thearena | Brave soldier boy

"What are you doing?"

He remembers this boy, the one from the Cornucopia, the one who had hugged him. The one he had seen fit to warn about the dangers of the arena.

It takes him by surprise the flash of hot irritation he feels when he finds him sat out in the open on top of the SUV, entirely vulnerable to attack from all sides. Stupid, foolish. This child had been told what he was here for so why was he inviting attack on himself like this? Did he actually wish to die?

Bucky moves cautiously from hugging the wall to nearer the car, close enough he can be heard without having to raise his voice.

Hide Bucky had told him, this was the complete opposite of that.

No, he just doesn't understand the importance of hiding and stopped trying to hide after a few boring days.

Aang perks up at the sight of a familiar face, smoothly getting to his feet, the plastic glider twirling in one hand and the other hand placing the stuffed lemur on his shoulder. "Meditating. It's easier where I can feel the air circulating around me."

He jumped from the top of the car to the floor without missing a beat. "I'm actually glad I got to see you again. I forgot to ask you what your name is."

Bucky waited until the boy was stood before him, eyes still incredulous even if the rest of him wasn't so expressive. "Exposed, in the open. An easy target." even know the Soldier is on guard, his senses tuned to their surroundings for threats.

He thins his lips at that statement, what is it with this child? Bucky could kill him so easily, it would barely take any effort.

Two months ago, he would have.

It's hard to make out the man's expression. His eyes have feeling, but the rest of him? Not so much.

Aang just gives him a big smile and shrugs. "If anyone attacks, I can take care of it." He is, after all, much harder to kill than he looks. That may be subject to change once guns are introduced, though. "So what's your name, anyway?"

He leans his staff against the wall and then clasps his hands, giving a straight-backed bow that barely unsettles the lemur on his shoulder. "I'm Aang."

Bucky snorts, shaking his head and lifts his right hand, the slim knife he'd slid out of his sleeve and into his hand surreptitiously revealed. "I could have killed you, I could kill you now."

But he won't, and maybe not just because someone asked him not to do it.

"Bucky." he reciprocates, after a beat. Bucky cocks his head, "Why do you do that?" The bow. He had done it before when they last met.

Aang looks up form his bow. Had this been right after he was released from the ice, before all the joy and sorrow of his journey, he would have laughed the knife off and ignored the not very veiled threat.

Instead, he keeps smiling, but casually picks up his staff again and keeps the knife in the corner of his eye, even as he looks up at Bucky's face. "You could try, but I think you would have done that already if you wanted to."

Aang is the first to admit he's an idealist, but he doesn't think it's idealistic to think that this man won't attack him. His face is hard, but he has done nothing but try to advise Aang, even though they're supposed to be enemies.

"You mean the bowing? I guess you don't do that where you come from?" Fair enough. Not all people bowed. The Southern Water Tribe doesn't, and he doesn't think the Sun Warriors do either except in the presence of a master. "It's how Air Nomads greet each other or say good bye or just show respect. Do you want me to do something else?"

Aang is correct. It was meant as a demonstration of how people could become dangerous despite all appearances. It was easy to hide a blade and lure in a target.

The knife disappears back up his sleeve as he considers Aang with displeasure at his surety. "I don't. Others will."

He shakes his head. "No, I only wanted to know why." if that's what his people do then it makes no difference to him. "Come away from here." Bucky doesn't know why it's bothering him so much, it's a new feeling to examine why he's so determined to impress upon the child the danger he's in.

"I know. They attack me back home, too." Maybe Aang would be a little more cautious about getting too close with people he doesn't know. The knife is a little unnerving, and it serves as a reminder of what they're supposed to be there for, even though he has yet to see too much tribute-on-tribute violence.

But he doesn't feel the need to be too cautious with Bucky. Nonetheless, he keeps hold of his staff. "Okay. Where do you want to go?"

He doesn't want to leave Bucky just yet. It's so lonely, walking around and hiding out on his own. He just wants to be able to talk a little longer, at the very least. Maybe get him to play Pai Sho.

He's not sure how successful he'd be talking this hard-faced man into playing Pai Sho, but he can try. And maybe he'll throw in puppy eyes. Because he really wants to play something with someone.

"Then you should be more careful." he tells him, turning to lead the way.

Bucky moves down the aisle looking for a suitable store, not questioning that Aang assumes he will come with him. The boy can follow him or not, he would prefer if he did. He thinks... thinks Steve would like that he's doing this -- though it's not the true basis of why this is happening.

He ducks into one that is labelled 'Mass Effect' which seems to have a space theme. Spaceships, futuristic armour and plastic replicas of strange looking weapons abound and he's moving forwards, holding out a hand for Aang to wait while he clears the corners and checks that its clear.

Maybe the man's right. It's hard to want to argue with that hard face, the stern voice. He reminds Aang of Zuko, in a way. Gruff, but ultimately wanting to do good.

But Aang can't bring himself to hide. It feels like he's cowering, and what have these people done to make him cower? They blew defenseless people up where they stood. All the other people with him in the arena are just as frightened as he is, and he's yet to meet anyone who wants to be there. It's different hiding from people in the same boat as he is than it is to hide from the Fire Nation. It feels like he should be helping them.

Maybe that's naive. He's used to having Katara or Sokka or Toph or Zuko or even Suki around to tell him when he's being unrealistic. It's harder when he's alone.

Aang follows Bucky faithfully, especially when they go into such an unfamiliar store, one with strange armor and weird ships and things he's pretty sure are models of weapons. If it hurts to be surrounded by reminders of home, it's unsettling to be surrounded by reminders that he has no idea where he is or how it works here.

"Did you always have a metal arm?" It's blurted out, not just because he's curious--though he is--but because the silence is stifling and pressing in on him when he's in such a strange place.

"Clear." Bucky says when he's scoped out the entirety of the store, though lingers at a shelf, staring at the plastic model of a spaceship. He reaches to run his fingers over it, thinking of toy rockets suddenly, people living on the moon, the thoughts rising up out of nowhere --

-- when Aang asks the question. He drops his right hand and turns back to the boy, lifting up the metal one instead so it's in full view, displaying shining metal beautifully wrought and constructed in smooth motion. "No. Not always."

His voice is surprising soft, sombre as he considers his prosthetic appendage. Aang, unlike most people, is actually voicing his curiosity when faced with the arm. Others seemed unable to bring it up, even when he could tell how they stared at it.

Aang has never seen any metal that glimmers like that. It almost looks like water. It doesn't creak or squeak or rust or have that horrible smell that Fire Nation metal ships have.

His hands twitch as though to touch it, then he remembers that Bucky doesn't like being touched. He folds his hands behind his back instead to keep from giving into temptation.

"It's pretty."

He sort of wants to smack himself as soon as he says that. Who wants to know that their metal arm is pretty?

"I mean... I've never seen anything really like that. I met one guy with a metal arm and leg before, but they weren't anything like this. Did you make it yourself?"

"Pretty." Bucky repeats the word slowly, eyes going down to his hand with a considerate look.

He supposes it is in a way though he wonders if Aang would still think so if he knew the things this arm was made for and the uncounted people who have died by its hand. That part he won't voice, he doesn't want to air the killing he did for HYDRA to this child, nor to the Capitol cameras; he destroyed the copies of his biography for that reason.

"No, it was--" forced "--given to me. After I lost my own." he looks down at the boy. "What were they like? The man's you saw."

If he knew that, Aang wouldn't think it was ugly so much as he'd think Bucky deserved compassion.

"Really loud. They creaked and hissed whenever he moved them, and had this tube on his leg that would move up and down when he moved his foot. And he put these..." He holds up one arm and runs his finger along the outside, "spiky knob things on them. I think he just wanted to make it hurt more if he hit someone with them. He was one of the people who wanted to kill me."

He drops his hands. "I never found out his name." There's something a little sad about that. He understands that the man's death was necessary and that it wasn't his fault, but still, he always wishes things could have been different with all the people who had ever tried to hurt him.

Bucky looks almost scornful for a moment at what Aang is decribing. The engineers who made his own arm certainly would have been at a weapon that was so noisy and obvious. It sounds like it would have been impossible to conceal and certainly to surprise someone with a prosthetic like that.

No good for an assassin -- though this man Aang describes doesn't sound like that was his career.

"Did you kill him?"

"Kill him? No, no, I didn't kill him." Aang had never killed anyone. On purpose. By himself. With his own two hands. (He has a stricter definition of what constitutes murder than most.) "He killed himself. By accident."

He presses a finger against the middle of his forehead, right at the tip of his arrow. "He had a tattoo of an eye on his head, and that's where he could do all his bending. All he had to do was take a deep breath and he could shoot these huge explosions wherever he wanted." He still remembers the deafening cracks in the air, alerting him for a split second that something was going to be destroyed. "So my friend was able to hit him right on his tattoo, and that messed up his ability to bend. So when he tried to blow us up again... the explosion couldn't escape his head."

That had been a gory scene left behind that no one wanted to clean up. But Aang cleaned it up anyway, because he felt like the Western Air Temple had suffered enough indignities.

"He tried to kill you." Bucky said simply and for him it was that simple.

If someone came at your with the intention of your death you were free to kill them in return. Attacking another was acceptance that you may in return be killed, even in situations when the attacker was certain of their victory death was part and parcel of choosing to fight. Bucky knew it and he accepted it.

"What is bending?"

"All life is sacred. That's what the monks taught me. I don't want to take any life."

He did take a life. Once. A big wasp-bee that attacked them while he was still freaking out over the loss of Appa. He doesn't want to do that again.

At the question about bending, he chews his lip. Someone else who doesn't know what it is. "It's when you use the energy in your body to manipulate the elements around you. Like... a waterbender can turn water into ice, or an earthbender can make a tunnel by punching into a mountain. The guy with the metal arm and leg could do a special kind of firebending that I'd never seen."

"Even if you lose your own?" Aang might as well be speaking another language for all Bucky understands his viewpoint.

All life is sacred? No, he doesn't think so, he could give name to those who deserve death. Not that he has much concept of the spiritual, only that 'sacred' means precious, important and in the context that Aang uses it, something not to be taken away.

What does it mean then when your entire existence was doing just that until recently?

"Which do you do?"

"There's necessary defense, but I run away or knock them out or something. If I killed everyone who attacked me, I would have missed out on a lot of good friendships."

But the monks didn't run away. Unbidden, he thinks of Monk Gyatso, peaceful in the snow, surrounded by Fire Nation skeletons. He thinks of all the bones, lost under the snow and to the wind of the mountains.

His smile fades.

"I'm an Air Nomad. We are..." Pause. Are. "We're all airbenders. But I can bend all the elements."

He doesn't really want to admit to that, but he's past the point where he'll lie about being the avatar. It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't expect him to save the world. Someone who just treats him like a kid. If he's lucky, maybe the man doesn't know the implications of bending more than one element. "Do they have Pai Sho where you come from?"

"It sounds like a way to die." he replied quietly, eyes drifting over inflatable replicas of unknown planets and glow-in-the-dark stars which are fastened to the ceiling above them.

Bucky's looks back down and nods, simple acceptance of what Aang tells him with no recognition in his eyes at all that this is something unique. Just as he did not question the possibility of bending at all he simply files away the fact as something Aang can do if the gamemakers lift their restrictions again. Potentially powerful.

Pai Sho, there's no recognition there either, though he can't say for certain it does not exist in his world. "I don't know." he replies honestly, "What is it?"

"Not everyone agrees with me," Aang says. It sounds like a way for the world to die, he hears Zuko and Sokka mutter in his head. "But I've survived this long."

He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about Fire Lord Ozai, or the Earth Kingdom that might be already destroyed if he can't go right back when the Capitol took him, of all the people who need him. He's glad that the man doesn't recognize the significance of his bending, even if it's selfish. Even if it means that the man's world has never had an avatar to guide them.

"It's a game. A strategy game." He drops his bag on the floor, leaning down and pulling out the fold-up board an box of pieces. "Let me show you how to play! I'm not very good at it, but maybe you'll be better."

Bucky gives him a thoughtful nod but still he does not agree. Quite seriously he makes another attempt to drive the point home, "If you want to keep surviving, do not make yourself a target again. There are killers here."

Like me.

He glances at the doorway, checking just in case but it still seems safe. After a moments consideration he doesn't see the harm, nor does he have anywhere pressing to go. If he is needed the walkie talkie he carries will let him know. "Alright."

The word strategy interests him, it is one of his skills.

There are killers here. It's not at all hard to believe. Some of the people he's met scare him, and not like Bucky's sinister edge did. The woman who bragged about driving a man insane and sang about exploding tributes comes to mind.

He doesn't like the thought of hiding from people who did nothing to hurt him, but this man has clearly had more experience with the arena than he has. Maybe it's stupid not to give it more thought.

"I'll try." It's hard not to be a target, he noticed a while ago. Between his status and the arrow on his face, he's very noticeable.

He sits down on the ground, unfolding the board on the floor. "The monks made us learn how to play when we weren't working on our airbending. My master, Monk Gyatso, really liked using the lotus strategy, but I was never able to understand it, so let's play a practice game with something simpler." He's babbling. He knows he is, but he's excited to be doing something fun and normal, and he's scared to be alone and without friends or bending or any kind of understanding of his situation. He's a little boy and he's overwhelmed, and he just wants to connect with someone he's 90% sure won't hurt him.

Even if that person is a hard-faced man with a pretty metal arm.

"Every piece does something different." He puts out all the pieces, patiently going over every function of every piece. Pai Sho is a little like chess, but more complicated with more unique pieces.

"Good." he says, accepting that answer.

There is little more he can do to convince Aang, he will either listen to him or learn the hard way in the end. Bucky tried and that's more than he would have expected from himself, he's still not entirely sure what to think about it and decides that focusing on learning the game he's being presented is a less troublesome option than questioning his own motives.

Bucky doesn't sit down right away, he moves and finds a shelving unit filled with comic books of some cheesy space adventure labelled Commander Shepard and the Space Vixens and pushes it in front of the doorway without much trouble. There, it provides cover for them and makes them not immediately noticeable from the outside. Only after this does he comes and sit himself cross-legged opposite Aang to listen to the rules. "Alright."

It's possible the airbender had never had such an intensely focused pupil, Bucky committing each piece and its purpose and uses to memory without needing to ask for a repetition once. "I understand." he says, after Aang has shown him the last piece.

The man seems a little paranoid, but that's probably a good thing. Sokka is also pretty paranoid in Aang's opinion, but he was always good at keeping the group safe.

Aang feels a little like a Sifu, being listened to like this. He explains the pieces, the rules, the goal of the game, and then he puts down his first piece.

"So what's it like in your world? Do they have malls there, too?"

Everything is unfamiliar to him, but he'd love to learn more about it.

Bucky considers the question as he considers his move. Even if at this point it is hard to tell his opponents strategy he selects carefully, moving the piece delicately with his human hand.

"Yes." he replies, "There are malls, cities. Technology." Bucky frowns, "Not as advanced as the Capitol."

Pai Sho masters can tell a person's strategy just from the first piece they pick, then crush them within three turns.

Aang is far from a Pai Sho master. He just puts another piece on the board, starting off with one of the simpler strategies just in case Bucky needs more help during the game.

"I haven't been to the Capitol yet. Is it a lot like this arena? They have metal things that clean floors." Yes. Yes, that is impressive to Aang. "Do they have stuff like that where you come from?"

With enough practice Bucky could master this game, he has a mind for it. At least, he learns rules quickly but creativity might fail him for a while yet.

"I'm not sure. There are machines. Cars, planes, computers." he explains, "Weapons." like his arm. He answers the last question first, without thinking, then backtracks to the first one as he makes his move.

"Similar. It's... big, with many people. Strange people."

"What are cars, planes, and computers?" Clearly, Aang is already well out of his depth. But that's okay, because Bucky can explain while they play! They can have fun and be informative at the same time.

But weapons, he knows. He knows weapons. What kind of weapons can a society make, if they can make such a beautiful, functional arm made of glimmering metal?

He makes his moves. He doesn't put quite as much thought into it as he should, distracted as he is by conversation. "They're pretty strange already if they think a big deathmatch is fun."

"Vehicles. Transport, by road or air." he says, head tilting at Aang's lack of knowledge. It's not often he knows more than someone else outside of combat. "Computers store information."

Bucky regards the board for a moment, running over every pieces rules and allowed moves for a moment. "I'm told it's control." he takes Aang's placed fire tile with one of his earth one's. "Distraction."

"Well, you can just walk if you want transport from the ground. Or you could ride an ostrich-horse. Oh, and they have trains in Ba Sing Se!" The trains are pretty darn cool, even if Ba Sing Se is horrible in so many other ways. "But... how can you fly by air, if you don't have a balloon or airbending or a bison?"

Aang makes his move, creating a simple and traditional Pai Sho formation on the board. "Distraction from what?"

"There are trains." he says and unexpectedly feels a sudden coldness rush through him as he says the word. It feels like his stomach dropped, some vague feeling of sickness accompanied by the sound of whistling wind and ice cold that he knows well from many of his dreams.

It takes him a frozen moment to move and talk again, battling down everything he'd just felt, picking up a piece from the board in his hands and squeezing for a moment to ground himself in the present. Bucky gathers his wits to answer. "A machine... engines."

He could exactly say how a plan works, even though he knew how to pilot one, maybe the information is in there somewhere but he can't pull it out right now.

"Everything else."

Aang notices the change in the air. The way Bucky's body goes rigid. Even with his senses blunted by the machinations of the Capitol, he can feel the crackle of weird energy, hear the way Bucky's speech becomes choppy.

"Are you okay?"

He keeps playing, but now his attention is on the hard-faced man, eyes soft and concerned. Did he say something wrong?

"I'm fine." he says automatically and forces himself to make a move that reads as strategically sound. Bucky doesn't want to be called out on what almost happened in that moment even as his mind is trying to work out how one simple word could cause such a reaction in himself.

He hates it. He hates the way his mind seems to try to betray him in the worst moments and how the memories that seek to come back most are the one's he doesn't want. They're the memories that disturb his sleep at night, the one's that keep him awake even when there is someone there to watch his back -- and only one man he truly trusts to do that.

This is weakness, the Asset should not be weak.

"Tell me of your world." Deflection is becoming a valuable skill to learn as he tries to turn the conversation away from himself.

"All about it? It's a big world."

Aang has an inkling that this might be deflection, but he doesn't mind. He'd like to talk about his world a little. It hurts to think about it, but it also feels nice to talk about something familiar.

"There are a lot of beautiful parts. A lot of ugly, too, but I like to concentrate on the nice things in life. There are four nations--the Fire Nation, which is on a cluster of islands in the west; the Earth Kingdom, which is this giant continent in the west; the Water Nation, which is divided into two tribes in the North and South poles; and the Air Nation, which has temples on top of mountains in the North, South, East, and West. I'm from the Southern Air Temple."

He doesn't want to talk about how there are only three nations now. That's not important to share, is it? Let him pretend that everything's okay, just for a moment, and he can go back home to Gyatso when this is all over.

(It's not right to pretend. It's bad for him. But there's no one around to keep him from indulging himself.)

"In most nations, only a few people are born benders. All Air Nomads are airbenders, though. Monk Gyatso told me that was because of how connected to the wind we are."

"Only four nations?" It's a curious thing to catch on but coming from a world of many diverse countries it's a unique concept, that an entire world can come down to just four.

This world only mentions one nation too, as if nothing exists outside of Panem. Perhaps it doesn't.

His pieces move across the board, firm, reliable, real and solid beneath his fingers. In this state he's paying more attention to the way they feel against his human fingers than the moves he makes, letting his mind work on autopilot to cover that.

"Well, there are only four kinds of bending, so there are four nations."

To call them 'countries' would be a slight misnomer, since a lot of them aren't joined under a unified government or law. Nations, in Aang's world, mean more land masses that are conjoined by a common form of bending, and thus a similar culture that has sprung around that bending. If someone were to try to divide them into countries, the Air Temples would be separate, the Sun Warriors would be separate, all three known Water Tribes would be separate, the Earth Kingdom would be divided among the Earth King's territory and the King of Omashu's territory, so on and so forth.

But Aang doesn't think about those political and geographical tangles when he says 'nation.' He just thinks of bending, and the forms that link people together.

"I've been to every nation. It's part of an airbender's training to experience other cultures." He leans forward, making his move while distracted by looking at Bucky. "But I've never seen people like you before. You have Water Tribesman eyes, but they're really round. Uh, no offense, they look nice." Aang didn't think about that long enough to get embarrassed. "I just haven't seen them before." There are other foreign things about the man. How pink his skin is. His nose, his brow. It's not bad, just different. "What are your people called?"

"That is different." he comments. Bucky doesn't think of it that way, he has only the facts HYDRA planted into his brain to go by and little imagination left to him. He works literally, not always a good thing.

Bucky's response to the comment about his eyes is a slow blink and nothing else. He struggles more with the question, he doesn't rightly have a people but Bucky Barnes did. "Americans." he decides is the most accurate answer. It was certainly the last place he had been stored and deployed.

Americans. What a strange word. That doesn't reference any kind of element--unless it's in a language Aang doesn't know? "Americans. Do all Americans have round blue eyes?"

Where Aang comes from, most of the nations had a certain amount of racial purity, if only because travel between nations is limited if one isn't an Air Nomad. It makes sense to him that most citizens would have similarly shaped and colored eyes.

"No. They have many eye colours." he thinks about it for a moment, taking another of Aang's pieces from the board. "Blue is common." maybe the most common, he isn't sure. America is a veritable mishmash of peoples after all. "Green, brown, gray also."

"Really? Huh."

He guesses that's not so weird, considering all the other things he's heard. Aang takes one of Bucky's pieces off the board in turn.

"Maybe bending has something to do with it, but in every nation, there's only one or two eye colors. But I guess that's changing with the war--a lot of people are getting into mixed families." And a lot of people are mixing genetically in other ways, but he's not going to think about that. "What's it like in America?"

"War?"

He looks down, thinking about the move Aang just made and his answer. The cold shake that had come from the mention of trains has mostly settled, a moment happily forgotten by him. Aang's question is a hard one to answer, mostly because of his lack of knowledge of his homeland.

"The United States of America is a federal republic comprised of fifty states, led by a democratically elected president." That's bare facts, not a real impression of the country. "It's... large. There are many people, different people." he thinks back to what he can piece together of his time wandering D.C. "Cities. Machines."

Aang's smile fades ever so slightly. The war.

"There's a war back home right now. The Fire Nation attacked all the other nations a hundred years ago. They wanted to rule everyone else. Everyone's been fighting ever since then." It's all his fault.

Bucky uses some words that Aang doesn't understand. He doesn't know what a federal republic is, and his only vague understanding of states are the different territories within the Earth Kingdom. He definitely doesn't understand what democracy or presidents are supposed to be.

"It sounds a little like the Earth Kingdom. The Fire Nation has more machines, though. Like, huge metal factories and things like that."

Bucky's eyes flicker.

James Barnes fought in a war. He thinks the Winter Soldier had missions in war zones too, taking out elements on whichever side would turn the conflict to HYDRA's favour. "There was a war where I... I was in a war. Once."

Sergeant Barnes.

He shakes his head to clear it. A hundred years seems like a long time for a war to continue. "Machines. What kind?" Aang didn't know what planes or computers where but he knew about trains. Perhaps there was more.

Aang frowns, momentarily moving his eyes away from the board and looking up at Bucky. "It's horrible."

War. It took everything from him. It takes everything from so many people. He remembers all the refugees and prisoners and warriors and broken families he's ever met--he remembers them because he knows that it's his fault they've suffered so much.

He crosses his legs before hugging them, subconsciously making himself smaller. "Big factories that make giant metal ships and war balloons and tanks. They also gunk up all the rivers and forests where they are, so the people around them are starving."

"It is."

He's not sure where the certainty of agreement comes from, memory perhaps, some fragment of the past strong enough to agree. War cost Bucky Barnes his life, didn't it? Stole his existence, killed him and put something worse in his skin afterwards. A hero's death paid for with slavery.

"They have those in my world, too." he watches Aang and clenches his fist out of sight at the urge to reach over when he hugs his legs. There is nothing he can do and he should not touch.

"I don't like them. Every time I've come across a big metal machine, something bad happens."

Like, for example, realizing that the Northern Air Temple and all its cultural history was practically destroyed. Or that war ships came to the Northern Water Tribe and killed the goddamn moon. Or that tanks were hunting him down and he couldn't sit still long enough to sleep. Or that they would attempt and fail to take down the Fire Lord during the eclipse...

Aang just doesn't like war machines in general.

He makes his next move without paying too much attention to it. "But they seem to have some cool machines here. You can't turn on light with a switch back home. You only have fire and the moon during the night."

"There are more outside the arena. Harmless machines." he tells him, and more harmful ones besides but he keeps that part to himself though. "You will see them when you get there."

However that was, still, he thinks the prospect of seeing such things would please Aang past the inevitable exit from the arena. "The technology here is advanced."

Bucky takes the piece Aang just moved from the board.

Brave soldier boy

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject