You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you've made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren't expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you'd help the planet thrive. Are you ready?
Submit an AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 OLYMPIA REP POINTS OR 2 WYVER REP POINTS, respectively, HERE or HERE. THESA STATION
All refugees on the station are called to the hangar where a large-scale teleporter has been set up; everyone will be sent to the planet together. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait. Before they depart, all new refugees will be given a starter kit!
 You may have heard about earlier technical difficulties, but don't worry. I promise everything is in perfect working order this time. I'd say I tested it myself, but since that's not exactly possible, you'll just have to trust me! (Please.)
The older refugees will also be there to guide you to ensure no one is left confused... or behind. Make sure you wait for them — I've been detecting something odd so I'll be having them meet you at the landing site. Good luck, refugees! Not that you'll be needing it or anything...
The arrays begin to hum and glow, quickly building into a brilliant wash of light. It creates a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa. With the night sky as a canvas, the beam can be seen all the way from Olympia and Wyver — a view that has the natives whispering of blessings.
As a sudden but beautiful aurora splays across the sky, the refugees down on the planet receive a message asking them to travel to the landing site — and warning them to prepare for what may come of the strange readings Zasere's gotten from the teleport itself.
Traveling through the light leaves the impression of blinding starlight, a strange sense of weightlessness, and a disorienting moment of total sensory deprivation. The radiance of your teleport hangs bright in the sky above you, a shimmering aurora that reflects off the calm waters below, visible for miles all around.
You've landed on a peninsula to the east of the South Outpost. There's little here — scattered trees on spring-barren plains, with a few overgrown, dilapidated structures poking out of the brush. All is quiet save for the keening of animals and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. This lonely desolation is hardly the bustling cities and vibrant cultures you were promised back on the station...
BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW. But waiting for you is a group of your predecessors, and with them, a veritable tent city, with portable stoves, coolers of food and drink, comfortable bedrolls, and cheerful rings of bonfires — all that you need to make merry of the night, courtesy of Overseer Voss, who has, thanks to his interest in blessed meteorological phenomena and refugees, decided to make a holy expedition of the affair.
Settle in, meet new comrades, and enjoy yourself, for you've safely completed your journey. But don't wander too far from the fires — the dark is closing in, and there's a strange, electric feeling in the air, the scent of ozone drifting on the breeze. And what were those odd readings Zasere mentioned?
A SHEPHERD OVER THE FLOCK. The spring sun dawns on a grey morning, already burning away the fog rolling in off the sea. It quickly becomes apparent that Voss and his entourage of acolytes have been up for hours, hard at work. They've set up a brightly-draped stage and a travel pulpit, magically enchanted to amplify his voice, and as the sun breaks over the horizon, Voss is all set to do what he does best: proselytize.
 As our Goddess has sent Her blessing once before to herald the coming of those touched by Her light, so She has done once again! Here you see them, those surrounded by the light of our Goddess, each of them bearing the mark upon their skin of Her holiest of hands! Do you not see? Do none among you bear witness to the righteousness of Her message? Perhaps this is why our people have shamed themselves in front of our Goddess—
[ He continues for another 15 minutes... ]
Nevertheless. See you them before us now! See them as they are, coming to our gates with Her reminder, that these people must be treated with the utmost respect and care. Thesa's divinity is not to be treated with such flagrant disregard! Those who She chooses are not ours to use as mindless fodder, to hurt, to torture — shame upon those who allowed such deeds to shame us under Her watchful gaze!
To those of you who have just arrived here on our doorstep, be not afraid! The Temples of Thesa welcome you to our home with hearts and minds open! Should you ever find yourself in need of solace, seek out the Temples, as there are no greater allies to you than those of us within the Temple walls. You are welcome all to Olympia!
As he steps away from the enchanted podium, he can be heard saying aside to an acolyte, "How was that? Heavy on the shame, but I think it went well!" While he will not leave the area immediately, his acolytes will politely turn away attempts to speak with him and remind anyone interested that they can leave a message at the Temples.
Despite going off without hitch, the new refugees' arrival isn't entirely without incident. It seems that the "blessed" beam of light that brought the refugees down to El Nysa brought something else along with it — a sliver of the Storm. At least the beam was short enough that only a small fraction managed to squeeze through.
But it's enough to wreak a little havoc around the landing site and along the road back toward Olympia and Wyver — and even, for a few days, in the cities themselves.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE. The Storm is an undeniably destructive force, and that's proven with this small sliver's effect as it ripples across the continent. While there's no visible sign of its presence, strange phenomena soon begin to appear, corresponding with Zasere's odd readings.
They're innocuous little things at first. A sudden silence, animals going quiet, insects stilling. All technology, no matter how advanced, ceases working. You discover when you check with a friend, the clock on your phone is twelve minutes slow even though you'd swear only a minute had passed — time missing. Walking through the woods takes longer than it should when brushing past one bush leads to brushing past that same bush again — and again, and again, the area looping on itself. It keeps you trapped, going in circles for minutes, even hours, before finally releasing you in a random direction.
Or perhaps you'll feel a sense of deja vu, like you've walked down this road, taken this turn, seen that bird fly from this branch before. This is the second time that cat has crossed your path. The person you're meeting, you already know their name; you're certain you've already met.
WE GOT COWS. The Storm sliver also ushers in sudden, localized weather anomalies — heavy storms, blizzards, strong winds, and more. Affected areas range from just a few feet wide to nearly half a mile. One minute, the sky may be sunny and clear, but the next dark storm clouds roll in, unleashing torrential rain. Small tornadoes surge along the road, kicking up winds strong enough to knock people over and carry objects away. Hail hurtles down from the sky, but only in a ten foot radius. Temperatures fluctuate wildly between one extreme and the next, from heat waves to cold snaps. Soupy fog blankets the area, thick enough that you can barely see your hand in front of your face. Good luck finding your way!
FORGETTING IS SO LONG. The visions come on suddenly and with very little warning. One second, you're carrying on as normal — but the next, you blink and find yourself (and anyone near you) somewhere else completely. You may recognize this place as a moment from the past, one that you lived through. It's a memory, your memory, and it now replays around you in exceptional detail, unnervingly lifelike. Or you may not recognize it at all. It might belong to the person next to you, or to someone else entirely — a memory that the Storm has swallowed up.
Either way, the scene plays out just as it once did, and there's nothing you can do to stop it — or escape it. The memory surrounds you to no end: every door you open leads nowhere, every hallway you turn down continues on forever, every horizon you flee toward hangs just out of reach. And linger too long or turn the wrong corner, and you may find yourself abruptly stuck in a completely different memory. It's almost tempting, then, to give up, to let the past sweep you away...
But this isn't the full might of the Storm. Look closely, and you can see that in the walls of this trap, there are minute, hairline cracks, a facade of fractured glass. Imperfections in the memory where the real world is breaking through. It seems the only way to escape these memories is to find those cracks and break through them — by force, by will, or by some other method entirely.
The time is coming to make a choice — perhaps not a permanent choice, but unless you want to spend the rest of your nights out under the stars, you'll need to pick which city you will initially spend your time in. On the horizon, you will see that people have arrived to help you make that decision...
A FORK IN THE ROAD. Refugees and the hyper-religious wishing to hear Voss speak are not the only ones out and about under the light of the aurora. Citizens of both Olympia and Wyver have flocked to a point on the road midway between the cities and where the refugees have appeared, and they all have the same goal in mind: convincing the newcomers who have just descended in the blessed light of Thesa to come to their city and not the other.
They've come with bribes — that is, examples of what their cities have to offer. If you spent much time at the exhibition up on Thesa Station, you might recognize some of what's being shown off, though the offerings here are markedly more tangible, and shown off by hawkers wearing substantially fewer clothes.
A herd of pegasi accompanies the Olympians, while a line of flying serpents is stabled at a tent bearing Wyver colors. Refugees are given the chance to experience solo flights and are told that if they prove their loyalty, they may have the privilege of owning such fine beasts one day themselves. The Olympians have also brought couture clothing, jewelry, and makeup to offer a taste of Olympian splendor, while the Wyver delegation has brought along fine weapons, sense-enhancing jungle plants, and small vials of diluted dragon’s blood (drinking confers a temporary boost in strength) to demonstrate their might. The Olympians speak proudly of the glory of the Temples of Thesa; the Wyverns speak of the Volkkran Pact and inform newcomers that they can make a pilgrimage to the summit of Namarak Mountain at the next full moon.
This is as good a time as any to compare your plans with others around you and exchange contact information before going your separate ways with people who are going to the city you are not. When you’re ready to go, don’t worry about safe passage — the natives of each city will gladly escort you there in luxury.
OF WHITE AND GOLD. The people of Olympia are ecstatic that you’ve come to join them... So much so that they’ve prepared a grand tour of the city for the new arrivals. You will be introduced to the major businesses in the city, including businesses that they are proud to point out were founded by refugees.
Refugees who have been here for some time already are encouraged to pair up with newcomers to introduce them to the parts of the city they like best. To facilitate this, they’ve made arrangements with many of the business owners: new refugees who visit their shops (and older refugees who escort them) are given discounts!
Just a few examples of many: the Wyvernest offers free desserts to first time visitors with the purchase of a drink, refugees who visit the Silk Wyrms can have one custom (though not exceedingly expensive) outfit made for them for free, and visitors to Shades Darker are offered a half-hour session with one of the prostitutes at half price… or access to a private room, if they seem to have taken a shine to one of their companions on the tour.
Lastly, tour guides will point out that over the course of the next week, the train to Flona Cove will allow new refugees to board for free so that they can experience the seaside for themselves. With the weather finally starting to warm, this is as good a time as any for a visit to the beach, isn’t it?
OF RED AND BLACK. Life in Wyver is typically a sink-or-swim sort of experience — but in light of the valor recently displayed by their predecessors, the natives are now more willing to assist in getting newcomers settled. The entire journey here they have been talking up the virtues of their city… and now is the time to show everything that's on offer.
The well-known businesses in the city are prepared for the influx of newcomers. Some are giving out discounted samples of their products while others are offering a more hands-on experience: in exchange for working a few hours, they will give training in whatever task is being performed.
At the Forged, newcomers can learn the basics of crafting simple weapons (and take one of their successes home), while visitors to spas near the lagoons are trained in the art of massage. Those who wander to Falmi’s Ring can learn the art of pugilism or how to keep (and fix) books if they're more inclined to the gambling that goes on. Newcomers interested in Wyver's dragons can get hands-on experience at the Fields of the Exalted's nursery. While they walk from place to place, a guide may point out a job posting from Highwind Hires, noting that refugees can make a name for themselves outside official channels.
The last stop on the tour is the Undergrowth. The guides speak of the jungle in reverent tones and caution new refugees not to wander too far in. They warn never to explore alone, but also urge refugees to take time to familiarize themselves with it; after all, the jungle is an important part of life in Wyver, and those who are going to be living here should understand it as well as they do.
You've chosen your path, refugee, but that doesn't necessarily make it a permanent one. Watch out for the strange effects of the Storm, which linger still in the two cities and everywhere in between for the next few days before dissipating just as mysteriously as they came, but otherwise enjoy the welcome and make yourself at home — after all, this is home now.
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cw: mention of child murder and torture
I've known other people. Sana is good in a way I can barely comprehend. I lived on the streets of New York City for three years, I met people, I'm not so sheltered anymore that I think the Red Room or SHIELD are okay.
[She steps in a little bit closer, uses the strength in her hand and her grip against his shoulder to push him a little more firmly against the wall of the cave. It's only a little rough, not aggressive, not a threat. It's more to get his attention, it's because she's tactile, and as the conversation shifts she can't help being a little rough, knows he can take it. Her other hand still lingers against his scars, still that light touch as if in direct contrast.]
And I didn't say you were a good man, I said you were good to me. I said you weren't a bad person, and I meant it. I might not know all of your missions, but I know that you were one of the best at what you did, I know you tended to take the most dangerous missions and cut your way through them no matter what that meant. [Information she knows because of Natasha, too above Rumlow, too focused on the Avengers to pay him much attention, but even she still knew of his reputation.]
And if you want to talk dirty I was seven years old the first time I killed someone. She was a little girl, just like me, with gold blonde hair, and I strangled her on the floor because I was told to. And when we went to disrupt the program that my mother had created, there were over a hundred kidnapped orphan teenagers they were controlling. Natasha said I was supposed to leave anything with a pulse to her, but I couldn't do that and provide cover fire. So I chose between her life and the safety of the world against children that didn't deserve to die.
[She's not angry, she's frustrated. That edge to his voice like he didn't think she understood dirty, what it was to be someone with a skewed morality and blood on your hands. Like she didn't have the life experience to judge him as not something awful and have it mean anything. Looking at her like she had been pulled from the Red Room and handed over to SHIELD without being mired in it. She had been Ivan's favorite. Even as he handcuffed her to the pipes so the other girls could hear her scream.] And I have to own every terrible thing Natasha's ever done, because it's not just memory, it's visceral, my body remembers it too. The knife in my hand, or the way the blood splattered on my bare skin, the heat from the hospital fire.
[Her fingers against his scars finally slides down, and her knuckles brush against the stubble of his jaw. And after saying so much, stripping herself down to truth and bone to make a point, she quiets, looks up into his eyes, still balanced on tip-toe, and a little uncertain if maybe she'd pushed too far. But it all leads back to one simple question, her voice soft:]
So tell me, am I ugly too?
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But, for him, that was a lifetime ago. He felt the pressure of her grip on his shoulder, and he could resist the push of it. He was no slouch physically, but he was also used to picking his battles when it came to be pushed around. He went with the push so his back was pressed to the uneven stone wall at his back, feeling it dig in, but she meant nothing aggressive about it. She was trying to focus his attention, which was unnecessary as he already was no matter where his eyes or head may be turned.
He raised an eyebrow as she displayed knowledge of his reputation beyond her means. SHIELD Academy didn't use him for examples; he was a sniper and thus his identity was often classified information, but those in the upper circles would be aware of his reputation. So she hadn't been joking how much knowledge she could glean from Romanoff.
Of course, she offered information freely, so he held his peace as she clearly needed to say it. Murdering kids was usually the worst part of the job; it was the collateral that no one wanted. Kids grew to adults who could kill just as easily depending on what they saw; sometimes he thought it was a small mercy for them to get out early.] You made a call, and that's yours to live with. But was Romanoff's life worth more to you than those brainwashed kids? [The story was clearly indicating it was some form of mind control after all.
Her question was one he had been expecting as the rant went on, and he wondered how many people knew this about her. How many people knew she killed a bunch of teenagers or other kids because that was how the Red Room worked?]
Yeah, you're ugly too. We're all ugly after the things we've done. [There was no point skirting that issue. He laid it to her straight as he always had.] You're just more screwed up with having to deal with both your shit and Romanoff's.
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It's almost a mercy, honestly. As if he thinks she's strong enough to live with it. Ava doesn't like killing, but you put her in a situation where the only way out is to pull a trigger on someone else, and she will make that call. And she has had to. She sighs, pulling back a step and then leaning in sideways, bumping her shoulder to his, and she smiles at him, a little bit lop-sided. He doesn't treat her like she needs to be anyone other than who she is, doesn't seem like he thinks she's too delicate to be who and what like has made her.]
I don't think that doing ugly things makes either of us a bad person, not really. It's like you said- you make the call. To the best of your ability, and then you live with it. And in a place like this, how much of that even matters?
[She sighs, looks up with him with a slightly wry curl of her lips. She still hasn't quite figured out how she fits in here, what to do. There's no SHIELD, and while she has a lot of skills, she doesn't have the temperament like Natasha would to keep a low profile, find a noble to work for so she could pick up on the dynamics of the power structure, the personality conflicts. Ava doesn't apologize for pushing him, knows that she didn't really hurt him.]
I care about her, you know? Even if she doesn't really-- things were always hard with her. [Natasha was still a very complicated issue for her. Because Ava cared for her, and Natasha had been trying, but it was never quite the same. Not like she was with Clint's family. Tense, things unsaid. And now she was in cryo, and Ava had to figure out who she was supposed to be on her own.]
And it wasn't even just about Natasha. They were like me. So when the time came, they would just-- Teenaged spies and killers embedded with people in every major government and organization across the world. So we either brought it all down then and there, or the world fell apart. The only choice if we failed would be to eliminate them all to prevent a global catastrophe. And when SHIELD started systematically eliminating children with ties to world leaders, it would have started a war. It would have been chaos, and who knows what that leaves behind.
[Maybe Rumlow could see the sort of people that would benefit, but Ava still didn't have all the pieces. She didn't know what SHIELD was, not in the sense that came with a name and a history and a story.] The girl I killed would have killed me if I hadn't. That's how the Red Room filtered out the ones that weren't good enough. I don't enjoy it, either.
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How much of it matters in a place like this? That depended largely on the people who were around to chirp about past action. Who was waiting in the wings to throw him bodily through a way for making any sign that he might return to the life that he had known for over twenty years.]
That's the question of it: are you strong enough to live with it? Or do you spend the next years of your life trying to make up for what you've done? [The corner of his lip twitched in the ghost of a smirk.] Considering this place is going to civil war, I imagine only the skills and what you're going to do about the upcoming unrest is what matters. Though, I hear the chaos of war is a great time to take revenge and cover it up.
[Who was actually going to question another dead body when so many were suffering or would suffer? It was a common tactic that both SHIELD and HYDRA used because when there were so many bodies on the ground, what was just another one? Their story became lost in the mass tragedy of the others. Hiding in plain sight.]
From my experience, the world has a habit of falling apart in many different ways, and that just sounds like one of many plots seeking to do that. [As the population grew, so did the oppression. The rich grew richer and the poor were told to suck it up and deal with it. What was another bunch of brainwashed kids set into political striking distance? Definitely sounded like something the Soviets would come up with; they never forgot old slights.
However, he also could appreciate the beauty of the plan. A quick and dirty sweep, much like Insight. Just a smash and grab on a political scale, but it didn't solve the innate problem, just destabilized the top level.] If you start enjoying killing, it's time to get out of the game entirely. You do it because you're put in a situation where you feel it's necessary for the greater good or your survival.
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Maybe she should feel more guilty about it than she does. But you didn't make it through the sort of places that she had without prioritizing survival. If there was another choice, she'd take it, but sometimes there just wasn't. And those deaths weren't the ones that she beat herself up about. It was Alexei. It was not being good enough to save him. That was what gave her nightmares.]
That's Natasha's way of coping, not mine. [To be fair, Natasha had a lot more blood on her hands. And Ava did want to be a hero, wanted to help people, do good things, but it wasn't out of guilt. It was what she'd wanted to be since she was a little girl in 7B reading about Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Peggy Carter in the history books. Steve, she imagines, would probably have managed to dodge bullet fire and knock out the kids one by one until they could be dealt with later. She hadn't had the luxury.] Yeah, I've heard things are leaning that way. Though given I heard allegations about kidnapping, it's nice to see the warm welcome they rolled out.
[She lets his comment about revenge go, even if there's almost a question on her tongue, if there's someone he'd like to get revenge on. But, she let herself take it as a general comment, a mention of common tactics, something that they could see as the tensions continued and escalated. She had no particular intention in really picking sides, but there was no question that this was the sort of stuff that she was good at. That they both were. ] I haven't been to Wyver yet, though. So I sort of want to head over at some point to get a feel for it, even if I doubt either of them are innocent in this conflict.
[She nods, shifts so that she's leaning against the wall next to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm. She wasn't about to hug him or anything dramatic, but Rumlow didn't seem to mind the contact, and so she just let herself enjoy it. Being able to be close to someone that didn't see her as a child, didn't try to make her into something that she wasn't. Just let her exist, and hinted that that was good enough.] Yeah. I mean, I like sparring, stuff like that. Things that are rough, that make me feel. But killing? It's never easy. It's either about surviving or protecting something.
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Of course, since she brought it up, he did have to ask.] So how do you cope with the things you've done? [It would be interesting to know if she even knew; some people were too busy bottling it all up to pin-point how they dealt with their own personal traumas.] There was kidnappings, and there was torture involved in each of the groups taken. Some of it was pretty nasty shit, and last I heard there were at least two casualties that are no longer casualties in the group I lent my skills to.
[He had plans to also hit up Wyver, but less about the city and more that he had heard there was a guy down that way which might make use of his particular skill set. He wanted to check it out before offering anything of himself on that, not willing to dig into a hole he might be buried in not long after.] I'm heading to Wyver at some point in the near future. There is nothing worth staying for in Olympia, and I want to see what there is from the other city.
[He shivered after she shifted to lean next to him, but it was due to the fact that the wind changed and cold wind struck his arm and back. A few snow flakes flew up and landed in his hair, but he didn't care.] Sooooo, you like to beat people up, huh? [He grinned at her.] I knew you had a good head on your shoulders. Clearly you had someone come take you to the best places so you learned right. Though, you better still like the Yanks, or you're dead to me.
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[Her lips thin and she nods quietly as he brings up torture, given that she had some rather personal experiences with it in many different forms. There's curiosity, however, when he mentions two casualties that no longer were. And it's not too hard to figure out what he means; people that had died and had come back.] Something with the Natha?
[They were the only ones that she could really think of that would be able to.] Well, we could head over together, if you wanted to. I mean, there's no real methods of transportation in this place, so far as I've heard we're still stuck walking everywhere. Might be more fun than traveling alone.
[And there's a certain amount of fondness to the offer. Which is to say that Ava isn't typically someone that willingly surrounds herself with people. Sana used to have to literally drag her to parties, or any sort of social event. But talking to Rumlow is easy, and he's always been good to her, and that makes being around him comfortable. So at least with him, it might actually be preferable to going alone. And in a purely practical sense, she trusts him, knows he can handle himself. So it'd be nice to have someone she trusts enough to keep an eye out for the wildlife which isn't always friendly. Not that she needs protection, but even she makes attempts at sleeping, here and there.]
Yeah, though I try to make sure it's only as much as they can take. I don't want to hurt anyone for real, but I like how it feels, you know? [She shrugs her shoulders, a little bit shy. It's a hard thing to explain, articulate, the way that combat makes her blood sing. So the switch to talking about sports teams isn't unwelcome.] I think someone once told me that Yankees fans are fans for life. I could hardly turn traitor on you.
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[He shrugged his shoulders because he had no idea how people who had clearly been dead came back. It made sense that if the Natha could keep so many alive in stasis and release them whenever they wanted then bringing back the dead should be part and parcel, right?
Though the suggestion of travelling to Wyver wasn't a bad one, and not just for a strength in numbers aspect. She was pleasant company, one of the few familiar faces that he had where his face didn't automatically earn suspicion or revulsion.] I suppose you wouldn't be so bad of company, assuming that this blizzard doesn't kill us both first, that is. [Because, if anything, the storm beyond the cave was momentarily strengthening.] This place is actually what the Middle Ages feels like but with magic.
[Rumlow knew exactly how that felt; he trained a lot of the green-horns that came his way and while they were highly trained when they came to him, he still used years of experience against the little brats. Sometimes making them literally scream for mercy was a great way to assert his dominance but also knock them down a peg or two so they were willing to follow his command. Sparring was about the body, about technique and about reflexes. He had to think, but he also had to be quick on his feet.] I know how that feels. There's nothing quite like skill against skill.
[Well okay, she was still a keeper. He reached out to playfully knock his knuckles gently to her jaw.] I think that someone was me, or that fat guy sitting next to us at the game I took you to. Sorry to say though, but no Yanks here.
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[She was tactile, and that made fighting a thrill, the contact of it, touch, even if it was all violence, it still made her feel. But, as she'd said before, most people couldn't keep up. But Rumlow was good, and had size and build on her. And even if she was enhanced, it wasn't like she was Steve Rogers. So it'd be interesting to see how the variables played out. She had muscle memory and he had training. One way or the other it'd be enjoyable, she was sure. Someone she probably wouldn't have to pull her punches with. And the only time she really had that had been the rare times when Natasha stopped by and they could spar together, which was so infrequent to almost seem like a fever dream, sometimes.
She frowns a little, looking out toward the entrance of the cave where the white of the snow whips by, impossible to see much of anything except for the white as the winds pick up. She laughs a little as he implies that they might die out here, a slight shake of her head.] It's not going to kill us, promise. Can't last forever, and I have enough supplies for a while. Our biggest problem will be if we run out of fuel for the fire, once the temperature really starts to drop. And then I'll have to see if I can find something and hope the snow's cold enough that the wood isn't too wet to burn.
[There's only so much kindling and branches scattered around the cave, after all. She volunteers herself almost without thinking, knows she'll probably have an easier time with it if the temperatures start to drop below zero than he will. One of the other facets of being a Red Room girl, of being like Natasha. Hardy enough to handle those Siberian winters. But that's for later, assuming it doesn't blow over soon. It would shock her if she realized just how localized it was, but she hums in soft thought as he comments on the state of this world.] You're not wrong. It's like one of those 80s fantasy movies or something. Rival cities, kidnapping, magic.
[She makes a vague gesture with one of her hands; they've pretty much got the whole recipe. Well, aside from the space station in the sky aside, anyway, which was definitely more Science Fiction than anything. Then he brushes his knuckles against her jaw and she grins, elbows him lightly.] I think it was you. When you got me that hat? But it's a shame there's no baseball here. It'd be nice to have something normal, but the closest thing I've found to anything back home has been the dive bars.
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[Rumlow hadn't had much one-on-one practice since arriving here. He still worked out heavily, but that was more for a lack of things to invest himself in, and aside from the stint saving the hostages, his skills were generally going to waste. He was used to down time, but always he was at least planning an operation for either SHIELD or HYDRA, and there was always someone around SHIELD who wanted to spar. Here... not so much. He also had no problem fighting anyone enhanced; he accepted that with certain people he was likely to be trounced in the ring.
He also snorted at her assessment, looking out at the storm that raged beyond the cave. He had no doubt that it wouldn't last forever, but he hadn't exactly dressed for the weather as he normally would. He had a few supplies, but it was the warmth that was going to be difficult to maintain.] The threat of freezing to death is at least not as unpleasant as some of the others that I've been exposed to. Going out in the storm would be potential suicide right now.
[They have enough to keep them going a few hours and even then, it was going to be touch and go if they have to spend the night here. He wasn't worried, since there was always the option of entering the storm if push came to shove. It was better to be moving and keeping the blood in motion before complete freezing set in. He'd rather the air freeze in his lungs and cause him to drown in his own blood than waste away huddled in a cave.]
Even if there as baseball here, I think the teams would be terrible. It wouldn't even be worth watching. [Worse than even beer-league baseball in his opinion.] Dive bars can somehow exist anywhere. It's practically planet-wide tradition it seems.
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But she misses it too. The ability to just walk into the practice room and find someone to spar with. She doesn't know exactly how they'd measure up together, she doesn't use her powers in sparring matches. Both because it's unfair, and because for Ava, the hard thing is control. So the bigger test for her is being able to fight without turning into a lightning rod, rather than showing off.
The fire is still going, so she lets the point of how stupid going out into the storm may or may not be go. They stay there for a while, by the fire, talking about baseball and other such smalltalk. Ava tells him about how she used to sneak Sana into minor league games over the summer. Two teams, the Staten Island Yankees and the Brooklyn Cyclones, and they basically just went to whoever had a home game. No real loyalty to it or anything, but it had been fun. They'd scrounge up some money for hot dogs and watch the game. To be honest, she almost thinks the reason she'd run to New York City when she'd escaped from SHIELD had been because that was where Rumlow took her; the only other place in the whole country she knew of.
It's probably a good thing he hadn't been the one looking for her. The fire lasts a couple hours as they talk, but eventually they run out of leaves and anything else they can conceivably use for fuel for the fire. Ava even rifles through her bag, but all she has is a small set of wood pieces to get a fire started, not enough to feed it. Other than that, she'd be burning her blanket, and that's more use for warmth than as the few minutes of fire it'd buy them.
So finally she sighs, gets up and rifles through her bag, clipping a knife into her belt as she pulls on a sweater. There's a smaller cloth bag tucked into her duffle and she pulls it out, slings it over her shoulder. She knows that this isn't going to go over well, but there's not much room to avoid the point, now.]
We need more firewood. I'll be back before you know it.
[She doesn't ask for permission, says it like a fact. It's close to midnight and the temperature is low enough to make her worried about Rumlow. She's got food and water and some layers, but it's more for a cool fall night. She didn't exactly plan on a snowstorm.]
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That was good. He twirled a small twig around his fingers as they spoke, the warmth of the fire enough to keep the edge of the cold creeping in the entrance as the snow storm continued, though less violent then a few spurts of it. It was companionable, and Ava might have been the first person that he had had actual small talk with other than the insulting back and forth with Jones.
Ava was also the only person that he called by a first name. He clicked that distinction just as she was rifling through her back when they both knew they were out of materials for the dying fire.
He turned his head along the stone wall to peer into the white flecks in the darkness, listening to the wind and feeling the cold. She didn't ask permission, and he, of course, wouldn't grant it.]
You won't be successful with that amount of snow. It will be too wet to burn. Also, there's a high likelihood you'll go snowblind and not make your way back here. Freezing to death isn't the worst, but I can't let you go out there. Sit down and we'll have to conserve body heat. [He said it all reasonably, knowing he was right. He too had spent some time in Siberia; he knew it was a frozen shithole. So shitty was that place that no one could take a shit there without their ass literally freezing off.]
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But Ava was proactive by nature. She wanted to do something, even if that something was hasty and perhaps a little ill-advised. Ava was always a little reckless when she was just risking herself, of course. And she was fairly sure she could find something that would be usable, and getting the fire going again would be worth the cold. And, well, she has powers. She hasn't really tested the limits of them yet, isn't sure if she could use them to keep herself from freezing or not, but there's at least one point she's sure of, so that's the one that she starts with.]
My eyes literally glow, I wont go snowblind. And you're going to freeze if we don't get that fire started again. I'll make it back, promise.
[The only gloves that she has are not meant for the weather. They're red leather and fingerless, but she pulls them on anyway. Of course, Ava's started fires just by having a nightmare before. But she doesn't really know how, if she could manage it without something to fuel it, and even if she did, it's not something that she could control. And she'd rather freeze than hurt him. She almost wishes that she still had her coat and her scarf, but those had gone missing back in Olympia.
He's right, probably. But she has to try. She's pulling her hair up into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, out of her face, and pretty clearly about to go striding out into a blizzard that would have been worthy of Siberia. She has a bag to make it easy to carry anything she finds in case she gets in a fight, but she figures the odds that the wildlife will be hunting in the storm is pretty low. And in any case, she's faster. Probably.]
I'm sure my lips will be blue by the time I get back, so if I don't find any fuel for the fire, then we can talk conserving bodyheat.
[It's a slight misdirection; the softest of teases, because she's unwilling to actually push him away, so she's stuck engaging. But she wants to go, because she is concerned about the cold, not sure that without the fire she can keep him warm even with bodyheat. Her focus is much more on Rumlow than herself. Not that she thinks he hasn't had to deal with rough climates before, but while she kept gear, it wasn't for this. It was for running. And she's worried.]
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He understood the idea that they would have to fend off the cold, but there were other smarter ways than rushing off into a snow storm for futile efforts to collect wood that would never burn. He watched her gather up her gear and then he pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his pants with a hand and straightening his clothing. He also had a small pack of essentials with him, mostly food and medical supplies, which he slipped across his chest.]
I'll freeze if you don't make it back either by that logic. So, I suppose since you've decided to lead this expedition out into a blizzard, you can take point.
[He was pulling out rope that he had and began to tie it around his wrist as if this were a perfectly normal endeavor to undertake. They weren't dressed for the weather, it was dark, and who knew what else might be lurking there beyond the blowing wind. It was suicide to go out into weather like this alone; a buddy-system was always required in his books, even if meant she had to listen to him bitching and complaining loudly about why they were out there.]
If you're going out there, I'm going with you, so that way, you can experience me freezing to death by a bad decision rather than doing everything we can where we know we are relatively safe. [He flashed her a grin.] If I die, you can cut me open and warm your hands again with my innards. I'll probably haunt you, just so you know.
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That's why I'm coming back.
[She tries, but it's a vague attempt and she deflates with a sigh, dropping her bag as she closes the distance and tugs at the rope he's tied around his waist with a clear edge of you win. Because she'd risk herself, but not him.]
I thought I was supposed to be the stubborn idiot, here. But, fine. Bodyheat. I'm not getting naked.
[Teasing, because it makes it easier to back down, to shrug off the fact that he matters to her. And it's honestly more about the ease of how they fit back together rather than just nostalgia. Like Sana, when the girl had found her in the alley, just that way of someone that fit into her life without making her edges feel too sharp and too uncomfortable.]
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Never make a bet one wasn't willing to follow through on.
He didn't smirk, but he also didn't resist when she pulled off the rope from his wrist. The point was made and the impasse called with him the clear victor in a decision like this. He knew how to work the system far better than many would give him credit for.]
Is that the only blanket that you have? It would be useful to cover the entrance as much as possible to conserve heat and limit cold air circulating in.
[He hadn't planned on sleeping out in the woods, so he hadn't packed as if he would. It was not a mistake that he was likely to make again, but for now he was content to survive first and plan better next time.]
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There were only a few people that could get to her by threatening to be just as reckless as she was, and now there was someone that wasn't in a stasis tube, where she could hold onto Darma's promise to keep them safe. No doubt it would be trouble later, because Rumlow's right, in that Ava wears her emotions on her sleeve. Because while she might have Natasha's memories, she's not Natasha, she processes the other woman's skills and experiences in different ways.
And she cares. Stubbornly, defiantly, cares. Once she's unwound the rope from around his waist she slowly lets it slide from her fingers.]
Just-- Actually, I think I have a mylar one. Should be just large enough to cover the entrance.
[Calling it a blanket is a gross overstatement of facts, but she thinks it might work for covering the entrance. She walks back to her bag, refolding the cloth bag she'd been about to run out into the snow with, and tucks it back into her duffle. Then she pulls out a small folded square of silver that she tosses lightly at Rumlow. The concept is that they trap in body heat that would otherwise radiate out, but they're terrible and uncomfortable, and not particularly sturdy, no matter what the SHIELD emergency survival guide says. But right now they mostly just need it to keep the snow out and the lingering heat from the fire in.]
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He let none of that show, and he took the rope back and began to wind it up again. He huffed at the fact she had a mylar blanket, but he also wasn't surprised. She was clearly set up more for survival in harsh weather than he was; again, he was clearly getting slack just living on the streets where he could, never minding the idea of homelessness for the most part. It seemed he was going to have to change his tactics.]
It's better than using the fabric one, especially since no one likes mylar for personal use. Come on, let's put it up.
He approached the entrance, taking his pack with him and keeping the rope on his arm because they were going to have to use it to hold the blanket up. There were enough loose rocks scattered around that they could set down the bottom and he could feel some rocky protrusions that he could tie the rope around and add rocks to weight it down. They shouldn't stand near the entrance of course, but it was good enough.
He was quick about his work setting up the blanket though, long used to working in relative darkness so that tying his knots and adding rocks above was all by feel. Soon enough, they had blocked out most of the storm and already the warmth of the cave could be felt as he backed off deeper into it.]
We'll have to monitor it over the night, probably take sleeping shifts. [Again, all natural and instinctual orders like he had been doing this for years.] We find the spot in the cave narrowest to hold the heat into. I figure the back would be best.
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I can take first shift.
[It's an easy offer. She tends to have trouble sleeping, anyway, so it makes sense. She nods in agreement to those effortless orders, and she grabs her bag, moving with him to the back of the cave, picking out the narrowest area. She pulls out the blanket, which isn't too heavy, but it's big enough for two people to huddle together under, as long as they don't mind cuddling close. And then she pulls out a gun, sets it next to their little spot.]
Doesn't have a clip, so don't grab it.
[An easy warning at she looks over at Rumlow with a slight shrug of her shoulders. It helps her focus her powers, and if something happens, especially with him being so close-- well, having the focus would be a good thing. Keep her from accidentally shocking him, or so she hopes. And then she's pulling out some clothes to make a barrier between their bodies and the cold rock of the floor before laying down, and smirking up at him.] I won't bite.
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First shift is yours. Four hours if you can, wake me if you're falling asleep before then.
[He tended to sleep very well, long years of roughing it teaching his body and mind to grab whatever sleep he could where he could. His pack became his pillow once he realized that Ava had packed the wall already, snorting loudly at her comment of not biting and arranged the blanket so they were both under it. She was obviously a little space heater based on the radiating warmth that already seemed warmer than beyond the blanket.
The gun was interesting, and he would have raised an eyebrow but there seemed to be no point given they were in darkness aside from the flickering embers of the fire.]
You planning on threatening anyone that happens to come in here or something? I have a sidearm with a clip if you want it. [He gave her a little nudge with his fingers.] And don't tease. I happen to like biting. [Which was TMI, but he didn't care.]
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[Her agreement is easy; she has a fairly good timesense, even without relying on her device. Than can probably call someone if it's still bad in the morning, but hopefully the storm will have worn itself out by then, or at least warmed up enough so that trying to find their way back is a less risky endeavor. He arranges the blanket over the both of them and she huddles in against his side in that whole idea of conserving bodyheat.
She runs warm, not unpleasantly, especially under the circumstances, but given how much energy tends to run through her body she doesn't lose heat the way most people do. She really would have been fine in the storm, but Rumlow had clearly been about to follow her out into it, so that was a risk she wouldn't take.]
I can channel my powers through it, makes it easier to direct them. [It's an easy explanation, a faint shrug of her shoulders he can probably feel. It might be flashy, but it'll be quiet, anyway. And it makes sure that if something goes wrong she won't hurt him. Which she already worries about more than she probably should. She just leans her head in against his ribs, getting as comfortable as she can, huddled up in the cold. Ava just casually deciding that since she doesn't have a pillow that he'll have to do.] Oh? Well if you like biting, then that's different.
[There's a certain edge to her voice. Either a little flirtatious, or maybe just amused, it might be hard to tell in the dark.]
Warning: Torture, murder, psychological damage
He wasn't afraid of her powers. They may not have manifested completely when she was under his sparse care, but he wasn't worried that she'd lose control. He also wouldn't care if she did and he happened to receive an injury. It would just be a lesson for them both to learn and adapt with.]
Considering you aren't using your powers that I can tell, is that out to prevent a little accident? [It was a logical assumption to jump to. She clearly didn't hate him, and it was odd to think that after all these years, she was actually still fond of the time they had.
He chuckled as she commented on biting, and it was probably wrong to consider flirting with her. The reply died on his lips though as the air in the cave seemed to change, the darkness seeming to lighten and there was the faint but growing sound of pleading on the wind beyond the noise of the blanket blocking out the storm. Soon the sobbing words of "I'll serve. I'll serve, no more...!" could be picked out.
Rumlow pushed himself up on an elbow and peered through the darkness that seemed to peel backwards to reveal a scene from so far back, he no longer considered it worth the time and energy to remember. A naked man hung from chains from the ceiling, covered in wounds, bruises and sweat. Around his dangling feet were three young children, all dead from a single gunshot wound to the foreheads. The looks of terror was still etched on their little faces. A woman lay naked off to the side, shivering but her femoral veins cut; she was obviously bleeding out fast.
A much, much younger Rumlow stood from between her legs, dragging the side bloody knife blade across his thighs to clean it. He was pale as he turned to stare at the man sobbing, and he gave a low moan as Rollins stepped in behind to hold the man's waist while their HYDRA mentor began a systematic and brutal beating.
"Traitors are lower than normal people. They must know they will lose everything," their mentor said as if merely talking about the weather. The smell of death was rising thick around them, coating the back of their throats. The group of four were used to death; they were in the military now and previously had all served prison time.
The beating was handed over to one of their own who was breathing far too loudly.
"Remember, not the head. He will be conscious; he must understand that before he dies, he has sacrificed the lives of everyone he knows and loves." Patient, calm teaching but also an important lesson to them all. Traitors of HYDRA were the worst scum on Earth.]
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[As if that was the largest of her concerns, and not injury, burning him, painful muscle spasms, any number of things. But she keeps it light, curls up into his side. Arguably for warmth, but she did like the contact, of someone whose company she enjoyed, and the way the contact made her feel a little bit less alone. He chuckles when she mentions biting and she smiles in the dark, but then something shifts, words that seem to slip in past the blanket with the traces of the cold. A slight touch of light, illuminating the shadows, a scene taking shape as the voice becomes more and more real.
Ava shifts, but doesn't pull away from him entirely, even as she watches. It's not that the scene before her isn't terrible, dead children, a woman bleeding out for her husband's betrayal. It's that she understands it, understands what it is to be in a place like that. It's a memory, she realizes, about the time that she breathed it in, could almost taste the blood on the air as the woman bled out, and it feels like memory, which is something she understands better than most. The things she noticed, however, were how pale Rumlow looked as he stepped back from the shivering woman. She noticed how young they were- both Rumlow and Rollins.
The man with words on his tongue about traitors is the one in control here, she can tell, reading the dynamic, the way his lessons are said like commands, and his instructions are rules. This is not just about punishing a traitor, it is also a lesson. Teaching them early what would happen to them. She'd always understood that SHIELD was not a good place, that they were more like the Red Room than they liked to pretend, but she hadn't realized how deep that similarity went. For the moment, she still doesn't know to put the word HYDRA to what she's seeing.
And yet there's a dissonance there, because she had been training recruits, and she would have known if something like this was happening. Maybe it was something with STRIKE, but even if she can't identify it just yet, she knows that there's more to this than just the ugly underside of SHIELD.] How old were you?
[It's not the important question, not the one that most people would focus on; it's not the why or the how could you. But watching she can't help but notice how Rumlow looks so young and almost out of his depth. He's probably older than she is, but he feels younger. She almost wants to reach out and tell him he will get through this, even as the death on the air is enough to choke on.]
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And here he was trapped between old memories and the storm that would surely kill him if he ventured out into. He chose the logical choice: he stayed with his memory, aware that it would damn him on some levels.
Yet, the beating continued because Rollins at that time had been an angry thug, willing to punch a man to death if he had to. He was less so interested in that kind of physical show; at that age, he liked knives and guns more. He certainly could hold his own in a fight, but he preferred the blood. This entire exercise had been a surprise them all, thrown on them when they had been about to head out for the weekend. Instead, this was how they had spent it.
Her question cut into him, and he twitched where he lay, eyes fixed on the man swinging from the chains. There were others in the room; this was the 'interrogation' room for a reason.] ...two days after my twentieth birthday. We were going to go to celebrate...
[It was more information than he normally would volunteer, but the scene sent him right back there. Young, fresh-faced and eager, but he wasn't all obedient either. He had grown up rough, had always questioned what he couldn't control, and the chip on his shoulder hadn't entirely been knocked off yet. This had been a day when he had learned a very, very important lesson on hierarchy and on the order that came with pain. He had been given a very firm lesson on it.
Young Rumlow gulped when he was indicated for the next session of a beating. Again, he wasn't opposed, but it seemed... unnecessary. Their traitorous victim was unconscious. So he dared to question. "Are you certain, sir? He's not conscious anymore."
Rollins shot him a withering look, like he didn't have the balls to beat an unconscious man. However, their mentor turned to regard him, considered his question for a moment in a calmness that hid below it the deeply sadistic man he was. "You are correct. He's unconscious, and there is still so many people to deal with in regards to his transgressions. We will have to wait until he is awake."
Young Rumlow hid his triumph with a sharp nod, but he wasn't so experienced at it when he was twenty. That would come later.
"Remove your jacket and shirt, Private Rumlow," his mentor said blandly, as if disinterested. He hesitated for only a second, but it was a second too long. His mentor snarled, shifting from passive to aggressive in an instance. "NOW, PRIVATE!"
He was out of his jacket and shirt in record time, but it was still too long. Within seconds, his mentor backhanded him across the face, sending him to the floor. "Cuff him up in front of the traitor. Each of you learns a lesson today," his mentor said. Rollins cuffed him and the combined effort of all three hauled him up to hand. His cheek was already swelling from the blow, but he snarled like a feral dog.
His mentor cooed low and soft, as if taming the wild beast. "Easy, now. I'm going to teach you a lesson you can understand, Rumlow. Feral street boy that you are, there are rules, are there not?" His mentor walked away to pick up long piece of metal, clearly an old metal coat hanger and set it to a fire's embers. "Pimps can't damage their goods, so they use very specific tools to teach lessons. You know them, yes?"
"...yes, sir."
"Good. I'm going to teach you a very simple principle: order in pain."
Rumlow touched Ava on the arm, clearing his throat a little. She probably shouldn't watch this, even if he knew she had been through Hell herself.] ...you should cover your ears. This... ain't pretty.
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She knows what it is to question the necessity of brutality and be punished by having it turned on you. Order in pain. It was a thread that connected Hydra and the Red Room, perhaps it should have made those Soviet Hydra and old Leviathan roots more obvious, but Ava had never known, never understood. Any tension in her body isn't because of him, not really. It's because she knows how places like this shape you, and it's so very easy to see Ivan in the man that yells at Rumlow, and that makes something curl in her chest.
Something about the way the man calls him a feral street boy that feels familiar, even if those exact words had never been hers, the tone of them is. That coo, low and soft, and yet she knows enough to predict the violence and aggression that follows. From the moment she saw that flicker on Rumlow's face, she knew what would follow.
He touches her on the arm, and her other hand comes up to brush against his fingers.] I know.
[It's all she can say, but some of the kinship she feels filters into her voice. The kind that says she understands this sort of lesson, that says that they taught her this too. Turning away might be kinder, might be what she should do, but she doesn't. Wont flinch from this truth, and the fact is that she understood it from the moment she saw that flicker on his face, so the least she can do is ride through it with him.]
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warning for child murder, torture, and creepy wrong red room shit
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warning for electrotorture
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