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thecapitol2015-04-20 09:47 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thecapitol2015-04-20 09:47 pm
The Binding of Isaac
Who| All those who signed up for the plot!
What| Capitol rebels attempt a break in and dismantling of dangerous weaponry.
Where| In a warehouse just beyond the very end of the cityline
When| Some time following Arena 13
WARNINGS| Please specify warnings in tag headers.
NOTES | Remember that if you did not sign up, it will be assumed you are not participating in the plot. Plotting can be found here! IC plotting is here!
What| Capitol rebels attempt a break in and dismantling of dangerous weaponry.
Where| In a warehouse just beyond the very end of the cityline
When| Some time following Arena 13
WARNINGS| Please specify warnings in tag headers.
NOTES | Remember that if you did not sign up, it will be assumed you are not participating in the plot. Plotting can be found here! IC plotting is here!
The Initiate's last words
He stays behind. He doesn't call back, to see if as others are going. No one should be looking his way. They'll go and it'll be fine.
He prepares the next molotov cocktail-- some things was being universal, it seemed-- and throws it out to build his wall of fire between where he and the peacekeepers are.
But time kept slipping. The peacekeepers kept coming.
“Ain’t no time…” If they kept that door open, everyone would be caught. It’d be a bloodbath. They’d lose everyone and even with all his promise, he might not make it. They’re not all going to make it. With a twist in his gut, he turns to Steve and shouts, “AIN’T NO TIME LEFT! They’re coming! SHUT IT, NOW!”
Steve slams the button once more, bringing that door back down. Steve doesn’t move, but he's running, bolting for the motherfucking door as all before it can shut entire. "Go! GO!" He screams at all those what are left. He has to make sure as many stragglers is getting out as he can manage. As many as he can. Then maybe he’ll make it, he'll just roll on under, it'll be fine, he'll greet Signless and Terezi and--
The shot rings out. He stumbles. The pain comes in a blink. The indigo starts going immediate after, and though it ain't fatal, not for a troll being like him, he knows what it means. The door closes. He moves quick as all he can to get behind one of the great war machines.
He debates on it, if it’s right, if he ain’t damning no one. But ultimately, he may well be anyway. At least this way he can help the precious few remaining. At least this way he can tell himself it was worthwhile. He flicks the network on.
---
“-ty you.” He’s cut off. They cut him off. And Steve too, by the looks of it. And everyone else if they were as stupid as he to try.
There’s nothing left to do. It was time to stop running from his fate. Time to simply motherfucking meet it.
He turns to face the peacekeepers come for him and those remaining.
no subject
With a nod, Steve drops the device on the floor and smashes it with his heel. There's no more use for it, even if he comes out of this alive, he doubts they'd give it back.
He casts a look around, too many people have been trapped and he knows he can't give up yet. Ignoring the couple bullets he's caught (having experiences much worse in the last fight with the Winter Soldier), Steve quickly moves to Initiate, already positioning his body like a shield between the other man and the on coming threat.
"Do you know of any other way out? I can create a distraction if you're willing to get the others there," it's a last ditch effort, he knows. For the two of them, it's useless, their identities are out there with the messages, but the others... there's a chance.
no subject
He never wanted this. He always said he hated a martyr. Now he faces one down, seeing that nod by a brother what's caught just as he is, and he understands a little better. Doesn't like it, but understands. And this isn't the time to crack.
Steve comes in as a shield and he can't help barking a laugh. It's more fraught by emotion than it is no physical. He might be young but he's a highblood, one who lived on the beaches alone and he's taken more than a handful of blades in his gut and kicks in the teeth growing up. They know who he is and he's not getting out of this no more than Steve is.
"THERE'S A WINDOW UP HIGH BUT IT'S GOT BARS UP ON IT! Will have a bullet each in both our motherfucking nugs before at we break that noise! I'M A HIGHBLOOD-- er, indigo. MIGHT BE ABLE BUT WE AIN'T KNOW WHAT'S BEING UP ON THE OTHER SIDE. Could just up breaking walk prongs over the breaking of outs," He points out. Worth a shot he supposed with no other options but it wasn't a promising one. "THAT OR WE FIGHT ON THROUGH THE LOT OF THEM UNTIL AT WE'RE GETTING THE DOOR BEHINDWAYS TO THEM. We can't cull them gaurds. IF WE DO, THEY MIGHT WELL DO MORE THAN JUST MOTHERFUCKING AVOX THE REST. But if we can beat 'em..."
He casts around a look up of his own. Harley was here, shit. That Samuel motherfucker-- hope he still had believing it was worth it. Haruto, and that one girl, Ruffnut he thinks it was. And Karkat... He tears his eyes away. Avoxing was no good a fate, and neither was what all they did to Thor, but execution is an end straight up and he knows that he and Karkat both ain't got no good to return back to in their worlds. He knows he's doomed, he knows logically this is futile, but he's never gone down without a fight.
"SO HOW DO YOU WANT TO MOTHERFUCKING PLAY, MY BROTHER? Sword or shield?"
no subject
He looks up towards the window as Initiate talks about it, not knowing what highblood of indigo has to do with anything, figuring it means he might be strong enough to move or break the bars. Steve knows with some effort he could stretch the bars without too much trouble, but it would take a moment.
But the second option- well, looking at those around them and the peacekeepers coming this way, he's not so sure. The second option could work if he had the Commandos, but Darcy, his mentor, kids? There's too many enemies in too narrow of a space and not enough force on their end to push through. But he could create enough of a distraction by going after the guards to give Initiate the time...
"With the people here, going through by force won't cut it, I don't think we can part the seas enough, but if you got what it takes to try and budge those bars, then I can keep the guards busy," it's really the only solution, even not knowing what's on the other side. It seems pretty doomed, but Steve just can't lay down.
"Besides, my favorite weapon's a shield," he gives him a grin, knowing he won't get the joke, but not caring.
no subject
This is almost nice, caught in the flickering flame and gunfire pretending like he ain't just doomed. Maybe he should stop thinking how his other self felt before his end. Maybe he should focus up on the rapture that had come in his far-too-fucking-long future. Death impending did used to make him feel alive.
He nods. "SWORD IT UP AND BE! Alfuckinright!" He casts his gaze to that high up window, then lifts his fingers where they've been coated purple from the wound at his shoulder. He's been hurt worse. Was still gonna hurt like a fuckin bitch though.
"I'M GONNA GO ON AT A MOTHERFUCKING RUN FOR IT," He says. "Think you like you can boost? EVER GONE UP ON A GRIEF TRAPEZE?"
no subject
But it doesn't matter, he still returns the grin in kind, casting his eyes up towards the window himself. Yeah, he knows what trapeze is and he knows what grief is (definitely knows that one) but the two combined is a reference that's completely lost on him.
"Can't say I have, but sounds fun," his tone is wry as he moves to position himself to boost, half his attention on the advancing threat, the other half on Initiate, trying to gauge how much force to use, not wanting to throw the kid into the ceiling. He can already feel the throb in his leg protesting his intention, but he ignores it. The mission isn't over.
"Try not to fall once you get up there, alright?" Steve gives a teasing smile as he locks his hands together, holding them out for Initiate to run into and toss him up.
no subject
He starts on away from Steve then. The best way to do this was always to get a run, if not for the momentum, then just for fun and fucking rush of it. They weren't going to be having any fun otherwise for a long ass time, the neither of them. May as well take the fuck on of advantaging.
He doesn't waste time. Steve needs to fight for himself still. He breathes deep, braces for the pain in shoulder, spins round and runs at him.
"I'M A BROTHER OF THE CARNIVAL, I COULDN'T DIE OF FALLING IF AT I WANTED TO!" He shouts. And then his foot is upon Steve's hands and he's going to leap as Steve pushes upward. Between both their all-too-unearthly strengths going to match, he soars up to that window, high enough near to miss it. But his claws raking on the metal wall, letting out a screech, before finally his hands grip those bars. He hangs from them well and supporting himself. He calls back, "I'm set!"
Now to get it open before he was shot again.
no subject
He just gives a unsure smile and nods, "Then you'll have to show me the ropes sometime." Honestly, the combination of grief and trapeze doesn't sound too promising, but he's just going to go with it.
His eyes follow Initiate as he boosts the kid up, sending him soaring through the air, wanting to see with his own eyes that he lands safe and where he needs to be. Seems their combined strength did the job.
Giving a casual salute in response, it's now his turn to do his part. Subdue and distract, do what he can to keep any of them from getting shot. He calls out to the others to take cover, to wait, that right now is about staying alive, to not give up, and he has no idea if they will heed him, but he can't stop to pay them much mind right now. If they choose to keep fighting, then he won't stop them. He can't really, not when he runs into the thick of it, throwing punches and tripping people, smacking heads together and taking his own licking in return.
When he catches sight of someone taking aim at Initiate, he'll grab the closest projectile he can and throw it at them, hoping to knock them off their target. Usually it's a gun, something he knows well enough not to actually use or to hold on to for long, but who says you can't throw guns at people?
no subject
He catches the salute and the sight of Steve going into the fray. For a brief moment he wants to drop and join in the fight. He has to remind himself that he ain't a fighter first anymore, and more than that, he's got a job what's more important right now.
He turns to those bars. Last time he tried to bend metal to his will without his full strength afforded to him by the Capitol, he'd wound up merely drowning. He and his Father and Sabriel too. Sigma had gone first, shocked by his cybernetic eye. Sabriel had been next and then had been the quiet and the burn of his under-developed fins without gill to breathe. This wouldn't be like then. He wouldn't show fear like he did then.
He breathes deep, grits his teeth, then starts to pull. He had people to save. He had people who needed those still left here. He had to try. He was Kurloz fucking Makara, he could do this. His breath turns to growls and snarls as he forces it to bend to his will. He thinks of Mituna, all the times he dreamed of tearing him free from the helm. He thinks of Kankri, the shackles he'd been destined to put him in, and he thinks of breaking those too, of breaking this whole cycle. He thinks of how it would be if Gamzee, his future descendant, were just on the other side.
There's a crack as one of those bars breaks loose. He drops it fast and grips the far one, then breaks off the other with a laugh. He did it. Now... the window. He grips the far edge tighter, hauls himself up, then pulls a fist back. His eyes close as the glass a shatters around his fist. He gives himself just one moment to breath before he starts trying to clear out the remaining glass, his hand and arm now bleeding indigo. The pants he's got on are some sort of leather material. He can swing up and hang off it, pull the others through.
At least so long as Steve's fine. He turns quick to check.
no subject
Steve throws up his arm to block an incoming attack, throwing his weight forward to throw his attacker off balance so he goes flying into the people behind him when Steve sends him back with a punch. He's managing, even though the numbers are growing even as he takes people down.
Some get by him, but he's taken most out by throwing things or people at them. Yet, each time he has to turn his back to take those out, he opens himself up for attack, adding more punches against him than he can afford. Its slowly wearing him down, his body no longer able to recover at the speed it used to. The bleeding from the bullet wounds weep still when they would have long been clogged by now. But he keeps fighting, he keeps moving and punching and kicking, throwing what he can, careful not to break necks or kill anyone.
But where he has to be safe to not kill, these people... well it's probably just a suggestion.
A suggestion they are less and less inclined to take. He knows this because he feels the bullet pierce his abdomen, splitting skin and muscle like it's nothing. The pain laces through him, but before it's fully realized, the bullet is followed by a taser straight to the wound. More people descend on him in that moment, taking advantage of his momentary inability to defend himself. Batons and pistols decent on his head, his back, shoulders, hands grabbing and pushing, all of it trying to slam him to the ground. To pin him, render him defeated.
And it starts to work as he falls to one knee, but he doesn't give up, he keeps fighting, keeps resisting. Throwing people off him and slamming his elbows against his attackers. He knows though, his line of defense is coming to an end and there is little he can do to change that, not when he feels another bullet pierce his skin inches above his heart. Even if he keeps fighting, the blood loss will quickly slow him down. Defeat him.
So, he risks it now, a glance up at the window, hoping to see someone escaping, even one person. Anything to make this mean something.
no subject
But his thoughts too go to the Disciple. The Disciple who saw her people, her family taken for tortures. The Disciple who knew he'd stop at nothing to erase that cause of theirs in his future. The Disciple who ran, who saved that little thing in order to give their lives meaning when she couldn't save them.
When all through the violence and battering, Steve meets his eyes, he knows what the right thing to do is. There are still people left, people he can attempt to save. Steve has already made his choice. He knows the right choice.
But he's a Makara, so he makes the wrong one.
"STEVE!"
He doesn't jump off the wall so much as he leaps from it. He promised. He promised everyone would be safe. There's not a Messiah damned way he's going to just let this happen. His call isn't so much to get Steve's attention as it is to get the attention of his assailants, and they look, and catch the ends of his claws in their pristine white armor before swings around a kick at their heads and brings knees to their guts. There's not even time to wince like he wants to do, with how the conditioning claws at him not to hurt them, and so there's no ripping off of limb today.
"Don't you dare fucking die, motherfucker! I MADE PROMISE NOT TO LET YOU GO DOWN!" And ain't that cruelty of it? It might be mercy for Steve. Unlike himself, death might've been kinder. He doesn't know what will happen. All he's got is a blind hope in a man, and in the idea that the blame will go in the right place. Even then, that doesn't mean kindness.
He throws a Peacekeeper off, and another one, always careful not to cull for how he tries to incapacitate. But then the taser hits him and his mind goes into a trained blankness. He hears himself scream and he only barely gets the sense this is wrong, he shouldn't be able to scream, he never could before. He hears the words, "Get down!" And he drops to his knees in absolute obedience, hard enough to bruise. He forgets himself-- or remembers-- when the fist collides with his jaw and the baton is whacked against the back. He winces, though an Avox isn't supposed to.
In the wake of that, it hits him. It's done. It's over. They order him not to move and though he feels he can disobey, he sees the path ahead. His expression twists. With indigo upon his face, down his chest, and all on his hand, he turns to Steve. What he says may well be a whisper, "I'm sorry."
He prays his last plan to work.
no subject
The words crash into the forefront of his mind, like waves trying to drown and consume, but Steve keeps his head above the water, not letting himself become lost in the past. But it changes nothing of how much this moment reminds him of that one. Of Bucky refusing to save himself because Steve's life was in danger, letting emotion dictate reason. Of how Initiate is leaping into the fray, forgetting everything else to keep Steve from getting killed.
And maybe he should be mad, disappointed, the others can't escape now, not with Steve down and Initiate quickly following suit, but in the end, he's really not. Maybe if the Troll had been a soldier or an Avenger or a Commando, but no, he's not going to fool himself into thinking they would have done any different. Really, Steve is pretty sure he would have done the same himself if their places had been switched. Maybe he would have pulled some miracle plan out of his ass, but even he doubts that.
Still, the second he sees Initiate jump, call out to him, he knows it's over. He doesn't see a questionable leap of faith to make or a quick out like in the memory, he only sees a fist collide down into his face as Steve fights to stand again, unwilling to give in, unwilling to let all the deadly blows transfer to the other. If the troll was going to risk his neck for Steve, then he was sure as hell going to do the same.
Yet, seeing the fight drain from Initiate's eyes, tells Steve it really is as over as he had originally known it to be. But what's worst is seeing that sudden and severe change, it's like a sick twist to the gut, knowing that such a fast instinctual response to give up isn't natural, it has to be trained. Running, fighting, those are natural, to give up is something learned, and it makes Steve loath those responsible.
So, even though Steve knows this is the time to stop, to give up, he can't. He fights back, moving to stand one more time, but is quickly subdued by a taser to the back of the neck, his body seizing for a long second before he crashes back down to his knees. His consciousness is weakening, his vision blacking out slowly.
“Me too,” the words leave him, responding to the sorry offered, though Steve doesn't share the same regret. Not really. He's sorry for a lot of things, but not for the choice he made to stay behind, not for the choice he made to keep trying, to keep fighting. Those he has no regrets for. His regrets lie in how his choices have and will hurt those he loves. Knowing that Bucky, Sam, Tony, and others will torture themselves over what he decided, that they will suffer for it and knowing that will hurt more than anything the Capitol could do to him. There are other regrets too, yes, not saving those trapped here, for not coming up with a last minute plan, many more, but they aren't as powerful. No, he knows what it's like to be left behind, he remembers the pain of it, but it's a consequence he's willing to bear.
Doesn't mean it's easy.
"Me too."
no subject
He considers the last words of his elder, a sermon to the dying on the end of times. He considers that, regardless of whatever his past life might have signed at the end, the last spoken words would've been to Meulin, a careful whisper of good morning, maybe even pity you, before slipping off to sleep by her. Maybe an apology is fitting. Maybe this is right.
This won't be like his past life, the part he never tells no one about because he wants the motherfucker remembered better. This won't be where all he's too pan-addled to be anything more, where all his good is put to rot. They will take his tongue. They will take his will again. They may even take his soul once more, but like fuck was he letting them take his heart again. From now on, as long as he was alive to prevent it, no one would be cutting that out for him.
Not even himself.
He watches Steve put out his last stand, defending him even as he's already fallen. He gasps as Steve falls but he doesn't speak more. He sees Steve fade from conciousness and he uses his last bit of available movement to reach out and steady him, but when he turns up to the Peacekeepers there, he doesn't see an anymore. He sees himself, a subjugglator surrounded by his fellows. He sees himself asking if all their work in rebellion was worth the price they're about to pay.
The others are being taken captive, they're cuffing Steve and himself now, jerking them roughly upwards and taking them off to their fates. And yet, when he hears his own voice in his mind, questioning him on whether this was worth it all, for the first fucking time in his life he has full proper revelation of it. He thinks of his family, his friends, their future. He thinks of how badly he'd wanted a second chance, just one fucking chance for the line of himself, his other, his descendant, to do some goddamn good. He thinks of the lives he's finally managed to save, instead of end for once. Do you think it truly to be of motherfucking worth? He laughs one last time before he will never laugh like this again, indigo leaking from his eyes for acheiving something he'd never thought himself able, and he thinks, Yes. Yes it is.
They're taken away. Once outside, he sees Steve being dragged elsewhere, not going along with the other captives. There's just enough time for him to realise, heart clenching and face falling, that Steve's been written a different fate than that of the others and even himself. Just enough time before the gag is in his mouth and the blindfold is put over his eyes.
The next thing he sees is a bright white room and all he knows after is fear.