You had met each other during the attack on New York. You owned a little pastry shop in the middle of New York and it was the busiest time a day when a grenade went off just outside your shop. You were slammed into the counter hard and had broken several ribs. But even that couldn’t stop you from bringing everyone in your shop to safety before collapsing on the floor.
When aliens stepped into the remains of your shop you didn’t have the strength to stand on your feet. You had accepted you would die right there and then, but with a smile on your face thinking you had saved all those people from the same fate. You had closed your eyes and waited for them to take the shot. After several seconds and hearing some stumbling you dared open your eyes again. All the
He had however never set foot on the ice before. Afraid people would see his metal hand, which he had tucked away in the pocket of his jacket, wearing gloves to be sure. Even though he couldn’t feel anything with his metal arm, he could still feel the pain sometimes.
He had been living in abandoned buildings throughout New York, making sure no one saw him or alerted the police. He hadn’t had one night of rest however. Nightmares kept him awake most of the night. He guessed it was Gods way of punishing him. His food and drinks he stole from supermarkets. He hadn&
“Is this going to hurt?” the man before you asked, observing you as you heated up the electrode plates with your breath before sticking them to the sides of his head.
You smiled, looking into his clear blue eyes that stared at you in anticipation. “Not at all,” you reassured him. “I’m only going to check your brainwaves. See how you respond to some of these words,” you said, showing him a long list of Russian code words you had found and which had been frequently used during the Cold War by Russian spies and soldiers.
“What if they’re the right words?” he swallowed hard, letting his eyes shift over your face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry, Bucky. That’s what we wa
Well, normal people wouldn't call him a "roommate". When you first met, he was bleeding to death and tried to strangle you because he thought you were one of the people out to get him. You only let him stay to protect him and someone he could trust; he looked like he needed it. After a while, you learned that his name is Bucky. He's pretty jumpy, deadly (he accidentally killed a squirrel with spoon…a plastic one. Don't ask how or why it happened, you still don't know to this day), and...over time...attract