good, he is here to assist me – he knows his place.
Composing himself, the pilot relays to the Winter Soldier the instructions given him by General Lukin, an unexpected turn of event, for Lukin normally always accompanies his back for their usual debriefs and his standing down into another long sleep, he focuses back to the pilot in time to hear that they are to fly out immediately, back to Russia.
He feels equal reluctance and relief. He’s going home… but why does it feel like he is leaving home? His life feels like a dream, and he’s beginning to wonder if he can trust the people around him.
Well it seems that Bucky is back, and Ed has come up with not just a plausible return, but a very interesting one at that. what I do here is complementary to his work in his first Captain America issue. Plus, I added a few more information that Ed has introduced (e.g. Bucky, now known as the Winter Soldier, was instrumental in the early training of Natasha Romanov a.k.a. the Black Widow, while enjoying some fringe benefits... the luck of some guys). In effect - I am merely playing in his sandbox... adding my own dimension.
By the way... this fanfic can likewise be viewed in avengersforever.org
New York - Manhattan, Evening:
The skyline looks vaguely familiar – as if he’s been here before… and yet, he can’t really recall when he was here… if ever he was. All he knows is that he had been instructed to be here to do an all too familiar task. Having remembered, he unzips a duffle bag, one left here by unseen colleagues, and starts assembling the sniper rifle that he knows is inside.
As he removes the barrel, he automatically files its make and model into his mind. AIAW? Why this? He would have preferred his weapon of choice, the Snayperskaya vintovka Dragunova – or the Dragunov, as referred to by westerners. Still, his is but to comply – never question. Such has always been his orders by his General – the hero of mother Russia, Aleksander Lukin. The orders were clear, go to the designated place, at a designated time – bring the disposable cellular phone and await the message. His orders are to focus at a particular building’s floor – wait for an individual to appear. That will be the target.
Waiting allows him time to think – a dangerous effort, his mind seems to think, yet with nothing else to do, he allows himself the luxury… after all, there will be time enough to concentrate on his task, upon receiving his orders. He reflects back to the skyline that is hauntingly familiar [he suddenly receives flashes of a somewhat different – older version of the skyline… one with more wooden and concrete buildings, less lighted]… What? What just happened?
He stands up, shaking his head. Perhaps the trip into the country was more tiring than he thought. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things [he sees old posters – all about war bonds] (swearing in Russian)… he sits down and rubs his eyes. What was that? What is happening to him? He wonders if he should call the general and tell him of this situation… No, that would be silly. He is, after all the Winter Soldier – nothing bothers him. It is merely the fatigue – but he’s had fatigue before, so he will handle this little bothering…
The cell phone vibrates against the ceiling. The signal! He shakes his head and lifts the phone – reads the instructions and upon doing so, he grabs the binoculars just a few inches away from the phone and searches the skyline. He is looking for a particular building – there! Now… counting the floors, he should spy… a dimly lit room. A lone figure is pacing from within – his target.
He adjusts the binoculars to see his target better – all he sees is a silhouette, but that will suffice. He just needs to locate the target’s chest – or even better, a head shot to splatter this enemy’s face… to die ignobly. Whatever reason for his or her death, again it is not his concern – his general has ordered it, and he is to comply. He picks up a handful of dirt – loose leaves and soil that he had scooped while on the way here, and tosses it up; scrutinizing how the wind would carry them, and invariably affect his shot – not too windy… is good. He need not adjust his sight too much. There will be no extra-ordinary compensation against the elements.
He hefts the sniper rifle, as he lowers himself to a crouch – it would not be a good idea to tempt the fates, and even in the dark, the shape of a sniper rifle can possibly be seen by anyone. He was ordered not to engage any law enforcement agent of this country, and he was given specific instructions to avoid any extra-security personalities… these so called American heroes. [ swift moving blurs suddenly penetrate his thoughts, two beings on fire?... a commanding voice and a flying disk] Shto? He lowers the rifle to see his hands shake a bit – what is happening?
He realizes that he is sweating – nyet, this cannot be happening. He has a mission to finish. He is a soldier… a product of Soviet training and battle superiority, he will not succumb to phantoms of his mind. He recovers. He picks up the rifle… chambers his first bullet – he needs only one, but in his current situation, he had best be ready to do another shot if necessary. He curses to himself for this sudden weakness – it has never happened before, so what is going on?
He looks through his cross-hairs and levels the rifle towards the target’s head. Training now takes over, as he relaxes his muscles, his breathing becomes slow and deliberate – he focuses into the cross-hair, squeezes the trigger and briefly sees the face of his target… a Skull?! […laughing and brandishing a lugger, as German… no, wait… Nazi soldiers stand between the Skull and… them! A brightly clad male, moving skillfully beside him, through the soldiers; deftly plowing through them… as he, no, they zeroes in on the Skull]. The scene feels familiar, like watching it actually transpire.
What in? He picks himself up… looks around and wonders where he is. It’s like a dream – a long and bad nightmare… one where he needs to wake up. He runs away from the roof, distinctly aware that he had shot someone – again! This has to stop! He finds himself slowly slipping back into darkness… back to sleep.
He finds himself inside a narrow stairwell, just behind the door leading out to the roof. What happened? Did he fire the shot? He races out, grabs the binoculars to look – and sees the window he was looking at earlier… sporting a new hole. A bullet hole. He next looks for traces of exiting or any trace of chaos in the scene – apparently, none are noticeable… either he was able to pull it off, or his prey had escaped. He notices a spent shell – picks it up, makes sure his surroundings are sanitized from any possible clues he may have left.
This was unprofessional and un-excusable – he will have to report this incident later to the General. Still, he needs to check if he was able to hit the Skull – he decides risking a visit to the location as soon as he disposes of the rifle, when he receives a short and curt message – it is Lukin, and he mentions a few words… code for congratulations, it was a success. He is to report back to the pre-arranged safe house before going back to the plane, and from there await further instructions. He starts to walk… it will be at least an hour before he arrives at his safe house.
New York - Manhattan, Morning:
On his way towards the rendezvous point, he spies a news stand and surreptitiously scans the headlines – he can’t remember when he learned the language… but he can obviously understand English. Possibly part of his training in preparation for these type of assignments. He tries looking for news of anyone being found dead… but sees none. That in itself is a clue that whoever was the target – it had best been decided not to announce such an assassination. Thus whoever it was he shot, must have been an important figure, either way for such a news black-out.
He starts waking and comes upon some pillars leading to stairs and entrances to an overhead train ride. He could easily cut many hours using this transport – but never the normal way… for his metallic limb would easily be detected by metal-seeking machines, and he need not want any undue attention, after all – he was a Russian agent in ‘enemy’ territory. He could have chanced riding on its roof in the evening… but in this time of day, he would stick out as a sore thumb – and may attract undue attention.
It is at this very instance that he sees a flying car giving chase to the train. His instincts quickly tell him that something is not normal – and he blends into the crowd, while observing what the disturbance is. He spies the car seemingly driven by a blonde female… and on the train, he sees him! [Him!]
…
The action is finished in mere seconds – the terrorists never had a chance – he knows this… he does not know why he knows it, but he does. He hesitates, and in an instance – the flying car is receding in the distance, and with it, the vaguely familiar, brightly-clad man. He looks at his watch, he has approximately 45 minute to reach his destination.
He decides to give chase – but in a discreet distance. He follows the car, until it enters a garage – he observes for a while, and when both car and occupants do not emerge, he decides to return to his original intent… there will be other times to revisit this place. Something tells him this is important – but for what purpose? All he knows it that the man seems very familiar – he seems to be the same man in his dreams.
This, however, is a mystery for another date. After all, the dream does not make sense. How can he know this man and be in a battle that happened in the last world war? The Winter Soldier arrives early and enters the plane, vaguely registering the Kronas symbol on the plane’s tail. He sees familiar equipments – it seems that he will be expected to ‘stand down’, perhaps rest soon – good, maybe this is what he needs to remove those strange thoughts. In the meantime, he spies a computer console and he does a quick search on the person he saw… and dreamt.
He hears, voices – and spies the pilot talking on a cellular phone… his body language relaxed, intimate, and he hears one word… [возлюбленный… he whispers
Something is definitely wrong, and he resolves to track these mysteries on his spare time. Stepping into plain sight for the pilot to see, he feels a slight sense of happiness in observing how the pilot jumps upon realizing that he was not as alone as he thought, and a sense of unease to see that it is the Winter Soldier he will be sharing the plane with. Good, he is here to assist me – he knows his place.
Composing himself, the pilot relays to the Winter Soldier the instructions given him by General Lukin, an unexpected turn of event, for Lukin normally always accompanies his back for their usual debriefs and his standing down into another long sleep, he focuses back to the pilot in time to hear that they are to fly out immediately, back to Russia.
He feels equal reluctance and relief. He’s going home… but why does it feel like he is leaving home? His life feels like a dream, and he’s beginning to wonder if he can trust the people around him.
Comments