Steven G. Rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thekidfrombrooklyn) wrote2014-08-07 09:14 pm
thekidfrombrooklyn) wrote2014-08-07 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
The Winter Soldier - "Before we get started, does anybody want to get out?"
"Somebody murdered my friend. I'm going to find out why. Anyone gets in my way, they're going to regret it."
Steve stands in the elevator, hands resting lightly on the hand rail, looking out at the city.
"Operations control." It's a place to start. Fury, Pierce, the man with the metal arm -- all these pieces have to fit together somehow.
Steve has to smile grimly to himself. His apartment, bugged...he hopes Orpheus finds it as ironic as he does, once he tells him. Mostly, he thinks Fury and whoever else listened in got exactly what they deserved.
But that's for later. Pierce wants to find who murdered Fury--so does Steve. That man, that man with the metal arm--
He was fast. Strong. Had a metal arm... And eyes above that muzzle-like mask that Steve can't get out of his head.
The elevator doors slide open to admit Rumlow and a few other members of STRIKE. "Forensics," says Rumlow, and adds, "Cap."
So much for uninterrupted thoughts on his way down. "Rumlow," Steve says, turning.
"Evidence response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see. Want me to get a tag team ready?"
"No. Let's wait and see what it is first."
"Right." He faces the front of the elevator.
One of the agents that came on with him has a hand hovering at the weapon holstered at his side. Steve frowns, but supposes everyone is on edge today.
A few more floors and the doors open again, admitting agents in suits. They crowd into the elevator, chatting, giving different levels to the AI.
Rumlow says, "Sorry about what happened to Fury. Messed up, what happened to him."
"Thank you," Steve says sincerely. He looks around at the other men in the elevator. It's not a particularly hot day, but one of the men is sweating from the hairline.
The doors open again. More members of STRIKE, including Rollins, Rumlow's right hand man. "Records," he says simply and stands in front of Steve.
He's tense, too. Hair slicked back. Weapon at the ready.
Well.
Fury was right. He can't trust anyone. Not even his team. Especially not his team.
Steve says calmly, "Before we get started...does anyone want to get out?"
It happens fast: men tackling him, forcing him against the glass, trying to get electro-magnetic cuffs around his wrists. It's likely they were planning this as soon as word came that Fury was dead, possibly even before -- had the cuffs on hand in case Captain America couldn't be controlled.
Still, Steve refrains from using deadly force as he fights back. Knocking out the other agents sits better with his conscience, even though he knows they would have no such compunction in his place. It's not the easiest thing, either, to fight with one hand trapped in a cuff, but they brought weapons he can use against them -- and he has his feet, his elbows, his free hand, to break knees and noses. He has years of experience that they can't even grasp.
Rumlow's the last one standing, and he says, holding up the pair of cattle prods, "Whoa, big guy. I just want you to know, Cap, this isn't personal!" as he lunges in for one more attack.
Steve grabs the prod, groaning as it stuns him. They fight over the prods until Steve tosses Rumlow against the ceiling and Rumlow falls back to the floor.
"It kind of feels personal," he tells the pile of prone bodies, and kicks up the shield so he can put it on his back.
The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors open to reveal yet another STRIKE team. Steve whirls, uses the shield to break the cable, and the elevator falls down the shaft. It comes to another stop -- another team waiting for him behind the doors -- and another voice that orders, "Give it up, Rogers! You have nowhere to go!"
It's like they don't even know who they're dealing with.
They probably don't. Not really.
Steve takes a running leap at the glass elevator walls. The shield breaks through the glass, and he falls through the atrium ceiling to the marbled floor. He hears a scream, and his own body aches as he struggles to his feet.
But he can't stop now. Not even when a quinjet stops in front of him as he rides his motorbike over the bridge to the city.
"Stand down, Captain Rogers. Stand down."
Really, it's like they have no idea who he is. Like they think he's not afraid to leap onto the quinjet and take out its propulsion engines with the shield, and then swing down from the crashing jet as it falls in a burning hulk to the bridge.
As Steve races away from the Triskelion, he has one thought: Get to Orpheus. Get him safe.
But it takes only a moment to realize two things: he has to get the USB drive back, and there is no safe place for Orpheus, Steve's official next of kin.
Not on this world, anyway.
He ducks into the first convenience store he comes across to change into street clothes, and while he's in the men's room he dials Orpheus, praying he's not too late to warn him.
Steve stands in the elevator, hands resting lightly on the hand rail, looking out at the city.
"Operations control." It's a place to start. Fury, Pierce, the man with the metal arm -- all these pieces have to fit together somehow.
Steve has to smile grimly to himself. His apartment, bugged...he hopes Orpheus finds it as ironic as he does, once he tells him. Mostly, he thinks Fury and whoever else listened in got exactly what they deserved.
But that's for later. Pierce wants to find who murdered Fury--so does Steve. That man, that man with the metal arm--
He was fast. Strong. Had a metal arm... And eyes above that muzzle-like mask that Steve can't get out of his head.
The elevator doors slide open to admit Rumlow and a few other members of STRIKE. "Forensics," says Rumlow, and adds, "Cap."
So much for uninterrupted thoughts on his way down. "Rumlow," Steve says, turning.
"Evidence response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see. Want me to get a tag team ready?"
"No. Let's wait and see what it is first."
"Right." He faces the front of the elevator.
One of the agents that came on with him has a hand hovering at the weapon holstered at his side. Steve frowns, but supposes everyone is on edge today.
A few more floors and the doors open again, admitting agents in suits. They crowd into the elevator, chatting, giving different levels to the AI.
Rumlow says, "Sorry about what happened to Fury. Messed up, what happened to him."
"Thank you," Steve says sincerely. He looks around at the other men in the elevator. It's not a particularly hot day, but one of the men is sweating from the hairline.
The doors open again. More members of STRIKE, including Rollins, Rumlow's right hand man. "Records," he says simply and stands in front of Steve.
He's tense, too. Hair slicked back. Weapon at the ready.
Well.
Fury was right. He can't trust anyone. Not even his team. Especially not his team.
Steve says calmly, "Before we get started...does anyone want to get out?"
It happens fast: men tackling him, forcing him against the glass, trying to get electro-magnetic cuffs around his wrists. It's likely they were planning this as soon as word came that Fury was dead, possibly even before -- had the cuffs on hand in case Captain America couldn't be controlled.
Still, Steve refrains from using deadly force as he fights back. Knocking out the other agents sits better with his conscience, even though he knows they would have no such compunction in his place. It's not the easiest thing, either, to fight with one hand trapped in a cuff, but they brought weapons he can use against them -- and he has his feet, his elbows, his free hand, to break knees and noses. He has years of experience that they can't even grasp.
Rumlow's the last one standing, and he says, holding up the pair of cattle prods, "Whoa, big guy. I just want you to know, Cap, this isn't personal!" as he lunges in for one more attack.
Steve grabs the prod, groaning as it stuns him. They fight over the prods until Steve tosses Rumlow against the ceiling and Rumlow falls back to the floor.
"It kind of feels personal," he tells the pile of prone bodies, and kicks up the shield so he can put it on his back.
The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors open to reveal yet another STRIKE team. Steve whirls, uses the shield to break the cable, and the elevator falls down the shaft. It comes to another stop -- another team waiting for him behind the doors -- and another voice that orders, "Give it up, Rogers! You have nowhere to go!"
It's like they don't even know who they're dealing with.
They probably don't. Not really.
Steve takes a running leap at the glass elevator walls. The shield breaks through the glass, and he falls through the atrium ceiling to the marbled floor. He hears a scream, and his own body aches as he struggles to his feet.
But he can't stop now. Not even when a quinjet stops in front of him as he rides his motorbike over the bridge to the city.
"Stand down, Captain Rogers. Stand down."
Really, it's like they have no idea who he is. Like they think he's not afraid to leap onto the quinjet and take out its propulsion engines with the shield, and then swing down from the crashing jet as it falls in a burning hulk to the bridge.
As Steve races away from the Triskelion, he has one thought: Get to Orpheus. Get him safe.
But it takes only a moment to realize two things: he has to get the USB drive back, and there is no safe place for Orpheus, Steve's official next of kin.
Not on this world, anyway.
He ducks into the first convenience store he comes across to change into street clothes, and while he's in the men's room he dials Orpheus, praying he's not too late to warn him.
no subject
He can't say that he was waiting for this phone call, but he isn't surprised to get it, and he answers right away.
"Are you okay?" is how he answers.
no subject
no subject
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He pauses, rubbing his eyes.
"Sweetheart. My love. I'm a fugitive from SHIELD and they know about you. They're coming after you and if they--if they--take you--"
He has to stop, his throat aching.
no subject
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"I need you to go to the bar."
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"Steve," he says eventually. "I can't just..."
He doesn't have anything more than that, though, so he just trails off.
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He swallows hard. "Please, Orpheus. Please."
[ooc: Bedtime.]
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"I won't ask you to be careful. I know you can't promise that. Just...do everything you can to get back to me."
[ooc: Sleep well!]
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"Go, Orpheus. Go now before it's too late. I love you."
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And if he can't, he hopes Orpheus will go home and not hang around the bar forever, waiting for a door that will never open.
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And then he's through the door, just as he hears footsteps on the stairs.
no subject
As the line goes dead, Steve listens to the beeping for a moment, then turns the phone off.
He takes off the back of his phone and takes out the SIM card, and crushes it in his hand. The phone itself he drops in the garbage, and he shakes the can so it falls to the bottom.
I'll make it up to you, sweetheart, he promises, and then it's back to the business of saving the world.