The Conversion Initiative IC

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Shadicmaster, Oct 9, 2014.

  1. “….Dangerous….. Stop test…… loose….. Need to…… the head……”
    “Shut….. The… just fine…… let it…… the way it should be……”
    “No, wait..!”
    Exavior Abernathy woke, if only faintly, with a groan, hearing murmuring around him, hardly able to understand the conversation being had from the bits and pieces he could hear. The first sensation to come to him was that of cold metal. A shiver ran through his aching and tired body as he found himself to be laying on some sort of metal slab. The scientist couldn’t tell if he was temporarily blinded from having just woken up and his eyes needing to adjust, or if all was just black around him, but in either case, nothing could be seen. The only real clue given to him as to what might have been happening was given by what little he could hear of what he thought was conversing, but trying to decipher it in his mind was nearly as complex as trying to think to himself in Lithuanian. Or even speak it for that matter…

    A faint laugh, strained and raspy, escaped his lips as he thought about the times before every night he would go to bed half expecting not to wake up.
    Maybe this is death… drifting forever in a cold, dark place, never to be aware. Maybe what I heard only moments before were the voices of his killers, or doctors, speaking about me or something different entirely, those being the last words I’ll ever hear...’ The depressing thought brought the smile from his face into a grimace of pain as he tried to move his arm, if only slightly, to feel about his body for any damage.
    The pain is…. A good thing, right…..? If I were dead already, I wouldn’t feel pain….’ Exavior tried to move his arm once more, the pain intensifying, but also centering itself somewhere specific. Mentally tracing the pain along his arm, the doctor found it to have centered about midway down his upper arm, the pain being a sort of… sharp, shredding sort of feeling. The tearing, however, was so faint that it could hardly be identified. The only reason Exavior could tell it apart from the sharpness was because he had been in a situation like this before, though fully conscious of all that was happening around him. He had an IV in his arm that was specially crafted for distribution only among the highest importance companies, such as the former SHEILD. It had micro serrations in it, made not only to hold the needle in place, but also to ease the insertion. Only by using a needle specific code on the wireless controller could the serrations be retracted. This sort of system was especially useful for the more headstrong field agents that would absolutely refuse medical treatment, this simple device forcing them to stay put, else they shred a good bit of muscle and skin.
    ‘So now the question is, do I want to risk a nasty arm wound just for the sake of finding something I don’t even know is out there..?

    There was little time left for the male to think about his question, as the sharp pain he had felt before when moving his arm shot through not only his arm, but also the side of his neck. Exavior could feel a thick bandage being wrapped around his neck and then his arm before all consciousness left him once more.
    When the scientist woke, he was in a large open room, or at least, as far as he could tell. He was sitting upright in a rather comfortable chair, which was fortunate as he couldn’t move at the moment. The area he was in was bright with multiple splotches of darkness around him, in the vague shape of other humans. With bleary vision and a fuzzy brain, Exavior was left to the mercy of those around him. He couldn’t even speak, and with only three of his senses available to him, and a mind that couldn’t interpret it, he was as helpless as he was when in the dark.
  2. Sharp, merciless pain splitting his skull was the first thing Finley registered as he started coming to. The field agent had experienced too many types of pain to count during his years working for S.H.I.E.L.D. but headaches were, and always will be, the worst. The spikes of pain prevented you from thinking clearly and tormented you beyond sanity. Not to mention the sheer level of annoying it held. So the former agent did what any person would have done, attempt to rub the headache away. Except he couldn't. His arm simply wouldn't budge.


    Confused by this new turn of events, Finley opened his eyes and sat up to examine why his arms weren't moving. At least that's what he wanted to do. As soon as he opened his eyes, the light that assaulted them only succeeded in making his headache ten times worse so he squeezed them shut again in a matter of seconds, not intending to pry them open again anytime soon. Sitting up turned out to be more complicated than it usually was for the mohawked male as well. Just like his arms, nothing else was moving either. Panic found its way into his pain stricken head before he registered something holding him down, his body wasn't failing on him. The male felt slightly relieved by the realization but it was soon replaced by distress for the same reason. Someone had him, tied down, for god knows why.

    Finley Cederholm was never one to stay put for longer than a minute at a time, he needed to have something to do with himself or he'd go mad slowly but surely. Which was why not being able to move bothered him more than the fact that someone had abducted him and could do anything to him without the male being able to stop them. God knows what they had done already. Trying to think back to the events of the day, despite the headache making it so much more difficult, Finley gathered bits and pieces of what had happened before he woke up to elephants stomping on his head.

    He had been minding his own business, taking a short walk in hopes of finding something to eat, when some guys had showed up, clearly looking for a fight. Finley had naturally kicked some serious ass but there was only so much you can do against five men and he recalled someone hitting him in the back of his head with something very solid. Probably the reason for the headache. After that, everything went fuzzy and nothing made sense. Everything he could remember clearly was pain, numbing pain everywhere. He could still feel his muscles throbbing from whatever had happened.

    By that point, the male had grown steadily annoyed by his inability to move and the invisible needles in his brain. As a desperate last resort, Finley tried getting out of the situation the only way he knew how, by force. However, the only results he got from trying to rip himself free were increased pain in his limbs and severe frustration. He wasn't used to this, being helpless. Letting out an angry yell, the agent poured his pain and frustration in it and expressed his state of mind with the only sensible word.


    He almost couldn't recognise his own voice, it came out worn-out and broken, he sounded weak and he hated it.

    Following his short fit, Finley heard someone talking but before he could make sense of the words, he felt a sharp sting in his arm and everything started fading away no matter how hard he tried to stay awake. Eventually, he gave up trying to resist the darkness where there was no pain and he let himself succumb into sweet nothingless.

    When he started regaining consciousness again, he felt different. The headache was still there but it didn't feel like someone was drilling holes into his skull anymore. Even though he wanted to, Finley still didn't open his eyes. He was too tired to even bother trying. So he stayed still, waiting for the fog that was clouding his mind to dissipate.

    {"Helvete" -> Literally "Hell"}
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  3. It all started with a few small clanging noises from metallic surgical objects and a few other things. There was a feeling of a cold rock hard surface below Jon's body and he furrowed his eyebrows as he moved his head around. He felt restrained, and as he tried to move his arms the male found himself unable to do so. They felt numb, it was also as if they were parylized. But Jon thought nothing of the sensation, thinking it was sleep paralysis perhaps and his eyes slowly fluttered open with slight struggle once greeted by white bright lights which were able to blind him temporarily. The brunette released a small groan.


    He uttered like a zombie. His voice sounded very horse and dry. Jon's sight finally adapted rather quickly against the light and he soon saw the backs of people in long white lab coats before slowly raising his head up and looking down at his body. The male was strapped down to a metallic bed, and he quietly shuffled under the leather straps, testing their tightness. Stay calm Jon.. Stay calm.. He thought, however Jon was confused. He was surprisingly calm through all of this!? Since when?

    It was then that the lab coated people turned around, by instinct jon laid himself down comfortably again and acted as if he wasnt just awake. Slowly they approached Jon, to which he listened in on their conversation.

    "The conversion should be complete and he should still be a sleep. Not even the black widow could wake up with this much dosages of what we put him in."

    A male voice said.

    "So should we bring him to the other room?" A female asked as she proceeded to unstrap Jon. Jon didnt quite hear the male voice and once he felt his body completely free of restraints, That was when the male slowly opened his eyes and sat up."Where am I?" He suddenly said, startling the 'lab coats'. His hands supported his weight from behind but were very shakey.

    "Who are you people? Why am I here? What's going on?" Jon threw so much questions at them as the female scientist looked at her male partner expectantly. Jon rubbed his head, then temples with both hands and looked up at both of them, Receiving a suspicious and intense aura. One thing jon noted? They were making an agreement to each other using just their eyes, and thats all he needed.

    The female scientist stepped forward, placing a hand on the back of Jon's tan shoulder."Jon. You are here because of an accident. A coma." She answered, an obvious lie but it seemed believable to how Jon was feeling. Weak, feeble, and dizzy. Jon also felt tired as well."A coma..?" He pinched between his eyebrows and stared back at her."How long?" He asked. Unbeknownst of Jon, the male scientist ever so slowly grabbed a large syringe needle (making a tiny 'cling' noise that Jon caught with his ears keenly) and nodded as he approached Jon from behind slowly.

    "How long? You do not Rememer?" She asked as her hand draped off Jon's shoulders. Slowly the woman proceeded to back away and Jon immediately grabbed her arm."Im sorry.. but.. Why are you.." He shook his head confused."Backing away..?" He asked before looking over his shoulder and immediately yanking the woman's arm to block himself from the man. The needle piercing through the woman before he pushed her towards the guy.

    "What's going on!?" Jon yelled questionably. He was surprised, he now had quick instincts and more advanced keenness. Two things he never had. The male backed away, he only wore black sweatpants and non slip sold which gripped firmly on the ground with each step he took. The woman was passed out, did he push her to hard!?No, she was just injected by the high toxins of the serum or whatever, not like Jon knew. Immediately a thought came to mind and Jon stumbled back, turning around."Im fine..! I'm fine!" He said, repeating this to himself as he shook his head to shake the dizziness off.

    Jon spotted the metallic door, staggering towards it and opening it. It was light to push, but even the light weight was heavy to him. He felt really exhausted but felt some type of instinct to escape wherever he was. Immediately jon literally jumped out the door and slammed it shut behind him before looking both ways and turning to some random hallway, jogging off with a slight limp. He didnt have proper balance so he was staggering and stumbling around like a drunk person as fast as he can. The scientist probably warned whoever works with him already, but Jon chose not to stop despite the slight slowness. He pushed some people out the way and panted roughly.
  4. Dragomira heard voices around her, faint whispers in the back of her mind, echoing around her. They almost sounded dream-like, in the white noise of her head. She slowly stirred, giving her the ability to truly feel all the sensations. Everything hurt immensely, and her mind was clouded and fuzzy. It was cold, wherever she was... Or, rather, what she was laying on was cold. And the things.. holding her.. down..? Disoriented, the woman's eyes fluttered open, only for her to be blinded by bright lights. It took a minute or so, but she adjusted. Then, she leaned her head forward slightly, in attempt to look at whatever was holding her down. She frowned as she took in the large, bulky cuffs clamping her limbs down to the... -metal table..?- on which she laid.

    Looking up again, she found the source of the voices; people in lab coats staring down at her, seemingly taking notes. Though, it was hard to tell, as she had to squint to see due to the light. Though, despite her lack of clarity, her mind automatically ordered the field agent to struggle and get out. So, that's what she did. She thrashed against the heavy and tight bindings holding her down. Even though she was so weak, so tired... She felt so.. strong. It was odd... Though, just as she managed some words and made a bit of progress in damaging the restraints so she could escape, a needle was pushed into her arm. Though, she didn't feel it, and continued struggling. "Es insanus... Loquens: Ibo!(You're crazy, let me go!) she exclaimed, or.. Tried. It came out in a rough, raspy and hoarse whisper.

    Before Mira could even register what had happened, she finally came to notice the people frantically injecting needles in her arms. That was odd... She couldn't feel them. She only felt her whole body aching terribly, her mind foggy and disoriented. What was happening..? She wondered, as she blacked out.

    Upon awakening, Dragomira found herself in a room with a number of other people. She felt completely numb, almost to the point of being unable to move. Though, she somehow managed, glancing weakly around at the room's other occupants. Wait... They were all fellow SHIELD agents! "Ubi..? Ubi sumus..!?(Where..? Where are we..?!)" she exclaimed in confusion, trying desperately to break free from her heavy-duty bindings. That was when she realized something; Why did the others seem to have looser restraints while she had heavy metal shackles..? "Quid agatur in infernum!?(What the hell is going on)" she spoke, voice still hoarse.
    #4 Midnight Maiden, Oct 17, 2014
    Last edited: Oct 18, 2014
  5. There was a shuffling, a cracking sound, and a metallic clang.
    ‘What the heck is going on..?’ Thought Exavior as he still tried to wake up his mind. He was able to vaguely register the movement of a figure away from the table, the sight confusing him quite a bit, but he didn’t have time to wonder about what all was going on with that… person? His attention had been called away by the struggling and uncivilized shouting of one of the presences beside him. Exavior tried to lift his arm, but found himself to be bound once more. As his vision began to clear, he found the bindings to be leather straps, strong, but supple and comfortable. A sigh escaped his lips as he rested his head back and leaned more into the chair in which he sat, shutting his eyes and trying to calm himself before he spoke. A raspy sort of exhale was all that the scientist could produce at first, but he next was able to convey his message.

    “I do not wish… to attempt identifying those around me…. But I do wish that whoever is seated to my left be silent and civil…. Whatever has been done, good or bad, must be sorted and dealt with before we can escape our binds and attempt to return to any life we may have been able to build up for ourselves.” Doctor Abernathy was glad to hear his voice steadily regaining strength, a good sign that the rest of him soon would as well. He could sense a disturbance in the air around him, further than the general vicinity of the two beside him. The movement was more… behind him. It was unsettling in feeling, as he still couldn’t put everything together, but he wouldn’t unduly worry himself. He had far more important matters to spend his remaining energy on.


    Watching within the room in which three of the newly awakened SHEILD agents were, and patrolling around the building were men and women in suits of pure matte finish black, form fitting to their bodies and finished with a dark mask and wrapped black scarf. All of them were the same according to gender. All the females looked the same. All the males looked the same. Generally, the two genders looked very similar as well. Now, three of these sort of guards were chasing down the one ‘guest’ who had not safely made it to the meeting room. There was no need for speaking among the masked personas, they just seemed to know what it was that they needed to do to stay in step with one another. The scientists didn’t even need to contact their security. They were after the average height, fairly pale male with wispy dark hair. It took no time whatsoever to catch up to the man as he was stumbling and staggering about as if it were his first time out to sea whilst being intoxicated. Even so, the man moved with purpose. It was as if the last dying drives of his internal mechanisms had kicked in and propelled him into fleeing. If amusement were a thing that the strange masked guardians could feel, that would be the most prevalent emotion. The two males that were flanking a female stopped in sync and allowed the woman to advance. None of the personas had attempted to walk with any sort of silence, their footsteps having echoed down the hall since they first began to chase after the escapee. As such, the woman was expecting a panicked male to struggle with and apprehend.

    It took a swift movement to end up in front of the male without notice, but it had been done, the woman now only standing in front of the male, he seeming not to take any note, pushing her aside as he continued to scramble down the hall. It was almost as if the female was annoyed as she stood once more and lightly lifted a ginger hand to her head, placing a light finger upon her temple before letting her hand fall. The black gloves upon her hands were now removed, as she walked slowly after the bumbling fool of a SHEILD agent, the gloves being tossed off behind her on the floor.

    “Your actions are pointless. You need a better strategy if you are to get out of here. Every inch of this place is crawling with guards, all psychically linked to one another. Once one knows where you are, they all do. So, how are you going to get off their radar?” The voice sounded distinctly like that of Natasha Romanov, though that was clearly impossible. And even more ridiculous than hearing the voice of dead people, it was within Jon’s head. Something was off, but the voice was without flaw, and even used word placement that the ‘Black Widow’ would have. No answers were given, only questions and faint teases to what should be done, a game of prey, just like the woman liked it. It all was so real that it almost seemed as if the woman never died.
  6. The ungodly ruckus someone seemed to be determined to produce didn't help with Finley's head. Not in the slightest. Groaning in annoyance and frustration, the male tried moving again and got the same result as earlier. He was still bound down but the restraints seemed looser and allowed slight movement. However, the change soothed the field agent like having an umbrella full of holes during rain.

    The effect of the drugs or whatever had been inserted into his veins had started to wear off, slowly but surely, and the man tried opening his eyes again. The harsh blinding light from before was gone but he still had to blink more than few times to get his eyes adjusted. Finley's vision swam for a while before his eyes finally remembered why they even existed and the man could start making out the the room he was in. It was quite big and whoever decorated it, wasn't a fan of fancy carpets, old vases, sofas or any other pieces of furniture that made a room for that matter. There was almost nothing to see besides the few other occupants of the room who didn't look like they were there willingly either.

    Seemed like the young woman with a golden hair was the source of the ruckus that so annoyed the older man. For some reason, as far as he could see, she looked familiar as well, his fuzzy mind just couldn't figure out why. However, before Finley could question anything, a man with brown curls spoke annoyingly calmly.

    “I do not wish… to attempt identifying those around me…. But I do wish that whoever is seated to my left be silent and civil…. Whatever has been done, good or bad, must be sorted and dealt with before we can escape our binds and attempt to return to any life we may have been able to build up for ourselves.”

    The man of Swedish origin did not mistake the words to be directed at him but he still couldn't help the raspy laugh from escaping his lips. However, he didn't get to laugh for long as his throat was in no way prepared for such sudden usage and Finley found himself couching violently in a matter of seconds. Once the male got his breathing under control again, he craned his neck to look at the young man.

    "'Silent and civil'? Are you serious?"

    The couching had done no good to his already raspy voice and Finley doubted he could have sounded any more pathetic than he already did even if he tried. However, his broken voice or the other male were the least of his problems at the current moment, he would have to get some movement into himself, preferably very soon, or he'd go nuts. He tugged at his right hand experimentally. The leather strap holding his arm down was firm and probably not easy to break away from but for some reason, the man felt like he could do it nonetheless.

    He pulled at the strap again, with more force this time, and everything that seemed to happen was the dull ache spreading into his muscles again. However, Finley would rather try and fail than do nothing at all, he hated doing nothing. With his mind set, the male pulled at the strap again with every ounce of strength he could muster and the pain spread again, starting from his arm. Throwing his head back, the field agent let out a frustrated yell that was laced with determination and pain as he refused to give up. Suddenly, his arm came free.

    Panting, Finley closed his eyes for a few seconds as he waited the aching in his limbs to subside. It must be just some kind of a side effect to whatever had been done to him and nothing more. At least he really hoped it wouldn't stay as a permanent thing. Looking down on his now free arm, the male closed his hand into a fist and opened it again for a few times. He could feel and see himself moving his hand but it still felt like it wasn't his hand. Like he was controlling a mechanic arm, it was his arm but not really his.

    Not making any sense to even himself, Finley started fumbling on the leather strap holding his left arm down. His movements were sloppy and imprecise due to the drugs still in his system so it took him a while to get his other arm free. When he had both hands to work with, even if they didn't cooperate quite the way he wanted them to, the man managed to get the rest off rather quickly. However, as he attempted to get up from the chair he had been strapped to, he just ended up falling to the ground and hitting his head.

    What was with him and hurting his head lately?

    In hindsight, he should have took it slow and tested his feet before trying to make his body operate like every other day. Though what was done was done and there was no reason to dwell on it anymore. Curling in on himself on the floor and holding his head with his hands, Finley groaned as stars danced around his tightly shut eyes.

    "Helvetes jävlar... I'm so gonna kill someone for this."

    {"Helvetes jävlar" would be translated as "son of a bitch" or something along those lines in this situation.}
    #6 Finhawk, Oct 20, 2014
    Last edited: Oct 24, 2014
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  7. There was a pause from the struggling woman. Mayhaps, a moment of hesitation. However, it was clear otherwise when she huffed in annoyance. "'Silent and civil'? Are you kittin' me? Sorry, but no. I dunno know about you, but I intend to get the hell outta here," she said steadily, annoyance in her tone. Her Scottish accent was more evident than usual; something that tended to occur when she was angered, upset, or thoroughly annoyed. The Scottish girl took a deep breath, closing her eyes and clenching her fists. All the struggling had taken a further toll on her, and she was only further exhausted. However, the field agent was nowhere near giving up. 'Alright, alright...' Breathing deeply, she played a song in her head; a technique she had learned years ago in biofeedback that helped calm her. After a few minutes of silence, she felt entirely calm. Even zen, if you will(especially for how foggy her mind still was). Luckily for her, this cleared her mind slightly.

    Blue eyes fluttering back open, she tried again. This time, not so carelessly; she rationed her strength, first, trying to pull her right arm free. She tugged lightly at first, showing no results. Then, she gradually put more force into the action, pulling harder yet. To her surprise, though she hadn't managed to break her arm free, she'd somehow put a dent in the metal holding her down by her right wrist, giving her a bit more room for that area. Trying to ignore the searing pain shooting through her entire body, she kept pulling. Though, this yielded little more progress.

    Sighing, she looked around again, more observantly. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the room's other occupants, her mind trying to piece this together. She knew all these people... Who were they? She continued looking over each of those in the room, observantly. Though, it took staring at Finley for a good while for her to piece together the identity of even one of the people around her, a well as how she knew them. "...Finley?" she questioned with disbelief. Could it really be him? She hadn't seen him since... Well, since the agents had all been sent off to hide for cover from HYDRA. Though, she shook off the thought, now looking at the others, realization dawning upon her. If that was Finley... Then.....

    That was it. She'd figured it out! These weren't just random people she'd passed by in school, these were her colleagues from back at SHIELD! Sure, she didn't know them all by name, considering she was a field agent, but she'd at least seen them all around the agency. Now, the question was... Where were they? Now, with more motive, she pulled harder on her restraints, determined to free herself and the other agents. However, the metal wouldn't budge, it only further dented. Sighing in frustration, she laid her head back in defeat. When she heard the yell, though, she peered through one eye tiredly, glancing toward the direction of it's origin. She was evidently surprised to see that Finley had managed to free himself. If he could do it.. Why couldn't she? She had to remind herself she was bound in metal, not leather. But then she got to wondering... Why was that? And why did she feel so weak, but so powerful? Thinking about all of this only reinforced the cloudiness and pain filling her head that she thought she had finally flushed out.
  8. Gunshots sounded through the entire facility, blood painting the pure white floors a crimson red, thick with the blood of one failed experiment. But from the waiting room, where three occupants sat, the gunshot sounded nothing more than like the innocent toying of a child's pop gun. Even so, there wasnt anything that Exavior could do about it, even if he was concerned about such a trivial noise in the room when he had to deal with two more aggressive people yelling at him when they were all in the same situation.

    Behind each person was now a strange, but familiar pressence, Exavior able to pick up all of them due to being so mentally accute and sensitive at the moment, though to the naked eye, there were no more than the three humans. One of which was now on the ground, looking just as pathetic as he sounded. Shaking his head, the doctor closed his eyes once again and laid his head back against his chair.
    "I am quite sure I can diagnose the problem if you were to free me, though I'm sure that you dont have a concussion, and judging by our surroundings, I'm pretty sure that the brute doesnt just have a hangover. But if you'd rather escape on your own, that it welcome as well. One less person's intolerable screaming to deal with." Abernathy kept his cool while speaking, though in reality, if he were free, there would be more than a couple verbal wrist slaps to be handed out. The man didnt even attempt to force his way out of his restraints, even knowing that one of them already had. There was no doubt in this man's mind that there was no way he could escape his binds.
  9. Finley's head snapped up as he heard faint sounds that resembled gunshots from beyond the doors that stood between the agent and whoever had dared to mess with him. The quick movement sent a spike of pain to his already aching head and the male found himself flinching as he cursed his reaction. He was familiar with the sound of blazing guns, perhaps even too much so, and the former field agent's body was in high alert in a blink of an eye. However, the sound was far from the gunshots he had grown familiar with. It was pathetic really, more from like a toy than an a sound from an actual, deadly, weapon but that was because it was coming from an unknown distance and through doors. It had most likely been deadly to whoever had been unlucky enough to be staring down the barrel.

    "I am quite sure I can diagnose the problem if you were to free me, though I'm sure that you dont have a concussion, and judging by our surroundings, I'm pretty sure that the brute doesnt just have a hangover. But if you'd rather escape on your own, that it welcome as well. One less person's intolerable screaming to deal with."

    The male's focus was pulled from the muffled gunshots as the annoyingly calm younger man spoke again. He was polite and witty at the same time. It pissed Finley off.

    "Oh gee, thanks doc, I feel better already."

    Pushing himself to his feet, Finley swayed slightly before he got his body under control again, for the most part at least. Spotting the door to the room, the man walked over to it with few confident steps and placed a hand on its surface. Perhaps he could break it as well, there would be no harm trying either way. However, before he did anything, Finley glanced back at the other participants of the room.

    He wasn't unfamiliar with leaving men behind, he had done so few times during some missions gone wrong, and he didn't even know these people. At least he thought he didn't, the golden haired young woman still seemed familiar and he still couldn't figure out why. It pissed Finley off.

    Huffing in annoyance, the mohawked male turned back around and walked beside the chair the familiar woman was sitting on. He knew her, from somewhere, and she'd be the first to go free. He wasn't an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D anymore, he didn't have to follow anyone's orders, he could make his own decisions. He wasn't a team player, never had been, but this time, he would at least try.

    Noting that the woman was strapped down with metal, Finley frowned. Seemed like it wouldn't be as easy as breaking himself free. However, the occupant of the chair had seemingly already put dents on her restraints. At least it was clear now he wasn't the only one who had been messed with. Placing a hand on the armrest beside the female's arm, Finley tried pulling at the metal restrain but it wouldn't budge. However, the amount of pain that assaulted his muscles as soon as he used them seemed to have subsided slightly, but it still hurt like a bitch.

    Refusing to give up, the Swede took a hold of the metal with both hands and put his right foot against the side of the chair before trying again. Scrunching his eyes shut, Finley bit on his lip, refusing to let out any sounds of discomfort as his body screamed in protest. In the end, despite his efforts, all that he seemed to be accomplishing was further denting the metal.
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  10. Dragomira was on alert the second the gunshots rang out. Great, were they lined up to be executed? Well, she didn't intend to stick around for that. She glanced at Exavior, growing further annoyed, but then.. He was right. If her assumption about these people being agents was correct, then... Maybe he was a scientist? He certainly had that scholarly and matter-of-fact tone. Plus, it'd explain why he seemed less familiar than the others. The train of thought was cut short, when the woman felt an odd presence behind her. Mind slowly starting to clear up, she attempted to glance back at the odd presence, but couldn't manage. Sighing, she relented. "'Never leave a man behind'," was all she said in response to Exavior. Sure, as annoyed and fed up as she was, she didn't have it in her to break her morals. She had respect for all life, and had no reason to risk someone's who was likely just as innocent as her.

    The agent blinked upon Finley walking over, a bit surprised. If he was who she thought he was, he wasn't exactly the most outgoing type. But hey, she wasn't complaining. When he started pulling, so did she. With their combined efforts, the golden-haired woman finally busted the metal, ripping her hand free. It hurt like hell, but it was worth it. One down, one to go. She gave a nod of thanks to Finley. "Thank you," she said, sincerely. Now that her system was slowly running the sedatives out, with the help of her newly-found 'godly' enhancements, she pulled against her other restraint with newfound strength, determination in her eyes. Eventually, she busted it, as well.

    However, unlike her fellow agent, she was much more careful in getting to her feet. She slowly pushed herself up to a standing position. Luckily for her, she only got a bit dizzy, and managed to keep in a standing position. Once she had gathered her bearings, she glanced at Finley, then Exavior, before slowly making her way towards the scientist. Snarky or not, there was no reason to justify this. So, with another deep breath, she took one of the leather bindings in her hand and pulled, a bit surprised at how easily it snapped. Shrugging it off and ignoring the pain flowing mainly through her arms and legs, she went to pull off the other binding, it snapping just as easily as the first. That couldn't be right.. What had they done to her? To the others? "There ya go," she muttered.
  11. Exavior was slightly confused by the response he got from the fellow male in the room, but assumed it was just his lackadaisical bedside manner creeping back in after so long of not having to be a S.H.E.I.L.D. certified medic and scientist. Even so, he just let himself relax, noticing a faint rise in the temperature of the room, but paying it no mind as it was likely a byproduct of the increased activity of a rather headstrong male and now his rather rambunctious playmate in metal bonds. In fact, as they worked together, Exavior began to feel light headed. Was there not proper ventalation in the room to allow for proper oxygen replacement? The thought alone worried the scientist, but he hid it well as the woman's attention turned towards himself, she breaking the straps that bound him in what looked like no more than a flick of the wrist, give or take some effort. Surely no human had strength like that, and Exavior was certain that, even with two people, humans couldn't break refined iron binds just from pulling at them. There was most definitely something amiss here... Nodding a polite thank you for the aide in freeing him, Exavior stood with the aide of the chair behind him, still holding on to it, even when he felt he had his equilibrium straightened out.

    "Now, I wouldn't suggest too much movement, no matter how strong either of you feel at the moment. They may have given us some chemical enhancements of some sort, but there is still no telling as to whether or not our bodies will acclimate to them. Any damage you do to your body could manifest in much worse forms later if all doesn't go well. For right now, however, I will likely be able to find simple solutions to most of the pains you two may be in if you would be so inclined to trust me." There was a bit of waver to the male's voice, as if a taint of worry in his cool, level tone. He was human, and even he, a master of 'keeping cool', couldn't hide emotional tumult forever. Chills ran down his spine, raising the hairs along his neck, his breath catching in his throat slightly as he felt an icy touch upon his arm, brief as it may have been. When he looked to confront whomever it may have been, however, there was no one to be found.
    'Can't expect the human eye to see everything, unless its me. I always see it all. Come on, let's get to work on this problem of yours.' A voice, only audible to Exavior seemed to fill the room. A voice that sounded... Strangely like that of Tony Stark. The young scientist had the opportunity to work with the amazing mechanic and scientist but only a couple of times, but the voice was one that you wouldn't easily forget. And the manner of speaking, the tone, the inherent cockiness that drove most people to violence in prolonged exposure, it was all exact. It was as if the avenger of days past was standing right beside him.

    A commanding voice, one of power, mystic wonder, and yet holding the gentle touch of one who were to handle a creature far weaker than oneself presented itself only to the mind of Dragomira.
    'You did well to mind your comrade, and it would serve you well to continue minding him. Bodily harm is only of gain to one's perceived enemies, young one.' Few ever had the privilege of an audience with the god of thunder, Thor Odinson, but even so, most all S.H.E.I.L.D. agents knew the voice of the powerful warrior of divine origin. Having died the most honorable death of all of the avengers, Thor forsook his own life after all others had died so that the great evil know to the world as Hydra, or at least, it's hellicarrier. It would take the organization many years to rebuild a hellicarrier of that might, but the information as to the entire S.H.E.I.L.D. database would be forever lost due to the heroics of one hero.

    'Never leave a man behind, even if they haven't earned your trust. Trust is given and maintained, not earned and dashed to the side. Learn to trust those around you and you'll find that you have far more friends then you have enemies.' The nearly clipped, highly disciplined voice of a soldier, and yet, the appeal of an average man; such a thing could be achieved by few, though Steve Rogers was the embodiment of such an endeavor to be such. The words were spoken almost as if discipline and life code to the field agent Finley. Even despite having such a strict tone to it, though, the words were said in a sense so understandable that it felt personal, a tone that was rather hard to take offense to.
    #11 Shadicmaster, Nov 13, 2014
    Last edited: Nov 13, 2014
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  12. Finley almost fell to the ground once again as the metal finally came apart with the help of the woman sitting on the chair. The drugs had worn out even more so and walking around had indeed helped him get accustomed to his body again so the male managed to catch himself before he fell over and hit his head again. Trying not to move too much as his body hurt, Finley stood straight again and simply nodded as a response to the woman's gratitude. No reason to get all sappy, her being free was only beneficial to him as well and he would probably leave her behind sooner or later anyway, despite his decision to try to work in a team, so he'd rather not hear any thanks since he would just end up being the asshole who she'd curse. At least, that's what happened most of the time he did anything any other way than solo.

    The mohawked man would have been lying if he said he wasn't surprised the female managed to break herself free the rest of the way on her own and then went on to snap the leather straps holding the doctor know-it-all down like twigs. Finley had had trouble breaking himself free from those same leather straps and this woman just made him look simply pathetic by that stunt. He was impressed and pissed.

    "Now, I wouldn't suggest too much movement, no matter how strong either of you feel at the moment. They may have given us some chemical enhancements of some sort, but there is still no telling as to whether or not our bodies will acclimate to them. Any damage you do to your body could manifest in much worse forms later if all doesn't go well. For right now, however, I will likely be able to find simple solutions to most of the pains you two may be in if you would be so inclined to trust me."

    Finley snorted as he crossed his arms, he wasn't too fond of the fact that this guy was telling him what to do. 'Trust him'? Yeah, no way he'd suddenly place his trust on some annoying smart-ass. The agent didn't need him either, judging by how the other male was looking at that moment, he'd be just dead weight and slow him down. He was already regretting his decision of trying to work with them.

    "Yeah yeah, we get it, you're smart."

    Lifting a hand to rub his temple in a hopeless attempt to stop the pounding in his head, Finley turned to the door once again. The other man's offer to help with any pain he and the female might be in was indeed tempting. However, they had more important things to do, such as getting the hell out of there, and he wasn't exactly going to trust the shady guy to lay a single finger on him.

    "And I don't need your help."

    Before he could attempt to break the door sealing them inside the frustrating room, a voice suddenly filled the man's head.

    'Never leave a man behind, even if they haven't earned your trust. Trust is given and maintained, not earned and dashed to the side. Learn to trust those around you and you'll find that you have far more friends then you have enemies.'

    Whipping around quickly, the agent's first response was to lift his fists to confront anyone or anything that might be the source of the voice. Only, he couldn't pinpoint where the voice was coming from, it was only in his head and it was too similar to a certain hero, a dead hero.

    Perhaps someone had tampered with his head as well and he was going insane, there was no way Captain America, or Steve Rogers, was talking to him inside his head. It was ridiculous. However, the commanding tone was hard to ignore or deny. He had been kidnapped, experimented on, restrained and now a dead man was lecturing him on how to live his life. Could the day get any better?

    Despite the harsh tone of the voice of none other than one of the earth's former heroes, Finley felt like he was given advice by a friend. Not that he appreciated that more than being given orders but he found himself dropping his defensive posture nonetheless. Though the piece of advice he was given was easier said than done, he couldn't just up and change himself just like that simply because a ghost, or his imagination, said so.
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  13. Slowly but surely, Dragomira was regaining both her strength and her clarity of mind. C'mon, Draco; you're an agent. You can do this! Now that the three of them were free, it was time to make an escape. Reluctant as she was, she heard Exavior out. She had pieced together Finley, as her fellow field agent, but who was this guy? His attitude was so familiar... "Right, right. I'll take all that to heart. So, what precisely do you suggest we do, 'doctor'?" she inquired, much calmer than before. Ever since she had sensed that presence behind her, an odd calm had flowed through her. She was taking in their surroundings, trying to pinpoint the quietest way out, when she heard the voice.

    'You did well to mind your comrade, and it would serve you well to continue minding him. Bodily harm is only of gain to one's perceived enemies, young one.' Instantly, Dragomira had spun on her heel in search of the source of the voice. That voice.. It couldn't be..! ..But it had to be. That was none other than the god of thunder, and yet, the hero was nowhere to be found. She was confused, yes, but remained calm. Of course... Came her unspoken reply to the statement.

    Taking a deep breath, Mira looked to the others, crossing her arms. She typically wasn't the leader type, but hey; it didn't look like either of these two was going to. At least, Finley isn't. "So, what's our plan of action? Because we quite obviously can't just bust a door or two down and expect to be home free. Any suggestions?" she queried, a new confidence to her voice.
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  14. Exavior noticed a couple of strange reactions from the other two occupants of the room, as if they were hearing things just as he had. A deep sense of unease settled within the scientist, but he tried to push through it, ignoring the male who obviously didnt appreciate his presence. He, instead, focused on the woman before him, hair seemingly made of the rays of the sun itself. It was only then that Exavior was able to notice one thing (besides imprisonment and pain) that they all had in common. They were all wearing almost completely skin tight black suits, all accompanied by darkly hued scarves.
    "How very strange...." he muttered as he examined the materials of their new attire before being distracted by a question that he assumed was generally aimed. The woman was right. They needed to find a way out before anything else happened to them. Reaching his hand up to rub the back of his neck, Exavior ran his fingers across a bit of medical tape, remembering that he had been bandaged before coming here, likely due to someone taking out an iv. The feeling was rather similar to the scarf he bore, confusing him slightly as he decided to reexamine the accessory whilst answering the woman in the best of his capacity.
    "Lock picking if there are any manual locks would be advised, though if not, I could likely find some sort of control conduit or computer of some kind, assuming that the doors are electronically operated. Beyond the doors there's no telling what these people have done to others, let alone ourselves, so even leaving this room is a risk."
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  15. Finley squinted his eyes at the woman, very much disagreeing with her words. He could and he had expected to bust a few doors and walk home unscratched. Well, perhaps not entirely unscratched but he was actually hoping he'd get to beat someone up before he got out of there. he was pissed off enough already and if he didn't get to channel it somehow soon, the other occupants of the room just might end up finding out how much of a douche he was.

    Of course that was when the 'brains of the operation' decided to answer the woman's question, which only pissed Finley off more. On top of that, he was confused. Picking up locks and finding control device thingies for the doors? Wasn't it more effective to just break down the door, the result would be the same anyway?

    Frowning, the agent barely kept his mouth shut. If he was to work with these guys, which was probably a mistake, he didn't want them to hate him from the very start. Well, more than they already did. So instead of criticizing the two, Finely simply sat on the floor, cross-legged, leaning his elbow on his knee and propping his chin up with his palm.

    "Jävla idiots, vi förslösar tid med obehövlig frågarna."*

    Muttering in Swedish, the male glanced around the room, irritated. He knew how annoying it was when you couldn't understand what was spoken around you, which was exactly why he liked doing it.

    However, Finley didn't stay sitting for long as his feet started demanding movement. Pushing himself up, the agent resumed his muttering as he paced around the room, completely disregarding the earlier suggestion not to move too much.

    "För guds skull, jag svärar-"**

    The short monologue ended abruptly as a thought entered the male's head. They were being kept as a prisoner in god knows where. There were no guards keeping an eye on them so there must be some sort of surveillance in the room. What worried Finley was the lack of action dealt against them after they freed themselves. Nothing had happened. It worried him, badly.

    Stopping on his tracks, Finley turned to the others as he spoke again, annoyance clear in his voice.

    "We're sitting ducks here! Whatever we do, we gotta do fast."

    {* "Damn idiots, we're wasting time with unnecessary questions."
    ** "For god sakes, I swear-"

    I'm not as good in Swedish as I am in English so I might have made some minuscule mistake(s) somewhere but I guess no one will ever know unless some Swede stumbles upon this thread and decided to hang me for messing up their majestic language.}
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  16. Biting her cheek, the golden-haired girl let out a sigh. She looked around while Exavior examined her and Finley, eyes raking over the entirety of the room. Think.. Think... Draco, you're an agent. You can do this. There were odd plates on the walls every here and there, but it seemed no vents. There was a brief pause before it hit her in full. ...No vents. In seconds, she was by the door, on her knees. She examined it closely, feeling the bottom. Shaking her head, she got back up, feeling around the door's full frame. She sighed in frustration, resting her head against the door. "Well... It can't be as dangerous as staying in the room... They've cut off our oxygen supply. Door is sealed, no vents.. Nothing keeping us alive save for the little amount we have left. That being said, might I suggest we pick up the pace on making an escape plan, no matter how it is done? We can save whoever else we stumble upon as the need appears," she stated, looking back and fourth between the males.

    She only rolled her eyes at Finley's mumbling, sighing. Yeah, there was nobody else it could be.. Finley was the only person she'd met who acted like.. Well, that. "Quite the contrary. It's die here, locked up in a death trap, or escape like whoever put us here wants us to. Surely they have surveillance, yes, but it's obvious they locked us here to one, test us. Two, see how we work under pressure.. If you'll pardon the pun. And, three, to see how well we function as a team." She glanced briefly at Finley after that statement. Now... How to go about it? She looked around again, searching for something to aide them in escape.

    "Just for the hell of it... I'll introduce myself; since it typically helps when working as a team to know who you're working with. Dragomira Bowie," she said, flatly. She figured out Finley, but.. Who was Exavior, she had yet to piece together.
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  17. "So much for keeping the peace and calm...." muttered the disgruntled scientist. He sighed, unwapping his scarf and looking between the two people he was trapped with. All in a moment, his mind cleared enough to see, not just physically, but what everything in the room could be. It didnt take much time for him to figure a plan, then taking the scarves from off of his fellows, despite bit of resistance from the hyperactive one. He then found that they were all made of the same matterial, a high impact resistant, energy distributant fabric. In fact, it was strong enough to even rival kevlar in bullet proofing. A smile crept over his face as he held them out to the newly introduced Dragomira.
    "Nice to meet you, nice to meet you. Now onto business. If you would, I find that it may be extremely benifitial for you to wrap two scarves, one on either hand, and wrap another over the lower part of your face. These will provide quite a bit of protection. We'll just have to try out hot head's plan. Busting out with fists swinging. It will use up a lot more oxygen at once, though, so we dont have many chances at you getting that door down. I can easily hear the footsteps on the other side of the door, so I would assume that the metal isnt very thick, but it may be heavily reinforced, so conserve your strength." The scientist spoke in a bit of a rush before just thrusting the scarves upon the woman before working to take what was left of the leather straps and mend them as best he could. The leather didnt seem so badly damaged as to be unusable, and soon, he found a use for it, using bits of the medical tape that hadnt come into contact with his blood to bind them together to form bands that he threw over the other male.
    "Arm bracers. You will probably need to help, so if you dont get hand protection, at least you can be protected from straining a muscle or injuring one of the bones in your wrist in the process. Try not to break your hand while you're at it, would ya?"
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  18. Oh, so if the woman's babbling was correct. which it seemed to be, they'd suffocate to death if they didn't bring the door down. Which also explained why no one had bothered to come and restrain them again after they had broken free, it would have been a waste of time and manpower when they could just wait until the oxygen ran out. Very sneaky indeed, they were obviously dealing with criminal masterminds here.

    Finley, gave the woman, who had seemed to have taken charge, a sour look as she glanced at him after her comment about working as a team. Was his tremendous lack of skills at team work that obvious? Surely he hadn't been exactly cooperative thus far but she was quite the douche for making assumptions based on such a short time. Or not if his suspicion of having met her before was correct, in which case, her doubt in him was most likely well justified.

    That suspicion was only further fueled as he heard her name, Dragomira Bowie. It sounded slightly familiar. Perhaps he had met her during his last few years on the streets? No, that couldn't have been it, he hadn't really been in contact with many people during that time and he'd remember such a weird name.

    Before he could figure it out, the other male came over to him and stole his scarf. Granted, Finley hadn't really even taken notice of what he was wearing, which was a quite the lame looking black suit, or the scarf that accompanied the stupid clothing. Though he wasn't the only one who had to wear the moronic thing so he could live with for now.

    That still didn't change the fact that the other guy had just stolen his scarf. Not cool, man.

    He gave the scarf thief a glare but it was soon turned into a smirk as he heard his simple plan of breaking everything on their path was to be taken into action. That was, until the thief gave the scarfs to Drago-something. So the chick gets three scarves, how was that fair? And what was the talk about them giving her protection? Finley frowned at the scene before him, the thief had obviously gone insane.

    After the other male tossed a pair of makeshift arm bracers at him, the field agent wanted to toss them back at him, to tell the thief he still didn't need his help. However, the guy had stolen his scarf so he could treat it as a sort of trade.

    The guy was still a thief though.

    With a huff, Finley slipped the arm bracers on. They weren't half bad considering what they were made off, though he was kind of missing his gear from the time he was in S.H.I.E.L.D.


    S.H.I.E.L.D! That's it!

    Suddenly it all became clear, why the woman looked so familiar and her name less so. Calmly walking over to Dragomira, Finley grabbed her shoulders as he squinted his eyes at her. His gaze was firm and his hold of her held more force than necessary, he probably looked creepy as hell but that didn't really cross the mind of the man himself. However, now that he studied her face from close, he was sure of it, this was a fellow S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

    "Dragon? What the..."

    He had never really learned the woman's name, in fact, he had forgotten it again. The last part anyway and it was easier to call her Dragon than Drago-something. Always had been.

    However, due to this new realization, a vast set of questions flooded his mind. If the two of them were from S.H.I.E.L.D, was the scarf thief an agent as well? If that was correct, why couldn't Finley remember him at all? More importantly, for what purpose had someone kidnapped S.H.I.E.L.D agents?

    He had a really bad feeling in his gut.
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  19. Mira was a bit surprised when Exavior came over and took her scarf. However, she put up no resistance, and hardly minded. She watched Exavior curiously, uncertain of what he had up his sleeve. However, when he brought back two of the scarves to her, she was evidently impressed. "Brilliant!" she murmured, quickly doing as told and wrapping one of the scarves around her hand. She looked down at it, making sure she had done it correctly. Reminds me of back in the good ol' S.H.I.E.L.D training rooms.. she thought, idly.

    However, her mind quickly returned to the matter at hand. Right, right.. Life or death situation. Suddenly, she had a thought. "...Why am I the one doing this, again?" she mused, glancing at the door. Sure, in her old days, she'd broken down plenty a door... But it'd been years from that, and she was uncertain she could do it. "Aw, never mind..." Shaking off her doubt, she finally wrapped the other scarf around her lower face, determination in her eyes. If Finley was to help her, they could surely pull it off together. Sure, sure... It might take a bit, and require making him mad, but it was still their only chance. She gave her ex-fellow field agent a small grin. "Just like old times, no? Ready when you a-"

    The statement was cut off when Finley abruptly came over and took her by the shoulders. She sighed, giving a light attempt at shrugging his hands away. Sure, sure, the same worries had crossed her mind... But the time for that had came and gone. What they needed now was to get out while they still could. "Yes, Fin, it's me. Took ya long enough to piece it together," she mused, almost trying to lighten the mood. "..But might I recommend we save the reunion till after we get out alive?" she suggested, keeping his gaze. However, soon enough, her eyes turned to Exavior. "Don't suppose ya got a time estimate for how long we got?"
  20. "Yes, Fin, it's me. Took ya long enough to piece it together,"

    Finley frowned slightly, unamused. He wasn't too fond of the idea Dragomira had figured things out faster than he did and was she... teasing him about it? He might have been just paranoid and the female didn't intend to offend him but his 'people skills' were kind of rusty, and they hadn't been any good to begin with, so he couldn't tell.

    "..But might I recommend we save the reunion till after we get out alive?"

    Glancing down at his hand that were still having a hold of his fellow agent, Finley huffed as he let his hands drop before crossing them. He didn't want to admit it but Dragomira was right, they didn't exactly have time to stand around, chatting, while they were running out of oxygen. However, he wasn't thrilled when the other agent questioned the scarf thief about their remaining time. The annoying thing was, the other guy could probably answer the question while Finley had no idea how long they had left. He didn't like smart guys, never had. They always looked down on him, thinking they were so much better than him.

    "Does it even matter? Let's just get out of his dump already."

    The words were hissed out in frustration as Finley walked over to the door once more. This time, he wouldn't take a single step back. Truth be told, he was starting to get worried, scared even. His breathing had grown more heavy and his head was starting to feel fuzzy. It wasn't because of drugs this time. However, he still had to admit he most likely wouldn't be able to bring down the door on his own. Dragomira might be able to do it but he refused to just sit around while a girl did the heavy lifting. Finley wasn't a sexist, not really, he just had a pride to protect. He had always been the front line guy, the one who charged in first and whose strength was in... well, strength. If that was taken from him, what would be left?

    At least he'd get to hang onto what he was by helping.

    Finley craned his neck and searched Dragomira with his gaze while taking a wider stance, ready to launch all he had at the blockage.

    "You ready to do this or what? We ain't got all day."
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