"Hey there," Celeste greeted warmly, stepping away from Strange's side to approach the figure who'd just entered the courtyard. The man's face lit up at the sight of her.
"Celeste," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her gently. "How was training today?"
"Eventful," Celeste said with a slight smile. "I wanted you to meet Kamar-Taj's newest student. Dr. Stephen Strange."
Stephen studied the newcomer with a physician's analytical eye. Something about the man seemed familiar, though he was certain they'd never met. The feeling nagged at him—a half-remembered face from somewhere in his past.
Bucky stepped forward slightly, extending his right hand for a shake. "Hey, I'm—"
"Wait..." Strange stared at Barnes, his mind racing through old memories. "You... I know you. I've seen your face somewhere before..."
Stephen continued studying the World War II veteran until recognition suddenly clicked into place. "You're Bucky Barnes! James Buchanan Barnes of the Howling Commandos?!"
The veteran visibly flinched at the exclamation, turning partially away from the former surgeon. Celeste frowned and moved closer to her lover, who wrapped his arm around her protectively.
"Didn't expect you to know me," Bucky said quietly.
"Who wouldn't know you?" Stephen asked, genuinely surprised. "Everyone grew up learning about you, Captain Rogers, and the Howling Commandos. Your unit was a major focus in history classes covering World War II. But you're supposed to be... I thought you died in the Austrian Alps back in 1945?"
"In a sense, I did," Bucky said distantly, his voice hollow.
"Did you have to say it like that?" Celeste asked sharply, her tone protective.
Stephen immediately felt embarrassed as he realized Bucky's "death" was clearly a painful subject.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"You don't watch the news much, do you?"
Stephen turned toward the other man who'd been standing silently nearby. He looked distinctly out of place at Kamar-Taj in his worn jeans, leather jacket, and the heavy metal chains wrapped around his torso.
"And you are...?"
"Like Bucky, just a visitor," the man said, clapping Barnes on the shoulder.
"At least give me a name," Stephen said expectantly.
The man rolled his eyes. "Robbie Reyes."
"Dr. Stephen Strange."
Bucky tilted his head thoughtfully. "Guess our names aren't important after all, huh?"
Both men looked at the Winter Soldier with confusion. "What?"
"Our names," Barnes repeated, but received only blank stares. "Uh, never mind. Come on, Robbie—London's waiting."
"You're leaving again?" Celeste asked, her frown deepening. "But you were just there earlier this week."
"Kaecilius's still running with those fanatical cultists," Robbie said with open contempt. "As long as he's out there, those bastards are a threat. And so is his artifact."
"He's right, Celeste," Bucky agreed. "We need to find them and bring Kaecilius and his relic back here before things get worse."
"I could come with you, you know," Morn offered.
Bucky shook his head gently, placing his hand against her cheek with obvious affection.
"You have responsibilities here," Bucky said softly. "Training yourself and Strange. Besides, you'll be the first person we call when we locate Kaecilius."
Celeste poked her lover in the chest with mock irritation. "You'd better, James Buchanan Barnes."
"I will, sweetheart," Bucky promised with a smile.
The two exchanged a quick kiss before he and Robbie turned to leave.
"Bucky Barnes. In a place full of sorcerers and magic," Stephen muttered to himself, watching the pair walk away. "Somehow, that's the strangest thing I've encountered since arriving here."
"Is it really that strange, Strange?"
A speechless look was his only response, earning a small smirk from the Jedi Shadow.
"Who's this Kaecilius they mentioned?" the former surgeon asked.
A grim expression settled over Celeste's features.
"A dangerous man who's disturbed the natural order of things."
The duo of Bucky Barnes and Robbie Reyes navigated London's dark streets in relative silence.
They'd been searching for nearly an hour now, most of it spent without conversation.
"So about that flaming skull..."
Robbie hummed from the driver's seat, shaking his head at where this was inevitably going.
"You mean the part you conveniently haven't asked about?" Robbie shot back. "That mysterious bald lady gave the thing inside me a name, remember?"
"Zartos, yeah, I remember," Bucky said.
"Zarathos," the young mechanic repeated with dark amusement. "I can hear him practically screaming the correction in my head right now."
He received an uneasy look from the soldier. "You can... talk to it?"
"When he wants to talk," Robbie said cryptically.
Bucky hummed skeptically. "Not creepy at all."
Reyes could only shrug. "It is what it is."
"So how'd you end up with him?" Bucky asked. "Cursed? Made a bad deal with the devil?"
Robbie fell silent initially, a melancholy look clouding his eyes. His grip tightened perceptibly on the steering wheel.
Bucky easily recognized that distant, haunted expression.
He'd seen it a hundred times—hell, maybe thousands—during the war. He saw the same eyes every time he looked in a mirror.
The eyes of a man who'd been broken and hadn't known peace in far too long.
"Short version? I went looking for a 'roommate' to protect my brother," Robbie deflected, his jaw twitching slightly.
Bucky raised an eyebrow. "That's it? That's the best answer I'm getting?"
"Yep," Ghost Rider said defensively.
Barnes gave him a hard look. "You remember who you're talking to, right? Didn't you tell me there's something inside you that can detect the sin in every soul?"
Robbie shook his head. "You know that's different."
"Not really," Bucky countered. "But I recognize that feeling. That pain. Guilt. Close your eyes and you remember everything you did."
"Everyone gets what they deserve for their sins," Robbie said, his voice rising almost to a shout.
Bucky studied Robbie with an even more intense gaze. "Tell me—did you kill them all?"
Reyes stiffened visibly, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead.
"You already know," he said quietly after several long seconds.
"So..." Bucky leaned back in his seat. "How'd it happen?"
Robbie remained silent, choosing not to respond immediately.
"I wrecked the car," Robbie finally said, his voice rough with emotion. "Because I was a damn idiot who dragged my brother into a stupid street race that nearly killed us both. Some guys... they threw a Molotov cocktail at our car. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the pavement feeling like every bone in my body had shattered."
Reyes' voice caught, and he felt himself trembling as the painful memories replayed vividly.
"I remember begging. Pleading with the universe, with God, with whatever power would listen to save my brother."
Bucky's jaw clenched. He hesitated briefly before asking, "And then?"
They stopped at a red light, giving Robbie a chance to meet Bucky's eyes directly.
"We crashed," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And then I died."
The light turned green. They continued driving.
"My brother was paralyzed from the crash," Robbie continued, his voice thick with restrained fury. "He was dying from his injuries, and there was nothing I could do to save him."
The former HYDRA assassin didn't respond immediately, staring instead at the road ahead.
"So what brought you back?"
Robbie sighed wearily. "I heard a voice. It asked me one question: Did I want revenge on the bastards who'd done this to my brother? I only had one answer. Yes."
He raised one hand, and wisps of smoke began curling from his fingertips.
"The 'Good Samaritan' who offered me this gift had an old title that followed him everywhere," Robbie explained. "Ghost Rider. My predecessor gave me my 'roommate' to save my life and give me my shot at revenge."
"The Spirit of Vengeance," Bucky said quietly. "That's what the Ancient One called it."
"Spirit of Vengeance," Robbie repeated, a darkness settling over his features.
"What does that actually mean?" Barnes asked. "Vengeance? Retribution? Is this spirit trying to be an Avenger?"
"That's just a name Stark slapped on himself and his buddies," Robbie countered sharply. "He doesn't understand the true weight of the word."
Bucky remained silent as Ghost Rider elaborated.
"A true Avenger carries a resentment so powerful it doesn't fade even in death," Robbie explained, his voice taking on an almost lecture-like quality. "From what I've learned, there are different kinds. Those who suffer from 'love scorned'—they're born from hatred but speak of love. They show compassion only after experiencing cruelty. Then there are those who 'burn with pure hatred'—they're born from love but speak of hate. People who experienced happiness before being destroyed by betrayal. Eventually it becomes an endless cycle. Over time, the resentment becomes uncertain. No one remembers what they originally hated anymore. All they know is the need—to kill, to destroy anything in their path until their target is eliminated. Until they're satisfied, it repeats over and over. An eternal loop until everything and everyone is consumed."
Bucky chose not to respond, considering one of his oldest friends actually was an Avenger.
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