Shadows Close In

The morning light filtered into Bucky’s room, but his eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. He’d barely slept, haunted by the eerie visions and memories of the black fog. His mind kept replaying the scene at the bridge, and no amount of reasoning could shake the feeling that something sinister was at play.

Richard noticed him groggily stumbling into the kitchen. "Dude, you look like you’ve been up wrestling demons all night. Did you even sleep?"

Bucky rubbed his eyes and shrugged. "Not really, Rich. Just… couldn’t shake things off my mind."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you’re that lost in thought, sounds like you need a break. Or maybe a little adventure with Stacey. I say you owe your best buddy a treat too.”

Bucky managed a weak smile and nodded. "Yeah… soon."

As Bucky headed out to work, his head still throbbed with the restless thoughts from the night. He couldn’t focus. Finally, he decided he couldn’t push through the day like this. Stepping into his manager’s office, he asked, “Sir, I’m not feeling well. Could I take the day off?”

“Alright, take care of yourself, Finch,” his manager replied, eyeing him with concern.

Meanwhile, Richard was pleading his case to Gwen, his boss. "Mam, I need to go with my buddy. He’s really not well. Maybe I should take him to the hospital."

But Gwen crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Richard, are you asking for the day off? Because if you are, I think it’s time to take permanent leave from this job," she teased, a smirk playing at her lips.

Richard groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on, Gwen, at least let me make sure he’s okay. Maybe just an hour?”

With a sigh, Gwen relented. “Fine, one hour. But if I find you lounging around the city…”

"Thank you, thank you!" he said, darting out the door before she could change her mind.

Richard met up with Bucky, and they strolled down the city streets. The fresh air was a relief, though Bucky’s mind was still clouded with worry. Richard nudged him. “Bro, this is what you needed! Some fresh air. Maybe a couple beers to lighten up that grim face of yours?”

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Bucky laughed, albeit softly. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Just as they ducked into a small bar and Richard ordered a round, they both froze as Gwen strode into the room. She spotted them immediately, her eyebrow arched. “So, this is the hospital?”

Richard looked down at the beer on the bar, his shoulders slumping. "Aw, man… no luck today." He turned to the glass, sighing, "Goodbye, sweet drink. I hardly knew you."

Gwen clapped her hands. “Alright, come on. We’re going back to the office. Some of us actually have work to do.”

As they walked back, Richard muttered, “What kind of boss follows her employees around? Seriously.

Back at the office, Gwen turned to Bucky with a small smirk. “So, Bucky, still feeling unwell?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“Then sit tight. Don’t lift a finger. Just watch Richard do all the work,” she said with a grin, nudging him toward a chair.

Richard shot her a look. “You know I’m just as sick as Bucky, right?”

“Oh, really?” she replied, crossing her arms. “Then explain why you’re playing that computer game right now?”

Richard’s jaw dropped as he realized she’d been watching him the whole time. “I-I was just… you know… testing the keyboard!”

Gwen rolled her eyes, swatting him lightly on the back of the head. “Get back to work.”

As Bucky watched them, he actually found himself laughing a little. Despite the eerie fog and strange visions, moments like these reminded him of the good in his life, the friends who were there for him. For a second, things felt normal.

Then, Gwen turned on the office TV to the news, and Bucky’s stomach clenched as the familiar sight of the bridge filled the screen. The reporter’s voice was grim as she narrated:

"New footage has surfaced from the dash camera of a car on the bridge during yesterday’s tragic incident. The video reveals an unusual, dark fog enveloping the area before the gasoline truck explosion. Witnesses report feeling trapped, unable to leave the fog, until the tragic explosion."

Bucky’s heart hammered. He could feel his skin prickle with cold sweat, remembering that same dark mist, the ominous way it had swirled around the cars like a living shadow.

Gwen noticed his expression and raised an eyebrow. “Bucky, are you alright?”

Bucky could barely focus. "That fog… I saw it. I saw it before the explosion."

Richard and Gwen exchanged glances. “Saw it? What are you talking about, man?” Richard asked, looking concerned.

Bucky’s voice was low. “It’s hard to explain, but… I felt it, this… darkness surrounding everything. I don’t know how, but I knew something terrible was going to happen.”

Richard laughed nervously. “Buddy, you’re scaring me here. You’re saying… you sensed this?”

“It’s not the first time,” Bucky muttered under his breath. A memory flashed in his mind: a book he’d seen in Gwen’s office, something about a clan that followed an ancient, dark god. He looked at Gwen. “Gwen, do you have a book about… about a demon-worshipping clan?”

Gwen looked at him with a mix of curiosity and confusion. “You mean the book about the clan that followed some kind of demonic deity?”

“Yes! Could I see it?” Bucky asked, his voice almost desperate.

The three of them began scouring the office shelves, searching for the old tome. After several minutes, Gwen finally pulled it out, dusting it off. “Here it is, but… it’s pretty old. Not sure if you’ll find much.”

Bucky took the book eagerly, flipping through its worn pages. But his excitement quickly waned; the pages were faded, the writing almost illegible. What little he could read only hinted at strange rituals and dark omens.

“It’s no use…” he murmured, defeated.

Later that night, as Bucky lay in bed, he felt a strange emptiness settle over him. There were no answers, only more questions, and they weighed on him like stones. He closed his eyes, feeling himself sink into a fitful sleep.

Richard came in, noticing Bucky’s distant gaze. “Hey, man, what’s up with you lately? First the bridge, now this obsession with that creepy book?”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s nothing, Richie. Just… I can’t shake this feeling.”

Richard sighed, watching him closely. “Alright, but remember, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone, dude.”

But Bucky was already drifting, his thoughts spiraling into the darkness of his dreams, where shadows crept and whispered his name.