IC Inbox

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This is the IC inbox for Bucky Barnes at Riverview.

Network name: user.name

This is the place to contact Bucky over the network. Contact by voice or text is perfectly acceptable, and there is no need to plot with me prior to posting in this inbox.

Note: As of the end of December 2017, Bucky has no phone, he has destroyed it. Consequently, this inbox can only be used for in person interaction. You are still more than welcome to post here without plotting with me first.

Comments

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[Ivar might look stubborn, but Bucky looks simply immovable. Eyes hard, expression blank, and body language utterly rigid.]

I said no.

[He shakes his head, disappointment filtering through.]

Your only deterrent is not being locked up? That's not acceptable, I'm not teaching you.

[ragnarsson]

You make it sound like I'm just supposed to know this.

[He'd come from a killed or be killed society, where insults were something worth killing for. Trying to learn a new pattern of thinking after a lifetime didn't happen just overnight. He knows arguing with Bucky isn't going get him anywhere, so he decides to take a different tactic, and try to explain himself.]

I don't see people the way others do. They're like-- like-- [He grasps for a proper analogy. Finally, one comes.] --like a game of chess. Not really people, just pieces there to be moved around.

[Ivar knows this isn't normal thinking, having heard other people describe what they feel like inside. That there's compassion and empathy that goes into how they view others, making them real. He's never had that. He's different.]

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[That's a frightening way of thinking. That's how the Soldier thought, that's how his handlers had thought... it's how he still thought sometimes when he didn't have his thoughts properly in place.

He just watches Ivar for a moment, before something softens in him just a little.]

Is there anyone you care about? Father? Brothers? Sisters? Mother? Partner?

[ragnarsson]

I care about my family. [There's a pause. He might as well be honest, if he's been thus far. He adds on.] Most of the time. But my parents are dead and my brothers aren't here.

[Which meant he was without an anchor to help him get beyond his usual cold, single-minded thinking. He thinks about mentioning Letha, but while he does care for her, there's also part of him that still wonders sometimes what her head would look like on a stick.]

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I don't care if they're here.

[He hesitates a moment, teetering between sharing with Ivar in the hope of helping him, or just turning away and washing his hands of the whole situation. It was probably more sensible to do the latter, he has too many issues of his own to take on someone else's, but--]

I've killed a lot of people, more than you ever will; and I used to think that way, still do sometimes. It helps me to picture the person I want to hurt as someone I care about, your brothers in your case. Remember that they're that person for someone else, they're brothers and friends and sons.

[ragnarsson]

It sounds difficult. I've never thought about thinking that way before.

[Being in a culture where fighting and killing were not only the norm but encouraged meant that Ivar's problems had gone unnoticed and untreated for his entire life. Only his brothers really knew the true extent of how unstable the youngest Ragnarsson really was.]

When I want something, I tend to get very single-minded about it. I only look at how to get to it in a single line, from one point to another. People who are in the way of that, I just remove them.

[Usually through vicious and brutal ends. He sighs and slump a bit back in his wheelchair, looking up at Bucky with an expression that isn't nearly as closed off and angry as he usually is.]

But I will keep what you have said in mind.

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[He's been reassessing Ivar as the young man speaks, and has upgraded him in his mental directory of people here to be extremely dangerous. Skills aside, it's the lack of empathy that makes him one to watch.]

I'm not teaching you any more.

[It doesn't matter if he's trying, that's too much of a risk for Bucky.]

I've helped kill enough people, I have enough blood on my hands, I'm not giving you the tools to do it more efficiently.

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar's eyes have the ability to go ice cold or blazing with fury at a moment's notice. They seem to be doing a combination of both right now as she stares at Bucky. But he already knows getting angry won't get him anywhere. He needs to approach this a different way if he wants to regain what he's close to losing.]

What happened to you before you came here? What made you into such a good killer?

[For all that he's trained with the man, Ivar knows very little about Bucky. He wouldn't even know his name if he hadn't made the connection between him and his roommate.]

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[He should have seen the question coming, but for some reason it still hits him hard when it comes.]

Some things shouldn't be talked about.

[It's stated low and level, with a finality about it that suggests he's even less likely to talk about his past than he is to relent on his decision to teach Ivar.]

I'm leaving, don't follow me.

[ragnarsson]

[As Bucky will recall from their first encounter, Ivar never knows when to quit. That's not just when he's fighting, but in all aspects of his life. He just has to keep pushing and testing his limits.]

No. I want to know why. Your vague bullshit may cut it with everyone else, but not with me.

[And against Bucky's explicit orders, he wheels after him.]

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I don't owe you an explanation.

[He hesitates at the street corner and then just takes a running jump up about fifteen feet to grab a window ledge on the second floor. Follow him now, Ivar.]