HERO
The price of freedom is high, and it's a price I'm willing to pay.
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Post by Steven Rogers on Oct 23, 2014 1:12:07 GMT -5
SOME MONTHS AGO...
The world was seen through a haze. Consciousness came and went in spurts, and every time Steve tried to fathom what was going on, he’d drop right back into blackness. After hours of this in and out, he finally began regaining his coherence. As eyes started to readjust, it was time to urgently take inventory of what was the current situation.
First things first, there was a distinct taste of blood. The next was that he was definitely shackled up, suspended off the ground by the arms. As his eyes adjusted, Steve took in his surroundings. Looking down he could see he was currently without shirt and seemed to be wearing some kind of jumper pants. To his left and right were thick concrete walls; in front of him, a heavy metal door. So he was in a cell. But how did he get here? When did this happen? Why was he here? And at the front of those questions, “Just where the Hell am I?”
As if to answer his question, the door began unlocking. Opening up, a portly man in a suit entered, accompanied on either side by the security detail. Steve could see the last remnants of graying hair on the sides of his head as the man adjusted his glasses and bought a clipboard closer for inspection. This was definitely the man Steve needed answers from. “What is going on here? Where am I?!”
The man eyed up at Steve for a moment before pulling out a pen and beginning to write something down. As he wrote he began speaking to Steve in a very matter of fact tone. “It’s understandable that you would still be experiencing some disorientation. It’s merely a lingering side effect of the sedatives you were given upon your arrest, Mr. Phearson. As for where you are, that should be pretty obvious. Since the rioting and looting that had been taking place after the event, pretty much every bunk in jail has been booked solid non-stop. So when we get a serious case such as yourself, we have nowhere to hold you but here on The Raft.”
Steve’s eyes widened in confusion and just a little horror. What on Earth was going on here? “Now hold on just a second. I don’t know who this Phearson guy is, but there’s been a huge mistake. My name is Steve Rogers, I am Captain America.” He couldn’t believe someone could make this kind of mistake; Captain America was a household name, and Steve’s face had been public knowledge since the 1940’s so it was inconceivable to think someone could make this kind of error.
The man never looked up from the clipboard as he spoke. “Ah yes, I was informed about your delusional behavior. I’m quite certain Captain America doesn’t murder two police officers and that is why you are currently restrained in the manner you are now. We need to make sure you are not a danger to yourself or others. Were it up to me you would have been sent to Ravencroft, but that is not currently an option. Once we get an evaluation out of the way we will make sure to get you a bit more arm space.”
With that, the man clicks his pen and returned it to his breast pocket. He then turns and exits the cell, signaling the security to close the door. Before he disappears from view, he shoots Steve a disingenuous smile. “And Tommy, please try to adjust. I suspect you’ll be here for quite a long time.”
The door closes with a loud clicking noise as it is secured, leaving Steve Rogers – currently thought to be someone named Tommy Phearson – frozen in complete disbelief as to what was going on.
(OOC - So, this thread was originally conceived as a solo thread to explain why Cap has been absent for awhile {IE, me not being active this summer}. But I got to thinking that perhaps adding another player into the mix might be a good idea. So here's the condition to join this thread. Either you're a villain looking to bust out of The Raft, or you're a hero in the same situation that Cap finds himself stuck inl imprisoned and believed to be a cop killer with a different name. PM me if you're interested or catch me in the chat.)
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HERO
The price of freedom is high, and it's a price I'm willing to pay.
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Post by Steven Rogers on Oct 25, 2014 21:55:29 GMT -5
THREE DAYS LATER
Steve – or Tommy as his ID tag and records currently said - sat the table, chewing away at whatever they claimed this food to be; he had been sure his ‘salisbury steak’ was actually just the sole of an old boot with gravy. He was still in total shock over what was happening, but he tried to remain calm until he could figure everything out. All he knew for sure was that he was believed to be a cop killer named Tommy Phearson, and that he would be stuck in the Raft until he could convince them of the truth.
The first day after he was released from his shackles was an interesting one. One thing many people don’t know about the Raft is that they have these special machines that serve as power dampeners for the super powered criminals that call this place home. And that meant while Steve still had his physique and appearance, he wouldn’t benefit from the enhanced speed and strength the super soldier serum had provided him throughout his career. And as several unfortunate others would soon learn after being moved into general population, he also retained his combat ability.
One thing that television gets pretty correct about prisons is that there’s a food chain in the facility. And new guys are usually at the bottom and have to earn their respect the hard way. Steve would’ve been perfectly content to mind his own business while he figured out what to do, but the lackeys to whatever inmate among the non-powered criminals had decided that Tommy needed to be shown what was what around here.
They had to be cliché about it. Eating a meal in the cafeteria, Steve attempted to keep to himself but was soon accosted by a gang of four. They opened up with grabbing his tray and throwing it on the ground for the purpose of making a scene. Steve knew what they were doing and wanted none of it, so he got up to leave. The men were havening none of that as one of them walked up behind him and clocked the back of his skull.
Steve stumbled into the tray receptacle but hauled himself up quickly. These guys had been in countless fights so they knew better than to come at a guy one at a time, so he soon had four pairs of fists, elbows, knees and feet laying into him; were he not Steve Rogers he might’ve had several broken bones at this point. But this was Captain America, so he did what a man who spent years fighting Nazis across Europe would do; he found an opening and he counter-attacked.
One of the men missed a punched due to Steve’s body being thrashed around and struck knuckle first into the tray return. He grabbed his hand in pain and Steve wasted no time in launching himself forward, talking the man onto a table and breaking free of the mosh pit. Arms still locked around the guy’s torso Steve lifted the man and performed a belly suplex that brought the man’s noggin down on the hard concrete floor. Probably causing a skull fracture, that was one man down and three to go.
Leaping to his feet Steve was face to face with the remaining assailants who wasted no time in attempting to continue the beating they began this fight with; however there was a big difference between attacking Captain America from behind versus attacking from the front, and Steve was able to block or dodge every extremity coming at him. From that point on it was just a matter of finding the openings and making his move. The first of the three was simple enough; after a missed attempt at an uppercut he left his entire right side open that was easily exploited with enough blows to fracture at least two ribs. That man fell to the ground holding his midsection and breathing shallowly. The next went down after Steve intercepted a cross and, using his other hand as a focal point, broke the arm at the elbow and then twisted his body so the man was behind him while still holding the arm, finishing him off by flipping him over the shoulder; one to go. The last man ended up being pretty simple to deal with. He panicked after seeing his friend’s arms broken like that and hesitated, leaving Steve with an opening to shove his palm into the guy’s nose, crushing it into a zigzag shape and forcing the man into retreat.
The aftermath had gone by in a blur. The guards came and subdued himself and the unconscious inmates with vigorous use of tasers, and after video surveillance revealed Steve to have committed the act in self-defense he was let back into the general population after spending one day in solitary.
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ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
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Post by Natasha Romanoff on Nov 3, 2014 1:32:01 GMT -5
Body language.
Sometimes that was all that kept you out of trouble or got you into one; especially in places like this. There was always a social hierarchy even in places like this and trick was to establish yourself enough that they leave you alone or get yourself noticed enough to get a front chair audience with a hard to get to Bratva. Ever since running into the Winter Soldier she had had nothing but questions about a past she never remembered having until their fight and crossing paths and god damn him for taking her down this road.
She had lost all traces of him; her last encounter was when he was trying to steal intel from a SHIELD facility since then he had frustratingly gone dark; totally off grid and if there was anything that annoyed Natasha it was not being able to find her mark. Nobody was supposed to be better at disappearing than her; she was the ghost, she was the spider in the shadows except this mysterious man with answers to her past was somehow now in the wind leaving Natasha with no alternative but to go darker. Because men like him still needed resources and if off grid one goes then he would be going the underground route of blackmarket deals and shadow running. He also didn’t speak much English which meant his options with who to deal with are slim especially here in New York. That lead Natasha to seeking out Bratva members in particular a Brigadier said to be imprisoned in the Raft; one Evgeny Podalov. Also called “The Poodle” and quick reference note, do not joke about the moniker. Otherwise you end up tied up in a chair with wrists chained with a pair of handcuffs passed beneath it.
As she walked among the general population, face slightly bruised and bottom lip showed a healing cut. It was a few days in solitary they put her in after she took down Padalov and his men. It was in the guise of self defense but well Natasha would be the first to admit that she perhaps hurt them a little too much…malen'kaya printsessas (little princesses). They didn’t have the answers she sought and when it was she thought to end their conversation The Poodle and his Kryshas thought to continue the conversation and well, Natasha didn’t have the inclination laying down and taking it so they were at an impasse.
As she passed, garbed in the standard prison outfit that even for her seemed to fit well around her curves, none of them made a move or even speak. A few men simply stared; a natural thing considering that the side of her face was a thin line that was heeling from a knife wound. It would heal completely, eventually thanks to Red Room’s tampering of her body she healed faster than a baseline human so another two days and it would be like it didn’t happen. Until then it was a rather grotesque little souvenir. But it was a necessary thing to make them believe they had the upper hand all the while she was discovering what it was they really knew and if anything what they had on the Winter soldier.
‘<Why isn’t she talking?...If I was her I’d be calling us all Bastards>’ Natasha remembered one of the Krushas saying in Russian. It was funny how within these guarded walls the Bratva still had influence, enough to have some of the prison guards look the other way as they worked on her; funny but not surprising.
Podalov replied that it was because Natasha was trying to figure a way out in order to kill them that she was so quiet. The alias she was taken in as was a known contract killer. It wasn’t really too far from the truth of what Natasha was, though she had curbed her need to kill people unless absolutely necessary (she blames Clint for that moral taint and her growing conscience) and at that point those men that night barely provided any real contest or entertainment. She had been trained as a child to think ahead, to organize quick sequences of actions so that when she got loose it was all premeditated actions; satisfying and bone crunching.
<flashback memory>
‘<No way that ‘This’ little thing is Oktober>’ Natasha remembered the man, the Kryshas saying as he held a sharpened metal piece and began to push the point of the knife against Natasha’s cheek. ‘<She has this big reputation but nothing backing it up. She has to arms, two legs like the rest of us…> Harder the man had pressed the metal piece, Natasha’s skin flexed and gave way as he pushed harder with the steel edge enough to draw blood from a shallow cut down the side of her face, but even then Natasha never flinched.
‘<See. Red Blood. Just like you and me…nothing special.>’ the Kryshas had said to Podalov as he turned to the man for a few seconds and really that was all Natasha needed as he blocked the man from view. She had learned enough from their babbling earlier. Enough to know they knew nothing and once again it was a dead end lead. Time to cut her losses now.
With that Natasha had fallen forward onto her knees and pulled her arms as far back as possible. When she was free of the chair she slipped her arms beneath her pelvis and legs so that now her hands were in front of her. She stood up to their surprise as she smiled at them, blood trickling down the side of her face and yet she gave them an attractive smile –wrists and ankles still bound- she leaped past the first the Kryshas, somersaulting over the table to grab the metal knife like object that was just placed down and with an upward strike with her two fists struck the adam’s apple enough to cause the man to stagger back gasping and choking. Anther she had to loop her bound hands around and with a move reminiscent in style of those lucha libres took the other one out, using leverage and simple gravity and physics to do what naturally happens.
Now sith some space Natasha slashed at her bindings slicing ankles free then spun out to slice at the other Krysha’s leg as he approached. The weapon slicing a vital artery. Moving around the table she moved towards Podalov who Natasha traded extensive blows. For a man behind the operations in prison he knew his way in a fight and Natasha deduced he was military trained. Still he had years to let his training collect rust whereas Natasha lived this way of life daily so really Podalov was simply prolonging the inevitable.
But Natasha’s victory that night was short lived for before she could react to the entrance of the prison guards two darts attached to wires flew out to hit her on the chest and a massive electrical jolt knocked her to the floor. As she had struggled to stand she was struck with another shock and then another which had brought her darkness. She awoke then in solitary confinement for what seemed like days making it harder for her to work out an escape. Things didn’t quite go as planned with Podalov and being tasered certainly wasn’t in her grand scheme to getting the intel she needed from the Russian mobster. However she did learn some things so it wasn’t a complete waste and after a few days spent in solitary and reviewing her case and ruling that her actions were in self-defense she was finally allowed out of the cell and into general population which was where Natasha found herself now.
<present time>
So it was, body language was everything and she wore the scars and bruising with indifference. She knew that news had travelled about what she did to Podalov and his Kryshas though all survived it was a blow to their pride they wouldn’t forget but even they for the time being gave Natasha a wide girth to walk. It was then she noticed him as she was scanning the area, counting guards, taking note of munitions, cameras, barriers entry and exit points that she noticed someone surprisingly familiar.
~Rogers?!~ Natasha thought as she had to do a double looked to ensure she was indeed seeing what she was seeing. ~Yup it was him.~ Natasha thought. ~What was he doing here?~ Every ounce of her wanted to walk right up and ask but experience taught her not to react at all.
The briefest of eye contact was made but never really lingered as Natasha took a seat at an empty bench, her foot instantly went to the spot next to her when an inmate attempted to move in and take a seat. Her blue-green eyes shot out daggers and with the scar and bruising on her face it made the edgy warning look just that much deadlier. The hint was taken and her booted foot removed from the spot next to her when said inmate left without incident. Though if one expected her to look back over at Rogers, Natasha didn’t. If the man was working some angle she wasn’t going to interfere, even if she was extremely curious about his presence.
The vacant bench she sat at was subtle invitation enough if he wanted to take it but she wasn’t going to blow any potential cover or mission he had if that was why he was here. After all, they all had agendas in the end.
************ NOTES: I got carried away but I promise next post will be MUCH shorter I swear. Also you do not need to match word count with me and PM me if I got anything wrong or something doesn’t work for ya. Oh and thanks for letting me join XD
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HERO
The price of freedom is high, and it's a price I'm willing to pay.
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Post by Steven Rogers on Dec 19, 2014 17:03:23 GMT -5
No way. 'Tommy' had to look over again, and a brief moment of eye contact confirmed it; Natasha was in here too. A myriad of questions ran through his head regarding the situation he himself was in, so seeing her here too only added to the mystery. Was she a victim of the same incident he was? Was she her of her own volition? Or, more worrying, given that there were heroes and villains from not just different points in time but different universes completely, was this perhneveraps a Black Widow that remained an agent of Russia or Hydra and got dumped here from whatever version of the Raft existed in her own universe?
Honestly that didn't really matter much at the moment. Steve needed a way to get out of here and fate handed him a golden ticket. She shoo'd away another inmate attempting to sit with her, which he took as an open invitation. In nonchalant fashion, Steve picked up his tray and bought it over to her table, sitting beside her. At first he said nothing; what coud he possibly say in a situation like this?
"So, orange really isn't your color," Steve remarked to make what was probably his second worst attempt at breakinig the ice after his 'You're just as attractive as your grandmother' brilliance when meeting Sharon Carter. Without giving her time to respond he changed the subject as fast as possible, continuing with, "Did you also wake up mysteriously beaten and shackled in a cell as well or did you WANT to be in here?" Steve had been here for a couple weeks by this point, and quite frankly he had a new respect for the villains he'd sent here because the place was driving him crazy. Prisoners practically ran the facility as long as they kept away from walls and gates so every other day was a new attempt at 'breaking in' the new guy. Since his first altercation, another six had been sent to infirmary with broken bones; however that was at the beginning week and since then he'd been more careful to leave nothing more than non-critical bruising.
OOC: I apologize for both the tardiness and the length of this post. I fashioned it together at work on a computer I don't normally use right at the end of my shift. |
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ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
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Post by Natasha Romanoff on Jan 7, 2015 23:18:25 GMT -5
The briefest of eye contact was made and the recognition was there, though never did her gaze linger. From where she sat she remained stoic and cold eyeing anyone that even attempted a seat near her with a warning look. It was a look one had to be prepared to back up because not everyone would back away; concede the area contested. However Natasha was more than prepared, she was quite capable. Perhaps that was what was showing when her blue green eyes glared at the one inmate that attempted a seat next to her for small talk. 1) Natasha rarely engaged in small talk unless it benefited her on a mission. She could be anyone a person needed for trust to be gained; she could say the right words or do the right things. But when one did not have an agenda, a mission, an angle to play, a country to fight for; a cause, then who was she?
Perhaps that was why she was chasing after some ghost of her past in this God forsaken city, because in some ways it gave her purpose even if the man she was after was just that a ghost. Trying to track him was proving to be near impossible, even with the small Intel learned here was only a sliver of hope. Still, the man that held a piece of the puzzle to her memory and that alone made finding him a priority. She needed to get out of here, back into the city; into the real world and back into the thick of things to find this ghost assassin. Movement at her periphery caused her body a moment's pause as the familiar figure approached. Even if she didn't look at him directly, she could tell by his gait alone it was him though it wasn't his presence that caused the slightest twitch of her lips to curl into what could be read as amusement.
"So, orange really isn't your color," Steve remarked with clumsy charm, but seeming to not want to give Natasha an opportunity for an amused rebuttal, he changed the subject as fast as possible, "Did you also wake up mysteriously beaten and shackled in a cell as well or did you WANT to be in here?"
"Well you know me..whips and chains excite me." she said with a rather straight face making it difficult to tell if she was serious or kidding. She was kidding of course but she liked to see his reaction to things when she said things off the cuff. "He seemed different though this man, he didn't seem like the one from her dimension. This one seemed more seasoned, in his eyes it lacked that same lustre. Though after a moment of allowing him to contemplate this reality of hers, Natasha spoke softly as her eyes looked about in a casual manner however anyone knowing her knew that her glances were anything but cursory. She was analysing her surroundings and the people in them.
"I came here to follow a lead. The only man to have the answers I needed or so I thought...trail's gone cold though." she said more seriously as she looked out past the walls out into the freedom. "And I am getting bored of this place, aren't you?"
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OOC: Trying new years resolution of writing shorter posts and quicker response times. Apologies for delay. 
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HERO
The price of freedom is high, and it's a price I'm willing to pay.
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Post by Steven Rogers on May 2, 2015 15:24:28 GMT -5
Originally, Steve had been surprised to see Natasha here in the same prison he’d found himself trapped in; but now that seemed slightly dumb. Sure there was a chance she was some evil version of herself that ended up her, but if it was any Natasha he knew the first thought in his head should’ve been ‘she probably WANTED to be in here’. “To be honest with you, Nat, I’ve been ready to go since I first woke up here. Problem is, this prison’s designed to keep powers and check; that includes super soldier serum. And my skill hasn’t let me win out single handedly against the guards.”
Steve generally would never let something like having his abilities tampered with stop him from succeeding, but this was a unique circumstance for him. The guards here have been so acclimated to combating disruptive super powered inmates that even with his experience and ability he ultimately failed any attempts to get free.
But Natasha here was another story. The former spy had no equal when I came to infiltration and exfiltration and if she put herself in here intentionally then Steve knew she had an unbeatable escape plan. It was a small list of names for people likely to have to rescue Captain America, but you can count on the Black Widow having always been on it.
With that in mind there was only one real question Steve should be asking at this point. “So how and when do you want to spring us?” This would not be a new territory for Steve, but it will be one he was never the expert in. Command from the front had always suited him better. In the War he had Bucky for sneaking in and out; and when it came to the Avengers, you trusted no one but Natasaha Romanova.
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