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So, he's….probably never been to Australia before. The war never had him out that way - Steve and Buck worked almost entirely in the European theater. And then the Russians didn't - Bucky wasn't the operative there. He was mostly confined to Europe, the Middle East, and a few ill-fated missions to America. So this is his first trip to the Land Down Under…..and thus he has no safe houses, no contacts, no currency stashes or weapons caches. No local knowledge, and the entirely wrong accent.
To put it both more succinctly and more crudely, he , in the immortal words of Mark Watney, is fucked. Irrevocably, irreversibly, fucked.
He's hiding out in an empty warehouse. AT least it's winter down there right now - easier to find warmth than it is coolness when it's hot. And only about a good third of his brain is functioning now, and the part that is is all Winter. James is more or less in a fugue state of sheer shock, and the wolf part of his brain doesn't seem to have departed, even though he's been transformed back to a biped.
*
And does the news ever travel fast! This has a certain Sorcerer wondering how Barnes managed to get all of the way down to Down Under and it's not incredibly difficult to track the man. Blood magic and all, y'know…
Thus, a glittering Gate opens up in the middle of the warehouse, shattering the gloomy peace and quiet with a sparkling in hues of argent and sunrise. Just as quickly, it dissipates and there's the sound of a faint crackling ring as a blur simply…disappears into thin air.
In the wake of the disturbed air comes the scent of incense and petrichor.
*
Blood magic indeed - Wanda got it from him, not so very long ago. Bucky's stood up in reaction that gate's appearance. By now that's'…. not exactly familiar, but definitely recognizable. And for a wonder, he's got no weapons….nor is he in any sort of defensive stance. Merely standing there, waiting - showing his palms, metal and skin, as if to demonstrate peaceable intent.
*
"And how did you manage this?"
Even as the Sorcerer's baritone, echoing at odds even with the acoustics of the warehouse, his Astral form floats into view around Bucky's side and in front of him about ten feet back. He hovers, any further movements enacted as if he's swimming through the air proper. The Winter Soldier will recognize this individual, even translucent and seemingly woven from starlight as he is in the moment. Limned in a halo of Mystical power, Strange gives the fugitive a gimlet look.
*
His face is hollow, haunted - the pale eyes have that thousand yard stare. "I didn't," he says, wearily. "At all. I was walking along the street on the way home from work and…..I was caught up. There were these things - fairies? Elves? Riding and catching up mortals. One of them turned me into some kinna wolf monster," He's delivering all this in a flat monotone, a soldier reporting for duty, for all that there's something like a plea there. "And used me as a mount. We left the world I know entirely. My friend Kai was there, too. They'd taken him. They didn't turn him, but they drugged him, tortured him, bound him. They chained me, too. They made me fight, but they wouldn't let me die. And…" He swallows hard, as if trying to deal with that lump in his throat. "Then they set me hunting him, and I killed him. When I did….they dumped me out in the middle of that show. I don't know why." His expression hasn't changed - the tears slip out unheeded, unwiped. As if body and voice were entirely disconnected.
*
A psychologist would have a field day with the tale spilled out in numb, tear-streaked woe.
A Sorcerer Supreme simply listens, his brows knitting tighter as the story is spun, and finally, when all is said and done…
"If I understand what you're saying, you were captured by some other-worldly beings and forced to commit atrocities against your will. Kai…" The calm cadence of his voice falters, as if someone briefly gripped his throat. "Kai may be dead because of events that occurred. Can you describe the beings to me? There are multiple dimensions of creatures who could qualify as our human definition of 'faeries' and 'elves'." He is the Doctor now, distant composure to help draw out what poison he can from explanations.
*
"Yes, that's correct," he agrees. As if they were sitting through some debriefing. And then he does describe them - the masks, the strange palace and its marshy surroundings. The drugs, the rites of pain and pleasure. All with that careful dispassion, even as he continues to weep. What names he heard, what he saw.
*
By the time all is said and done, a low-burning fire is slowly creeping its way up the center of his chest. The imbalance in emotions has that glow about his transparent Astral Form flickering up in silvery smoke. Suffering. He does not condone this.
"Thank you. That took courage," he says firstly, voice slightly gruff. "You have suffered, Barnes. As Sorcerer Supreme, I can take your claim to courts beyond this Realm and Reality. I believe I know who to accuse in this instance and it will displease the Court to hear of the actions. It's an unforgivable lapse in their attentions."
Then, he swallows, tightly crossing his arms. "Kai. Alfheimian Elf. You thought he was dead." The phrasing begs otherwise.
*
That makes that old indent appear between his brows. It's a young face,still, save for those lines of strain. "I…bit him in the throat," he says, flatly. "I…that's where the switch came. A moment later and I was biting some human girl here on the shoulder in the crowd." Then he's eyeing Strange askance. "A court?"
*
"A Court," the Sorcerer echoes hollowly. His jaw works in thin-lipped silence, those cheekbones starkly apparent as he fights to find the proper track of questioning again. His eyes, shut for a long moment, flick open again and those irises are the color of lightning-kissed thunderclouds.
"Are you absolutely certain that you…bit him in the throat? Did you…" Oh seven hells, what a question, NO. "As the wolf, you bit him. As your human self, you bit a woman at the concert. That reeks of Dark psychomancy," he suddenly spits in a flash of temper.
*
"Did I eat some of him? IS that what you're asking? No. But only because I got yanked out of the situation before I could. I was an assassin, when the Russians had me. But I wasn't a cannibal. And I'm not now. I'm hungry, but not for the flesh of whatever kind of people," his voice is low, as steady as he can make it. Which isn't, very. AT least he's finally stopped with the tears. Now he's just red-eyed and miserable. "I bit her because….that's what I was doing. One moment it was Kai, then it was some girl and ….." He trails off. "I'm….am I sure he's dead? Well, KAi wasn't human like I was human. I don't know what happened after. They kept healing me, maybe they healed him." Then he goes pale. Paler. "They might still have him," And his voice cracks. "Fuck, I don't even know your name - you sure got my number, though. You're a friend of the red-headed witch, right? ….w-will you find him? Can you go there and help him? His….uh, Kai's companion. He's from some other realm like that, too. Serrure's his name, he has a bookshop…"
*
"Yes, I know Serrure well-enough," he interrupts Bucky without ill intent in such a thing. "The Witch is my Consort. You're speaking to the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. Doctor Strange," he clarifies further, chin lifting in indomitable pride. "I cannot promise you anything in this moment, Barnes. I cannot. I am bound by my mantle and diplomatic obligations between the Realms. I need…I need to scry. Find old contacts." A sharp inhale. "The handkerchief. I knew it would come in handy!" The phantom Cloak about his shoulders patpats at his cheek with a collar until he glares strongly at it. It settles again. "If Kai is indeed dead… If. Then I will take action."
*
Bucky opens his mouth. And manfully restrains the oncoming tide of questions of varying degrees of idiocy by closing it again with a click of teeth. Then one slips out, like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. "…..is that really the last name you were born with?" he asks, unable to help himself. "And are you an actual medical doctor? OR do you have a doctorate in something?" Then the Cloak. "…..did your cape just try to give you directions?"
*
The Soldier gets a brutally unamused period of silence from Strange at first. It's the same one that sends the boys scrambling, Aralune to hide beneath a chair, and even Wanda to return the look with an arch of brow.
Finally: "Yes, that is my surname. Yes, I have an MD and PhD in neurosciences and surgery from Columbia. And yes, it offers suggestions every now and then that I ignore," he growls as the collars get to wiggling about again…probably to annoy him. "It's a Cloak, not a cape. It gets offended when people say otherwise. BE STILL." The sharp hiss settles the relic entirely and it remains inanimate. "If you have other questions, ask them now. Otherwise, I can't tarry. Time is of the essence." He rises a bit higher from the ground in his Astral state, the crimson garment undulating about his frame in some unfelt breeze
*
"…..ah, yeah. Can you take me somewhere that isn't Australia?" A beat, then, "Please. Because let's face it, if the authorities get me here, I'm a dead man. The Russians will find a way to take me again. Or if I'm extradited back to the US for something I didn't do, by the way….I'm still dead. Being dead isn't so bad, honestly…." He considers. "Ah, could you make me dead in a way that means no one could ever bring me back?" Then he lifts his metal hand and waves at the Cloak, shyly. HE just spent a while as an animal, he can accept the idea of sentient clothing accessories without any serious cognitive dissonance, it seems.
*
Shock does funny things to folk, this is true.
"I'm not sure that I understand what you're asking of me, Barnes. Kill you? No." And that's that, given the tone of his voice. "Take you away from Australia, however, yes. Excuse me." Soundlessly, the Sorcerer's translucent form flits back past Bucky and disappears in a crackling flash of light through what appears to be an invisible pane within thin air.
Not five seconds later, the man himself, in the flesh, strides out from the Mirror Dimension. Power hangs about him now, sizzling in his aura. To the mundane, it just might make the fine hairs on their arms rise. In true presence, Strange gives the Soldier a searching look.
"Where would you go? There's no place that I can't track you." The sun rises and sets. The tides ebb and flow. Blood magic is terribly precise.
*
Where would he go? "I guess back to New York. I've got a job there. I've got someone who'll take me in again." And that's when the facade of curiosity and calm shivers like glass about to shatter again. Kai took him in…..and either Kai's gone or still in that terrible captivity. "….but if there's any way I can help with Kai…..if….however you find him, when you do, please tell me."
*
"New York it is. With your skill set, you can expect to be contacted. Clearly, you can shoot a gun with some proficiency, even given the warp and wending of Fate around you." The smile he gives Bucky is cold despite being amused. Butter would barely melt in his mouth. "I expect you to aim elsewhere than the Witch if she chooses to attend any foray because there will be consequences otherwise."
The Gate he opens up again, that lightning-limned oculus upon another point in reality, is upon an alleyway. The one beside the Sanctum, in fact, that has been privy to many a furtive arrival by the Sorcerer and guests. Strange steps through without looking back until he's completely beyond, on the familiar concrete of New York proper. "Well?"
*
Yeah, he's crying again - well, at least he's leaking tears. He doesn't seem to sob, or notice when the waterworks go on. "You don't know," he says, and his voice is choked, "How many years I waited for exactly this. On one level, that's amazing and I'm grateful that you've showed me mercy and given me help…..on another…..Jesus Christ, Doc, you're twenty years too fucking late."
And, then, carefully, he steps through. Once both boots are on solid ground, he drops neatly as if about to do a push up, plants a kiss on that asphalt, and then pops up again.
*
"…right," Strange murmurs, watching the Soldier flop down and pop back up again. "You're back, now go. Go hide, go wherever you need to. I'll contact you as need be. Don't expect it to be anytime soon. In fact…" He glances to the Sanctum and back.
"I'll arrive precisely when I mean to." Another smile lurks around the corners of his mouth, promising to break the lines of his goatee. It would, but for the haunted shadows within the Sorcerer's eyes. All a good front for the fact that, deep inside, he knows that things probably didn't pan out in the vein of 'if'.
*
And by the look in his eyes, he knows it, too. No healer there to save Kai like one did Steve. Speaking of….Steve. Buck seems to fold in on himself a little, posture bidding to not be noticed. "Thank you again, Doctor," he says, more formally. "I'll be waiting." He doesn't head out to the street, but back towards the network of alleys. No point in being seen before he has to.
*