Eleven - ►Mistakes We've Made◄ 1/2civilagentMay 27 2012, 04:38:52 UTC
There had been rumors circulating the wires about a underground facility in the Catskills. No one really knew what the place was being used for but they all knew it was there and told tales of imagined horrors that befell unlucky urchins grabbed off the streets, from back alleys, and hikers plucked straight from the trails if they ventured too close. It was all very modern day urban legend...except that it was real
( ... )
The initial search for the missing turned up records and files on over eighty tests subjects. Most of those listed had been greyed out denoting their status as "No Longer Viable" which was a clinical definition for deceased. There were only ten names that still flashed green and all listed as being in the 'holding pens on Section C-5'. Phil left McKinney and Rolling in charge topside while he took three men from their backup and headed to C-5.
That part of the facility was older than the rest, slightly unkempt, and wholly terrifying. When they forced their way past the security doors they were met with an overwhelming smell of filth and decomposition. One of the agents retreated out of the doors to retch but fell back into step behind the rest moments later. He wouldn't have been missed since it didn't seem like any of the others aside from Coulson had moved, too horror-struck to continue forward.
The walls were lined with what looked like over-sized kennels, half a dozen cages and all filled with what could only be the ten viable
( ... )
1/2| marry me. (also, trigger!warning for extensive captivity descriptn., human testing, death) stillnotlegolasMay 27 2012, 05:37:50 UTC
There were times Clint regretted leaving the circus. And times he regretted leaving the orphanage. And times he regretted his parents getting in a fucking car wreck in the middle of the night on a rainy street. The orphanage was run like a prison, tight rations and women who were in it for the state money instead of the children, and the circus meant everything from Trick Shot to Swordsman to Barney and a fall from a tight rope that nearly left him crippled. But there were times he regretted his choice, nights when he didn't have any place warm to sleep, couldn't scrounge up food for lack of work for a drifter, or times he had to take missions he didn't want--employ his skills for people he hated just to get a paycheck and keep on living. But he'd never regretted leaving the circus more than when he'd been fucking nabbed out of a back alley in New York City by some thugs who looked like they bench-pressed railroad ties for fun and he'd ended up here in what was basically the world's sickest science experiment gone wrong
( ... )
2/2 (but really, head those warnings) stillnotlegolasMay 27 2012, 05:38:30 UTC
By the time the SHIELD agent knocks down the door, there's only three of them left. Alexander and Alondra and Regina have been left to rot, and eventually Aiden couldn't stand anymore and followed their plan. He'd gone quietly in the night, and they knew only because he didn't respond anymore when they called his name. Roger's body rejected his mutation a day after Aiden went quiet, and Rufus had simply--given up after that. Adrian is the one that gets to him the most, because he's the only one Clint can actually see, and he dies not because his body has rejected the change--the four of them seem to have adapted and accepted and are holding stable--but because he dared to ask a guard for some water. The crack of the baton across his face still haunts Clint, and he knows the guard didn't mean to hit him that hard--they all heard the man getting reamed, but there lies Aiden, still looking surprised and with his wings wrapped tight around his small frame
( ... )
The agents are making a lot of noise, radio chatter and the hush of voices whispering their disgust or sputtering their surprise at the scene, the cages, the occupants -- all that noise and Phil still picks up the croaked request. It surprises him, makes him pause with his gun to the side. He leans towards the cage and squints into the gloom and picks up glazed but intelligent eyes staring at him from a wrap of feathers and grime
( ... )
He's so used to their captors that it surprises him right down to his core, so that he can almost feel the shock in his bones, when the man listens to him and moves past his cage to Fiona's, talking to her, telling her exactly what he's doing. It's that, really, that makes him believe they might actually get out of here and that it's not some strange twisted and horrid sort of dream. False hope is something they've had no shortage of, but it always seems to die in the face of another day
( ... )
Phil doesn't move, as he promised, just watched the unsteady lumbering of Barton - Francis Clinton, alias of one Clint Barton, vagabond weapon for hire and petty criminal. But right now he was just a broken, mistreated man that needed help. - as the man levered himself up and out of his cage and stumbled his way into the other, wraps the woman up in his arms and his wings. It's disturbing, those alien features, but the scene is touching and makes something in Phil clench
( ... )
He doesn't really give a damn what the agents think about them and what they are, now that they're hybrids, not entirely human. He's run the gamut of responses, from the scientists and their awe and curiosity, to the disgust of the new test subjects dragged in, to the weary acceptance of the others sharing his captivity. They can be disgusted for all he cares, but as long as they're not going to shove them back into some government run prison or laboratory he doesn't give a damn. He does look up at the motion at the front of the cell, but it's just Natalie, and he reaches out to collect her close, her cat like body curling tight against his side.
"Frankly, sir," he replies softly, looking up over the two women held close to him, "if you try to separate us, you won't like the outcome."
"They won't try to separate you," He assured and conveyed that message (order) over the comms to the rest of the team. Phil wasn't going to ignore the inherent threat even if he was betting a stiff breeze could knock the lot of them over. "The medics will be here in two. They're going to want to come in there with you and check you over but they won't come in there without your permission so I'm asking you, all of you, now if you'd be more comfortable out in the open instead of sitting in an enclosed space?"
That takes a moment for him to process properly, everything does, his brain is sluggish and his body weak, but once he's got it he leans down and murmurs the question to the girls. They nod, and Fiona lets out a tiny whimper that makes him want to break something. He wishes, for a moment, that these men have left at least one of the guards alive, because he owes them a solid punch to the jaw.
The voice is still quiet, hoarse but it was easy to hear the plea. He nodded again and took a few steps backwards. Phil looked over his shoulder and addressed the milling agents, "Everyone outside, give them room. Corey, Daniels go meet up with the medics and give them instructions to come in low and make sure they understand they're not to charge in straight away. They need to telegraph their actions and ask permission constantly; Slow and steady."
The agents scrambled to obey and soon it was just a sentry at the door and Phil left in the room with the three injured huddled in the cage. He took another step back and secured his weapon, tucking his hands into his pocket afterward.
"Do you need help coming out or can you all manage?"
"We can manage," Clint defends, because even if they can't, he's not entirely sure he can handle leaning on someone else right now. He's had people controlling his life for the past three months, there are some things he needs to do on his own
( ... )
Clint might not can look but Phil does, lets his eyes roam over the sunken body with those long wings limp and lifeless. It looks like his face was smashed in. Phil forces himself to take a deep breath and not gag on the rancid air -- He wants to order this place imploded with the bastards that kept these people here inside. It would be vigilante justice and he'd be tossed into a dark hole for twenty-five to life but it'd be worth it, he thinks
( ... )
Clint knows a lie when he hears one--has been hearing them for months now: 'now this one won't hurt', 'this is for the greater good', 'you're all going to be fine'-- but he's too tired and too weak to fight for it. As long as they get him out. That's really all Clint can ask, and maybe someone will find their files, years from now, and actually do what needs to be done. He nods and continues his walk to freedom
( ... )
To be perfectly honest, Phil was expecting the crash a lot sooner than when it happened. He'd been ready, silently pacing them from behind, keeping just far enough away to give them the illusion autonomy. When they were outside the doors and medics were rushing-without-looking-like-they-were-rushing forward, he expected them all to simply fall then, but they were, he noted, a stubborn lot. Fiona went down first but she was small and the medic helped her down easily. Natasha was weaker than she had been down in the cells but she kept aware if not fully awake. And Clint? If the medic hadn't of caught him and aided him to the ground then his face would probably have been just as smashed as that avian down below
( ... )
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That part of the facility was older than the rest, slightly unkempt, and wholly terrifying. When they forced their way past the security doors they were met with an overwhelming smell of filth and decomposition. One of the agents retreated out of the doors to retch but fell back into step behind the rest moments later. He wouldn't have been missed since it didn't seem like any of the others aside from Coulson had moved, too horror-struck to continue forward.
The walls were lined with what looked like over-sized kennels, half a dozen cages and all filled with what could only be the ten viable ( ... )
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"Frankly, sir," he replies softly, looking up over the two women held close to him, "if you try to separate us, you won't like the outcome."
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"Outside, please. Get us out of here--"
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The agents scrambled to obey and soon it was just a sentry at the door and Phil left in the room with the three injured huddled in the cage. He took another step back and secured his weapon, tucking his hands into his pocket afterward.
"Do you need help coming out or can you all manage?"
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