![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
“We should be escaping, you know.”
Dec. 4th, 2018 07:38 pm“Ayup”, says the man in the yellow and black costume, who’d been lying down on the bunk in their shared cell without ever opening his eyes since the three men had been scooped up by security and dropped in their new cell. “Eventually, maybe. No rush. This bed’s actually real comfortable.”
The third man had been wearing a normal suit and tie when they were brought in. Somehow, with no sign that he’d ever changed clothes, it had transitioned to a stained and torn sleeveless undershirt and a pair of work slacks. He was leaning against the wall, scowling, and just grunted in response, before eventually following up with, “Probably. But I may need to be get brought in for interrogation first, or it’ll blow up in our faces. Possibly literally. That’s how this usually works.”
The first speaker, who was just a low-ranking agent of an organization that really wanted to be called something like SHIELD but was legally forbidden to do so, and therefore went by various names like “AEGIS” or “PAVIS” depending on the current mood of their director, stared at both of them. “Comfortable? Explosions? What?”
“Well I mean it’s not my bed back home but yeah, it’s a better class of bedding than we usually get in these here situations. I mean, last time it was just straw, and half of it had gone all moldy, that was awful, am I right, BB?”
“…Don’t call me BB.” The man in the undershirt eyed the agent. “Look, kid, were you even briefed on who you were going into this with? I mean, they don’t like explaining me because it’s a pain, but you should have at least been told about Fastlane over there. Man’s good at this. Been captured what is it now, 47 times? always escaped, usually foiling whatever plans they had on the way out. But only after he gets his nap in. So shut up and let the man sleep, or we’ll have to do this my way. And my way sucks.”
“Forty…” Fastlane yawned. “Eight.” A moment later, he was snoring.
The agent rubbed his temples. “They’re hazing me aren’t they. I’m the new guy, they’re fucking with me.”
BB - Blockbuster, clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” He paused, and his face fell. “Fuck. Someone’s coming. FL, wake up, look alive. We may have started my way after all.”
The one approaching was a young woman, somewhere in her twenties, who looked both ways before whispering through the bars. “Hey. I’ve got the key. You’ve got to get out of here. My father’s crazy, I don’t know what he’ll do with actual superheroes.”
“Hopefully not build a robot with all our powers,” Blockbuster muttered, then, since his hand was still on the agent’s shoulder, he shoved the man forward. “You talk to her. I’m sitting this song and dance out for a change.”
“What?” Said the agent.
The woman pressed the keycard into his hands. “Please. Escape. I have to stay here or they’ll suspect something.”
48 hours, 13 explosions, 200 knocked out guards, and a last minute disarming of a doomsday weapon that Blockbuster disgustedly noted waited until exactly 00:01 seconds left before letting him shut it down, Blockbuster and Fastlane watched as the Agent and the Mad Scientist’s Beautiful Daughter slept on each other’s shoulders in the back of the rescue chopper.
Think they’ll make it?”, asked the speedster.
“Eh. Suspension Bridge effect. It’s all adrenaline right now. Gotta give ‘em some time outside my influence, for a start. I’ll put in a word with his supervisor.”
Fastlane grinned. “Well, aren’t you just an old softy.”
Blockbuster reverted to his usual scowl immediately. “Fuck no. And why are you even riding the damned chopper? Just get out and run before I kick you out.”
“Are you kiddin’? And miss the chance for a nap?”
When Fastlane, the Agent (Who happened to be named Earl King) and the Mad Scientist’s Beautiful Daughter (who was named Clarissa Duchamps) woke up, there was no sign of Blockbuster on the about-to-land helicopter, and one parachute was missing. This caused a great deal of consternation on the part of people who expected to properly debrief everyone involved.
It took Blockbuster two more weeks to get home and it was decided that no one should ask him about the dinosaur he brought with him.
The third man had been wearing a normal suit and tie when they were brought in. Somehow, with no sign that he’d ever changed clothes, it had transitioned to a stained and torn sleeveless undershirt and a pair of work slacks. He was leaning against the wall, scowling, and just grunted in response, before eventually following up with, “Probably. But I may need to be get brought in for interrogation first, or it’ll blow up in our faces. Possibly literally. That’s how this usually works.”
The first speaker, who was just a low-ranking agent of an organization that really wanted to be called something like SHIELD but was legally forbidden to do so, and therefore went by various names like “AEGIS” or “PAVIS” depending on the current mood of their director, stared at both of them. “Comfortable? Explosions? What?”
“Well I mean it’s not my bed back home but yeah, it’s a better class of bedding than we usually get in these here situations. I mean, last time it was just straw, and half of it had gone all moldy, that was awful, am I right, BB?”
“…Don’t call me BB.” The man in the undershirt eyed the agent. “Look, kid, were you even briefed on who you were going into this with? I mean, they don’t like explaining me because it’s a pain, but you should have at least been told about Fastlane over there. Man’s good at this. Been captured what is it now, 47 times? always escaped, usually foiling whatever plans they had on the way out. But only after he gets his nap in. So shut up and let the man sleep, or we’ll have to do this my way. And my way sucks.”
“Forty…” Fastlane yawned. “Eight.” A moment later, he was snoring.
The agent rubbed his temples. “They’re hazing me aren’t they. I’m the new guy, they’re fucking with me.”
BB - Blockbuster, clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” He paused, and his face fell. “Fuck. Someone’s coming. FL, wake up, look alive. We may have started my way after all.”
The one approaching was a young woman, somewhere in her twenties, who looked both ways before whispering through the bars. “Hey. I’ve got the key. You’ve got to get out of here. My father’s crazy, I don’t know what he’ll do with actual superheroes.”
“Hopefully not build a robot with all our powers,” Blockbuster muttered, then, since his hand was still on the agent’s shoulder, he shoved the man forward. “You talk to her. I’m sitting this song and dance out for a change.”
“What?” Said the agent.
The woman pressed the keycard into his hands. “Please. Escape. I have to stay here or they’ll suspect something.”
48 hours, 13 explosions, 200 knocked out guards, and a last minute disarming of a doomsday weapon that Blockbuster disgustedly noted waited until exactly 00:01 seconds left before letting him shut it down, Blockbuster and Fastlane watched as the Agent and the Mad Scientist’s Beautiful Daughter slept on each other’s shoulders in the back of the rescue chopper.
Think they’ll make it?”, asked the speedster.
“Eh. Suspension Bridge effect. It’s all adrenaline right now. Gotta give ‘em some time outside my influence, for a start. I’ll put in a word with his supervisor.”
Fastlane grinned. “Well, aren’t you just an old softy.”
Blockbuster reverted to his usual scowl immediately. “Fuck no. And why are you even riding the damned chopper? Just get out and run before I kick you out.”
“Are you kiddin’? And miss the chance for a nap?”
When Fastlane, the Agent (Who happened to be named Earl King) and the Mad Scientist’s Beautiful Daughter (who was named Clarissa Duchamps) woke up, there was no sign of Blockbuster on the about-to-land helicopter, and one parachute was missing. This caused a great deal of consternation on the part of people who expected to properly debrief everyone involved.
It took Blockbuster two more weeks to get home and it was decided that no one should ask him about the dinosaur he brought with him.
