cape_kore | Entries tagged with { steve rogers (mcu)

[So, the feed will open to a very, very unimpressed face. Oh so very unimpressed. However, that face might be a little battered and bruised, maybe even slightly bleeding, but it's still obvious how undeniably unimpressed he is. After a moment of silent staring, his dark eyes narrow a fraction, adding mild agitation to the blasé expression. He is well aware this is some form of broadcast, and by the looks of it, it's an open feed, but he really doesn't care if he's making people uncomfortable. He's uncomfortable, and therefore, everyone else should be too.]

Really? No, I mean really? [He also might be a bit tightly wound. He's had a rough day. Understatement of the century, right there.] You should teach your goons not to aim for the face. It's my meal ticket. And honestly? I didn't expect to wake up in such nice accommodations. Actually, I was thinking more like a basement or a dungeon or even tied to a chair. But this is creative, I'll give you that.

[He pauses, thinking over the events and his current situation. It just doesn't seem to fit. This isn't AIM. The introduction said something about a Science Center in Cape Kore. He also sincerely doubts the evil twit has a reason to keep him alive. So, unless he's missing a chunk of time, he's just flat stumped. The injuries disprove the 'missing time' theory, however. So, back to posturing at his captor.]

And if you think this little flair of hospitality will make me any more cooperative, you have another thing coming, Killian. By the way, telling me not to escape will only make me try harder. [He gets ready to cut the feed, only to hesitate, brows knitted together in contemplation.] And P.P.S., this cell model is out of date. [Take that Aldrich! The feed is promptly cut thereafter.]

notfromnature

[For the first five seconds or so, the camera only shows a wall, with some muffled speech in the background. It's very quiet, and no words can be made out - but the general cadence and tone give the impression of a rather exasperated man talking to (and possibly cursing at) himself. A moment later, however, the view spins around as the camera does, so that instead of the wall it shows a disarmingly sincere face, a little closer up than is entirely customary for a video call.]

Well, er, two things. First off, I've been here a few days now, so I thought it might be about time I introduced myself! My name is Julian Bashir. I'm a doctor...

[he trails off, considering: he's come to the conclusion that this 'society', as an amalgamation of different species and cultures from different worlds and timelines is not really covered by the non-interference aspect of the Prime Directive. But even if the development of a civilisation won't be affected by his interfering, if all these people were to go back to their separate worlds with knowledge of Federation technology, that could be a massive problem. For the moment, he's decided that escape takes priority, and besides their cultures would already be contaminated by each other - so what difference would his input make? But just because he's decided not to actively lie about it, doesn't mean he has to be entirely forthcoming, so at the last moment he reconsiders explaining in any kind of detail.]

Admittedly one accustomed to different, er, methods than I think might be usual here, but I'm a very quick study. So if any of the other medical practitioners here would like a helping hand, or should anyone need assistance of that nature at any point, do feel free to get in touch. As for the other matter, well, I shan't bore you with the details, and I'd hate to get anyone's hopes up unduly, but I've a few ideas as to how we might get out of here. But improvisation only goes so far, you know, as far as tools are concerned. I don't suppose anyone would happen to have a hyperspanner on them...?

unionjackass

[Dawn of the ~~First Day~~ day 142.

England does not actually know it's day 142, but for the sake of narrative, that's how it's going to be written.

Dawn of day 142 begins with whatever usual goings on there are. It is, in fact, dawn; the first light is shed and England is already treading softly into the kitchens intent on potion making and perhaps cooking himself a bit of breakfast.

Nothing like a good fry up with whatever available ingredients to start the day in Arthur's mind; followed by mixing potions and enchanting things to keep himself busy. The thing is, being a nation without standing on his own landmass and looking after his people, examining loads of paperwork and bandying words with fork-tongued politicians just... doesn't feel right.

All is well for a short time until, by means which will remain unclear, a small explosion occurs and sends a mighty clamour reverberating through the previously quiet air.

England is left slumped against a wall, hair and eyebrows terribly singed, face and clothes blackened with soot.

Should anyone come to investigate, they will surely notice the black and blue butterflies spilling and flocking from the oven, the scorched remains of a circle on the floor, ornamented with Old English and Elder Futhark inscriptions--the remains of which, should anyone be able to read either, are asking for the protection of the dead. Or was that bread? Head? At any rate, nothing malicious, as evidenced by the innocent cloud of butterflies, bottles of 'VICTORY GIN' scattered about, and the poor idiot who's rubbing his head and muttering forlorn things at the pile of solid ash in the discarded saucepan.

Apologies sent to those who don't like the smell of burnt popcorn. They will no doubt notice that right away as well.]

noblexcompanion

[ Donna looks a little worried - okay, okay understatement - she looks very worried. It's not a good look on her. ]

So... has anyone seen the Doctor lately? I haven't seen him in awhile and it's not like him to be so quiet...

deemedworthy

[He recognizes this place for what it is, at least: a lab. Between the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier and the temporary facility that had been built up around Mjolnir in New Mexico, he's seen enough of sterile environments like these to know what they are and what they're for, though he's mildly confused about the contents of this particular lab. The camera is jostled as he fumbles with the device bearing it, giving a blurry and crooked shot of the plans, both foreign and familiar, that fill the hydroponics lab.]

These runes...

[The camera is pointed at the floor as he leans in to examine one of the nearest plantbeds, where Nordic runes have been etched. It's held steady long enough to give the viewer a clear shot of his boots.]

Health and prosperity. Someone has cared for these.

[His voice is low, uncertain; the familiar etchings aren't enough to assuage the anger he feels at being dropped, somehow, into some unknown facility against his will. No mortal prison has ever been able to contain him for long, and this, he is certain, will be no different.

He turns the camera back on himself, but clearly lacks understanding of exactly how it works, as it's not only upside-down, but also zoomed in so close that all it projects is an extreme close-up of his right eye.]

I wish to know who dares to toy with me! Whatever game is being played here, I do not find it to be funny.

laevisilaufeyson

[There is nothing recognisable, at first, at waking up alone in a room entirely unlike that in which he recalls himself prior, his sense of space twisted about him like a Klein bottle, strange smells and tastes on the air and a fog in his head. Not waking up -- being caught at such a disadvantage puts Loki immediately on edge, and he wracks his mind as he pushes himself up from his sprawl, up through his stupor, to find the thread of memory which will lead effect back to cause. Spacetime does not unravel; he cannot see where its pieces become contiguous. There is only then, now, the smell and weight of metal, and the little device on the surface of the table, clumsy and ancient. Quaint. The word sparks off a familiar taste at the back of his tongue as he reaches for the device.

Rust. Concrete dust. And then the message plays.

The corners of his mouth quirk faintly up and he closes his eyes. Oh, oh; now arises a dilemma.

Loki sits for a time in his room, device in hand, looking down at it with worlds of possibilities swimming through his cloudy head, and finally, finally he switches the video on, little smile -- a veil -- firmly in place.]

Given how well the last attempt to keep me here went I could see why one might be keen to try again.

[Perhaps this time I will not play as nicely.]

But whatever has become of all my old friends?

[It isn't a manifesto. It isn't even quite a threat, save on its underbelly, but there is no mistaking the subtle signs of anger, and those who remember him -- if any -- may recall that in Loki, a quiet anger is if anything more dangerous than a noisy one.]

greenisnteasy

[ When Bruce wakes up in his room, he instantly recognizes the type -- official, un-welcoming, the opposite of homey -- and he's instantly on edge, thinking he must've had an incident and -- he hopes, God, he hopes -- SHIELD nabbed him and put him in a containment facility for a while. If it isn't SHIELD who's grabbed him, if it's Ross or some other organization out there, he's not sure what he's going to do, but punching his way out might have to be on the list.

Once he turns on the phone left for him, though, he realizes. Dear God.

How could have forgotten this place? It's coming back to him now; he's only been at home a few days, New York is still repairing itself from the Chitauri attack, but Bruce had almost spent three months here before. Tony, Lydia, Jesse, Kenzi -- it's all coming back, but it's like a dulled ache, as if it's been a long time since he was here, when it can't have been.

And where even is this place? Apparently it's the Cape, but when he last left this place, they were in houses and there was an ocean.

He flips on the phone to send a message. His expression is soft, worried, sad, though he's trying to cover it up with a thin smirk, as usual. ]

So... I think I missed something from when I was here last until now. [ He smiles a little wider. ] What happened to the abandoned houses? They were a little eerie and invasive, but I liked finding random boxes of knitting in the bottom of the closets. This room is a little lacking in personality.

[ He gets a little more serious now. ] Tony, are you still here? Lydia? Jesse? Kenzi? Wallie? -- This is going to start to sound like I'm calling roll. [ He laughs softly, but nothing's particularly funny because he doesn't think it sounds like he's calling roll. It sounds more like he's reading off a list of names of people who've gone missing during a war. He pulls his reading glasses off. ]

I'd appreciate an update. Thanks.

triplelindy

( tl;dr about Sam waking up and being in lots of pain )

[ After learning that Charlie and Kevin are there (and after talking to both of them), Sam sends out a text to all. Normally he would just talk on video, but he doesn't want everyone to see the state he's in. Sam hasn't mastered the art of hiding it very well, especially so soon after this pain has returned. ]

Seems like we've got quite a few new folks around. You need anything, don't hesitate to ask. We're all in this together. I'm Sam Winchester.

I was also wondering about that machine we've got here in the building. Anyone got anything on it yet? I've been kind of indisposed for a while, so if anyone can catch me up that'd be great.

( Private to Raphael )

vates

[ Kevin's been working for a few days without sleep on the tablet, so when he wakes up, he figures he must've just passed out from exhaustion. He gets all the way to sitting up before he realizes that he isn't in the bunker.

When the feed switches on, it starts first staring up at the ceiling, while in the background, someone is very clearly laying waste to the bookshelf in their room. Kevin steps into the frame as he swings the shelf he'd ripped out to use as a weapon, and he decides it's acceptable before he sets it down. He has a bunch of papers, and as he puts them into an empty pillowcase, the cuneiform symbols can just be seen for what they are -- that is, ancient and unreadable.

He reaches for his shelf again, and now his face fully comes into frame. He looks like a guy who hasn't slept or eaten real food in a few days, with an added couple layers of complete panic. He has no clue where he is, who might've kidnapped him, what they want to use him for, but beneath the panic there's determination.

He made it this far; he won't let them win now.

Once he realizes the phone is broadcasting, he curses loudly and switches it off.

This plan would probably have gone a lot better if he hadn't been Skyping it. ]

intraining

[ there is half a second of what looks like a ceiling, and then a quiet oh crapsticks before it's tilted, very quickly, downwards. ]

Alright, so Cape- Can I call you cape? We're not even on a beach anymore, which totally sucks since I was just getting used to this whole idea of Cape Constant Nightmare. I even made t-shirts.

[ cue exasperated sigh and overly dramatic eye roll. ]

Also, just for the record, when I agreed to go to Oz I did not sign up to come back here. Wherever here ends up...being. [ charlie loses a little steam, here, looking around her in every direction the camera can't see. she's fidgeting a little, mostly because she's in some creepy room all by herself. totally normal. completely normal. one hundred percent- ]

Not that I mind the redecorating - it's got a great Tomb Raider meets first Terminator vibe - but uh. What the frick, guys? Just. What the frick. Anyone want to give me the sparknotes version before I go completely insane? Yes? Maybe? IDK?

PRIVATE to DEAN WINCHESTER, SAM WINCHESTER, JO HARVELLE, ELLEN HARVELLE, ANITA BLAKE, FORTESCUE, and ALEC MCDOWELL

Guess whose back, bitches.

[ vulcan salute, then charlie out. ]

unionjackass

Alright, listen up. If you please--and thank you. [England's barked command is softened only slightly by his penchant for decorum. His outward facade is one of youth, barely into his twenties; yet across the network he radiates a sense of significant age most notably from his eyes which are bright and green and old, and very, very irate.]

I'm not amused in the slightest. If this were some sort of prank I think the joke's jocularity has long since expired. [It isn't evident in this case, but he is actually speaking from personal experience. Whether by his own devices or mischief via other nations' silliness, he's woken in the oddest places. Usually however, the culprits reveal themselves in due time or he at least has an idea of who they are ~~by the obscenities written on his face in Sharpie.~~ In the absence of more typical circumstances and with an unusual distant chill prickling the back of his neck, England has decided to send out a broadcast accompanied by an understated sense of aggravation.]

If I may, one doesn't simply uproot a nation from his duties. It's rude, it's ungentlemanly, and I have paperwork piling toward the ceiling; so if you don't mind...

I would very much like for this to resolve itself so that I can return home.

oldfashionedhero

[ This isn't the first time that Steve's woken in a strange place, though this one is much less cozy than the recovery room mock up that SHEILD had put together for him. He has spent the last few hours moving around the building and trying to find his bearings. It has been less than successful.

Finally, he pulls out the phone that he found initially in his room and turns his attention to it. His voice is very matter-of-fact and clearly angry.]

Hello? My name is Steve Rogers, but you already seem to know that. I don't appreciate being brought here against my will and I don't intend on staying. If you know my name, you must also know my history. Which means you are either suicidal or have a specific aim in bringing me here.

You have ten minutes to make that clear before I start making assumptions. Trust me, you really don't want me to start making assumptions.

burnburnburn

[Dilandau's out in the grassy land near the beach, sweating from a recent bout of intensive exercise]

Have you finally stopped apologising now? [He doesn't hide the curl of his lip that shows how little he thinks of such gestures] I need a sparring partner, so if any of you demons have a sword and know how to use it, tell me. I start working at dawn.

[He pauses, narrowing his eyes]

And I don't want any of you to start telling me swords don't exist in your worlds too. I'm sick of hearing about how alien you all are.

hexappeal

Hello there, young padawans. [Her voice is flat, almost to the point of disinterest.] I've been skulking about for a few days and I'll cut straight to the point: I'm pretty sure that I'm ready to leave now. [More emotion starts to present itself; frustration with the slightest trace of anger.] I get the whole "stuck" thing, but that's always such crap. Someone's usually behind that and they'll usually fold if approached the right way -- which in my case may very well be with a fist.

[She lets a little huff of air out, almost a laugh.] But I'm getting ahead of myself. So, how about this! I'll even be a good sport about it (if you could see me, I am smiling and not going to press any sort of interdimensional charges on you, I promise). I'm a busy woman with a cat to feed and a teenage cousin to roll my eyes at back home. Send me to my San Francisco and I'll forget this ever happened.

greenisnteasy

[ Someone doesn't look very comfortable to be here, but then he tries to shake it off with a smile. ]

It seems as if we have a surge of people with special dietary needs. [ To say the least. ]

Anyone who wants to donate some blood for the vampiric among us, I'm at the clinic and can take donations. It'd help if you let me know if you're nonhuman. Uh, I think. What vampires can and can't eat isn't an area of expertise of mine... Similarly, if you're a little more fanged now than before, you can come pick up some blood from me.

[ He clears his throat. This is where it gets... awkward. ]

I realize there may be other dietary needs out there, and I'm here to help anyone procure what they need safely. So, ah...

Anyone out there willing to help out a succubus? Sex doesn't need to be involved, but skin-to-skin contact is a bare minimum. [ That was definitely a thing he said. ]

Right, so. Don't kill anyone. [ And that's it, that's the video. ]

recognize_an_opportunity

[This is, at least, an attempt at a video. An attempt because when the video comes on, there's nothing to be seen -- vampires don't show up in video, apparently -- but there's certainly Meyer's irritated voice coming from somewhere. An irritated voice that seems to be alternating between questioning just what's going on today, and... counting.]

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... Look, the way I see it, this place is strange already. Is this really necessary? I don't... eighteen, nineteen... know exactly what's going on. Any information would be appreciated, of course.

[There's a pause.]

And if someone could explain to me exactly how long this is going to last, that'd be good, too. This is already getting old.

[OOC: Yes, this is your resident vampire with a counting obsession. Sadly, he doesn't show up in video, but if someone comes and finds him, they can see his unfortunate fangs firsthand.]

pursuitofcappiness

Considering how much people seem to be disappearing, I think we should put together a public record of who's living here, and what they look like. Anyone who wants, pick a time. I'll come draw you and jot down some information.

I think we could leave this book in the library, but I'll take suggestions.

[ OoC: Respond here ICly, here OoCly, please! ]

retrograding

[Because the broadcast is a video, Jet Star comes on the screen with his hair somewhat tamed and his eyepatch in place. His expression is as calm as ever, and the video is steady. The only evidence that there might be something wrong is the sound of clattering and a somewhat distressed voice in the background - but Jet ignores that for the most part to address his audience.]

I have one very simple question for the people of this town today, and I like to think it isn’t an unreasonable request. Two friends of mine, Party Poison and Kobra Kid, have not been home for a while. Has anybody seen either of them? They’re rather hard to miss. Party Poison has red hair, and Kobra Kid is blonde, the former is short and the latter is tall --

[Fun Ghoul suddenly appears over Jet's shoulder, scowling at the communicator.]

One's fuckin' stupid, and the other one's twice as fuckin' stupid. Give 'em the real facts, Jet. Two days! [He holds up two fingers in front of Jet's face just in case you assholes forgot how to count.] Never gone this long without sayin' shit, ask that raccoon-eyed piece of work what she did with our boys--

[And he cuts himself off to disappear into the background again, sending something else crashing to the floor. Jet watches Ghoul stomp off with a sort of sad expression, and when he looks back at the communicator, the look sticks.]

We aren't accusing anyone of anything. But if you are out there, either of you - or if anybody knows where they might be, please let us know.

Please. Thank you. [And the feed cuts off. Jet has some calming to do, excuse him.]

theassassin

[So Natalia has watched her video, she's sat on the ground (in the grass, she's not really questioning that just yet)with a brow cocked at the device on her wrist, and she's assessed that this is not her comm device. She can't establish communication through any of her normal channels. She's also pretty pissed that someone has stripped her of her electronics.

She sighs pulling her hair back into a long tail, so the next logical step here is... Obviously to address the network. And try to get a handle on what is going on.]

So... I'm guessing no one has seen a ten foot tall angry gorilla with an automatic passing through here.

[Yes, a gorilla with a machine gun. Not a guerrilla, and actual primate. Fur, fangs, opposable thumbs, surprisingly intelligent, a quality most guerrillas seem to lack. The thing knew Russian, for godsake. That's pretty damn impressive for a better than thousand pound ape.]

Okay, well...What about a guy, kind of broody and rough around the edges, wearing a dinky little mask that only covers his eyes? Black pants, seems to have an allergy to sleeves... a metal arm? Might answer to James if you're really nice? We were together just as my friend Koko attacked.

[She pauses long enough to take a breath and squint at the area she's in.] No?

[Natalia shrugs.] I guess then I'm going to need to request an evac? Something tells me I'm not going to get one though...

greenisnteasy

[ Bruce smiles weakly into the feed, but it's clear that there's nothing happy in his eyes. It's just a way to start. ]

I'd like to apologize for what happened with the Hulk. For those of you who don't know, that was... me. The big green guy. And when I get too angry, he can... do that. What he did.

It never should have happened, and I'm truly sorry.

[ He gives the camera another grim expression, smile gone now, before he switches the feed off. ]

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Entries tagged with { steve rogers (mcu)

[Video] Tony Stark | 001

Julian Bashir | Video | Day 147

♠ two | action | day 142

[ video ] || day 140

001 | Awkward Video

001 Δ Loki Laufeyson Δ [Video]

Bruce Banner | 014 | Video

002 | text/voice/action

Kevin Tran | 001 | Accidental video

003 » video » day 137

♠ one | video | day 136

001 | Voice | Day 136

Day 65 [video]

☆ audio.

Bruce Banner | 013 | Video (Backdated to Day 58)

002 | Meyer Lansky | Video

video

video | 004 | day 54

001 [ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ] || ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴀɢᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴀɢᴇ

Bruce Banner | 012 | Video

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