@brilcrist created this lovely art depicting a scene from my fic!
My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend
Excerpt:
That is … definitely a guy fighting with a bow and arrow. He’s tall and blond — could probably pass for Steve at a distance, but maybe even a touch taller and built a bit leaner — wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a fancy-looking recurve bow in his hand and a quiver strapped slantways across his back. He’s got his back to a giant maple tree, and is firing arrows in a blur of motion while ducking lasers from the bots. These ones look a little like the Daleks from that show Tony and Bruce love — vaguely conical and stumpy, with what seems to be a single laser on each.
“Why ain’t he gettin’ up in that tree?” Bucky wonders aloud, revving through the preserve. “It’s a better tactical position.” He’s starting to see scattered bots now, and he slaloms a course through them, swinging his metal arm and sending them flying as he zooms by.
“Not everyone has sniper training,” Sam suggests. “He’s probably just some archery hobbyist, or something. Probably doesn’t know the first damn thing about fighting.”
A bot has gotten close up on the guy’s flank, and he seems to realize just in time. He somersaults sideways, coming up with an arrow in his hand and jamming it directly into the bot’s side just as a shot from Redwing finishes it off.
“I don’t know about that,” Steve says dryly. “Seems to be doing pretty good to me. Either way, we’re almost on him; Bucky, I’ll take the right side, you take the left.”
“Copy.” There’s a line of bots advancing on the guy and Bucky pulls up with a sharp twist, planting his left foot and letting the rear of the bike skid sideways so that the back wheel takes out the bots like a row of dominoes.
Out of the corner of his eye Bucky sees Steve hurtle over the handlebars of his own motorcycle and yeet the whole damn thing at a cluster of bots. No finesse, that guy.
Bucky jumps off his bike, swinging at the bots closest to him. He’s just about dealt with that cluster and is only a few paces away from the archer when the guy’s eyes widen. He lunges toward Bucky, pushing him aside just as one of the bots on the ground fires.
The man yelps and staggers, pressing a hand to his side.
“What kind of idiot are you?” Bucky growls, pulling the man back and putting his own body between him and the bot. “Let me take the hits!”
A furrow appears between the man’s brows, his mouth gaping for a moment, and then he seems to shake it off, nocking another arrow and loosing it. It skims so close to Bucky’s face that it stirs his hair, and Bucky whirls to see another bot was sneaking up on him.
“Jesus, these things are everywhere,” Bucky complains, drawing his Glock and firing, taking out the laser of the one on the ground.
“There’s a weak spot in the armor plating on the left side,” the man yells.
Time seems to stop for a moment, Bucky’s heart stuttering and then kicking into overdrive. The air around him suddenly seems crystal clear — Bucky can see every individual leaf on every tree, can hear the sighing of the wind and the rustle of the leaves, the whirring of the bots and the heartbeat and panting breaths of the guy as he ducks another laser.
“Bucky, did he —” Steve starts over the comm.
“Not now, Stevie,” Bucky manages. He shakes off his shock and forcibly shoves the revelation to the back of his mind in order to focus on the task at hand. Time seems to lurch back into a normal speed and Bucky concentrates on blocking the man from the line of fire of the largest cluster of approaching bots.
“I’ll make an opening, you run for it,” he shouts.
“I’m not leaving,” the man shouts back. Jesus christ, another vigilante-wannabe. They’re coming out of the woodwork these days. Was this guy even in the park when all this started, or did he come looking for a fight?
“Watch your back,” Bucky instructs with a mental shrug, and then there’s no more time for words, the two of them fighting fiercely against the oncoming wave of bots.
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