capeandcowllogs | So take back everything you ever got, cause this is the future that never was

WHO: Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, and Steve Rogers.
WHERE: Around New Vesuvius.
WHEN: Wednesday I think?? Smack me if that conflicts with you guys.
WARNINGS: Will edit as necessary. General disclaimer for this plot: inhumane enslavement.
SUMMARY: Frank explores New Vesuvius,
FORMAT: Qu...ick...?

[ They said there was no crime.

It had sounded like a joke, some play for glory that was all talk and no show, and Frank took it as such. It had to be a lie; blown up by publicity. There was no way that something like that was possible. It just wasn't within reason.

But the more he walked through the streets of this city, the harder to was to deny. It wasn't his goal to come out here and look for a fight, but even if it was, there was nothing in sight that even had the slightest indication of ill-will. Guessing how they supposedly achieved this made matters even worse.

This was artificial, sick and suffocating, and he was given no option to do much more than stand idly by. ]

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[Days it had been, now. Days of psychological examinations. Days of physical torture. Days of intense re-education sessions. Days spent wondering if it was true what they'd been saying about dying, if it could really provide some sort of escape.

Matt wasn't going to kill himself, but there were a few instances when the thought had fleetingly crossed his mind. In those moments, he'd found himself looking to Steve for... well, some sort of guidance. Did he always see eye to eye with the star-spangled man? Oh, hell no. But Rogers was a good man, and if there was just one ally to have in this place, it would be Captain America above nearly anybody else. If there was some means of escape beyond suicide, Matt was sure that he and Steve could puzzle it out.

Two days in and they finally had a day off. This could be their only chance to explore this version of the City, and Matt was determined not to waste it. Whatever facts they could find, the better information they were equipped with, the more likely it was that they could survive this whole ordeal.]

Edited 2013-06-29 05:36 (UTC)

[He made sure to pick clothes that covered his injuries. It was a little thing, maybe, and some people would call it vain, but Steve had learned a long time ago the value of the appearance of strength when its reality was questionable. He'd managed to get his hands on high-collared, long-sleeved shirts. The rest was easy to hide.

There was no helping the long gashes under his chin. They were clean, stitched, uninfected, but very visible. They didn't hurt enough to be more than inconvenient. Something to ignore in favor of their surroundings, a steady pain to keep him on his toes.

In the end he doesn't need the help. The news broadcasts, the at-ease populace, the total lack of interpersonal hostility even in the most crowded areas - it's like the attempt at utopia in Things to Come realized, like walking through a set for a piece of the film, and it makes him feel hunted in a way he can't explain.

It's too perfect. It's inhuman.

Scrolling through channel after channel on one of the monitors, he finally breaks the silence he and Matt have pretty much maintained.] We called it the war to end war. It made me angry, when I woke up, to hear people mocking that - I knew by the time the Germans moved into Poland that it was wrong, but I didn't think it had been a bad ideal.

[The war to end war. He turns away from the console.]

Edited 2013-07-01 03:51 (UTC)

[ It was easy to pick out an imPort from the natives -- usually it was, even back in the original version of his hell, but now it was especially defined. It felt eerie, like being alien even if this was still planet Earth by some technical definition... though it hardly seemed to qualify. Important features were being washed away, and it would only be a matter of time until it was as if none of them had ever existed at all.

Frank saw the two of them, and his body stilled. Even on their own, they would have stood out to him, much less together. He knew Murdock, and Rogers wasn't his usual company, but here they were together. In any other circumstance, Frank would have never gone near the two of them, getting mixed up in that would be stupid and it would cause nothing but friction. Now, though...

There are no atheists in foxholes.

Frank navigated through the crowd, his head bent low and his hands tucked inside of his pockets. ]

[Matt is no historian, but Steve's words nearly sent a chill down his spine. It was an easy comparison to make, between this place and Hitler's ideal world, but something about hearing it stated so plainly made his blood boil. He's been lucky, spared the visual displays of this world and its propaganda, but it wasn't any less avoidable. Every detail hits him over the head like a hammer, over and over and over again until he's got a giant headache.]

Come on, let's keep walking.

[Keep walking, and ignore the metallic sting of blood that radiates from Steve. No matter how cleaned up he is, Matt can still catch the scent of blood on him. It makes his head hurt even worse.

Then there's another scent on the air. Someone else, someone he knows and can pick out in an instant despite the people around them. Matt's jaw sets and his pace slows. Rather than wanting to bolt or lead in a chase, he's actually glad to have found him.]

There's someone here. Someone... friendly.

So take back everything you ever got, cause this is the future that never was

likewise, smack me if i need to change things along the way :3

thirding!!

smacks everyone

gently recoils