[Filtered away from Steve & Ben]

[Bucky seems physically fine when he clicks on the video feed. Port had been a couple different kinds of hell, but he's had to be uncomfortably familiar with different kinds of hell and so it's more or less easy to just push everything back and keep soldiering on.

Even if there's something a tiny bit distant or strained in the smile he flashes the camera, he's clearly in the mood to poke a little fun at his best friend while doing something quasi constructive and nice for him, because God knows it's been a while since they've actually done something for either of their birthdays. There's a war on, you know.]

So if the calendar's right, Steve's turning ninety six on Friday. Which is the Fourth of July. [Yeah, that's right, Captain America was literally born on Independence Day, how's that for coincidences? Or destiny or whatever.]

I need a hand getting him a cake. I've never actually made one before, figured it couldn't hurt to ask if someone wants me to owe them a favor. [He has realistic expectations about what a cake baked by him would taste like.

Normally, he'd ask Ben about something like this, but with Alex gone? He doesn't want to rub salt in that wound. :c]

[Filtered to Scott & Stiles]

Do you guys remember the USO shows? From the flood? Or the comics, or whatever.

I've got a favor to ask.

[This is totally going somewhere, feel free to get suspicious Scott if you also got dancing monkey memories alongside punching HYDRA in the face and shit. c8]

[Spam for Steve]

[Bucky is exhausted. He hadn't slept much in port, he's filthy and sore even if he's not actually hurt beyond a few scrapes and bruises, and so after clicking on his comm long enough to make sure Helena and Morgana made it back, too, it's almost hard to force himself up and out of his room.

Almost, but at the same time, it isn't at all, because he's spent the last ninety six hours or so worrying about Steve and trying not to, and the last seventy two or so hours actively looking for him without anything close to success, and he just feels like he's been run over by a tank. Nearing the end, he'd heard Zola's voice so clearly, it's like he'd been standing right there, and he still feels tense and on edge and miserable. He's never found it easy to just sit around when grappling with this, and God knows he really wishes he never had to think about this again.

So he doesn't even bother to change out of his Commandos uniform or ditch his weapons before he's out in the hallway looking for Steve, heading for his friend's room. He's slower on the stairs than he should be, but his eyes are alert and he doesn't look as bad off as he could be, so it's probably best to focus on that.]

[Private to Helena and Morgana]

You alright?

["Are you back on the ship?" is what he really means, and he sounds just as worn out and hollow as he had in the last couple hours before they'd come back, but at least some of the wariness is gone. The threat of being attacked is marginally slimmer here.]

[Friends Filter*]

[This comes later - maybe a day or so after port ended - because he'd needed to sleep and eat something that wasn't D-rations or Power Bars, so he sounds a little less flat and worn out.]

How'd everyone make out?

[Private to Scott]

[Scott deserves a second message though]

Kid, you'd better be packing an inhaler next time we head out for something like that. [Read: you scared the hell out of me.]

[ooc: If you think your character should be on the friends filter, they are!]

[Spam for Helena and Dillon, Day One]

[It's the fact that he starts feeling like he's going to fall asleep, or maybe pass out, not the sudden darkness that sets him the most on edge. It's a good thing, too, because it means he lunges for his pack once he realizes what's happening and grabs for Steve with his other hand, knowing that he doesn't want to go in to whatever this is without either one.

Later, he's not sure if he managed it or not, if the reason he wakes up and thinks he's alone is because he'd been too slow, too thrown off by whatever was happening to them before the crash. But either way, it's still dark when Bucky wakes up, and he's still got his pack with him - which has been crammed full with extra supplies without being overloaded because he's not an idiot, he knows how to be smart about this - but he's definitely missing something else.

Or, you know, someone else.]

Steve?

[He keeps his voice quiet at first, because he has no idea where he is or who might overhear it, but when a response doesn't come, he carefully moves to get his feet under him, his pack on his back, and his hand on a weapon.]

Steve?

[Spam for Helena & Dillon, Day Two]

( it's alright to scream, I'm screaming too )

[Spam for Helena, Day Three]

( there's a killer, and he's coming after you )

[Public, Voice]

[This was supposed to be filtered, but either Bucky forgot (unlikely) or the network is fritzing out badly enough to mess up locks (more likely). He's still keeping his voice down, and there's sort of a tense urgency to his voice that's somewhere between calm and not panicked, but definitely not centered.]

-eve, if you can hear me, I'm fine. I'm [zzzzzztt] - Dillon and- [zzzzzztt] -ena. Where are you?

[And a while later, there's another message, which was originally intended to reach Ben, Stiles, Scott, and pretty much anyone else Bucky's become chummy with, but again, is public.]

Everyone okay? [zzzzzzzzzzzzzztt] - we're dealing with?

[ooc: Bucky also asked the Admiral for D-ration chocolate bars, feel free to assume he passed one to your character if they're friendly at all.]

[Although it's not like he's really been sulking or otherwise skulking miserably around the Barge (for the most part), Bucky's mood has noticeably improved since last Friday. I'm sure most of you can guess why, and the new arrival he's been trailing practically everywhere should be a big hint to anyone who's out of the loop.

Anyway, Bucky's sitting at the desk in his room when he clicks on the video feed, still wearing his standard issue combat uniform, and doesn't beat around the bush much before just getting into what he's here to say.]

Alright, so I'm sure you're all sick of hearing me talk about this by now, but I've got a favor to ask: what's worth catching up on between 1945 and whatever you think's modern day?

I've already got some decent suggestions, but I could always use more. Movies, music, books, food, [Food is good. :9] Whatever.

[Private Separately to Morgana and Stiles]

[He looks a little more serious when he changes the filter, because, well. This is a lot more serious than figuring out what movies he needs to catch up on.]

And I've got a different favor to ask you.

[Private to Helena]

So. [Guess who has your file. And read the whole thing. And is wondering how he managed to wind up wardening someone who's basically another brainwashed assassin.] You still wanna be called Sarah, or are we going with Helena now?

[So for the last twenty minutes or so, anyone living on or walking through the first floor will probably have been hearing a strange combination of noises: the whir of remote controlled toy airplanes, a noise that kind of sounds like a TIE Fighter scream, swearing and then the sound of something plastic and metal getting smashed. Hard. Maybe a couple times, just to make sure it's dead.

When Bucky clicks on the video feed, he looks at least mildly pissed. At worst, definitely pissed. His hair's a little rumpled, and he's carrying an absurdly patriotic looking shield on his left arm and doesn't even give a shit anymore that he's got it on him.

Yes, he's figured out the theme of the flood. Yes, he knows this was stupid, but sometimes you kind of just can't stop yourself before the thought happens, and so now he's being attacked by toy airplanes and tanks.]

Has anyone figured out how to make this shit stop once it gets started? [Any further bitching is being cut off by the appearance of another model Stuka that has apparently decided to start dive bombing his head.]

Aw, mother- [The video feed goes sideways and then veers up to the ceiling for a moment giving you another glimpse of the toy plane before Bucky just switches the comm off so he can focus on knocking it out of the air with the shield.]

[Open Spam]

[Bucky wakes up in his room feeling good. Great, even. Like himself again, and it's once he makes that realization - that he wasn't himself - that a lot of anger floods in, settles itself in his chest, and he's up and out of bed in an instant, needing to do something.

So instead of heading to the dining hall or the library, he goes right to the gym to beat the hell out of a punching bag until his hands are bloody, the firing range even if the targets aren't a challenge for him at all and the CES to go for a run until he's sweaty and out of breath. (The last one takes a while. Like, longer than it probably should, beyond just feeling physically fine after getting sucked through the door.) He's still wearing his uniform, and might have visible weapons on him on the run. In the gym, he's stripped down to a white t-shirt with the SSR logo on it, and the gun's nowhere in sight.

Eventually, he sheepishly wanders into the infirmary to clean up his hands, and then heads back to his room, fully intending on collapsing on the bottom bunk and just. Staring a hole in the mattress above him until he feels like actually sleeping.

Or, you know, a cat pretending to be a transgenic might have broken in while he was out, but regardless.]

[Public Audio]

[Later, Bucky clicks on the comm, takes a breath to say something, and then... hesitates. Because fuck if he knows what to say. He knows logically that it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't him, but he still feels like he needs to apologize, or say something about what happened.]

I'm sorry. I know that's not- I know he wasn't-

[He can't explain. Doesn't want to explain, doesn't feel like he should have to explain why he'd never want to work for the people who'd tortured and experimented on him, who've killed more good men (and probably women and kids, too, it's not like they'd had morals) than anyone's ever going to be able to count, but he still tries to grate out an answer.]

Look, [And he sounds exhausted and mad as hell all at once, but tries to force it into something else so he can explain, because he knows by now that a lot of you are going to have no idea what he's talking about.]

Where I'm from, HYDRA was the Nazi deep science division, before their boss basically decided Hitler and his pals were taking too damn long to take over the world and went rogue. I spent the last year trying to stop them and the Nazis with [Steve, fuck he misses him, but he's fiercely, selfishly glad he's not here right now anyway.] Cap and the Commandos. I'd cut my damn arm off before I'd ever work for them.

[... Probably not the best thing to say, considering how he'd showed up here. But there it is. They're the whole reason he's here - if that HYDRA goon hadn't gotten back up and fired on them, he wouldn't have gotten blown out of the train and died.]

I know how dumb this sounds. Believe me, I do, because it sounds like something out of a comic book, but it's what happened, and I'd still be back there taking them down if I hadn't gotten killed.

This is bullshit.

['Sup, Barge. Bucky has apparently made his way onto the planet's surface, and has somehow got his hands on what looks like a sniper rifle - it's a Walther Gewehr 43, in case we've got any weapons experts around. Not an American gun. He's dressed in a heavy looking jacket Stiles might recognize except it's black instead of blue, and-

Hey. What's that patch on his arm?

Oh.

About that.

Did he forget to mention?]

You know, for a group of hyper paranoid, beaten down wrecks of human beings, you're all pretty easy to dupe. Come up with some sob story, get those doe eyes going, and you'll believe anything, won't you? [He grins, and there are too many teeth in it to look friendly.]

I've got some bad news.

[Bad news for some, anyway. Bucky certainly doesn't seem to think it's bad news. It's sort of refreshing, to go back to showing your true colors after playing the kicked puppy for a couple days.]

Ned's planning a break out tomorrow during dinner. Crichton's in on it, too, and they're trying to organize anyone else who's willing to come with. If anyone wants to go after 'em, now might be a good time.

My good pal Cassel's another one of the stowaways from that other Barge. I don't know what his game plan is, but you might wanna make sure that doesn't get too far out of hand before he gets a chance to make his move.

[And with that all said, he starts loading the rifle almost lazily, like he's got all the time in the world.]

See, back where I'm from? My bosses have an expression: cut off one head, two more'll take its place. [You've heard him talk about HYDRA before, what they were planning and how they were going about doing it. He just lied about his involvement.] I figure the Barge isn't all that different.

[When he looks back at the camera, there's a viciousness in his eyes and expression that makes him look like a predator] You can run, you can hide, but we're always gonna be here to catch you. You can think the ship's dying all you want, but that doesn't change that you're still gonna be here tomorrow, and so are we. And we're not going anywhere.

[He finishes loading the weapon, clicks off the safety like he's making a point.]

Anyone who's interested in heading out and getting supplies to fix the damn ship can come with me. Anyone who's pissed off their friends were dumb enough to trust the new guy gets a bullet between the eyes. I don't miss.

[It's not said as a challenge. It's a fact.

There's a beat of hesitation when he reaches to kill the feed, and then chuckles darkly.]

Oh, yeah.

Hail HYDRA.

[Slightly Backdated Spam for Morgana]

[He's known since he got the idea that this game was never going to last forever. Eventually, people would find out who and what he is, and there's no point in hiding it.

The disturbance just pushed the date up a little, and the crash on the planet? Well. We can't have people running off, can we?

So he's already planning on outing himself and the others when he steps out onto the alien planet in his jacket, rifle slung over his shoulder, gun at his hip. He's not planning on sticking around for the fallout, because he's got other work to do, more important things to discuss.

And then he spots Morgana, looking like she's apparently planning on investigating where exactly they'd wound up, too.

There's some small part of him that almost feels badly about what's going to have to happen.]

Where are you going?

[Between growing up in the Depression and spending a good deal of the war eating C-Rations or whatever other crap was readily available, Bucky's used to being hungry more often than he's not.

That means the dining hall has pretty quickly become his favorite place on board, only partially because you can apparently talk people into making you pancakes for breakfast basically every morning, and that's where he is and what he's doing now.

(This might actually be plate number two.)

He's wearing his combat fatigues, and there's still a sort of hollowness in his expression, like the amused smirk doesn't quite meet his eyes, but maybe he's just tired.]

So, potential end of the world aside, you guys realize this is basically a cruise ship, right? [There's a spa. A friggin' spa, and here he is coming from a place where a goddamn bathtub was a ridiculous luxury you were pretty much never going to see.] I've been in a lot of crummy places where things're about to totally fall apart, but I've never been around this many pancakes in my life, even when I was back home.

[It is and isn't a joke. Whatever's coming deserves some amount of respect and preparation, but seriously. This is nothing compared to holding up in a flooded, muddy fox hole waiting for a grenade to fall in and blow you to hell.]

There's still a lot I'm missing out on about the future, but if this's anything to go off of? The food's definitely a lot better. I mean, maybe I'm not the best guy to judge, but we used to boil everything, [He sounds somewhere between disgusted and fond in saying that.] And if anyone ever tries to trade you a can of ham and lima beans, you're better off socking them in the jaw, I don't care how hungry you are.

[Private to Ben]

Alex told me I was your warden. [And with that admission, there's a sort of awkward, half apologetic twist of his mouth that's not really a smile.] I'm having a hard time remembering everything, but I think I'm starting to get bits and pieces of it.

[It's like some nightmare he only has pieces of, and most of them don't make a lot of sense. Talking to him in some cell in the middle of God knows where, a weird hotel, were they animals at some point? It's a lot to figure out how to respond to.

And then there's the fact that he'd left. Or vanished, or who knows what, and he might not totally remember Ben, but he knows he feels like a complete jackass for walking out on him, intentionally or not.]

Sorry.

[Open Spam]

[Routine is - Bucky figures - the best way to keep himself from going completely nuts as long as he's just... here. Without an assignment and without some crisis to get in the middle of (for the time being, anyway), being at loose ends means he has time to sit and think about what happened, and what the future's potentially going to hold for him, and that's absolutely not how he wants to be spending his time.

So besides the dining hall - which again, you can find him in at least three times a day eating and finishing pretty sizable portions of whatever's available today - he also spends a decent amount of time in the gym. A lot of the more modern exercise equipment gets ignored - not because he doesn't know how to use it, but because beating the hell out of a punching bag is something he hasn't actually had a lot of time to indulge in over the last couple months

He also keeps finding himself wandering back to the library, which would probably surprise some of his grade school teachers if they were around to see it. Bucky's not an idiot, and he was no slouch when it came to academics or anything, but he'd definitely rather be out playing baseball or bailing Steve out of whatever shit he'd gotten himself into than sit around reading a book. And yet here he is, frequenting the same section of the library every time he comes in and selecting books all with more or less the same theme - The Day of Battle, The Longest Day, Band of Brothers, Eagle Against the Sun, Pacific Crucible. Sometimes he just flips through them, scowling like there's either something just factually wrong here or morally offended him, or maybe both. More often than not, they get returned to the shelves without being finished, and he goes back to looking for books that talk about what he's actually interested in.

Maybe someday, he'll come back to all of this and try to understand the bigger picture, but right now, he's got a different focus.

And then there's the firing range, which he is, frankly, unimpressed by. It's boring, not a challenge at all for someone who's used to taking impossible shots, sometimes while under heavy fire. Even the moving targets aren't especially difficult, and this leaves him feeling weirdly caged in and bored more than anything else.

There's a part of him that feels like this is a waste of ammo (and there's another, much quieter part of him that wonders if not just being able to say fuck it and never pick up a gun again is a bad thing or not), but with the way people are talking, it doesn't sound like he can really afford to get rusty, or pack it in and say someone else can deal with it.

Not that that's ever been his style.

And honestly? Part of him almost misses it. Not the killing, not the constantly being in danger of getting killed or watching a friend bite it, but the familiarity of it, the strange consistency of the life he'd adapted to over the last couple years. Getting suddenly jolted out of it is taking more effort than he'd sort of realized it would.]

[Spam for the Infirmary]

[Anyone who was hanging out in the infirmary on Thursday night might have seen Morgana and Stiles dragging a very unconscious and partially clothed new arrival to the nearest available bed. Since then, Bucky's been sleeping deeply enough that he could very easily have slipped into a coma, and doesn't so much as stir if people are talking or clanging things around near his bed.

Returning to consciousness is slow and sluggish, and for a horrible moment, he doesn't remember where he is. Everything still aches, and his vision is blurry at first, and the bright light and being flat on his back makes a bundle of memories and panic rear up like a primeval monster out of the ocean, and he sits bolt upright in bed, panting, casting about and struggling to make sense of what he's seeing.

It's not the HYDRA facility. He got out, Steve got him out, and he lets out a long, slow breath of relief before grimacing and bringing his right hand to his ribs. His chest still hurts.

So does his arm, but at least it's still attached, and that's so much better than he could have hoped for after what happened.

For a long moment, he's not really sure where here is, though, even if he knows where he's not, if all of this has just been some crazy hallucination after he'd hit the water. Then he remembers the Admiral, waking up on deck, people talking over him, and it makes a little more sense.

Someone's found him a white t-shirt, and he's still got his boots, pants and belt on. The jacket's no where to be seen, but there's a set of keys and something that looks a little like a space age walkie talkie on the table next to his bed, and that's enough to get him swinging his legs over the side of the bed and attempt figuring out what to do, next.

He'll hang around a little longer and ask a couple questions - who he needs to thank for piecing him back together, for one - but then he'll be heading off to find out where his room is.]

[Public]

[Once he's found his room and cleaned himself up a little more - he'd spent a lot of time staring at himself in the mirror, trying to make sure everything is where it's supposed to be, that his arm isn't about to just fall off - he gets his hands on the walkie talkie and turns it on.

He knows how to do that, and how to set it up to record a video, even though it's way more high tech than anything even Howard had access to. It doesn't occur to him to think that's weird just yet.

It's a familiar face to some - but he addresses the Barge like he's never been here before and has very little idea of what to expect. He's still in the plain white t-shirt, the room behind him is incredibly plain and somewhat militaristic while still somehow looking warm and comforting, and he manages a smile that looks something like his usual cocky self, but also a little... hollow. Like he's not really sure he remembers how to do it correctly.]

This is Sergeant James Barnes, formerly with the 107th Infantry. U.S. Army. Most people call me Bucky. [Meaning: you should call him Bucky.] I've been on assignment with the SSR and the Howling Commandos for the last couple months, but I guess someone decided I'd be better off transferring here for as long as this Admiral guy thinks I'll be useful. [He says it like a joke, but he's actually really uneasy about the whole thing, if he's really being honest. He'd woken up here beaten to hell and drowning in his own blood, and he's a little more shaken up about it than he'd like to admit he is.

At least the usual Brooklyn drawl is doing a pretty good job of masking it.]

So if anyone's got some advice on what to expect for the new guy, I'd appreciate it.

[There's another smile, and it seems like he's going to leave it at that, but then his expression clouds a little and he adds, almost as an afterthought:]

... Are cabins always something you've lived in back in the real world?

[ooc: Multiples for spam are welcome, as is assuming you were there when he was brought in/sleeping off being healed.]

[Bucky has been quiet, and brooding, and dealing with some shitty stuff since coming back from the Overlook, and hasn't really been in the mood to talk to most people, but when he clicks on the audio function and starts talking, he sounds more or less normal, at least at the beginning.]

So I know most people probably don't care and there're probably gonna be some of you who'll point out that's just some Earth thing that happened a million years ago and no one cares, but four years ago - for me, anyway - was the day the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

[He's quiet for a really long moment, almost to the point of where someone might wonder if he forgot to shut off the comm, but he picks up again, and now sounds a lot more pensive than most other people have probably heard him get before. Again, he's had a lot to think about.] It's just weird to think about, because everything before that happening seems really far away, almost like it happened to somebody else. And it's kinda hard to explain, to someone who didn't have to go through it exactly what that's like, because everything you worried about before that seems so dumb in comparison. And yeah, maybe it's just boring history to most of you, or it doesn't matter because you're not from Earth or whatever, but millions of people died, by the time the war was all over. It's easy enough to ignore it when it's not affecting you, but no one's the same after they get that kinda stuff dumped in their laps. It's not just something you read about in history books.

[And again he pauses, but this time he just shuts the damn thing off, because he doesn't really do introspection often, and certainly not to a public audience, so frankly he's kind of embarrassed he got this far before cutting himself off.]

[Private to the Admiral]

( Presents for Steve, Natasha, Ben, Peggy, Tony, Rhade, and Jefferson )

[Bucky didn't really mind that flood one way or the other. There were worse things than being six years old again, and while getting some insight into Natasha's childhood was kind of horrific, he hadn't been one of the people she'd stabbed in the thigh so. Again, there were worse things.

He's out on deck, and since it's gotten colder, he's got his Howling Commandos jacket on instead of just his regular service uniform.]

So, New York's not exactly an easy place to grow up when you're a kid and you don't have any parents, and, you know, kids can be assholes. There were these kids who used to wait in an alley over near Tenth Avenue to jump kids and make 'em pay a toll to pass back and forth across the street. This one day, when I was about six, I was walking back to the orphanage and heard these kids picking on this scrawny blonde kid who apparently didn't wanna pay the toll. They were really trying to beat the crap outta him, but for some reason, he wasn't just running away or handing over the cash, and I'm thinking what the hell is wrong with this guy? When I say he was scrawny, I mean it looked like the wind could snap him in half, let alone some bully with a decent right hook. But he was still mouthing off at them and trying to land a decent hit, when any sane person woulda been high tailing it down the street.

But I'd seen these kids doing this routine for weeks, right? And I figured you know, if this kid can stand up to them, why the hell couldn't I? Takes guts not to run away from a fight. So I jumped in and helped him out, [And he grins sort of self deprecatingly, because this is sort of filling his feelings quota for the month and it's not exactly hard to figure out who he's talking about considering 1. the flood and 2. it's not as if it's a totally unknown story.] and the rest, as they say, is history.

[Private to Banner]

Thanks for looking out for me and Steve. You another one of his Avenger pals?

[Private to Peggy]

Is it really too much for you to call me Bucky even when you're a ten year old, Agent Carter?

[He is entirely just teasing you but lmfao. Really Peggy.]

[Private to Natasha]

[Ahaha what even to say to you Natasha. :c I mean it is extremely unsurprising that your childhood was awful - happy people don't become spies - but just. Holy shit. :c]

... I know being social's probably the last thing on your mind right now, but if you need anything, let me know.

[Spam for Ben]

[A while after Bucky made his post, he realized his item wasn't registering Ben anymore, which was, frankly, all kinds of concerning, because he really had come to care about the guy, even if he was nuts, and so he hurried down to his (former?) inmate's room to see what the hell was going on. The door was still the same, which was at least quasi reassuring, but that still didn't explain what had happened, so he banged on the door a few times, not bothering to filter the concern out of his voice.]

Ben? You in there?

[Forward dated Spam for Natasha]

[Bucky wasn't an idiot, he knew Natasha would need space after what had happened and considering the way she'd acted the last time they'd come back from being different people, he was pretty sure he wasn't high on her list of people she wanted to see. Admittedly, this was a little different than coming back from being married, but still. He'd kept his space.

But she still wasn't out and about, wasn't on the network and he hadn't heard from anyone else if they'd actually caught up and talked with her, yet, and he couldn't help it. He was concerned. So, not really expecting anything to actually come of this, because whatever their relationship was here - they weren't really friends, weren't really coworkers, but acquaintances seemed stupid, and since when did he have to categorize shit like this anyway? - it wasn't like they were actually close, he headed to her room and knocked on the door.]

Natasha? It's B- [He cut himself off, because she never used his nickname and he didn't really get why, but. He didn't get a lot of stuff with Natasha.] It's James. You in there?

You know, I don't really remember what year the breach was supposed to be in, but I was a kid, back when Prohibition was still on the books. Kinda weird to live through it again as an adult, considerin' three year olds who just moved to New York from middle of no where Indiana usually don't pay all that much attention to that kinda thing.

What are the odds we'll stop over that way, any time soon? Not that Redemption wasn't nice and all, but I haven't been home in two years and it kinda sounds like things are pretty different now. [Since you know. Most of you are from way past 1945.]

[Private to Natasha]

[... So this is awkward. It was easy enough to shake off having been in a failed relationship with her as teenagers at a magic school, but being married and in love and all that was... weird. And he hasn't really known what to say about it since it happened, so when he does finally decide to send her a message, it's something short and hopefully not really acknowledging the not sure how feel about the whole thing.]

You're not actually related to those Romanovs, are you?

[Private to Ben]

How're you holding up, kid?

[ooc: Pretend this got posted closer to the beginning of the week before school ate me. >>]

[Warden Filter]

Ben's down in Zero for attacking Mal Reynolds. He'll be down there for the week.

[Private to Mal]

I need you to tell me exactly what happened.

[ooc: Following the events of this log.]

[Bucky clicks on the video feed and leans back from the communicator, which is propped on a table in a common room so you're getting a decent view of Bucky - again in his fatigue green jacket and trousers, the hem of which are tucked into the top of his boots - crouched next to the television and the DVD player, remote control in hand. He looks a little amused by his apparent predicament, and is at least approaching it with good humor.]

I'm sure this isn't gonna come as a surprise to anyone, considering most of you've got a good sixty years on me, but I've got no idea how to work this thing and a couple decades of movies to catch up on. [So if someone could talk him through this, that would be awesome.]

On top of that, I've got an inmate who's never seen anything, let alone stuff I've missed out on, so if anyone's got any suggestions for stuff to show him, I'd be happy to hear 'em.

[Open Spam for the Shooting Range]

[With an inmate who requires almost constant supervision and very little sleep, Bucky doesn't have a ton of free time on his hands, usually. Calling in Steve, Peggy and Natasha to help out took some of the pressure off, but he still felt sort of stupid handing Ben over to them for any significant period of time, considering he was his responsibility, and there was a part of him he was reluctant to acknowledge that worried about what would happen if Ben snapped again and attacked them. He knew they could handle themselves fine, but they were still people he didn't want hurt if he could help it, and so for the most part, he didn't wander too far.

But Ben was working on the dinner shift with Natasha and Rhade right now, and so Bucky was taking the opportunity to head up to the shooting range to get in a little target practice. It's half stress relief, half actually practicing, because being able to hit pretty much any target thrown at him wasn't really a skill you wanted to get rusty with in a place like the Barge.

He let himself in, scoped the place out for a second or two to see who else was there, and immediately headed to pick out a target.]

I'm heading up to the CES if anyone feels like tossing a baseball around for a while. I've got an extra glove if you need to borrow one.

[And for the curious, not that you can see him anyway, but Ben is within eyesight while making the public part of this post, because someone has been pretty much glued to him when he's not sleeping or working in the dining hall since that incident.

However, the next part is done in private so there isn't the awkward of talking about you while you're standing right there. :|]

[Filtered to Steve, Peggy and Natasha]

I've got a favor to ask you guys, and I get that it's kinda asking a lot, so I just wanna put it out there that there's gonna be no hard feelings if you're not up for it.

I really need a couple other people keepin' an eye on Ben and making sure he isn't getting into trouble when I'm not around. I've been trying to keep up with him, but the kid barely needs to sleep and I don't want to just order him on lockdown because I need a couple hours of sleep every few days. [He's kidding, but he honestly really doesn't sleep all that much, and hasn't since he was overseas, and so the fact that he's starting to feel kind of worn down is saying something.] We don't need a rotating schedule or anything, and honestly, the kid could do with a couple good influences in his life that aren't me and Rhade. He's really not a bad kid, he's just kind of messed up.

[And basically he trusts you guys and thinks you'd be good people to teach Ben how to not be such a robot and hopefully won't treat him like shit because he attacked a guy for basically no reason. :V]

[Private to Natasha]

I know we don't know each other all that well [Someday he will realize the irony in this statement BUT TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY.] so I understand if this isn't up your alley, but Steve said you're reliable and I figure the more eyes the kid has on him, the less likely it is that he's gonna cause problems.