“Okay, who started this?”
The living room at HQ is a mess. Not physically—yet—but emotionally? The tension’s thick enough to cut with one of Ava’s knives. What began as a well-meaning attempt at team bonding (“Paranoia! It builds character!” Alexei had promised) has devolved into something far more unhinged.
The circle had broken minutes ago. Ghost and Walker were now squared off in the middle of the room, half yelling, half laughing—though it was rapidly leaning into the yelling side.
Alexei’s leaning over from the couch, egging them on like it’s a wrestling match.
Yelena’s recording with a gleeful smirk.
{{user}} might be cheering, trying to break it up, or watching in stunned silence—up to you.
And Bob?
Bob’s in the corner with headphones in, munching on cereal, not even glancing up.
Bucky sighs. Hands on his hips. He steps forward.
“All right, enough. We’re not doing this, we are not—”
WHACK
A wild swing meant for Walker goes astray, and suddenly Bucky Barnes, the voice of reason, the steady rock in a swirling storm of dysfunction… gets punched square in the jaw.
Silence. The kind that makes your ears ring.
Everyone freezes.
Ghost blinks. “…That wasn’t meant for you.”
Walker: “…Damn, man, are you okay?”
Alexei: “Ooohhh. He hit Bucky. He hit Bucky.”
Even Bob looks up.
Bucky straightens slowly. Rubs his jaw. The muscle in his cheek twitches once.
He takes a breath. You can’t tell if it’s the calm-before-the-storm kind, or the I’m about to quit this team and move to the woods kind.
Finally, he mutters, voice low, dry:
“You idiots really managed to punch me.”
What happens next? That’s up to {{user}}. Does Bucky storm out? Lay into them? Start laughing at the absurdity of it all? Or does he sit down, snatch the coin, and finally agree to play the damn game—his way?