bakerstreet | Escape

Escape

Escape Meme!

Trapped. Captive. Stuck. Surrounded. Heck, maybe just bored out of your gourd. There are plenty of reasons one might want to break free, both life-threatening and non. Sometimes, we even put ourselves in that situation for fun, or just for the challenge. However, the way out isn't always as easy to find as you might have thought. Good thing two heads are better than one. Can you make it out of this one? Would you help someone else escape?

Prompts

1. Escape Room
It's just for fun - or is it? Either way, you've got to find the clues and solve every puzzle and riddle this room throws at you to get out. Hope you have help.

2. Enemy Territory
You're really in it, now. You're surrounded, held captive, or you've tripped the intruder alert. Can you sneak out, or will you have to fight your way through?

3. Jail
Hold onto your butts, we're busting out! No jail could possibly hold you.

4. Disaster
Maybe your spaceship's been struck and you're rapidly losing air, or perhaps you're seeking shelter from a natural disaster. Good luck getting out of this one.

5. Labyrinth
You're trapped in a maze, possibly one filled with monsters, and you have to navigate our way out.

6. This Provincial Life
Small-town life is boring you to tears, and you're finally ready to board a train going anywhere. Who will you meet along the way?

7. Wildcard
Anything goes!

[ Get Memes! ]

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[Voicetesting! More likely to innocently aid and abet an escape for 3 than wind up in jail herself. Otherwise, most interested in 2 and 6 but 4 could be interesting, too. Her character comes with some content warnings found here but they're unlikely to come up in tags since she'll be ignorant of it.]

Edited 2023-07-27 20:11 (UTC)

[ Equally likely to be escaping a dangerous situation or helping others to do so - even if getting out in one piece might make it hard to hide his true nature from an unsuspecting new friend. 2, 3, and 4 preferred, cross-canon and OCs welcome. ]

[ Jane's hand is shaking as she punches the numbers into the phone they're letting her use in prison. Oh, God. Oh, God. Her dad can't find out she got picked up by the cops. He'll kill her. Oh, God.

Jesse gave her Saul's number, though. Told her to call if she was ever in trouble. Her heart pounds.

When/if Saul picks up, he'll hear a surprisingly nervous female voice on the other end. ]

H...Hello?

[Saul does indeed pick up! Not out of any particular dedication to getting to his job duties in a timely manner--if she had called the normal Saul Goodman hotline, he would've had Francesca take care of it--but because this particular number is one only given to his high value clients.

He frowns at the unexpected number, wondering what sort of shit he's going to have to sort out now, before pressing the button on his earpiece to accept the call.]

Saul Goodman, speedy justice for you.

When he first broke Zemo out of the questionable asylum, he hadn't really thought through the rest of the plan. Or there wasn't really a plan, or. Whatever. He just sort of thought Zemo would-- eventually come down off of whatever they were dosing him with by the time Bucky could get him somewhere safe, in a country with no extradition and his... butler? For company. And Zemo would be able to deal with it from there.

It's not like he wasn't aware that his actions also put him on the world's shitlist and everyone he has and hasn't heard of would be coming for him. He thought he'd be able to manage dealing with them on his own, too.

But here they are in Zemo's corner of the world, with Bucky reluctantly sticking around because Zemo's figured out that not giving a definitive answer to Bucky asking if he'll be alright means Bucky doesn't feel comfortable or irresponsible enough to leave Zemo's side. It's not so bad, considering he hasn't really had to look over his shoulder so much. And Zemo treats him well enough. Clothes him, feeds him, leaves him be for the most part.

But then there are dinner nights at the fancy French restaurant because Oeznik deserves a break, and suddenly there's tailored suits, and there's a dozen sizes of cutlery on the table, and there's people giving them wary sideeyes while Bucky glares and frowns at the forks. The usual rule of working your way from the outside in doesn't seem to apply because the left-most fork looks too big to be inserted into-- whatever the hell that garlic buttery thing is.

"What is that." Bucky wrinkles his nose and narrows his eyes. "Is that snail." Can't they have just had a Oeznik-night-off-burger or something?

At least he's over the withdrawals for the most part, used to feeling again and being in control of himself again. He's still-- rather bitter about the whole experience, but bitterness is an old friend at this point. He didn't think he was insane. At least no in the way that needed to be constantly dosed with medicine and under a watchful eye. Maybe he'd been a bit unhinged-- maybe he'd tried to complete what a bullet had never been able to.

But what other reason did he have to not try when he had more or less settled the business he had promised to see to? When his whole life ahead was that of a tiny cell or the constant threat of the Wakandans?

Even now, those threats loom, even if... this part of the world feels safer than others. It's been at least something amusing, treating Bucky to things he has clearly never seen before. It's a way to show appreciation, he supposes. The man hadn't needed to do what he did after all...

Zemo does hate to leave debts unpaid.

"James, I have seen you put worse in your mouth. Just try it."

Funny. Bucky doesn't feel particularly appreciated, dressed up like a mannequin on High Street in clothes that are-- oddly comfortable but fit in ways he doesn't trust. If one can not trust their clothes. As though having a tailor measure him up is leaking state secrets or something when the shoulders are just the right length and curvature and there's extra room in the fabric to accommodate serum-gifted muscle.

He would have felt more appreciated if a happy meal had been tossed through a drive-thru window and landed on his lap. But here they are. Glaring at Zemo. Glaring at snails. He's pretty sure they're snails.

"Do they have any ketchup." Because ketchup apparently makes everything tolerable even if nothing would get them thrown out of the restaurant faster than asking for ketchup. But he seems to be willing to relent and try one once he sees Zemo use the tiny fork thing at the top of the placemat and prod at the... meat.

"I could have brought you a hundred leeches and slugs from the trenches in 1942 free of charge."

It isn't his fault that Bucky has issues with a nicely tailored suit that actually fits in all the correct ways. He looks nice in it, in Zemo's opinion. As for dinner-- well, perhaps they can pick up a happy meal on the way home, if Bucky is that against what he's eating.

Maybe he can even keep the toy.

But for now, he can try the food. "You are not asking for ketchup, James."

Please don't make the restaurant judge them. "And these are not leeches."

Why would Zemo take his toy from him? It's not like he's not being a good boy at dinner. Or at least trying his best.

"They are slugs with shells." Bucky wrinkles his nose and glances over his shoulder from the privacy of their booth before reluctantly dragging his weird snail plate a little closer. Still a little miffed that they make special snail plates with little grooves for each snail.

Picking up his own little pokey thing, Bucky stabs one of the squishy snail insides and drags it out, glaring at Zemo long enough to make most other people uncomfortable before dropping his gaze and taking his first bite.

Zemo's right. It's not the worst thing he's ever put into his mouth. The texture is... debatable, but in fact it actually tastes alright. Bucky frowns as he chews, scowl deepening as his gaze sweeps across his comically fancy plate.

He is being a good boy. He's even eating what's on his plate without ketchup... which is a pleasant surprised. Even if he's glaring like a put-upon dog that isn't getting his bone to chew.

He smiles to himself, despite everything. "Stop looking so angry. You'll start to worry the other tables, James. It isn't so terrible, is it?"

"Why would you take us to a place where people at other tables care about what we're doing?" Bucky grunts. By us, he's obviously referring to himself, since he wouldn't be caught dead in a place where other people cared about what he was wearing or his preferred condiments. And by grunting, he's mostly grumbling and whining.

He's deliberately not answering the question about how terrible the snails aren't. By poking at another one and eating it wordlessly. If Zemo isn't careful he might just be able to wrangle a man out of the caveman sitting at his table.

"I would have been fine with a sandwich." The last squished one from the 7-eleven or whatever and he wouldn't have had to dress up or try snail. Is he allowed to be angry over the fact that they don't taste disgusting?

"Glaring like that, James, and there would not be very many places we could go where no one would care..." It's almost amusing, watching him eat his food regardless of the protest and grumbling. He clearly doesn't mind it so much, or he wouldn't be eating it. He must think he has to keep up appearance... How could he admit Zemo doesn't have absolutely awful taste in food after all?

"Next time, then. You can choose." Which is a dangerous offer. Bucky will find a McDonald's or something similar to drag them to, without a doubt.

"We're going to a diner," Bucky decides almost instantaneously. Luckily the snail is too small for him to talk with his mouth full. "Nobody will care what you're wearing, what you order, or what condiments you want. And it won't take four hours to get through a meal." This suit Zemo dressed him up in is made of 100% tantrum and Bucky is barely managing to keep his frustration in.

Of course if Oeznik got wind of the fact that Bucky wants to go to a diner he'll probably let him go by himself and keep Zemo behind to prepare a proper meal. And besides, there's probably no restaurants similar to the diner Bucky is picturing in his head in this part of the world.

Bucky must have eaten a whole baguette by now but he's still eyeing up the bread that Zemo has casually moved to the other side of the table. Can't he just have ten loaves of plain bread for dinner and forego all this weird garden pests dishes?

"A diner." That's so-- perfectly normal, isn't it? And boring. But he doesn't say that. He simply gives a nod and a brief smile. He doesn't want to push Bucky into a public tantrum any more than he already is, after all.

"Would you like the bread, James?" He can have it, if he's going to sit there and stare longingly at it.

Even if that's just-- terribly poor eating habits. "We can go to your diner next time."

Maybe Zemo has been craving for the finer things in life after his incarceration. Bucky on the other hand wanted pizza, burger and fries, milkshakes - those are his tethers to reality. Of course if they ever opened a Wakandan restaurant outside of Wakanda he'd be very keen for that, but that'd be the quickest way to get arrested.

"It's fine. We'll go where you like." If he ever used to be fussy, he hasn't been since 1943.

"I'll eat that if you're not having it." No point of them both watching the bread.

"We can go to a diner next time, James." He gives a sigh, although his expression borders just slightly over the line of amusement as he nods his head. He can have the bread -- maybe it will make up for the snails he's complaining about so much.

"Although I would suggest against informing Oeznik about that."

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