Bucky kept his head low as he walked down the street. His faded and worn Brooklyn Dodgers hat obscured his face as he walked. He was on the north side of the building, keeping a look out on the comings and goings in the immediate area. His zone included a vacant lot filled with garbage, and a rowhouse that looked like it had been gutted by fire nearly ten years earlier. "Bucky here," he said into his phone. "No joy from me. Phone isn't picking up anything on infrared. I'm moving on to zone two."