Mission 01: Action

[unspangled]

Who: Steve Rogers (AU) + Open
Broadcast: N/A
Action: On the Marsiva; Around the SS Heron
When: February 26-28; March 2, post Shuffle

[ The Marsiva ]

[ This is not the Steve Rogers you are looking for. Unsettled, in completely unfamiliar surroundings, he spends much of his time lurking in whatever corner he can find, listening in on snippets of conversations that don't involve him simply to try and figure out what happened. Where he is. He wanders what limited space there is, exploring the confines of this strange vessel, making a mental map of where things are.

He does not voluntarily initiate conversation with anyone the first day, only taking care to note where the washroom is, where the recreational areas are, where he can find food. It's not until the second day, with the same faces and same smells and the same sense of solidity that Steve lets himself believe, just a little, that this might not be a HYDRA plot. That he hasn't been captured and dragged back to Siberia for reconditioning. That this isn't a complete mindscrew. Possibly. Hopefully.

Maybe it's shortly after that potential revelation that Steve starts looking for somewhere he can get a drink. ]


[ SS Heron ]

[ And then he wakes up on a strange ship for the second time. Because nobody seems to know what moderation means. Can't a guy be kidnapped in peace? Can't he have more than a few days to get aquainted with the idea of extraterrestrials and game shows and how GOD DAMN BIG space really is? No? Well, fine then.

The confetti burst outside his door is just adding insult to injury.

Pudding isn't the worst thing he's ever eaten, though. And he can't taste anything really off about it. (Like mind-altering or sleep-inducing drugs). That's a plus. So the next logical thing to do is explore this ship. You know, in case he has to break out of it in a hurry. For reasons involving intergalactic kidnapping. And other things. ]

Comments

The Marsiva

[stillgotmyleftarm]

[Bucky has just only barely gotten used to seeing Steve around; sometimes he spots his friend from behind, and this little weird ping goes off in his brain, like he's seen a ghost, and he's still trying to get over it.

That's what happens now, only - only it's different. It's not Steve. But it is Steve, Bucky would know that blindfolded and upside-down, deaf and sideways. He stops dead in the common area, and if he's staring... well. Too bad.]

Steve?

[It might not be Steve. Maybe it's just someone with his face. Or it might not be his Steve. The other one isn't, and Bucky's learned by now that he's maybe the fifth Bucky Barnes to walk these halls.

It still feels like his heart has stopped, anyway.]

[unspangled]

[ Of all the gin joints in all the galaxies --

That is a voice he does not (did not) expect to be confronted with. The set of his shoulders bows and pulls itself in toward the center of his being, just for a moment. It's probably enough body language to alert Bucky.

Steve pauses, because how can he not, and automatically starts to turn. He aborts the motions quickly, but not quickly enough, and catches the other man's face from the corner of his eye. It's both utterly familiar and utterly unknown, a mental sketch cut up and scattered across his brain.

No. No, no, no.

He turns back, deliberately relaxing the hunched angle of his shoulders, and starts walking again. There was somewhere he'd meant to go, meant to explore, but hell if he can consciously recall what it was now. What the fuck, universe? Why would anyone put that particular man in his path now? When he's tried so hard to cover his tracks, to not put himself in the position of potentially trying to kill Bucky Barnes again.

Come on. This isn't fair. ]

[stillgotmyleftarm]

[Nothing is ever fair. Not being here, not the way Steve fell, not Bucky living through nearly seven decades in the Arctic, only to find out that maybe Steve had survived, too, after all. None of it.

And especially not this.

For a split second, Bucky thinks he's wrong. Maybe it's not Steve. He's just on edge, not used to seeing Steve at all around anymore, jumping at ghosts -

But then the guy's eyes catch his, just for a fraction of a heartbeat, and he starts walking, and - no. No, Bucky is right. It's Steve.

It's Steve.

Bucky should be smart about this. It's Steve, tensed and walking away from him. He should let him go. But he doesn't. He can't. His body practically leaps into motion, fingers reaching out to just graze Steve's sleeve.]

Steve. Wait, Steve -

[unspangled]

[ He keeps moving. If anything, his pace quickens now that his own target has put eyes on him. He should have just kept walking, just shrugged it off and gone about his business, and then there wouldn't be some crazy figment of his past trying his damndest to catch Steve's attention.

But there's an echo in his brain that stutters when Bucky says his name. It's what initiated the hiccup on the causeway, it's what led to the face-off in HYDRA's helicarrier. It's what keeps him from simply darting away from the clumsy attempt at detaining. ]

Don't, [ He warns, shrugging off the sleeve-grab with far less force than he should. ] I'm not him.

Marsiva

[sassy_assassin]

[ Sara found the bar supplies fairly quickly. she obviously hasn't spent the whole time there, but she is back, pouring herself some... well, mystery liquor. it wasn't as well-stocked as the bar she worked at on the iskaulit, but hey, alcohol is alcohol. She notices this Steve when he comes into her view. Her assassin training has made her excellent at clocking others who have gone through some sort of similar experience. Steve interests though because to this point, she's just noticed those particular quirks on a certain someone else. She keeps a casual aura and tips a glass toward him ]

Can I get you a pour?

[unspangled]

[ In general, mystery liquor is better than no liquor in situations like this. Or it might not be. There are dozens of non-baseline humans on the Marsiva, and Steve has to think that means a broad range of alcohol tolerances. The least his captors could do is have something that will at least make him buzzed. If only for a few minutes. So, ]

Yeah, okay. [ He's trying to move like a normal human, and perhaps an ordinary person might not recognize the way he holds himself or the way he walks. For the record: it's currently like an annoyed assassin because his weapons have been confiscated. ]

[sassy_assassin]

The selection here isn't great, but when we're allowed back to our ships, you should come by the bar I work at on the Iskaulit. We have a much better selection.

[ she does pour him a drink. it probably won't do much to him but hey, who knows. maybe that augment has fritzed his tolerance ]

Sara Lance.

[unspangled]

[ He tilts his head. ] Seems inefficient to spread everyone out on so many ships. [ More opportunity for trouble. Lessened chance to bring everyone to heel. But maybe that's the point. ]

... Rogers. [ He was tempted to say Steve, but that name is ... well. It evokes things he's not ready to deal with yet. ]

Heron

[outstandingbalance]

[Natasha hasn't been over here much since Barnes left—the last Barnes, not one of the new ones—but since Iron Bull gave her a lecture on the Marsiva, seemed like she should get back in the habit of visiting. In this case, visiting might mostly mean checking to see if everyone's all right.

But when she catches sight of Steve's face paired with this decidedly different body language, well, could be she's come up with another reason to visit more often.]

Hey. [She keeps a safe distance, giving him space. Her posture is intentionally non-confrontational.] Settling in?

[unspangled]

[ The only outward sign of recognition, for those skilled in reading such things, is a sudden flare of nostrils and the brief cessation of movement. Meaning he stops dead in his tracks for about half a second and inhales sharply, then continues on. But slower. One predator to another. ]

I suppose. [ First Barnes, now Romanoff. Is their flying friend going to show up to, and maybe try and kick him in the face. ] Are you a crew member?

[outstandingbalance]

[For most people, that might have gone unnoticed. Blink and you miss it. For Natasha, the signal is about as clear as a stray cat puffing up and arching its back.

Not like Steve's normal body language at all.]

No. Just a friend of the captain.

[unspangled]

[ Well, maybe not for the Steve that she knows, but this is the standard operating procedure for him. Just maybe dialed back as deference to so many civilians running around. ]

Oh. [ He considers that for a moment, but can't detect a lie in her phrasing. ] I'm adapting.

[ Because settling is bullshit in a situation like this. ]

SS Heron - The Cargo Hold (which also serves as a work out area)

[theirondragon]

[When Steve makes his way down to the cargo hold, he'll find a modest set of exercise equipment: weights, a treadmill, a 50lb hanging punching bag, and a massive giant of a man (no really, he's just at 7 and a half feet tall) with horns at broad as his shoulders, working the weights. He's added some since the former captain left the ship to him after his departure, and if Steve cares to count he's pressing 500lbs?

He growls in satisfaction, more of a grunt really, as he racks the bar as Steve approaches, and suddenly the big guy realizes he's not alone. He sits up from the bench, giving Steve a look over with his one good eye, before he speaks.]

Haven't seen you before. You new to the crew?

[unspangled]

[ By the time Steve does make it to the cargo hold, he's come to the opinion that this ship isn't very big. At least by the standards of other spaceships he's aware of (the Chitauri mother ships, the Dark Elf attack in London), but the design does seem efficiently used. For the most part.

And that the hold is big enough to store ... well, Bull and a few of his clones, alongside actual cargo. ]

New to the ship. [ Which more or less means new to the crew, without having to come out and say it. He stops outside of arm's reach, body language neutral without much of an attempt to mask his training. ] Why.

[theirondragon]

[The Iron Bull has a couple of decades of combat experience and training to identify body language and facial expression under his belt. A fighter, this guy, and filled with a confidence that only comes from repeated testing in the field. And success. He nods.]

Because I'm your captain, and I like to know my crew. [He inclines his head.] The Iron Bull.

[unspangled]

[ Steve has a lifetime of it, if you count the first twenty years and change as basic training for life. And normally he'd play harmless but the Bull is enormous. Lord knows what kind of opponent he'd make. ]

I see. [ He does. There's even a little stiffening of his shoulders. ] Steve Rogers. Apparently, I'm your communications officer.

The Marsiva, here to make an entrance?

[passingthrough]

[Kitty doesn't love the part where she's been in this fleet for the last three years against her will. And she doesn't like feeling confined. Her power has always been about defying the limitations of a solid lifestyle. During regular fleet travel when she has her ship she breaks up the time by visiting the systems they are near and if they're drifting she makes trips to space stations when they're available or if nothing else she takes regular trips to the Iskaulit to work and train. It's not the world's greatest routine but it keeps her feeling level. At this point she's been on the Marsiva a long time and the only chance she gets to leave it is spending her nights in the heads of her fellow captives. It's not the greatest release. So, today she is just walking through walls and tables and chairs to expend some excess energy and feel a little less contained. She stops—with only her head and shoulders coming out of a wall divider—when she sees a familiar face.]

Steve? [She knew he was in the fleet but she hadn't seen him in person yet. Just the one time in his head. And while she knows all too well about dopplegangers she has no idea there are two Steves aboard yet.]

what an entrance

[unspangled]

[ Does anyone love the part about being kidnapped and held for an extended period of time, though? There should be a litmus test for that, just on general sanity. Anyone who wants and begs to be abducted automatically doesn't get the job based on that alone. Even if it's for something like sign holder. Likewise about anyone preferring tiny quarters, or office cubicles, or just anywhere that's cramped. Steve has learned he really likes the room to move and walk around without bumping into anyone.

Which carries over to this latest -- it's not exactly an adventure, but at least an experience.

Which makes the girl's sudden appearance even more bizarre by the lack of a body. His steps slow, but don't stop altogether, body language shifting from 'casual don't look' to 'i can take care of myself' in the span of about two seconds. ]

Who are you?

[passingthrough]

[Absolutely great point on the office cubicles especially in open office floor plans. Who is that for? No one works better like that! Not that Kitty has ever had anything remotely approaching an desk job anywhere. Considering it's this place or certain death back home she could stand to like it a little more than she does, but still it's a hard no.

She steps slowly out of the wall because this is probably not her best look especially when he's new to her even if she's not new to him. Or at least she doesn't think she is.]

Kitty. Kitty Pryde. We met in your head recently. I mean, you look different, but I sort of figured you would. [He was much smaller than the usual version. She figured it had to do with how he saw himself.] You don't remember? [Sometimes people don't remember the calibrations or only in parts. Or only those with others and not their own or vice versa. Basically, it's an anything goes kind of thing memory wise.] Or maybe I look different with an entire body?

heron;

[necromanswers]

[You know what's a good spot to scout out when you're in a new place? The kitchen! And he'll find it already occupied by a blonde elf who's busily cooking up a meal, with food enough for a handful of people. Even if he's quiet, her long ears perk up at his arrival, and she glances over her shoulder to check who it is.

...Huh. New face.]

Hey there, handsome. Feeling peckish?

heron;

[unspangled]

[ He moves with a modicum of caution; the woman's ears mark her, he thinks, as someone other than baseline human, and that tends to come with abilities. He's not afraid of other people's abilities. There aren't many things he is afraid of anymore, but wrecking the place where you get food doesn't seem like the brightest idea. You know, in case a problem develops.

It also takes him a moment to recall what peckish means. So many languages in his head, and why does English have two or three words for everything? ]

I could eat, [ He offers, hovering near the doorway in order to examine the room. Plus, it keeps him out of her way. ]

[necromanswers]

I would hope that everyone can, in theory, eat. I'd end up with way too many leftovers on this ship otherwise.

[She gestures towards the table, so he can sit if he wants, and crouches down to open up the oven and check on some kind of roasting meat. It smells amazing, much better quality than the mediocre food paste they'd been eating over on the Marsiva for most of their imprisonment.]

I take it you're our new crew? I heard the jingle. I'm Lup, I'm supposed to work security around here.

Marsiva

[seeingscarlet]

[The kitchen isn't empty. Wanda's shuffling around trying to put together a decent meal, lazily stirring something on the stove with a tendril of scarlet power. The selection here is pretty basic and she's sorely missing the spice rack on the Twin Roses.

She turns and gives Steve an odd look, like she's trying to parse the facial hair. That's...new. Unless it's not actually Steve. Look, this place gets confusing sometimes.]

Steve?

[unspangled]

[ As long as the kitchen boasts food that isn't close to spoiling, whether its fresh from some victory garden or canned, Steve thinks the setup is pretty good. And the place seems fairly clean, so that's even better.

The young woman looking at him strangely is another matter entirely. There's no sign of mutual recognition on his face. ]

Do I know you?

[seeingscarlet]

[--urk. Awkward.]

I'm sorry. You look like someone I know.

[Sounds like him, too. Wanda's seen some weird things here but this is extra-weird.]

Are you new here?