Sep — Roleplayer Guild

FORMER SOVIET PRISON // UNKNOWN LOCATION

0900HRS was chow time. Steve walked through the halls of the prison, two guards flanked him at a safe distance of four feet. Close enough that if he bolted they could get him with their tasers before he got too far, but far enough away that if he turned on them they had time to react. Things had been so much easier before the invention of the Taser. Most of the other prisoners avoided eye contact with him, staying out of his way. While he had been told that the Cold War was over, there still seemed to be a lot of resentment towards America and Americans. 

The same old story, the same old disagreements. He worked his way up the food line, ignoring the slop poured onto his tray. Steve worked his way to the back of the mess hall to the one table he was allowed to sit at without it causing any issues with the other denizens of the prison. He nodded to the ageing, but well-toned, Russian who was already sitting at the table. His hair was long and matted, his eyes starting to grey over. Alexei Shostakov had been the original Red Guardian. The two had formed a tentative friendship while Steve taught Alexei how to use his new abilities as a Super-Soldier.

As Alexei aged, and became disgruntled with the fact the KGB was using him as an assassin rather than a soldier he attempted to break Steve out of prison. They had got pretty far too, but it wasn't meant to be. Alexei had been tortured viciously and Steve wasn't entirely sure what the punishment was for. Alexei for betraying his country, or for Steve trying to escape. He had gone without torture himself, but watching what Alexei had to go through had been torture enough. 

Few people in the prison messed with Alexei, as they knew. They could do whatever they wanted to the Former Captain America with no repercussions, but to mess with them was to incite Steve's wrath. 

The two soldiers nodded at one another as Steve sat down, and started using his fork to raise the stew into his mouth. The meat was burnt and chewy, with little to no flavour. At times he wondered if the cooks were as old as him, as somehow the quality of the food had never changed. It had never gotten worse, nobody ever suffered food poisoning, but it never got better. Not even slightly. 

Heavy footfalls meant that the other member of their little trio had arrived, the bench shifting under his weight slightly. A behemoth of a man, Piotr Rasputin was considerably younger than the two old war dogs. Having been discovered to be a mutant with super strength and durability, he had refused to sign up and become part of Russia's Winter Guard program. As a result, once the scientists had tested and tortured him extensively he had been sent here, wherever here was, as it was the only prison capable of holding him.

The kid didn't deserve to be here, all he had wanted was to live a quiet and peaceful life. Steve could understand why Alexei was here, and why he was here. It was twisted, it was messed up but he could see the logic in it. All Piotr had done to get a one-way ticket was choose to not become a weapon. 

Steve tried to look after him as best he could, but he was ashamed to admit he couldn't always be there for the kid. Anti-mutant sentiment in the prison was rife, and while he was built for strength the anti-mutant serum he was constantly dosed with always left him a sickly pale colour with his muscles next to useless. A side effect of his daily doses, a so-called cure for the mutant affliction. Dropping his voice low, he leaned in to make sure they weren't overheard. It was unlikely they would have been given the usual noise and chaos of the mess hall, but you could never be too careful. "Piotr. When are you due your next dose?"

"Tomorrow mornink-" Piotrs control of English was still flawed, which is why Steve spoke slowly, even with the most sensitive of subjects. "-Why are you asking?

Steve leaned in, with only the slightest smile on the corner of his lips. "We've got an opening, time to send a message."
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