War Zone

[musicstruck]

THE WAR ZONE MEME



WARNING: Meme will contain TRIGGERS, including war, violence, capture, and general uncomfortable content. Please do not click if you don't want to see, and please respect your fellow role-players.

◊ Post with your character with name and canon.
◊ List any preferences(roles, scenarios, time periods, etc.) you have



ROLES
1) The General/Admiral: You're the head honcho, the guy in charge. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of lives resting on you. What decision will you make?

2) The Officer: Not the leader, but you've got responsibility for your crew. What's your specialty -- independent initiative? Insubordination? Or do you let the noncoms walk all over you?

3) The Soldier: Just an ordinary soldier with your pike, or rifle, or energy gun. Your job is to follow orders. But when it comes down to it, when you look the enemy in the eye -- what will you do?

4) Spy: Dressed in civilian clothes, disguised as an enemy officer. Your job is to get as much information as you can, and then get out. Or are you going to sow a little chaos and destruction along the way?

5) Civilian: This is your land that's being fought over. Do you support a side? Do you hide, or do you hold steady in the face of such violence?

6) Other.

SCENARIOS
1) Battle: In the middle of the fighting.

2) Downtime/R&R: A few peaceful moments, to spend as you will.

3) Sabotage: Something's gone terribly wrong. A factory blown up, a bridge destroyed, an assassination. What do you do about it?

4) Planning: How do you go about storming that beach?

5) Capture/Rescue: The enemy soldiers have you surrounded. Or maybe you're on a daring mission to break your buddies out of jail.

6) Other.

TIME PERIOD
1) Ancient times: Grab that centurion's helmet, form up into a phalanx, and let's go crush those Gauls and/or Persians!

2) Medieval times: Suit up in your armor, grab a lance and make sure to bring along your squire.

3) Revolutionary times: Basic guns and muskets, very little medical care, and very little tactics. Give the other army a few days to dig in, and they'll hold you off forever.

4) World War I/II: Technology is advancing, and warfare is more sophisticated than ever. Remember the trenches, the skirmishes in cities, the spies and the drama.

5) Modern times: Guerilla warfare, modern tactics, modern technology.

6) The future: Ray guns? Space battles? Let your imagination go wild.

7) Other.

Comments

[frozenassets]

Bucky has to brace his back against the support as he struggles to his feet, with his knuckles white on the concrete as he fights against way his knees might've well have been made of Jello and the way his stomach flip-flops in his gut like an acrobat trying to escape out his throat. His arm shakes with a tremor as he keeps the gun leveled at her. If he's lucky, there's no one there....but for all he knows, he's also hallucinating this blue-skinned woman over a HYDRA guard or lab rat with a gas mask on. It's a nuts enough picture that it figures.

He's not ready for her to pin him under the alien, remote look a tiger in Central Park, goosebumps prickling along his skin and the hairs rising at the nape of his neck when she speaks; her voice is deep and warped, as if there are several echos trailing after it. Bucky swallows hard at the faint bile at the back of his throat from puking up his guts minutes ago. He's got poison wining around his ankles and gunking up his lungs, clinging to his clothes, and he'll probably eat it finally if he tests Lady Luck any longer, and stays here.... but some gut instinct that comes from when humanity was dragging itself through the wilds can't bring himself to run; if he turns his back on her , he'll get taken down the next second. Even Zola can't bring that exact feeling scrambling down his spine.

His fingers go tight around the gun butt, jaw clenching as Bucky forces his hand steady. The gun barrel remains pointed at her as those brilliant golden eyes skim down his form from head to toe, and Bucky scrubs at the blood sliding from his nose roughly. It leaves a messy streak smearing across his face.

Bucky hesitates still. As if it's really a woman and not his brain playing tricks on him, 'cause women like Agent Carter are rare out here; most women stay behind enemy lines, and it makes him sick to think of actually shooting one.

"The hell're you?" Bucky manages to make the words come out, and they're hoarse. His finger seems to shift with a mind of its own over the trigger, from the trigger guard, but he doesn't pull it yet. "HYDRA?"

[scalesandsecrets]

The resilience of the American sergeant really was quite remarkable, even with blood oozing from his nose and tremors racing through his body he managed to keep the gun pointing at her. She'd expected him to collapse after a few seconds but clearly that isn't on Sergeant Barnes agenda, it's clear now what Captain America sees in the man.

"No." Is her simple answer to his question, accompanied by a dismissive role of those yellow eyes, and it's the truth from her point of view. Mystique has no sides in this war, her only motive being survival, if the humans wanted to kill one another in the millions then let them as far as she cared. But that wasn't to say she hadn't worked for HYDRA, but that was not for his ears.

They knew her as Leni Zauber, an agent who could obtain any Allied secret on payment of her very steep fee. To Allied high command she was Patrick Forbes, operator of a spy ring in neutral Sweden, two identities among a sea of others known to American, German, Soviet and British intelligence services, none of them with any idea that they all belonged to the same woman.

Her eyes narrow as his fingers move around the trigger, flicking up to Bucky's face and there's a distinct warning in that unblinking gaze that if he pulls that trigger she will take it personally. There are a hundred threats she could utter, but none of them are as effective as the silent promise in those impassive blue features. Bucky Barnes was not the first man to hold her at gunpoint and he would not be the last.

"Heavy isn't it?" She remarks casually, speaking of the gun, still not bothering to put her hands up and even though her posture is outwardly relaxed it's an illusion meant to lull into a false sense of security. The next move is his, unless his grip on that gun happens to waver first or should he take too long making his choice.

[frozenassets]

Like she'd tell the truth if she was, Bucky thinks, and even though it seems like every muscle in his arm trembles, he manages to keep the gun leveled at her. From this range, he'd have to be blind to miss. There's someone there under that hallucination. Every fighting instinct is sure of it, and after so long out here on the front, he's given that thing front and center. Saved his neck more than he can count.

....What he can't answer is why she sends this uneasiness crawling down his spine. It's the same kind of uneasiness he got when they were hoofing it through one of forests, thick with dark tree trunks and the chill pressing in, and deep down Bucky knew that their band of guys were being tailed by a big old pack of wolves at one point. Even caught their eyes glittering in the darkness as he stood watch with a hand on his gun, and it's that same shudder that goes through him in her presence. And poison or not, he can figure that the blue-skinned, naked bombshell make sense. Sure. But that primal twist of fear? That only pops up when there's something there.

Bucky tries to stand tall when her eyes track up from the motion near the trigger, unwilling to appear weak in front of her, even though she'd probably walked in on him puking and shaking. Despite the alien, pinpoint pricks of her pupils, he reads that warning loud and clear; he fires, he better hope it kills in the first shot.

What if she's like the Red Skull? Another freak of that knockoff serum, turned into this? The thought is sudden and poisonous, because doubt crosses his face, as if realizing how bad his odds might really be. If she's anything like Schmidt or Steve, she'll be strong enough to twist metal like it's a twig, so breaking him in half should be a cakewalk. And he's seen Steve take a gunshot wound and keep charging forward.

Meanwhile Bucky's arm's begun to visibly tremble, and sweat beads on his temple with the effort it's taking not to look away, not cough, and sure-as-hell not drop the gun. "Light as a feather," Bucky lies through gritted teeth, and jerks his chin slightly back to where she came from. "Ma'am, I don't want to have to shoot a woman, so why don't you go back the way you came. Nice and easy."

[scalesandsecrets]

Analysis of body language was a skill that had taken many years to master, but its usefulness was beyond question. Mystique could see the fear in the human's eyes, the emotion mixing with the almost primal realisation that humanity was no longer the dominant species. At least it was refreshing not to see any hate in the human's eyes as he stared at the traits of her mutation, another more ignorant human might have fired by now or crawled away screaming.

Given the choice between fight or flight the soldier had chosen the former. Perhaps there was something to respect in that, but this was still a delay nonetheless and while Mystique could stand here all day and watch the human tremble, sway, and sweat there were files in this HYDRA base that she needed to retrieve before either HYDRA or the SSR arrived to investigate. There was still time, but her window would not remain open long.

"No." She repeats herself, and this time there's a flash of white teeth as blue lips curve in obvious amusement at Bucky's demand. He's in no shape to be giving anyone instructions, least of all her and after a moment she shows her disdain for the threat by turning her head away, as if he's no longer worthy of her attention, even though she continues to watch him like a hawk from the corner of her eye.

With the shape he's in there's only so long the human can keep that rifle pointed at her. It was now simply a matter of which gave out first; her patience or his strength. Mystique would bet a considerable sum on the latter.

[frozenassets]

Her teeth stand out so starkly with her dark blue skin that they remind Bucky a helluva lot like fangs just then.

Oh hell, Bucky thinks, a lance of cold going down his spine as black spots begin to swim in his vision, and that sweat rolls down the side of his face, when the operative calls his bluff. The only things he can be sure of is that she's no friend to the Allies and the SSR with the way she's acting, and she's not packing heat - unless she's pulling it where the sun doesn't shine, she doesn't look armed. And even after all this time at war, part of him still balks at the thought of shooting someone unarmed.

And practically in the back, 'cause the woman turns from him like he's of no more interest to someone like her than a gnat. She's got a mission of her own, and the more he sees of her, the more Bucky becomes convinced that maybe it's not a good idea to let her finish it.

Before she can start walking off, Bucky settles on a compromise, which doesn't involve shooting her if he can avoid it; he reaches out and grabs roughly at her shoulder, gun still unevenly trained on her with his finger hovering over the trigger guard - ready to twitch to curl around the trigger in an instant if he's gotta and squeeze- as he tries to jerk her back and away from that door. It sends him in a little stumble into the wall that Bucky has to lean in for support as he tries to plant himself between her and the door, breathing hard and flinching as the world seems to roll over with the sudden motion.

[scalesandsecrets]

Mystique can see the decision in Bucky's body language the moment it is made. Dodging his hand as he reaches out to grab her would be a simple matter with her reflexes, but that would leave her exposed to his gun and at this point blank range it's not a risk she wants to take, but that doesn't mean she hasn't already planned ahead, mapping out his potential moves and her responses, so that when he does she's already two steps ahead.

His hand curls around her shoulder, scaly flesh cool beneath his fingers and then he stumbles and that's all the opening she needs. Twisting her shoulder to pull him even further off-balance, one arm darts backwards, ignoring all the laws of muscle and bone, to wrap a hand around the barrel of Bucky's gun, yanking it forcefully out of his grip.

She's already spinning around, a blue foot swinging hard and fast toward his face, simultaneously readjusting her grip on Bucky's rifle to deliver a follow-up with the gun's butt should her first kick prove insufficient. Bucky Barnes had already proven himself to be tougher than she thought, and she hadn't lived for so long without being prepared.

[frozenassets]

Bucky only gets a moment to register the smattering of rigid honest-to-God scales on a shoulder that's surprisingly firm with muscle. Then everything goes to hell right after.

He's prided himself on having quicker reflexes than most of the troops around them; first to draw, first to kill most of the time, first to bail from a compromised sniper's spot if there's even a hint he's been made and just as quickly finding another one so he can take up the same rhythm of aim-breath in-breath-out-fire. Now he's taken completely by surprise with the speed and grace she moves with, and even though his fingers spasm around the gun - on instinct, Bucky's an instant too late as he squeezes at the trigger as the gun's ripped from his grasp before he can even get his finger past the trigger guard- as he staggers off balance.

Bucky doesn't even get a chance to raise his arm to block what happens next. She strikes faster than a cobra in an arc of blue that has her leg lashing out, her heel catching him hard in the jaw that has him reeling with sparks swimming in his vision.... and in a followup that's smooth as water, as well trained as double-tapping the enemy when they're down, she nails him in the temple with the butt of his own pistol in a burst of agony and explosion of lights, then darkness. Bucky goes down like a sack, crumbling to the ground in a heap.

[scalesandsecrets]

Economical as ever, Mystique tossed the gun aside the moment Bucky hit the ground, a quick flick of yellow eyes assuring her that he was down for the count. If he was still alive when she returned then she would decide what to do with him, but for now she had files to retrieve, the life of one human being entirely secondary to what she had come here to do.

It wasn't long before Mystique returned, carrying a binder in her hand and followed by a whisper of smoke from the fire she'd set to obscure the theft. Glancing down at Bucky, she paused for a moment, considering before leaning down to check his vitals.

It would almost be kinder to snap his neck on the spot and put him out of his misery, not to mention eliminate the risk he now posed to her. But that would be a poor reward for Sergeant Barnes' earlier survival and despite him only being human Mystique could respect that. So after a moment she leans down, slipping an arm under him and hoisting him up onto her shoulder, carrying him out of the complex and away from the lingering poison.

******************************************

Sunlight shone brightly through the windows of the 18th century chateau that served as a field hospital for the US Third Army. At the request of the SSR (or so the orders Private Lorraine had brought with her said) Sergeant Barnes had been given his own private room to recuperate from his ordeal, and was to be disturbed as little as possible, whilst his presence at the facility was to be kept at all times top secret.

After several days in an induced coma while the doctors purged the toxins from the young soldier's system, the medical staff had judged that it was now safe to let him wake. Which was why Private Lorraine now sat at the Sergeant's bedside, waiting patiently for the past couple of hours as doctors and nurses came and went, the room now quiet save for the sound of birdsong filtering through the windows from outside.

[frozenassets]

It's late morning when Bucky finally rouses. Compared to several days ago, he doesn't look like he's on death's door, though there's still dark circles around his eyes, his skin pale as if coming away from one of those bouts of sickness that laid Steve out. The sheets shift as he begins to stir with a low, disgruntled groan that morphs into a trickle of swears, while his fingers clenching into thin cotton before relaxing. There's a band of light sneaking through the curtains that's just happened to fall into his eyes as they scrunch then flutter up.

Immediately, Bucky squints at the light, half-blinded with it while his head rings with this dull pounding at the back of his skull as the sunlight floods in past this figure - a woman, that much he can tell from the close fit of the SSR uniform to her form- seated next to him. The last thing he remembers is a blue, scaled foot coming at him hard, and then-

He scrubs at his face with one palm, grimacing as he just lets hit drag down his face, while he begins to tentatively push himself up so he can sit up against the pillows; it's careful and slow, like he's not sure what to expect after that run in with the gas. All that he gets is just that same dull throb at the base of his skull like a lingering hangover, but when nothing else shows up, he slumps right a relief against the headboard, looking over at the woman next to him.

He's seen her around the camp - mostly when he's gone to visit Stark to get his rifle checked out or to field test something for him. Once at least when he's visiting Agent Carter for a mission off the books. It takes him a moment to place her, then - yeah, Lorraine. Private Lorraine.

"What happened?" he's gotta ask. What happened to that lab rat that took him out? And why isn't he dead?

[scalesandsecrets]

To fill the time that she had to spend waiting, Private Lorraine had brought a portfolio folder with her to work through, and she moves through it efficiently during the time before Bucky wakes up. Curiously some of the papers are not ones the Private is cleared for, and as she moves from page to page her signature and even the writing style change until she notices Bucky waking and promptly closes the folder, blue eyes now fixed on him.

"Sergeant Barnes, it's good to see you're alright." Private Lorraine smiles warmly, scooting her chair closer to the waking soldier, tidying her hair and smoothing down her uniform because even under current circumstances this is Bucky Barnes and she wants to look her best.

"As for what happened Colonel Phillips hoped that you would tell us. We know that you and B Company made it to the target but after that..." She trails off for a moment looking down at her lap as if reluctant to go on before finally continuing in a quieter tone. "I'm sorry to say that nobody else from your unit made it."

They were only human after all and no match for Sarin nerve gas. Which only made his survival all the more remarkable. Some day soon she'd have to find the mission debriefing that dealt with Zola's experiments, or better yet delve into the little gremlin's research files herself to see exactly what he was up to. But that was for the future, time to concentrate on the problem she potentially faced here and now.

"I'm here to take preliminary notes for your debriefing." She said, coloring her cheeks for a deliberate blush as her eyes drifted downward to what she could see of his chest before she shook herself and reached for a pen and paper.

[frozenassets]

Bucky doesn't look all that much like he's feeling all that good about surviving, and when she smiles, he can't quite bring himself to return it. He doesn't want to think too hard about why he's the only one that survived - that's heading down a path that he's got no desire to go to, digging at suspicions he's had that are better left buried. If all he came out of that FUBARed mess was just a lingering headache like a mild hangover, he'll take it. He got off light considering he was right in the thick of things, and there's far too many good men who died down there because of the twisted bastards that make up HYDRA, who'll join that stack of condolence letters that the Colonel signs every morning with his coffee.

Christ.

He rakes at his hair as he leans back against the headboard, leaving it a careless mess of dark strands- the difference between him and Lorraine are night and day, and he can't help but notice the way she seems to primp herself a bit to look her best. Bucky can't figure out why. Wasn't she the bird that practically plastered herself to Steve, landed him in hot water with Peggy last month?

Her eyes track down to where the shirt's hanging a little low, and a little open, and linger there, and her cheeks go pink like she likes what she sees, but it's hard to get too excited when his entire squad died all around him. He doesn't answer right away, eyes closing for a moment like it'll help keep out the way he could see them choking on their own blood around them, scrabbling at each other like it'll help. His fists clench on the blanket, then he forces them to relax, opening his eyes to stare at the rough wool across his knees.

"We arrived at the site for the assault," Bucky starts. His voice sounds as if someone had run it down a cheese grater. "Intel was good, HYDRA never saw us coming, so we caught 'em with their pants down. We just....we just didn't expect them to can everything. One of their officers decided it was better to gas the entire place than let us at their research."