assembles: (epic speech time)
[personal profile] assembles
[Like almost any time that Steve is making a solo broadcast, he's seated at the desk in his room. He's got the neutral yet firm look of a leader, which tends to be how he handles addressing the network. In this particular case, there's another reason for it. He can hide what he's really going through behind all of that authority.]

For anyone who knew Bruce Banner, the younger Bucky Barnes, or Peggy Carter, they've gone home.

[Home, which should be a good thing. And maybe it is, except that Bruce and Natasha had been happy here. Bucky's headed back into the middle of a war, and to something so much worse after that. And Peggy? Well, Steve is just relieved his voice didn't crack when he said her name.

He moves on quickly.]
I also wanted to talk about what happened with the memories getting swapped around. I didn't go through it, but it sounds like a lot of other people did. Between that and those old events coming back in different areas, it kind of seems like Wonderland's running a little haywire.

[He hasn't forgotten about the closets malfunctioning for a while there, either.]

Is there any kind of precedence for that stuff?

[Because it seems to him that they should be worrying about it.]

Anyway, I think that's all.

[He ends the feed there, but he'll be spending some time out and about for the rest of the day, either eating at the diner or taking Dodger on a long walk throughout the grounds.]
stickseller: (e08151)
[personal profile] stickseller
(Howard feels like he’s falling. Deeper and deeper, through time and space with nothing to clutch to no matter how hard he tries to hold on. He falls past events of his life, from his mother kissing him before he was sent to his first year of sponsored boarding school, past shaking his father’s hand after he graduated from MIT. He falls past the discovery of vibranium, past its presentation and past the assassination attempt. He falls past the faces of his friends, of Peggy Carter, of Steve Rogers, of Edwin Jarvis. He reaches for them, begging for them to grab hold of him, to catch him, to save him, but they all just watch on impassively. When he opens his mouth, no words come out, not a single sound slipping past. He’s just falling, and falling, into darkness with no sense of the depth. So he stops trying to claw for help. He closes his eyes, and suddenly he’s filled with a sense of peace. Of relaxation. If this is death, perhaps it’s just better to accept than fight. It may just be easier.

Howard awakes with a gasp, though instead of his lungs filling with air, they fill with water. He looks above himself to light, arms fighting towards it now, but instead of like in his dream, he makes progress. His fingers burst through the surface first, and then his whole body, and he’s choking, coughing, gasping to replenish his lungs with air instead of the water. He looks around, and sees that he’s alone, in a grand hall. He’s in the clothes he remembers falling asleep in, and he swims towards the edge, heavily pulling himself from the water.

The last thing he remembers from the night before is falling asleep on a small bed in his childhood home. It was where he had left after Peggy had told him to leave, and for once he had respected her desires. She had been furious with him, and because of that, he was furious with himself. She was his closest friend, his confidant, and someone to whom he had a deep amount of respect, but he had spoiled that, now. Ruined it , and for what? Maybe they wouldn’t even have found the vial of blood, and he could have just gotten it back when his name was cleared.

If his name was cleared, he supposed he could say now. That might not be likely after all, he would understand if she just stopped the work she had been doing. He had tricked her, after all, even if he had meant that he felt she deserved more than what the SSR was giving her. Maybe he had gone around it the wrong way, but then again, it seemed he did that often. He had a tendency to try to do the right thing, only to have it go terribly, terribly wrong. Adding ruining one of his closest friendships was just another notch on his bedpost.

Right now, though, he wasn’t thinking about that. He was shivering, and alone, and he needed to find out where this was. It didn’t seem like the kind of place he would be brought if they had come into grab him during the night, nor could he see them attempting to drown him. He made his to the door, expecting to find it locked, but instead it opened with ease. His frown deepened then as he stepped out, and called:)


Hello? Is anyone out there?

(of course, he doesn't notice that he's being recorded by a monitor hanging from the wall.)

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