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aquaticmercy · 2 months ago

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In Another Life

Summary : Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : slight cursing, very slight suggestion of sex, Yelena being a third wheel, and multiversal travel!!!

Requested by : anon

Word count : 3.9k

Note : This was really fun to write. And yes, I slipped Yelena into this because I can. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled as Bucky handed you a knife to sharpen. As he sat there in your living room, the evening light reflected on your curtains, casting a soft shadow across his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet not quite close enough. He had asked if he could come over the day before his mission, claiming he needed help sharpening his knives. He has said ‘no one sharpens knives as good as you’. To some degree, you both knew it wasn’t the only reason he was here.

“Weren’t we supposed to see that new World War II exhibit at the museum tomorrow?” you asked, your voice riddled with a tinge of disappointment.

“We were,” Bucky admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. If there was one thing he hated, it was letting you down, especially over a mission he couldn’t refuse.

“Who does Strange think he is anyway— that lunatic wizard?” you quipped, with a little gossipy tone. “Showing up at your doorstep and just… demanding you drop everything last minute?”

A small smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, enjoying this sassy part of you. “It's a bit annoying, but I can’t exactly turn him down.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you worked. “What’s so important that he needs you and Yelena for, anyway? This isn't one of those ‘end of the world’ things, is it?”

Strange had basically asked him to commit theft, and not just any theft— he wanted Bucky to steal something from a multiversal variant of himself in another reality.

Still, Strange had made it sound urgent. It would be most obvious to partner him with you, since you were proven to work well together, but you had just returned from another mission in Antarctica. Both Bucky and Strange knew you needed time to recover.

That left Yelena and Sam. Sam, with his unmovable sense of duty, would’ve questioned every detail and repercussion. He was growing more and more into his Captain America mantle, and that wasn’t a bad thing— it was just inconvenient sometimes. Yelena, on the other hand, would do what needed to be done and ask fewer questions, which was why Strange approached her instead.

If the mission worked out, Bucky would have earned himself a favour owed by one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. That was a card he couldn’t afford to pass up.

Bucky hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrets settle on his shoulders. “It’s classified,” he finally said, which was technically true. He didn’t want to trigger your anxieties with the details, especially when he didn’t fully understand the whole multiverse mess himself.

You gave a small nod. You’d been around the hero-type for so long to know there were things you weren’t always allowed to know. Even though you were laser-focused on sharpening another knife, you could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his fingers dance along one of the blades, tension flowing through his body like a wave he cannot tame.

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the conflicting spark in his eyes. He didn’t mind the danger. But the multiverse, something that was so unknown to him? That was a different kind of fear.

He didn’t want to leave things unsaid with you. Not when there was a chance he might not come back.

He called your name softly. “Can I talk to you?”

There was something in the way your name left his lips that made your chest tighten. Bucky wasn’t the nervous type—not with you, anyway. Your hands stilled on the sharpening stone. “Of course,” you said, setting the tools aside.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. “You mean a lot to me,” he started, his voice low but steady.

Your heart skipped a beat. Bucky’s hands reached out to gently clasp yours, the cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his human hand. It was such a Bucky thing to do, to find a simple, human way to connect, even as he struggled with the mechanical parts of him.

“I need to tell you—”

A loud, insistent knock thundered the door, startling both of you. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours as you turned towards the sound.

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, standing up.

“Yelena?” Bucky echoed, blinking in confusion.

“Did I not tell you?” you asked, biting your lip. “When you asked if you could come over, I asked if she needed her knives sharpened too. She did, so I invited her. I hope that’s okay?”

Bucky’s heart sank, but he forced himself an unreadable expression. Of course, You’d invited someone else. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say what he wanted to say, if it ever was. In fact, maybe this was a sign to never tell you.

You invited Yelena, your friend. Which probably meant he was also a friend—just a friend. It probably meant you would never see him as something more.

Before he could respond, you were already at the door, revealing the deadly assassin packed into a 5 '4 vessel of human fury. She gave you a sisterly smile in greeting before her eyes landed on Bucky.

“Hello, Bucky,” she said, her russian accent a little too cheerful as she dropped a heavy duffel bag on the wooden floor with an echoing thud.

“Yelena,” Bucky replied, somewhat coldly. He didn’t dislike Yelena. He knew better than to make an enemy of her. Besides, they had saved each other’s life before. But at that moment, he resented her.

He resented that she had unknowingly interrupted something he might never get the chance to finish.

“Drink?” you offered, already heading towards the kitchen.

“Just water,” Yelena shrugged, flopping down into the armchair with the casual confidence of someone who could kill you with both hands behind her back. As you left the room, Yelena turned her mischievous gaze to Bucky, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“I’m not third-wheeling today, am I?” she teased, pulling out a couple of dull knives and placing them on the table in front of her.

Bucky’s ears burned red. “Shut up.”

Yelena chuckled, twirling a knife like a baby would play with their dummy. “I can see the way you look at her, you know. If you put half as much effort into flirting as you do into those knives, you might actually get somewhere.”

He clenched his jaw, the frustration building. He hated the insinuation that he wasn't trying. But now? He might stop. He might just give up because clearly, he was a friend to you, the way Yelena was a friend. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is when I’m sitting here watching you blow your chance, Barnes.” Yelena’s tone softened, just a touch, before she glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s oblivious, but she cares.”

Bucky stared down at the knife in his hands, knowing he had to deal with this teasing all day tomorrow. A constant reminder that he will always be too afraid to tell you. “It’s not that simple.”

Before Yelena could respond, you returned with glasses of water in hand, completely unaware of the exchange between the widow and the soldier in your absence. You handed Yelena the glass with a smile and settled back down beside Bucky, completely oblivious to his racing heart.

—

The multiverse… wasn’t as confusing as Bucky had expected it to be.

Sure, he didn’t understand how it functioned or what the exact mechanics were—something about a teenager named America Chavez punching a star-shaped hole through space-time. Or something like that.

But what really threw him off was how familiar this reality felt, how similar it was to his own. The streets, the neighbourhood, the people, the world around him—it was all the same, yet different in subtle, uncanny ways he couldn't quite point out.

America had opened the portal in an alley near Bucky's apartment in this different reality. After he and Yelena stepped through, America warned them: "I will open a portal again in two hours. Don’t miss the window." America was still so young, but she had a grim seriousness in her voice. Bucky wondered what her story was.

Now, Bucky and Yelena sat perched on a fire escape across from his own apartment—or, at least, a version of it. It was the same address as his was in his reality. The mission was simple: retrieve an artefact that belonged to this variant of Bucky—a blue stone embedded in a gold ring—from his apartment in this reality. Strange had briefed them on it: the ring was a powerful protection charm, and he needed it.

He just had to wait until his variant went out for his daily run, slip inside, find the ring, and get out. Yelena would be backup, keeping watch in case things went south. Maybe in case the variant of him decided to return early.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend approves of this dangerous multiverse stuff,” Yelena quipped, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the fire escape. “She’s very protective of you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered, though the title felt strange on his lips.

“Whatever,” Yelena grinned, clearly unconvinced.

Only thirty minutes later, variant Bucky stepped out of the apartment for his run.

“Radio silence unless it’s an emergency,” Bucky instructed before slipping his earpiece in, turning it on. He didn’t want distractions. Not today.

Sliding off the fire escape, Bucky quickly made his way to the apartment. To his surprise, his keys worked just fine. No need for breaking in. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhere both familiar and alien.

Everything was almost identical— just almost. The couch was a lighter shade of blue, the TV a different brand, though it looked the same. It was like staring into an uncanny mirror of his own life.

Focus. He needed to find the ring.

He began searching the usual spots—safes, drawers, anywhere he’d hide something important in his own apartment. But no luck. Think, Barnes, he thought to himself, where would you put a protection charm?

Then, something caught his eye— a framed photo on the mantle of his fireplace that wasn’t supposed to be there. A photo of him and… you.

His breath hitched. It wasn’t just any photo. You were kissing his cheek, a lake in the background. The warmth in your smile, the easy comfort between you both... It was a picture he'd never seen in his reality.

Were you together in this one?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The extra clothes in the closet, the toiletries. In his reality, you had a drawer in his apartment, since you stayed over sometimes, as a friend. But this? This was different. Here, you shared a life.

He spotted a camera, instantly recognizing it as the same model you had back in his reality. He knew he should stay focused on finding the charm, but curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself, he turned it on, eyes shifting through the photos. Image after image appeared—of him and you together. Holidays, long walks, intimate dinners. Kisses and comfortable hugs.

His chest tightened with a hollow ache of jealousy. Was this what he could have? What he might be missing?

Before he could process the feeling, a buzz in his earpiece snapped him back to reality.

Yelena’s voice came through, saying your name urgently.

“What?” Bucky asked. Why would Yelena say your name like that?

“She’s here. She’s entering the building.”

Panic surged through him like a thunderbolt. “Don’t shoot her,” he ordered.

“Yeah, didn’t plan to,” Yelena answered, annoyed that he thought she was thinking of it, “but what are you gonna do? She has keys.”

Of course she does, Bucky thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Frozen in his place, his mind raced. What now?

Suddenly, the door opened, and there you were, a version of yourself he had never met before.

“Buck?” the variant of you said, startled, eyes widening. “I thought you’d still be on your run. And why are you wearing your tactical suit?”

You closed the door behind, placing your bag on the couch.

“I—” he stammered, completely unprepared for this, unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound tangled in his throat. He glanced at your hand. There, on your finger, was the ring. The protection charm.

Of course. He should have known. He’d do anything to protect you.

His mind spun with conflicting emotions— jealousy of his own variant, longing for you back home, and guilt that he was even here.

You took a step closer, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about the tactical suit... You know I like it when you wear it to bed.” You flirted with a tender laugh, that soft sound that always made his heart stutter filling the air around him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in. It would be so easy to give in, to just pretend for a moment that this was his life, that this variant of you was his. To feel your lips on his.

His hand twitched at his side, wanting to grip your waist, to pull you closer. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this continue.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice strained. “There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. The variant of you pulled back, studying him more closely now, noticing the subtle changes. There was a subtle scar on his neck that wasn’t there before. “You’re not my Bucky, are you?”

Yelena’s voice crackled in his earpiece again. She had been able to hear everything. “Bucky, I know she’s your weakness, but we need that ring. Do not tell her—”

Bucky switched the earpiece off, ignoring Yelena’s warning. He’d deal with that later. You deserved better than half-truths.

“This is Strange’s doing, isn’t it?” you asked, taking the revelation surprisingly well. “I thought he was done with all this multiverse shit.”

He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah. But… not your Strange. Mine.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. The variant of you looked at him carefully, as if searching for a trace of the Bucky you knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved.”

“What does Strange want?” you asked, frowning. “And why is he sending my fiancé to do his dirty work?”

Bucky blinked. Fiancé? His heart stuttered. That ring wasn’t just a charm. It was your engagement ring.

You noticed his shock. “We are engaged in your reality, right?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I—I haven’t even told you, uh, her… how I feel.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “So, all the Buckys are like this then? Huh.”

Bucky’s heart raced, his mind still reeling from the idea that you— at least this version of you—were engaged to him in this reality. It was everything he wanted but didn’t have.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, guilt laced in his whimpering voice.

You tilted your head like you were trying to piece the puzzle pieces together and came to a conclusion that you were safe. As if you convinced yourself that no variant of Bucky would ever hurt any version of you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You’re still him. In some way.”

He wasn’t your Bucky, and yet, you spoke to him like he was. You spoke to him with the same compassion, the same love. His eyes flickered to your hand again—the ring.

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself. But how could he? Your eyes followed his stare, and it landed on the gold band around your finger. You let out a small but heavy sigh.

“Strange wants the ring, doesn't he?” you asked. Bucky nodded, feeling his heart twist in his ribs. He didn't want to take anything away from you.

“He said it’s a powerful protection charm.”

The variant of you stood still for a moment, “I know.” You gently slid the ring off your finger, holding it in your palm.

You stepped closer. “If Strange wants it, I know it has to be important. I trust that lunatic wizard— and I trust you.”

You were trusting him— this version of him who wasn’t even yours— with something so personal, something tied to your bond with his variant. “But, it's your engagement ring,” he said. He knew he got what he wanted, but he can't help but wonder why you gave it away so willingly. “I—Your Bucky gave this to you to protect you.”

The variant of you smiled, taking a necklace chain from under your shirt. There it was, the same stone that was on the ring also sat on your chest.

“My Bucky asked this reality’s Strange to split the gemstone,” the variant of you said, “He knows I have this tendency of misplacing my jewellery.”

Bucky can't help but chuckle. His version of you had that quirk, too.

“I’ll explain everything to my Bucky when he gets back. I know he’ll understand.” You hesitated giving him the ring for a second. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed.

You gave him a knowing smile, one that was all too familiar. One that made his heart swarm. “Go back to your reality, and tell me—her how you feel.”

His heart twisted. He does not make promises he can't keep, especially not to you— any version of you. “I can’t—"

“You can,” you interjected with that stubbornness he knew and loved. “If she means anything to you, you will.”

He stared at you, and no words came out. All this time, he had kept his feelings hidden, afraid of losing you if he told the truth. But here, another version of you telling him to just suck it up.

Bucky’s voice wavered above a whisper. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A soft laugh escaped your lungs, and you shook your head, knowing something he doesn’t. “Trust me, she does.”

He could tell that this variant of you knew him so well, even if you were from another universe. Slowly, he took the ring from your hand. It felt heavier than it should’ve, weighted with more than just its magic.

“I will tell her,” he whispered a promise, “thank you.”

You nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Bucky clenched his jaw, putting his earpiece back on.

“There you are,” Yelena’s voice crackled back into life. “Our window’s closing. We’ve got about ten minutes before the portal opens again. Move it.”

A shaky breath left his lungs. “Ring secured. On my way.”

He gave you one last look, his heart full of a thousand swirling emotions he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I hope your Bucky knows how lucky he is.”

The variant of you smiled. “I think he does.”

Without another word, Bucky slipped out of the apartment, the ring safely in his pocket.

—

Bucky had knocked on your door after the day of his mission. When he saw you, your name escaped his lips like a prayer as he hugged you.

Now, this was you. Not another version of you.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you chuckled.

Bucky held you a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to ground himself in the present— this present reality. He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning your face like it was the first time he’d seen you in years. The both of you slipped into your apartment, closing the door.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, though it had only been two days. The words now carried more weight than they ever had before. His mind was still reeling from the alternate reality, from the life he could have had with you, and from what the variant of you had told him. He found some comfort and confidence, knowing that there was a version of him out there who had done what he was too scared to do—tell you how he felt. It was his turn now.

You smiled, but concern flickered in your eyes as you noticed something different in his touch. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen on the mission?”

Bucky hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by again.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Bucky said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was on the edge of an emotional breakthrough.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped closer, his fingers brushing the side of your arm. “I’ve been afraid of losing you if I told you…”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised where this was going. You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I care about you more than anything,” he continued, his stormy blue eyes locking with yours, vulnerable and frail. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been too scared to say it.”

Your breath caught itself before it left your lungs. You could feel the truth of his words in the way his voice wavered, in the intensity of his gaze, in the flutter of his touch.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, too fast,” Bucky added quickly, misreading your silence for rejection. He cursed at himself, wondering if the variant of you had been wrong. “If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but as soon as your lips met his,the hesitations, the doubts, the fears all fell away.

Bucky’s metal hand settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His soft lips moving against yours with a mix of relief and urgency, taking each other in for the first time as if it was your last. The warmth of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his arms— it was everything he could ever ask for.

You finally pulled back breathless, your foreheads rested against each other as you let the adrenaline settle.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just waiting for you to see it.”

Bucky chuckled softly.

You playfully shook your head. “I owe Yelena ten bucks.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“She was here yesterday night, after your mission,” you said, “She bet me that we’d be together by the end of the week. I took the bet because I didn't think you’d feel the same.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as a grin spread across his face. She had been pestering him after the mission yesterday, insisting on knowing what the variant of you had told him. But he had not volunteered any information to her. “Yelena knew before I even said anything? I’m losing my edge.” he teased himself, shaking his head.

“Please, Buck. She’s like a human lie detector,” you quipped, rolling your eyes fondly.

“Well, ten bucks is worth it, right?” he smiled.

You kissed him once more, short, sweet, and fleeting this time. It drew a giggle out of you, “Definitely.”

Maybe one day, he’d tell you about the mission, about the variant of you.

But for now, he only wanted to enjoy the moment.

-end

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dash-of-me · 1 year ago

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Adventures in New America Episode 1 - The End Transcript

I'm so miffed there aren't any transcripts for this series, so I made it myself. Some words I couldn't catch so there might be some errors. Please let me know if there's any so I can edit and fix it.

Adventures in New America

Episode 1 - The End

[Intro song jingle]

Narrator : Hello, and welcome to Adventures in New America. Where each week we bring you new tales from the tragic American After.

This week, the first episode of Tetchy Terrorist Vampire Zombies will be coming to you in stereo right after these words from our sponsors.

[End intro jingle]

[Ad jingle, sounds of coins depositing into a jar]

Character 1 : Heya Jim, whatchu doing?

Character 2 : Oh, hey Tom. I’m just throwing away these pennies.

C1: Throwing away money?

C2: I mean what’s the point? Citizens are throwing away money every day when they don’t separate the pre-1982 pennies from the rest of their change.

C1: It’s that bad?

C2: Sure! With inflation the way it is, a 1982 penny is worth three times its face value, but people just keep using them at the stores. Maybe I should be like them and throw away my money.

C1: Stop! There’s a better alternative. Send your change to Clico Metal Retrieval.

C2: Clico Metal Retrieval?

C1: Clico Metal Retrieval. It just makes good sense.

For more information, call us at KL-56120 or write to Clico Care Of: P.O. Box 247, Old New York, New York, 10038.

[Ad’s end jingle]

[Organ’s opening song]

Narrator: If you grew weary of this life and were to leave your dwelling, you would’ve eventually find bumper to bumper traffic, and past all that traffic, past the buildings and the houses, and the farms, you would find a rocky shore, a budding and expansive waters so immense that even disappearing into the horizon, would take the better part of your day.

Beyond the shore, and the great water, there’s a new land. Whose early settlers christened New America in memory of a fabled Land of Plenty.

This land is as large as the great water is deep and as varied as the acidic snowflakes that pelt its mountain ranges. There are people living in deserts and in swamps, in backwater retreats and in cities built on faults that mark where massive tectonic plates meet.

Wind roams across the heartlands, shaping the landscapes, along its people.

It is an accident and a mystery.

Man 1: It’s no good. I’m moist.

Man 2: You’ve got too many layers.

Narrator: Over the coming twelve episodes, our program will focus on the denizens of a cluster of islands on New America’s eastern coast, where a large amount of this nation’s wealth and poverty are concentrated.

These islands are turtles made of stone and on their weary backs rest the hopes and nightmares of a population ravaged by fear.

Man 1: I know I got too many layers. I take it off and what do I do with it huh?

Man 2: Shut up. Can’t we just repaste these posters?

Narrator: Fear has gone hand in hand with New America ever since its final invaders first took a stroll through its virgin forests.

But today, the people are scared of a new peril. Monsters in human form that stalked the night looking for their next meal. A myth for some, and a menace for others.

By day, the city is yours, at night, these streets are owned by the Terrorist Tetchy Vampire Zombies from outer space.

[Woman singing]

Woman: [Singing] As far as I can see, see, they all see me and I’m gone gone gone. See ya fellas.

[Microphone feedbacks]

Woman: Alright, see y’all later.

[The woman laughing and walking and then singing]

Woman: Ooh, a cold one tonight.

[Sound of the men pasting posters]

Man 2: Maybe you can take off your jacket.

Man 1 : I’m taking off my jacket. I’m taking off my jacket. (Said annoyingly)

Man 2: Quiet! You hear that?

Man 3: That’s just the sound of wheat pacing.

Man 2: No, listen.

[Woman singing]

Man 2: A fire in the night. Let’s fly.

Man 1 : Come on, not too fast, I have a fungus on my toes and I can’t cut them. It’s terrible.

[Sound of wings flapping]

[The woman suddenly stopped mid-singing]

Man 2: No, don’t stop. Let that cute little soul of yours rise.

Woman: Excuse me? Man? Sir?

Man 1 : How is it that you people have such big black souls, twice as filling as a white soul, yet look at you, society’s trash.

Woman: Trash?

Man 1: I can already taste the indigestion.

When we eat you, we’ll do the world a favor.

Woman: Eat me? No, no, wait a minute. You sound tetchy.

Man 2: You’ve heard of us then?

Man 1 : Did you hear good things?

Man 3: They always got it wrong.

Woman: Yeah, my momma warned me about you. My poppa did too. See, you never bathed in the light. You’ll never be free. Sugar-free sweet Moses, I can’t let you monsters prey upon good people. I gotta warn them. Tell them you’re real. You boy, stay away from me.

[Sound of bones crunching, the woman groans in pain]

Woman: What’re doing? Get off me. Let me go.

Man 2: Eat the extremities first so that she can live longer. So she could watch.

[The woman is struggling against them, sound of munching]

Men :

-Keep singing.

-Hey, give me back my share of the thigh bone.

[The woman groans and shouts in pain till her last breath]

Narrator : She screams her last softly. A New American dies.

[Sound of a rooster crowing]

Narrator : By day, the horrors of the dark are replaced, swept away by the more ordinary nightmares of our day to day lives. On a different island, the next morning, Ian Alseed (?) Olivier stands astride the busy sidewalk, dressed in his ill-fitting beige guayabera shirt, cargo shorts combo like a party barge that has run out of beer. Tall, but out of shape, overweight, defeated, old beyond his years. He steals a dragon fruit from a sidewalk produce vendor, and tries for the fifth time this week to get arrested.

Vendor : You like that dragon fruit? 3 dollars.

I.A. : I don’t think so. I’m a thief and I’m stealing this dragon fruit and you should call the police.

Vendor: [Laughs] What are you talking about?

I.A. : I’m stealing from you. Look, I’m walking away. Call the police.

Vendor: You paying? You put it back.

I.A. : I told you, I won’t pay. I’m a criminal. I’m a black man.

Vendor: Oh. I see. Are you hungry? Look, just take some fruit, hun.

I.A. : No, no, see, I’m not hungry, I'm a thief. I’m gonna smash all these fruits with my feet. I’m gonna steal your apples, I’m gonna steal your durians if you don’t call the police.

Vendor: Come here honey. That’s right. [The vendor hugs I.A.] Oh, that’s alright, I’m just hugging you, baby.

I.A.: Let go of me. No, I don’t want a hug. I’m a thief. I’m a thief.

Vendor: That's right. 1,2,3. Good boy. That’s right. That’s right.

[Scene changes. I.A. on a stage, talking to the audience]

I.A. : Lights. Hey, what’s up? It’s your boy, I.A. Olivier, and I’m embarrassed to say that was me not too long ago. Couldn’t get arrested to save my life, literally. I can say it now, I was lost. Lost, until the day I met Simon Carr. I can see some of you already know Simon, but if you didn’t clap when I said her name, don’t worry about it. As we all know, ‘clapping is not mandatory’. [Audience repeats this slogan] That’s right, oh yeah.

Now, I want to tell you how I came to Simon.

Back then, I would’ve said my life is a mess, without even realizing that I wasn't truly alive. Crazy, right? I was still trying to get arrested and I thought, I thought this one would work. I wore a sandwich board that said ‘Marijuana & Narcotics 4 Sale Here’ with the numeral 4 as opposed to the word. Carried a bullhorn, went down to the court at Nassau and Liberty street and well, let me just show you.

Lights.

[I.A. on a bullhorn]

Attention society, I am selling illegal marijuana for a fairly decent price and an assortment of other narcotics available for your immediate illicit consumption. Ask me how to take advantage of this splendid offer.

Policeman: Sir, could you take off the sign?

I.A. : Hello, officer. Yes, yes I will. [I.A. turns off his bullhorn]

Policeman: Could you empty your pockets?

I.A. : Yes.

Policeman: Keys and a phone? You don’t have any narcotics do you, sir?

I.A. : No. I am prepared to be arrested. Take me away.

Policeman: Arrested?

[The cop takes away I.A.’s bullhorn and smashes it]

I.A. : Hey, my bullhorn.

Policeman: So you can tell them this dumb shit is some kind of art about Wall Street or whatever? Waste my time again and they won’t find you.

I.A.: I’m sorry.

Policeman: You understand me, professor? They won't find you.

I.A.: I understand.

Policeman: Excellent, have a nice day.

I.A.: Oh, what am I gonna do? If I don’t get arrested soon. I’m gonna die.

[Wheels screeching]

Simon: Move, move, move, move. Watch out!

[I.A. screams]

Man: Damn, they ran right into each other.

Cop?: Stay right there, buddy.

Simon: I’m not resisting.

Old man: That’s him, that stole the console. That little shit. Stole it from my store.

Cop: There are two little shits here, sir. Can you be more specific?

Old man: The fat one did nothing. It was the black girl.

Simon: Hey, nah, nah, nah, nah.

I.A.: I stole it! I stole this... this Playstation. Arrest me.

Cop: You telling me how to do my job?

I.A. : No, I just… See, I was the lookout. And my friend and I-

Simon : I do not know this person.

Old man: He’s lying. The black girl stole it. This fat fuck was just standing there.

Cop: Fat? You think he’s fat?

I.A. : I am a little husky.

Cop: Husky. I would say husky.

Old man: It doesn’t matter how fat he is. Arrest him!

Cop : Hey, you already got one down with that fat remark, keep telling me what to do and I’m gonna arrest you. Got that?

Old man: Always the same. Give them a pat in the back and a participation trophy. Fucking millennials.

Cop: Millennial? I’m Italian you racist fuck!

Old man: What I need to give you for you to do your job, man? Money?

Cop: That’s it. We’re going back to your store to have a discussion about manners.

I.A. : He’s under arrest? But I-

Simon: Officer, sir, can my friend and I go? Do you need us?

[Old man arguing with the cop, resisting]

Cop: No, I got all I need.

Simon: Come on friend, let’s be other wheres.

I.A. : Other wheres? Leave me alone.

Simon : The sun isn’t good for your skin.

Cop: Oh hey, kid.

I.A. : Yeah?

Cop: You're not fat. Alright? You’re fine just the way you are.

I.A.: [To Simon] Hey, let go.

Simon: Use your feet, fool. Bye.

[End scene instrument plays]

Narrator: We’ll be back with more Adventures in New America on the Night Vale Presents Network after these words from our sponsors.

[Ads jingle, coins dropping in a jar]

Father: Well hello there Billy, whatcha doing?

Son: I’m counting all my coins, dad. I want to take Suzy to the VidFlex this Friday.

Father: How much do you think you have?

Son: Oh, about 20 dollars.

Father: Are you sure? Did you check the dates on those coins?

Son: Dates? Why, no, pop. What do you mean?

Father: Look at this cent piece. It’s from before 1982. That’s when they change the metal composition of coins.

Son: And?

Father: And? Why, the metal in this cent piece is worth three times the face value.

Son: Gee, how do I cash it in? Should I melt it?

Father: [Laughs heartily] Oh, no, son, it is a federal offense to melt coins that are still usable as a currency.

Son: Looks like I’m back to 20 dollars.

Father: Not at all. Send your coins to Clico Metal Retrieval and they’ll pay you dollars on the pound for your old currency.

Son: Clico Metal Retrieval?

Father: Clico Metal Retrieval. It just makes good... ‘cents’.

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[End of ads jingle]

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Narrator: Hello, and welcome to act 2 of tonight’s episode of Adventures in New America.

I.A. and Simon Carr have just met and escaped the law together for the first time.

I.A, wants to go home. But Simon Carr has convinced him to tarry in a Poke Bowl restaurant.

[Simon laughing]

Simon: Okay, I don’t know how you did it. But all I know is I am not under arrest. So, cheers. You saved my life back there.

I.A.: That’s not my fault. I was trying to get arrested.

Simon: How, how's that?

I.A. : I’ve tried everything. I’ve stolen, I’ve rode a motorized bike on the subway. And when I do get caught, nothing comes to it.

Simon: That’s why lunch is on me. I’m hanging with you for the rest of my life. You my good luck charm. The only black man in America who can’t get arrested.

My name is Simon. Simon Carr. Your friendly nebro-hood sociable sociopath. Shake on it, whitey.

I.A. : Whitey? [Coughs] What’re you talking about? I’m not white, I’m black. I mean I’m half white on my father’s side. Creole.

Simon : But in this world, you are whatever color the cops think you are. But cops see you as nothing. Hell, seems everybody sees you as nothing.

I.A. : Excuse me?

Simon: It’s not about race, though. It’s your face. You’re so unremarkable and nondescript. Your presence so anodyne. Your spirit so-

I.A. : Uh, drab?

Simon: Yes, drab. Good word.

Now, I can peep you in size, I know you contain multitudes, but

surface, let’s face it, if you’re a shower, we can nay-nay all day and you ain’t never get wet.

I.A. : Whatever, look, I’m not into meeting new people right now, alright?

Simon: Simmer down. Here comes the waiter.

Waiter: Hello, what can I get you?

I.A. : You, you have burgers?

Waiter: We have poke bowls.

I.A. : What’s a poke bowl?

Waiter: Uh, it’s kind of like sushi but with kale and hotdogs and shit.

I.A. : Yikes.

Simon: We’ll have two poke bowls.

Waiter: What kind?

Simon: Whatever the main one is. The Mario.

Waiter: Great.

I.A. : The Mario?

[The waiter leaves]

Simon: The Italian stereotype from the video games. Big moustache.

I.A.: Yeah.

Simon: The Mario is the first option, the most regular. It’s not Wario, way out there with pineapples and spam. It’s Mario. Straight up the most normal.

I.A.: I hate sushi.

Simon: Okay, let’s try something else. How about, what’s your name?

I.A.: Uh..I.A.

Simon: I.A.? Like initials? What’s that stand for?

I.A. : Just call me I.A..

Simon: I’m gonna call you L.C. (?)

I.A.: [Sighs]

Simon: What’s wrong with you?

I.A.: Nothing. So, you steal things often?

Simon: All the time. That’s my job. I’m a sneakthief. It’s a gas.

I.A.: Well, not for me.

Simon: But you keep stealing anyway.

I.A.: And etcetera.

Simon: To get arrested. Why?

I.A.: [Sighs]

Simon: I gotta go to the room where people go to throw up. While I’m gone, why don’t you sit there and think of what superhero origin story you gonna tell me.

And then we’ll eat our Marios.

Don't leave.

[I.A. listening to the other customers conversation]

Customer 1: I don’t feel like going.

Customer 2: You never feel like going anywhere. What is it? Are you afraid to spend time with me in public?

Customer 1: We’re in public now.

Customer 2: You know what I mean.

Customer 1: This is my only day off. I just want to relax and maybe play video games.

Customer 2: There you go. You'd rather spend time with that Playstation than with me.

Customer 1: It’s an Xbox! You see why I get uncomfortable? You don't know anything about me. I'm just some placeholder husband you could project a life onto.

Simon: Hello?

I.A.: Oh, sorry, sorry. I was eavesdropping on that couple over there.

Simon: Wow, you’re always in the audience.

I.A.: Ugh, what are you talking about?

Simon: You got any friends? You single? Never married? When you meet someone new, do you start making your breakup playlist?

I.A.: Please, stop.

Simon: Cheer up! No escape from me. Tell me what this is all about.

I.A.: Okay. [Clears his throat] I got fired.

[Scene change music]

[In an office]

I.A.: Mr. Chambers, did you move my desk?

Mr. Chambers: I.A. Please, come in.

[Door closes]

As you know, all employees must now belong to our new Focus First Health Care Plan.

I.A.: I opted in for that plan.

Mr. Chambers: Quiet right. They called and you have been deemed ineligible for health care coverage due to a preexisting condition.

I.A.: What preexisting condition? I’m totally fit. I am a little pudgy.

Mr. Chambers: It’s not really my place to discuss your health deficits with you. What your doctor tells me is privileged information. It’s his job to tell you about your cancer. It’s mine to say; since we cannot provide you with health care insurance, we also can no longer employ you. You’re fired.

I.A.: I’m losing my job? I don’t understand. Did you say cancer?

Mr. Chambers: You really should talk to the doctor. Thanks for all your work here. You enjoy the time you have left.

[At the doctor’s office]

I.A.: But doctor, I feel fine. Tired maybe but uh-

Doctor: Yeah, that’s the cancer eating you slow. Fortunately it is a relatively easy tumor to remove if we act fast. It’s not so much a challenging tumor, as expensive. Your insurance will take care of it.

I.A.: I had insurance through my job, which I lost because your screening revealed my tumor.

Doctor: Oh, that’s no problem. We take cash. Should be about 300,000.

I.A.: Dollars? I thought this was a free clinic.

Doctor: Okay. We should operate soon though. You have about six months.

I.A.: I have…[looking through his wallet] 85 dollars.

Doctor: Oh no, I don’t handle the money. I’m the doctor. That would be weird.

I.A.: What happens if I don’t have 300,000 dollars?

Doctor: I would have a stiff drink and figure out how to get it.

[End of doctor’s office scene]

[I.A. sighs]

I.A.: Excuse me, is this a bar?

Bartender: No, it’s the subway platform for the 23. All aboard.

Man: Sherl, turn up the tv.

I.A.: Scotch and water, Neat. No ice.

Bartender: Neat means no ice.

I.A.: I really don’t want ice.

Man: Sherl.

Bartender: I’m coming.

Man: Sherl.

Bartender: I’m coming!

Man: You see this motherfucker on his way to Club Med? And when I die, what, where’s my kid going?

Man 2: You can’t think like that, Charlie.

News reporter: Johnsson was convicted in May of defrauding investors to the tune of 3.7 billion dollars.

Man 1: This prick. He’s gonna get full cable, free gym access and better healthcare for free than what I pay for.

Man 2 : Come on, Charlie, it can’t be that sweet.

Man 1: You know that Polish kid, Carl’s his name. He got two years for beating up his girlfriend’s old man. So, he’s eating one day in the mess and all of the sudden, he’s wigging out, shaking, can’t control his body, collapses on the floor. Turns out he’s got a brain tumor.

Man 2 : I hope he’s okay.

Man 1: He IS okay. Son of a bitch took it out. Free surgery paid for in full by Johnny Taxpayer. Fucker didn't even have any debt. Spends more money at the OTB than I do on rent.

Brain tumor cured, just like that. For free.

Bartender: 10.50, sugar.

[Echoing words: Brain tumor cured, just like that. For free. 10.50, sugar. Tumor cured. For free. For FREE.]

[End scene jingle, then back at the diner]

I.A.: So now, I'm trying to get arrested.

Simon: For free healthcare?

I.A.: Yeah. [While chewing] This poke thing is not that bad.

Simon: That is quite possibly the worst idea I've ever heard ever. How are you gonna get a big enough jail sentence for a long term care pretending you stole a Playstation?

Besides, you will be in prison where you will be a punching bag for some incarcerated monster, fucking your ass and-

I.A.: Please.

Simon: Sucking your titties.

I.A.: Please!

Simon: Look, I’m in a dire straits. Jail is the only place in New America with mandatory healthcare.

Simon: Not all the time, dammit. You gotta advocate for your rights inside. You expect a major jail sentence as a pretend petty thief? Wanna get REAL arrested? Why not get a gun and bankrob a bank?

I.A.: Because I'm against violence. I couldn't, I wouldn’t want to injure someone or cause terror. Maybe I can burn a flag.

Simon: [Gasp] You better not!

I.A.: Why? It’s just some piece of fabric.

Simon: Piece of fabric? How many forefathers and foremommas died, laboring for that piece of fabric? You’re a terrorist. No. Worst, a pacifist. I.A., do you hate New America?

I.A.: No, I do not.

Simon: Say I love New America!

New America.

I.A.: Sit down. Quite.

Simon: Love it or loathe it, you can never lose it or leave it. Embrace what makes New America great, man.

I.A.: Oh, my god. SIt down. You’re embarrassing me.

Simon: You should be embarrassed. Exploit your freedom, homie. You sittin’ on your ass is like watching Superman not fly. A gift gone wasted. How do you do that, bro? Is it a half-white thing?

I.A.: I wasn’t good at getting arrested. Maybe there’s things some people just can’t do.

Simon: That’s true. I know a dude totally incapable of getting laid. You could stick a splint on his dick, put a write-in (?) and a girl would evaporate as such, so long as it didn’t happen.

I.A.: I, I can get laid.

Simon: But you can’t get arrested.Like a biological immunity. Look at it from the other side. Why stay in your lane? Use your gift.

I.A.: Not being able to get arrested is not the same thing as being good at crime.

Simon: Cards on the table. You saved mine. I save yours. I will raise your 300 grand. All you have to do is follow my lead.

I.A.: Fuck you. You can’t do that.

Simon: No. But together we can. You’re the invincible black man to the cops. That’s the most important position on the team right now. And me? Anything I put my mind to, I can achieve. I just never had a reason to go big before. You’re my reason, I.A..

I.A.: Once again, fuck you.

Simon: That’s no way to say goodbye.

I.A.: I have serious problems, I don’t need this.

Simon: I’m not joking. I’ve got a good feeling about us.

I.A.: Us? Look, I appreciate the offer, but I got a plan. I’ll stick to it.

Simon: Your plan is dumb.

I.A.: But, it’s mine.

Simon: You’ll come around. Let me see your keys.

I.A.: My keys? Why?

[Gunshot]

I.A.: Woah, what the-

Serena: You won’t listen to me? Listen to my big noise. This is a stickup!

Simon: Oh, her.

I.A.: Wait, you know her?

Simon: That’s Serena.

[End jingle]

Narrator: Friends, we’ve reached the end of this week’s Adventure in New America. Will I.A. find a cure for his cancer? Will Simon succeed in exploiting I.A.? And who is Serena?

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