No. [ he wasn't allowed pets. he was hardly allowed anything, after all the ways he found to kill with common objects. but books, he had. only one, at the start, for about a year or so, which, surprise surprise, was a old, discount copy of a marine biology encyclopedia. ] Read about 'em.
[ and yet, it'd been appropriate. their apartment, above his dad's school, was in the district down by the port, and every day on the walk to school, he smells dead fish. his dad had a boat they'd take out now and again, and those are some of andyr's best memories. sitting out in the port, with the waves of larger ships passing by to rock him, staring at the stares and listening to his dad tell stories. it seems like another life, now. ]
It was the only thing I had to do for a while. Sit in a room and... read about fucking fish. [ a hollow kind of laugh comes from him, echoing off the metal walls of the ventilation shaft, something self-deprecating in it. right. that was his life. that is his life. albeit, his literature collection has expanded since that first year. ]
Guess your brain just teaches itself to start liking that shit, after a while. So you don't go nuts.
[ Bucky lets the silence hang between them, contemplating his words. Having nothing to do but read about fish seems like a hellish exercise in itself -- but then again, people adapt to their circumstances, and Andyr obviously had. It's either that or madness, and he commiserates with that sentiment. He wonders if his captors were the same as HYDRA, but they seem to at least see him as a person.
Even so, that's cold comfort; you can see someone as a person and still subject them to the worst things your mind can dream of, and that obviously hadn't saved Andyr at all. He listens to that laugh and thinks of the gallows, the jokes that people crack when they know they're going to their deaths.
It's not funny at all, not really, those jokes.
He leans back against the wall, thumb rubbing over the smooth outline of the shell. Bucky's curious about him, and despite their unpleasant first meeting he's come to take a strange sort of liking to the fellow. You can't really hate someone who's come from largely similar circumstances, who wears the hurt so desperately and fiercely under all that rage. ] What's your favorite fish?
[ it'd been about three or four months of him banging on the glass they held him behind before they'd actually given him the book, just to shut him up and keep him occupied. unfortunately, there wasn't any cryofreeze to stick him in, and seeing as he'd be needed out of it every few days, it wouldn't have been practical besides. thus, for the sake of not having to waste anymore manpower or resources on him than they already were - a book.
as for madness, well, it's debatable how much he's really held onto sanity. but these days, andyr doesn't worry about that argument applied to him anymore. he isn't the kind of person that integrates to the outside anymore. he stopped trying to be, and after making that decision, the rest became somewhat easier.
forget the health of it, forget the morality people like alva or malakye still hold to (it works for them), forget whatever counts as humanity. he'd decided, all that matters, was hitting back as hard and as fast and as often as he could. ]
You ever heard of Bettas? Siamese fighting fish? [ maybe it's a little dumb, maybe childish, but he'd decided it when he was 17 anyway. sitting in that cell with the stupid book open on his lap, the page turned to all these glossy pictures of a short lived, beautiful species, prized for their aesthetic and their violence. it felt appropriate, in a twisted way. ]
No. [ If he had, the information he'd learned is lost somewhere in the mires of his mind, slipped in between the cracks the names the faces. But this is comfortable ground, right? Talking about fish like it's the most natural thing in the world for them to do, what with one of them being in the vent and all.
He leans back against the wall, interested in what Andyr has to say, to discover yet another piece of this mystery that's hell-bent on stalking him. He thinks of Andyr as a boy -- had he been charming? Outgoing? Had he excelled in his studies, in sports? Somehow this feels too invasive for him to ask. ]
Do they fight each other? Or other fish? [ Because with a name like that, it's tough to imagine that they'd have any sort of pacifistic lifestyle. How much has Andyr absorbed about them, how deep did those roots go? ]
They're really territorial, so in nature it'd be whatever came into their space. [ in nature, but they didn't get the name from being in nature. ] But for gambling, people put bettas with other bettas and bet on 'em.
[ which is a near perfect replication of Andyr's life, down to cramped arenas, and rich people waving money and shouting at all sides, with a handler prodding at him through a grate to get on with it. or just shooting him up with adrenaline before tossing him in with another clone. and some days, another template. ]
They only live about two to three years, come in all these pretty colors and like small habitats with little current, so a lot of people keep them in one or two gallon tanks or glass bowls. [ it isn't terrible for them, but it does ring very true of andyr's life back home - kept behind a bulletproof, soundproof glass wall, for passersby to spectate at. bettas may be content with it, but he's not a goddamn pet. much as they'd like to make him one. ]
Pretty smart for a fish, too. They can learn tricks and shit, play with mirrors and algae balls, get used to routines, all that crap.
[ It's a surprisingly astute representation of Bucky's life, too -- right down to the tank they put him into when they're done with him. The other Winter Soldiers, the ones who had never quite responded as well as he did, the ones who now sleep within a forgotten base.
Bucky listens quietly, thinking of the cold, white Siberian wasteland. He wonders what Andyr's thinking about when he relates this to him, if he's lived a life like the betta's own. He thinks of multi-colored fish then, of all the things Andyr says they can do, and he feels a strange sort of sympathy for the fish. Never mind that they're smart, and are good with learning tricks and routines -- they're still captives, right? Colorful little creatures trapped in a bowl. ]
Did they treat you like that? [ The people who kept Andyr and forced terrible things unto him. Bucky thinks he'll never forget the wild fury in his eyes when the man had come at him, all that anger masking something Bucky immediately recognises -- because he sees it in himself, too. ]
[ A long stretch of quiet follows the question, the elephant in the room. he'd seethed about where he came from to barnes before, when he was fresh out of reliving the worst of it, but to just sit and discuss it, without the fury and the violence and the hate, feels too exposing, in a way. like admitting to something, to a thing you couldn't stop and couldn't resist. his voice does come, eventually, with a sort of hollowness to it. detachment. ]
I don't take well to tricks or routines. But yeah. Living in something close to a glass bowl. Soundproof, bulletproof glass bowl. [ after he shattered the glass once - bulletproof. after he made a lot of people unwilling to traverse that hallway by screaming profanities and the most disturbing bits of narration his mind could come up with through the glass - soundproof. silent and still, that's what they'd wanted. ] There's a bed, some books, a bathroom, and the longest wall's all glass, right out into the corporate hallway. Learned how to lip read pretty quick.
[ all of this present tense, because it isn't what they did, it's what they're still doing. it's the nightmare fortress he's returning to as soon as either the Ingress sends him back, or they get to that planet that's supposed to fix it. ]
Usually it's the clones that do cage fights, the expendable ones. But every now and again one Houses pitch one of their Templates against another's. See which one came out closer to dismembered. Best advertisement places like Hapsburg have, a way to prove their products comes from the best blueprints. [ they'd never let one or the other die, or at least, would try not to. too valuable. but there's a lot of damage you can do to a KN1 geared for combat before it's gone too far. ] But most often for quality testing. Clones always get a fraction of the natural augmentations their Templates have, but they want to get as close as they can.
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[ and yet, it'd been appropriate. their apartment, above his dad's school, was in the district down by the port, and every day on the walk to school, he smells dead fish. his dad had a boat they'd take out now and again, and those are some of andyr's best memories. sitting out in the port, with the waves of larger ships passing by to rock him, staring at the stares and listening to his dad tell stories. it seems like another life, now. ]
It was the only thing I had to do for a while. Sit in a room and... read about fucking fish. [ a hollow kind of laugh comes from him, echoing off the metal walls of the ventilation shaft, something self-deprecating in it. right. that was his life. that is his life. albeit, his literature collection has expanded since that first year. ]
Guess your brain just teaches itself to start liking that shit, after a while. So you don't go nuts.
no subject
Even so, that's cold comfort; you can see someone as a person and still subject them to the worst things your mind can dream of, and that obviously hadn't saved Andyr at all. He listens to that laugh and thinks of the gallows, the jokes that people crack when they know they're going to their deaths.
It's not funny at all, not really, those jokes.
He leans back against the wall, thumb rubbing over the smooth outline of the shell. Bucky's curious about him, and despite their unpleasant first meeting he's come to take a strange sort of liking to the fellow. You can't really hate someone who's come from largely similar circumstances, who wears the hurt so desperately and fiercely under all that rage. ] What's your favorite fish?
no subject
as for madness, well, it's debatable how much he's really held onto sanity. but these days, andyr doesn't worry about that argument applied to him anymore. he isn't the kind of person that integrates to the outside anymore. he stopped trying to be, and after making that decision, the rest became somewhat easier.
forget the health of it, forget the morality people like alva or malakye still hold to (it works for them), forget whatever counts as humanity. he'd decided, all that matters, was hitting back as hard and as fast and as often as he could. ]
You ever heard of Bettas? Siamese fighting fish? [ maybe it's a little dumb, maybe childish, but he'd decided it when he was 17 anyway. sitting in that cell with the stupid book open on his lap, the page turned to all these glossy pictures of a short lived, beautiful species, prized for their aesthetic and their violence. it felt appropriate, in a twisted way. ]
no subject
He leans back against the wall, interested in what Andyr has to say, to discover yet another piece of this mystery that's hell-bent on stalking him. He thinks of Andyr as a boy -- had he been charming? Outgoing? Had he excelled in his studies, in sports? Somehow this feels too invasive for him to ask. ]
Do they fight each other? Or other fish? [ Because with a name like that, it's tough to imagine that they'd have any sort of pacifistic lifestyle. How much has Andyr absorbed about them, how deep did those roots go? ]
no subject
[ which is a near perfect replication of Andyr's life, down to cramped arenas, and rich people waving money and shouting at all sides, with a handler prodding at him through a grate to get on with it. or just shooting him up with adrenaline before tossing him in with another clone. and some days, another template. ]
They only live about two to three years, come in all these pretty colors and like small habitats with little current, so a lot of people keep them in one or two gallon tanks or glass bowls. [ it isn't terrible for them, but it does ring very true of andyr's life back home - kept behind a bulletproof, soundproof glass wall, for passersby to spectate at. bettas may be content with it, but he's not a goddamn pet. much as they'd like to make him one. ]
Pretty smart for a fish, too. They can learn tricks and shit, play with mirrors and algae balls, get used to routines, all that crap.
no subject
Bucky listens quietly, thinking of the cold, white Siberian wasteland. He wonders what Andyr's thinking about when he relates this to him, if he's lived a life like the betta's own. He thinks of multi-colored fish then, of all the things Andyr says they can do, and he feels a strange sort of sympathy for the fish. Never mind that they're smart, and are good with learning tricks and routines -- they're still captives, right? Colorful little creatures trapped in a bowl. ]
Did they treat you like that? [ The people who kept Andyr and forced terrible things unto him. Bucky thinks he'll never forget the wild fury in his eyes when the man had come at him, all that anger masking something Bucky immediately recognises -- because he sees it in himself, too. ]
no subject
I don't take well to tricks or routines. But yeah. Living in something close to a glass bowl. Soundproof, bulletproof glass bowl. [ after he shattered the glass once - bulletproof. after he made a lot of people unwilling to traverse that hallway by screaming profanities and the most disturbing bits of narration his mind could come up with through the glass - soundproof. silent and still, that's what they'd wanted. ] There's a bed, some books, a bathroom, and the longest wall's all glass, right out into the corporate hallway. Learned how to lip read pretty quick.
[ all of this present tense, because it isn't what they did, it's what they're still doing. it's the nightmare fortress he's returning to as soon as either the Ingress sends him back, or they get to that planet that's supposed to fix it. ]
Usually it's the clones that do cage fights, the expendable ones. But every now and again one Houses pitch one of their Templates against another's. See which one came out closer to dismembered. Best advertisement places like Hapsburg have, a way to prove their products comes from the best blueprints. [ they'd never let one or the other die, or at least, would try not to. too valuable. but there's a lot of damage you can do to a KN1 geared for combat before it's gone too far. ] But most often for quality testing. Clones always get a fraction of the natural augmentations their Templates have, but they want to get as close as they can.