THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS! The thing that's supposed to be happening since we started about a year ago. It was a year right? Or is it more? I can't remember. This is a nice change of pace to the Gah! fics you all know and (hopefully) love. So...enjoy people! Don't forget to let me know what you think!
Steve Rogers awoke to the smell of dried blood and the sound of distant voices. The words weren’t clear through the thin stone walls. His eyes opened and took in his surroundings, it was an interrogation room, but an improvised one. It would have worked, if Rogers hadn’t spent around 3 months in the same situation, only in a camp much more terrifying, and a lot more German.
September 17 1942 – 9:00
“Listen to me you swine. We know about the serum. We know about Erskine. God did not give you these powers as God IS ON OUR SIDE.”
“I’m telling you it was an Angel pal.” Steve knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of giving them information, they’d just keep torturing him. He might as well get some form of pleasure out of the experience. He’d been in the prison for a long while now, chained to the wall for most of that time. If there was one thing he could say for the Nazis, they could definitely stick to a schedule. 7am until 9 every morning they’d wake him up and beat on him, trying to get any information on allied tactics and secret weapons that they could, and everyday Steve would look them in the eye and tell them to go to hell, before throwing in some kind of remark about his torturer and their political affiliation. Once the session was over, two Nazi underlings would take him down, both bags of flesh, nerves and fear. If Steve even so much as lifted an arm, they’d run to the nearest officer, crying uncontrollably. Fortunately for them, the super soldier serum didn’t save him from fatigue and Steve was about ready to drop. He let them drag him through the camp eventually throwing him into a metal box that was meant to be his home. The heat from the metal proved unbearable and contributed to his depleted energy levels. At night, four soldiers guarded the box until the morning, where the cycle would continue.
Today was different. Steve let his head drop, his eyes closed as he conserved his strength. As always, the two Nazis who were to take him from the room arrived, both unarmed and extremely easy to beat. As they unhooked him from the ceiling, Steve twisted to his right, headbutting the first guard before slamming the unconscious body into the second. Breaking a bone in one of his thumb’s, he slipped his hand out of the handcuffs and hid out of sight.
The guard entering the room was highly armed, and Steve guessed, highly trained. Still, he wasn’t prepared to find out if the men intended to torture him, or just kill him. He used his chains to pull him up from the ground a little more before swinging his feet forward, landing both on his enemies chin knocking him off his feet. The force of the move had also pulled the chain off the ceiling and Steve swung it at the second guard entering the room, bits of plaster flew off as the end of the chain broke on the guard’s helmet. His hands now free, he landed a series of punches to the head of the first guard before landing a roundhouse kick to the chin of the second. With both incapacitated, Steve took the sidearm of the first guard and hurried from the room.
His assumptions were right, the “room” was artificially constructed and in the middle of an open warehouse space. Steve hid quickly as a small army of guards ran towards the interrogation area. Spotting a ladder in the row behind him, Steve set off into a half-run, ending with a leap up half the ladder. Continuing his ascent, he climbed onto the top shelf and peeked over the edge. Only one guard remained to look over the crime scene. Steve looked around for a weapon of some sort, eyeing a wooden crate to his side. Prying the top open, he looked inside, the crate was filled with fully loaded machine guns and other assorted firearms. Closing the lid, Steve sorted his footing before tipping the crate over the edge onto the guard. As it hit the guard’s back, it fell onto its side, knocking the guns over the floor. Steve leaped down from the shelf as the remainder of the search party rounded the corner. Reaching for one of the guns, Steve dived behind cover, taking three of five guards out with one burst of bullets. The two others would look for alternative routes to their target without being shot. The “room” he had broken out from was positioned in front of him and Steve ran towards it, grabbing hold of the top and pulling himself up. One of the guards had reached the side of the room and Steve jumped on top of him firing aimlessly. The last guard was fast approaching and too close for Steve to shoot. Steve ducked his punch and stole the knife the guard had on his belt, grabbing him from the back Steve put the knife to the throat of the guard, forcing him to open the print-locked door. Once the door was open, Steve used the butt of the knife to knock him out, letting the body slump to the floor before shielding his eyes from the daylight.