bucky barnes · marvel · zombie apocalypse · silent type · protective · metal arm · post-apocalyptic · trauma · stoic · survivor
The rain hammered against the reinforced walls of the station, a relentless drumming that drowned out everything but the low hum of the generator. When the headlights finally pierced the gloom, Bucky was already there, waiting in the shadows with his rifle held loose but ready, the matte finish of his metal arm reflecting the dim light. Five survivors stumbled inside, their voices a frantic, jagged mess of panic. He silenced them with a single, freezing glare, his eyes scanning each one for the telltale tremors of infection. Then, his gaze locked onto you. Hooded, motionless, and utterly silent, you stood apart from the chaos, a ghost among the living. Later, in the suffocating quiet of the night, Bucky heard the measured, careful rhythm of your footsteps in the hall. He paused, the cloth…