vanillafluffy: (TJ Hammond leather)
Bucky's side of 'Fun and (War) Games' (Chase Collins and the Winter Soldier bodyswap)

The B Side )


From a prompt: http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/564726.html?thread=79400438#t79400438
Possibly more to come, depending on how many OTHER projects demand to be written.
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vanillafluffy: (CATWS_WS1)
It is not his normal uniform; it’s a good deal more theatrical than that. Whoever has planned this mission for the Winter Soldier has a twisted sense of humor. The timing takes advantage of Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, which falls at the beginning of November. It is a remembrance of lost loved ones, a colorful celebration of painted skulls and flowers, a festival throughout Mexico.

In the midst of the revelry, one more masked face excites no one. Instead of his usual goggles and air filter, today the Winter Soldier wears the face of a skull. True, the hollow eye sockets reflect non-glare lenses, and a close observer might notice that the grinning teeth are punctuated with vents. Body armor is concealed under a ruffled white shirt and a plain black suit with a sunflower in the lapel.

He has four targets throughout the city, and he carries a cheap guitar case with his weapons. Each assassination occurs with his trademark precision.

One of the marked men he is able to target from a distance; an easy shot for him of fewer than a hundred yards.

The next is simple enough, from a balcony overlooking a parade route, he shoots the candidate and is out of the building through a back door while screams still echo from the street out front.

The third man is shaking hands with the crowd. The Soldier slips a knife into his ribs as he’s laughing at one of his own jokes. He slumps forward onto one of his well-wishers, and shouts of alarm follow his killer as he departs.

He stalks the final goal through chaotic streets, finally able to shoot him in a lull. From arm’s length, three quick bullets just left of center in his chest take him down. Somewhere close by, a woman screams, but the Soldier continues walking unhurriedly, checking casually for pursuit and finding none as he melts into the throngs.

Although he has been seen, locating one particular skull-face on Dia de los Muertos is a foolish and futile notion. There are whispers, rumors, and a legend that will live for years of the Festival of the Dead when the Spirit of Death walked among them.



From a prompt: http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/565964.html?thread=79530444#t79530444

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