Sep — Roleplayer Guild

<Snipped quote by Sep>

Mach speed?
Kachow.

Uni's got me by the balls, my absence will probably last another week or so. 

Let it be known that I'll adapt to anyone's plans in regards to mutants, besides shenanigans directly related to Magneto / Xavier, least I can do for going AWOL for a month, lmao. Don't feel like my current sporadic (sporadic is gracious) activity's a hinderance in case anyone wants to pop an X-gene. I'm real excited to get back to writing, so I'm looking forward to not having four exams up my butt and only working on my thesis for the rest of the year come October.

For Jason; Are either of the DC Or Marvel pantheons in use? Anything related to the amazons? He's famously not an amazon, but I've got some outlaws-shaped ideas.@Hillan

We got a Thor.

FORMER SOVIET PRISON // UNKNOWN LOCATION

0817HRS The change from the comfort of his usual routine was meant to be another form of punishment for the little stunt he pulled the day before. The fact that the Red Guardian came passed his door and knocked every hour through the night was a clear indication that the super soldier may be holding a grudge about both the blow to his ego, and the loss of the shield. Not just a Soviet Trophy, but also a sign of status and authority. 

Steve had already heard a couple of his fellow inmates calling after Krylenko with, from their tone, taunts and jabs. With any luck Steve would be out of here before there was any true retribution. If the scientists were confident on the stability of Krylenko and his serum, there was every chance that Steve may be just about outliving his usefulness. Which is why the questioning was a bit odd.

As Steve sat upright on the bed, the man sat before him was an unassuming man. He was certainly not military and clearly uncomfortable, which implied he wasn't prison staff. His long and unkept hair hung loose and free, which further supported Steve's theory that the Warden was a meticulous man who believed in everything being well kept and neat.

The two men sat in awkward silence, the man rubbing his hands together.

"Did you -" Steve stopped himself and offered the man his hand. "Steve Rogers."

The man shook his hand, his grip weak and palms sweaty. Clearing his throat as he shook Steves hand. "Stikk." Finishing the handshake he sat back down in his chair, and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket before handing it to Steve who recognised the service photo of Jim Hammond instantly.

Jim had went by the alias 'The Human Torch' during the second world war, and as such was part of the Invaders. A top secret team of enhanced individuals who, like Steves own Howling Commandos, completed impossible missions in the face of impossible odds behind the Axis front lines. Steve had worked with Jm on numerous occasions, and had even been part of a search and rescue party the winter of '44 when Jim had went missing. 

He had later learned that Jim had been taken prisoner by the Nazis and experimented on, and Steve had been questioned about him before as it turned out that when the Russians had 'liberated' the prison they had been selective on who they released. During one of Steves escape attempts  he had gotten caught as he had found papers suggesting Jim was somewhere in the very same prison that held Steve, and he had decided to look for him. Once he had been caught the Warden had taken great pleasure in telling him of the Human Torches death.

So why this man was bringing a picture of a dead man, was a mystery.

"Did you know Jim Hammond?"

"I did, but I'm afraid you'll get no more out of me than the Russians did."

"You misunderstand me, I don't care about what happened during the war. My employer has records that indicate you were involved in the search and rescue effort for Jim Hammond - any luck?"

Steve arched an eyebrow and then shook his head. "What does it matter, this is ancient history?"

Stikk obviously knew something Steve didn't, and he took pride in it. His entire posture changed as the younger man repositioned himself. "My employer has recently acquired something for the Russians, in exchange for something we want. With the added exchange of information, part of that information is asking you why Jim Hammond failed. Both his hardware and software were state of the art especially in the forties. There's no reason-"

The man trailed on, while the wheels in Steves brain were turning. He had little experience with computers, or the technological world but he knew some of the terminology. 

"Are you implying Jim was some form of... robotic man?" The smile on Stikks face grew into a grin as thunder rumbled outside the window. 

"More bionic really, didn't you know?" From meek to smug, while the young inquisitor was able to refrain himself from laughing, Steve knew that it was there. "My employers first prototype, he's since made improvements on the design obviously-"Obviously."-but there are just some important questions about the prototype that need answered before we can begin the next phase. Think of Jim as the Alpha Test, and this would be the Beta. We hope to have most the bugs worked out-"

Steve shook his head, in one part disbelief and two parts confusion. 

"I don't understand what you're saying, let alone what you want from me-" A crash of thunder, a flicker of lightning. "-I didn't even know."

Stikk stood up and walked to the door, knocking once. The door opened momentarily, a bag was passed through. Stikk took it, placed it on the table and opened it before stepping back, revealing the detached head of one Jim Hammond. If there was ever any doubt and about what he was before, that was quashed. His eyes looked slightly duller than normal, but he could have been staring into the distance from the look on his ace. No signs of pain or distress, if his head hadn't been in a box with wires coming out of the bottom he would have looked perfectly healthy.

KRRRRAAAAAAAAKOOOOOOOOOOOOM

The lights flickered and flashed, what felt like the entire prison shook. The smugness and confidence on Stikks face vanished, a sly smirk on Steves face. He placed a hand on the other mans shoulder, who flinched but by the grip put on him understood that now wasn't the time to scream, shout, or move away. Steve spoke quietly, and with purpose. 

Gunshots could be heard farther away in the facility. "I don't want to hurt you-" Stikk let go an involuntary wimper. "-I'm going to take this head with me, and I'm going to leave. You don't want to get hurt though do you?"

Stikk didn't speak for fear that his words would betray him, instead he merely shook his head.

"Good. I need you, to call for help. No matter what the guards are doing, young Miss Sokov is going to be outside this door, and lets just say I don't really have time for a prolonged engagement."

"S...s...s...so just yell?"

Steve nodded. "I'm going to fall on the floor, you'll shout for help. When she comes in tell her I've had a fit, and that I'm not breathing. Do you understand?

Stikk nodded meekly.

"Now remember, we have a deal - you do this for me and I'll leave you alone." to drive his point home Steve jabbed a finger into Stikks chest. As the man nodded, Steve let his body go limp falling to the floor with a satisfying thunk. It hurt, but he had endured worse.

Closing his eyes, he tried to tune out the sounds of gunfire, alarm and the various symphony of voices from both inmates and guards alike. 

"Guards! Help!"

The door opened, followed by heavy bootsteps and the thick Russian accent of his personal shadow - as Stikk knelt beside Steve. Two fingers on his throat checking for a pulse, his cheek down near Steves mouth to check for breath. 

"What is wrong?"

The first part of his plan was going so well, or so the storm raging outside would seem to suggest anyway, he just needed her to take the bait.

One step, two step, three steps. He just needed her to get a little bit closer. Four, five, six. That was her at the foot of the bed. 

"We were talking and he just collapsed when the lights flickered, I think it was a fit please he's not breathing!"

Swearing in Russian the next steps were more hurried, she might have been well trained but there was still some naivety to take advantage off. 

Seven, eight, nine.

Steve swept her legs, as she barely got out a yelp. Stikk screamed, grabbed the head and bolted for the still open door. Steve swore but he didn't have time to grab for the man, instead he sprung up onto his feet and then twisted elbow first to follow Sokov on her downward fall. 

A Crimson light emanated from her before her head slammed down on the floor. He followed her landing with his elbow into her ribcage, but where he hoped to come into contact with flesh he came into contact with something hard. As he rolled with his momentum he was suddenly catapulted on a beam of red energy, crashing through the door, and rolling down the hallway. He tucked himself in, making himself as small as possible as he bounced along.

Other than the gunfire and alarms blaring farther down the hall, all the prisoners who could see this wing suddenly went quiet. Looking between Steve Rogers and the door to his cell. Sokov walked through the door as a woman with purpose, her military fatigues burning away to reveal a sleek black costume beneath. Red lines spread out from a central point, a circle with a Crimson Flame in the middle of it.

As Steve pushed himself to his feet a glimmer of recognition crossed his face, he was sure he had someone with that emblem emblazened upon his chest before. He just couldn't quite place it, and now wasn't really the time. 

Sokov lowered her hands to her waist and opened her hands, palm out. Red energy started to glow and coalesce in her hands as she walked towards him like a predator stalking her prey. Steve raised his fists toward her. 

"You know I've never hit a woman, I'd rather not fight you. If you just let me go, I promise I won't hurt - HOLY -" Steve ducked, dropping to the floor as twin streams of energy lanced out from her hands, twisting along the floor before propelling himself back onto his feet to stay away from the sustained beam. Turning to look at the trail of burn marks along the floor he winced. Regretting sending the shield to another realm as a cry for help.

ELSEWHERE IN THE PRISON

Krylenko walked passed the soldiers who stood at either side of the door, rifles at the ready. They had already heard the talk on the radio, fear on their faces. Someone was attacking the prison, someone who laughed in the face of their guns and their bullets. No matter how many of them there seemed to be. This prison held its fair share of mutants, however all of them were on a derivation of the mutant suppressing formula that the Americans had given to the world. At a high cost.

Krylenko kicked the doors opened just as the long haired interloper held up his shield, demanding to be taken to the whomever the shield belonged to. Krylenkos blood boiled, his noise still aching from earlier. A hint of excitement coursed through his body with the adrenaline, if this intruder was as strong as the radio calls suggested then he would be a perfect test for his physical limits. No holding back.

"I think you will find that the shield is mine, comrade. It would do you well to surrender it, and yourself, to me.

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