Sam Wilson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-10-02 05:51 pm
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote in thecapitol2014-10-02 05:51 pm
[OPEN]
Who| Sam Wilson + open!
What| Trying to figure out wtf is going on after just arriving
Where| Around the Training Center
When| After the arena
Warnings| none yet!
None of this was what Sam'd expected when he woke up on that cot, and was all but dragged out of the room by a group of guards. Not that he had all that much experience with kidnapping or being taken prisoner, but he was pretty sure they didn't normally include a kickass suite and free run of not only pretty much the whole building, but whatever city they were in. And he was definitely sure prisoners usually didn't get handed a map of the damn place and a credit card.
It didn't make him feel at all better about being grabbed, of course. If anything, their determination in treating him like he was supposed to be some kind of honored guest was making him twitchy, almost as twitchy as being told he'd been picked up off the streets to fight to the death like some kind of gladiator.
...it's also making him wary about just how good their security has to be, if they're actually letting prisoners have free range like that. Not enough not to test it, but definitely wary. So he waits a little bit after the guards leave him alone, exploring the room and giving them long enough to actually get gone, if they're really going. Then he's out, intent on seeing just how much leeway he has, and if he can figure out where he really is.
District 5 Suite
His first stop is the rest of the suite they'd dropped him off in, of course. He lingers in the kitchen - not really for food, though he is kind of hungry. At the moment, he's not willing to risk eating anything that might be available, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to check it out.
Which is why he's opening cabinets and peering in the fridge, eyeing the kitchen knives he'd found and wondering if they'd do anything if he grabbed one to keep on him.
Training Center
He has to admit, the place that gives the building its name isn't bad. In fact, it's pretty damn good, if he'd had a place like this back home, he'd probably have been there every day. It makes sense, he guesses, to give them access to a place like this, if they're supposed to be gearing up to participate in a battle to the death. But it also means their captors are either stupid or really, really good, and he doubts it's the first.
Rooftop
By the time he makes it up to the top of the roof, he's feeling a little overwhelmed. He'd gone up to clear his head a little, get some air, but he's not up there long before he's wondering if it wasn't a bad idea. Just looking out towards the edge makes him miss his wings; he sure as hell could use them right about now.
He stays anyway, sitting on one of the benches to look up at the sky, and keep an eye out for any fellow prisoners - or any of their captors - that might be up there as well.
What| Trying to figure out wtf is going on after just arriving
Where| Around the Training Center
When| After the arena
Warnings| none yet!
None of this was what Sam'd expected when he woke up on that cot, and was all but dragged out of the room by a group of guards. Not that he had all that much experience with kidnapping or being taken prisoner, but he was pretty sure they didn't normally include a kickass suite and free run of not only pretty much the whole building, but whatever city they were in. And he was definitely sure prisoners usually didn't get handed a map of the damn place and a credit card.
It didn't make him feel at all better about being grabbed, of course. If anything, their determination in treating him like he was supposed to be some kind of honored guest was making him twitchy, almost as twitchy as being told he'd been picked up off the streets to fight to the death like some kind of gladiator.
...it's also making him wary about just how good their security has to be, if they're actually letting prisoners have free range like that. Not enough not to test it, but definitely wary. So he waits a little bit after the guards leave him alone, exploring the room and giving them long enough to actually get gone, if they're really going. Then he's out, intent on seeing just how much leeway he has, and if he can figure out where he really is.
District 5 Suite
His first stop is the rest of the suite they'd dropped him off in, of course. He lingers in the kitchen - not really for food, though he is kind of hungry. At the moment, he's not willing to risk eating anything that might be available, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to check it out.
Which is why he's opening cabinets and peering in the fridge, eyeing the kitchen knives he'd found and wondering if they'd do anything if he grabbed one to keep on him.
Training Center
He has to admit, the place that gives the building its name isn't bad. In fact, it's pretty damn good, if he'd had a place like this back home, he'd probably have been there every day. It makes sense, he guesses, to give them access to a place like this, if they're supposed to be gearing up to participate in a battle to the death. But it also means their captors are either stupid or really, really good, and he doubts it's the first.
Rooftop
By the time he makes it up to the top of the roof, he's feeling a little overwhelmed. He'd gone up to clear his head a little, get some air, but he's not up there long before he's wondering if it wasn't a bad idea. Just looking out towards the edge makes him miss his wings; he sure as hell could use them right about now.
He stays anyway, sitting on one of the benches to look up at the sky, and keep an eye out for any fellow prisoners - or any of their captors - that might be up there as well.
no subject
But it’s a little different, here, somehow, it affects him a little more. He’s never had someone who knows exactly what he gave up, who’d be able to figure out the kind of state Sam must have been in to let go of the sky. There’s been people who could assume, who could put two and two together with how much Sam obviously loved it and how much he’d had to get out, but no one that really knew.
He could stretch the truth a little, just say it was pretty much a forced retirement and leave it at that, but he doesn’t. That’s not the kind of guy he is now.
“Wasn’t much of a choice,” he says eventually. “I lost my wingman, on a rescue op. After that, I need to figure some things out, you know, wasn’t going to be much good to anyone until I had myself sorted.”
no subject
"I got it. Sometimes, you gotta help yourself before you can try helping anyone else, especially after something like that. Not much good to anyone when you're still trying to find all the pieces."
He could relate to that just as well as the flying and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. How many times had he pulled himself back together after his father, Black Ghost, Jet's own stupidity, things beyond his control had torn away at him if not broken parts down completely? As for a wingman...he'd never lost Joe -still refused to believe he'd lost him to this place- Jet had always followed Joe into oblivion, it was how he'd died twice before ever coming here. But the memory of losing Albert, when he'd thought it had been permanent and the feeling of everything inside crumbling, leaving him hollow and cold. He'd been listless, directionless, unmotivated except in his anger and he had no doubt that was what Sam had been fighting when he'd given it up.
No, Jet couldn't blame him at all.
"Looks like you succeeded, though, not everyone can...that says something." That Sam was strong, even if he wasn't a hundred percent whole and never would be, he was still smiling and putting on his wings to help people. It was admirable.
no subject
“Yeah, exactly. I’ve seen people keep trying to soldier on - pun mildly intended - and it never ends up well.” For them or the people they’d been trying to help.
There’s another smile at that, this one more genuine. “I had help.” The admission comes easily, because it’s not something he’s ashamed of. He’s had too hard a time convincing some soldiers that it’s okay to need help, and to ask for it, to be one of them himself. Well. For the most part, anyway.
“But even if I’d still had them, from what people’ve told me, doesn’t sound like it’d do me any good. The Capitol would’ve just taken them.”
no subject
Jet nods with a grimace. "Yeah, that's true. There're times when we get back what the capitol took from us -at their discretion- but I don't know that they'd've given that back even in those cases."
A man with wings probably seemed like too much trouble when they were trying to contain their captives.
"Maybe someday, though. No harm in hoping you'll get them back." They had some good tech people as far as Jet knew, maybe with the right opportunity and the right stuff, Sam could fly again. Plus, maybe that would mean Jet could as well. That was definitely a hope worth hanging onto.
no subject
“Unfortunately, they seem a little too smart for that.” Not that he could really do anything against the Capitol with them in an arena, but there you go.
Still, he grins a little at Jet’s comment. “Hell yeah, man, there’s always a way. Nothing could keep me grounded forever.”
There’s a reason that even back when he’d voluntarily given it up, he’d kept files he wasn’t really supposed to have lying around his house, and knew exactly where his wings were kept and under how much guard. Maybe not here, but when he gets back home - if he needs to, he can probably find a way.
“Has the Capitol given yours back before?”
no subject
Of course, then less pleasant memories surfaced. His loss of flight meant he'd watched as, for the first time in the seventy years of knowing him, Jet had let Albert fall. His fiance had fallen from that cliff and Jet could do nothing but watch with Venus dying in his arms. If he hadn't fucked up to begin with, he could have saved Albert like he always did. Like he was supposed to do. Nevermind the whole thing with Fee and Kevin, if he could have flown Fee to safety, neither of them would have faced the nightmare of being eaten alive.
He kinda missed when his biggest concern was politics and whether there was a new organization plotting to take over the world.
"Next time I'll be a little smarter about it. Not that they warn you or anything, even that last time, it only happened when the air raid sirens went off."
no subject
He doesn’t say anything, when Jet’s obviously remembering more of what happened there. They both know what it’s like not being good enough, when circumstances meant they couldn’t be, but it’s a lot easier to blame yourself than circumstances. He does shift a little, though, just enough to bump his shoulder against Jet’s.
“Next time, I’m expecting you to give me a lift,” he replies, only partially teasing. They’ve already talked about just how much it isn’t the same, when you’re not the one doing the flying, but Sam figures there’s a lot more of a chance of Jet getting his back in an arena than Sam getting his wings.
no subject
"Make that a promise. Though we'll have to stick to a lower speed. I doubt a human'd be able to live through anything higher than Mach 1. If we can get you a flight suit, I'll show you something impressive." He was teasing, he didn't doubt Sam had his own impressive moves he could show off if he had the chance. Just imagine: having actual wings, it was probably a thrill.
Although, on second thought, depending on the next arena he'd be allowed his flying, he still might not be able to reach his full speed potentials, it'd probably be considered too much of a threat.
no subject
Then he chuckles. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before. You know, you super types sure like to make fun of us poor humans," he teases with a grin, clearly not at all offended. "We can find me a flight suit, though, and I'd love to see what you've got. Long as you let me return the favor when I get my wings back."
Not that he really thinks either of those will happen while they're under the Capitol's thumb. But one day, maybe.
no subject
"I'll make sure it happens, so you better return the favor, I want to know what it's like with actual wings." He'd daydreamed about it for so many years as a kid, even just the idea of it seemed exciting as an adult.
He didn't know how he'd 'make it happen' but there were enough eggheads around this tower that surly someone would know how to put together something like Sam's wings. If the Capitol weren't a factor, that is. But one step at a time.
no subject
He’s joking, really. Falcon is more than good enough for him, and anyway, it’s not like he’s really a superhero.
“Deal,” he says, holding out a hand to shake on it. He’ll worry about the how later.
no subject
Jet shook Sam's hand to solidify their 'deal' then brought his hand to his chin as though giving the question of name some serious consideration. "How about 'The All Amazing Falcon' as your title, but those who know you just call you Falcon? Then you've got the impressive title for your adoring fans, but less of a mouthful out in the field."
It would be a lie to say he wasn't maybe imagining them flying around and beating up bad guys in a very comic book style in his head. Sam was definitely a superhero if Jet was going to call himself one. Maybe they could even have side-kicks in dumb costumes as their occasionally needed back-up.
no subject
He tilts his head a little, pretending to consider that suggestion with the same amount of thoughtfulness that Jet had. "I like it. Great alliteration for the comic book cover, plus a bonus way to show closeness between teammates without giving away any secret identities, perfect."
It's possible they're thinking about this a little too much, but - nah. A little fun never hurt anyone.