01 | All lies and jests; still a man hears what he wants to hear

[sinistral]

WHO: the Winter Soldier (sinistral) and you
WHERE: Calibrations waiting room, calibration room, and network
WHAT: midway through the Calibrations cycle, the Agrii decided they needed another victim "he row"
WHEN: 06/28 through 07/10
WARNINGS: Literally every calibration room prompt will have elements of violence and torture (physical and mental).

---

SECRET TUNNEL
→ Waiting Room;

This is complete bullshit. Complete. Bullshit. The Soldier has strong feelings as it is about waking up in a place entirely different from where he'd gone to sleep. It had happened far too much in his life and invariably makes him tense and irritable; between HYDRA and the Atroma — and apparently these Agrii now — he's just done.

The tunnel looks nothing like the Marsiva or the other ships of the Fleet but has him on guard regardless. He's pretty sure they'd escaped that imprisonment, won their way free of the Atroma. Certainly he's seen no evidence of them in the year since. But perhaps they'd gotten too lax in their freedom, in the rush of exploration and enjoyment of each other's company.

It's possible anyway.

Still, he can't focus on that right now, and certainly attempting to break out hadn't worked. Had the impact of a metal fist against the wall woken anyone? Potentially not, if this really is like the Calibrations he remembers, the way sleepers couldn't be woken once they'd drifted off. Or perhaps people will hear it and come looking. Doesn't much matter to him and he gives it up quickly enough when he sees that it's not doing any good anyway.

Well, whatever.

After a last glare at the tunnel he returns to the interior chamber and proceeds to go over every inch of it. Under the Atroma, it was impossible to escape the Calibrations area until those beings decided their time was up. If this really is modeled after that there'll be no escape, but he still intends to make sure. Perhaps some detail has been overlooked.

→ Calibrations Room;

The room itself is plain, utilitarian. The walls might be grey, or a grimy institutional beige. The only furnishings are a large glass-and-metal tubular chamber in the corner and a metal table in the center of the room with a single lightbulb hanging above it; an old incandescent bulb sheds yellowy light on the surface of the table and not much further.

On the table rests a sniper rifle, a combat knife, and a mouthguard. There appears to be no one in residence.

NETWORK
→ Text;

The Drift Fleet. Atroma. Calibrations. If you know what I'm talking about, speak up.

[That's it that's the message.]

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

Want something else? Have an idea? Hit me up at sometimesamuse or via PM. Open to wherever, whatever, and though I write starters in prose I'm more than happy to switch to brackets if it's your preference.

Comments

[beholding_archivist]

"Now... wait. First time I meet you, you tell me that's your name. Second time I meet you, you get upset I know your name. Now the third time, in your mind, you tell me it's not your name anymore. So what do I call you?" Yes, Jon would appreciate an answer to that at some point. He's still not entirely sure if he has always been running into the same man or not, but this has been getting... Odd.

The Archivist also decidedly doesn't comment about the empathy and potential lack thereof from beings being able to cause rather invasive dreams. Jon isn't exactly in the position to judge anyone, is he?

lmf poor Jon

[sinistral]

"This is the first time we're meeting." Unless of course this is a man from the missing parts of his memory, which is entirely possible. "Prior to my arrival here, I was on a ship in space. I've barely been here a few days." By his reckoning at least, which is usually pretty good regarding the passage of time. Then again, he's not entirely sure if the day cycles here match up to a 24-hour cycle — and there aren't exactly windows to the outside — so his estimations could be off.

Still, he can't rule out the possibility that this man is someone from his past. The thought brings him no comfort, because it seems his lot in life to run into people who claim they know him, and of whom he has no knowledge. "What is your name?"

His track record with the Buckies is flawless

[beholding_archivist]

Jon opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, contemplating his options - And not missing the part where he isn't being given a name for this man. So he frowns.

"You didn't answer my question, but I'm Jonathan Sims. Archivist at the Magnus Institute, London." He fixes his eyes on the currently nameless man, but also moves his arm, letting his hand hover over the various items on the table. Just a reminder that he can get some information right here if he decides to do so - Or he finds the man when they're awake again, of course, and simply compels the answers out of him.

"Are the other two your brothers?"

he needs a raise tbh. a raise and a vacation

[sinistral]

"I don't have a name." He says it as simply as a man might introduce himself, just a fact of his life, a part of his normal. Searching this memory yields only a blank for his companion's name, likewise his occupation. Not that it means much to a man who can't remember most of his own past, but still.

Eyes narrow at the threat of touching the things on the table. He knows how Calibration rooms work; he'd be unable to stop the scene that plays out. Hopefully they don't have to go that route.

Confusion replaces the potential irritation a moment later. "Other two?" Well, confusion and a faint sense of resignation; he's been in this situation before. Though perhaps not this exact situation because he doesn't know if these others are the exact others, but they don't have to be for it to feel like the same nuisance. "Oh. This again."

He shakes his head. "I don't have any brothers." He's pretty sure, anyway.

add a nap to that.

[beholding_archivist]

"...right." Jon answers, taking his eyes off the other and contemplating the items again. "You have no name, no brothers, presumably no parents either. Weren't born or raised. You simply appeared into existence out of nowhere and started shooting people." He sums up his current picture of the man. "Makes sense."

Of course it doesn't. Jon lets his hand drop back to his side and returns his eyes to the owner of this mental room, contemplating. "Someone took your memories, didn't they."

he's just DONE

[sinistral]

"That's closer to the truth than you probably mean it to be." Scarily so, actually, how did he do that? Or perhaps it's that the Soldier's unique story is so fantastical that a turn of facetious comment is the only thing approaching its truth. "You're not wrong. The process is... painful."

Understatement, that. HYDRA had been very inventive in its methods, and very thorough in carrying them out.

"In the place I was before I was here, I met a man who had my face. Who claimed to be me, but not me." He doesn't know why he's telling this stranger these things, but he is. A Calibration of a different sort perhaps, or consideration for how his hand has dropped away from the threat of touching the things on the table. "He said that he wanted the name. He had more claim to it than I, so he remained Bucky and I remain nobody."

He still has a lot of feelings about giving up even that small thing, but it's not like he remembered it as his name. He read it in a museum, etched onto a larger-than-life portrait of his face. He still doesn't know who that man is, only that it's not who he is now.

[beholding_archivist]

The Archivist simply nods in response. “No. I.... I think I can understand. The process being rather... Unpleasant.” And he pauses, contemplating.

“I.... uhm..... Have you considered getting those memories back?” It’s a question. A serious one. Even though Jon doesn’t know if he can do something like bringing back lost memories. He can extract them, yes. But bring back what has been lost? That would for once be a positive use of his powers. But...

[sinistral]

"Indeed." He's thankful that the questions aren't asked; others haven't given the same courtesy. The Soldier doesn't understand what it is about tragedy that makes people think they are entitled to the tale of another's suffering; for him, it is a deeply private thing, and not one he desires to share.

"It depends on the methodology." He certainly would like to know more of who he is, but if that offer came at the end of HYDRA's leash, for example, he'd rather remain a nobody forever. "I have had an offer before, from a man who believed he could undo some of what was done to me. I did not accept."

Trusting someone, when experience has shown him only pain, is a process both long and difficult in its making.

[beholding_archivist]

“Well, I am not claiming to be able to undo anything. But I.... I can access memories. Extract them.” And he won’t claim it’s a pleasant procedure either. “I may not be able to bring back something that is fully lost, but if these memories are just... Hidden. I think I can try to bring them back to the forefront. Make them available to you again.”

It’s a thought. That’s what his powers do, don’t they? Pull forth memories...

And before the other man can get any false ideas, Jon raises both his hands “I won’t try anything if you don’t want me to. And... And I’ll admit I’ve never done it in such a context before. B-but if I can help...”

[sinistral]

"Interesting." It's probably clear that he has a lot of conflicted feelings about that. On the one hand, the idea of regaining his memories feels like a siren's call, irresistible. But like a siren, could it not be a fair covering for foul action?

But at least Jon brings up the issue of consent; the Soldier doesn't get the feeling that this is a sort of subterfuge, but he's still wary. On the plus, he's moved his hands away from the items that would trigger the memory-dreams not once, but twice now. "You have to know it's an offer I can't accept. I don't even know how real you are, in this place, and for our acquaintance being no older than ten minutes. But it is an offer I will keep in mind."

Well, provided that they're allowed to keep this memory; he's not taking it for granted that they will. "How did you come by this skill with memories? The person who made me the offer said it wasn't a common magic."

[beholding_archivist]

Jon just nods. "That's fair enough. It's an option, though. People here... They have helped me before." And he tries to help where he can.

He takes a decided step away from the table, crosses his arms and shrugs. "It's part of my job, actually." And that isn't even a lie. It's just an odd way to phrase it.

"I'm the Archivist at the Magnus Institute. We record and research paranormal events."

[sinistral]

"The camaraderie of a shared prison?" He shakes his head a moment later, dismissing the grim turn that thought could take. "Not to be insultingly maudlin, but I suppose the situation does some amount of forcing people together."

Though the distance from the table causes some of the tension to bleed out of his shoulders. Something about this Jonathan's mannerisms says he's not going to turn around and be a dick, just for the sake of being a dick. It's somewhat reassuring, even if the situation still leaves a lot to be desired.

He can't help but shake his head at the expanded introduction though; it still doesn't ring a bell. Not that it means much with his lack of memory. "I'll confess I still haven't heard of it. But it's probably not the only thing I haven't heard of."