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| Toy Soldier | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 21 2009, 10:25 PM (177 Views) | |
| Cameron Hodge | Nov 21 2009, 09:33 PM Post #1 |
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Director of SHIELD
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Notice to all mutants! Because of the recent events with Apocalypse, we are enforcing a mandatory policy that all mutants are to refrain from using their powers overtly or putting on displays. Physical mutations, subconscious manifestations, and other events that can't be helped will be treated on a case-by-case basis and there will be exceptions made where necessary. Anyone found in violation of this will be arrested on site and be held in contempt. SHIELD has jurisdiction over NYC airspace; helicarriers have been posted across the country on the east, west and gulf coast. New York City is presided over by one such carrier. |
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| Brian Braddock(old) | Nov 21 2009, 10:25 PM Post #2 |
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Superhuman Strength/ Stamina/ Reflexes, Flight
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Date: June 1998 Place: S.T.R.I.K.E. maximum security base “I don’t like this. Why do I have to do this?” The boy’s voice echoed against the white washed walls of the room. “The training facility” they called it. The scientists. With their clipboards ever present, they hid behind layers of reinforced steel and thick one-way mirrors and watched. As they watched, their emotionless voices droned out instructions to the confused child below them. Confused and defiant. The familiar voice of the “head scientist” blared somewhat impatiently over the intercom, “Brian, just do as you’re told. The sooner you do, the sooner you can go back to your room.” Brian’s blue eyes glared at the speakers placed near the large mirror several feet above his head. He knew they were watching him from up there. The idea of going back to his room made him pause, briefly. Only briefly…until he realized they were talking about his cell. The place that they called “a room” was nothing but another cold and sterile white walled prison container. “Somewhere to keep the freak, because even animals need a place to sleep.” It was those kinds of things that made him angry. Those kinds of things made Brian want to hurt them. All of them. There were a lot of things that made him angry. Mostly, it was because he missed his family. His parents, his brother…especially his sister…Betsy….no…Elizabeth. Everyone here called her Elizabeth. Or “the other one” of “the girl.” Brian heard them say that too. He heard a lot of things. Most of the people here talked about and around him as if he wasn’t there. They barely talked to him, except to give some order. They were always telling him what to do. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like them. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his sister. But there was no home to go to anymore. His parents and older brother were dead. Killed by mutants, so they told him. They told him a lot of things: that mutants were bad…evil, that he and his sister had to make up for being mutants by serving their country and hurting other mutants. They even told him that he was lucky that his parents were dead so they didn’t have to see what monsters their children had become. Brian wasn’t so sure he believed them. “Focus on the task at hand, Brian. We don’t have all day. Or would you rather…” The suggested alternative brought Brian back to reality. He quickly walked over to the large armored car sitting in the middle of the room. They wanted him to lift it. They were always making him lift things. Each time the things got bigger and bigger, heavier and heavier. So far, the armored car was the heaviest thing they ever wanted him to lift. He didn’t want to do it. He was tired of lifting and breaking things. He wanted to fly…but they wouldn’t let him. They hardly ever let him fly. He had to learn to behave first, they told him. They would teach him to behave. A shiver went through Brian’s body as he looked down at the metal anklet on his left leg. The scientists simply called it “the device.” It was what they used to “help” him behave. Brian looked up at the cameras high above him. Even at fourteen, it was obvious that he was going to be a big boy. He was already just as tall, if not taller, than most of his handlers. Even his voice had begun to change. “Do I have to?” Brian’s question was answered with an electrical shock that originated from the device on his ankle and coursed throughout his entire body. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough to bring the boy to his knees. After a few seconds, he heard the voice over the intercom again. “No questions, Brian. Just lift the truck and it won’t happen again.” Brian used his anger to bring himself to his feet. Along with his strength, they soon discovered that he could take quite a bit more punishment than ordinary people, hence the device. They used it often. After getting back onto his feet, Brian put his hands under the bottom of the truck. With his feet planted on the floor, he pushed upwards with his arms to lift the truck. He could almost imagine the sound of the scientists’ pens as they scribbled on their precious clipboards as they watched him lift the truck over his head. “Good. Now put it down in the designated area.” The designated area was all the way across the room. While he had no problem lifting the truck, Brian wasn’t so sure of he could carry it all the way over there. If he could, he really didn’t care to. No. A defiant grin spread across his face as he suddenly had a better idea. Shifting his stance, Brian bent his knees slightly and with a grunt, heaved the truck towards the large one-way mirror. He smiled as it went hurtling towards its target. The loud crash of the truck striking the mirror was like music to Brian. However, he was unable to enjoy his handiwork for too long as the familiar painfilled jolts from the device ripped through him again. The punishment lasted longer and it felt as though they increased the voltage, this time. Brian soon fell to the floor, tears in his eyes and a slight smile in his face. As he felt himself slip into unconsciousness, he heard a voice somewhere near, or above, him. “….see that? Cheeky little bastard…stronger than we orig…” |
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| Brian Braddock(old) | Dec 15 2009, 09:20 PM Post #3 |
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Superhuman Strength/ Stamina/ Reflexes, Flight
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Date: August 2000 Place: S.T.R.I.K.E maximum security base “Who do you work for?” Brian stared silently at the two men seated across from him. Agents Broken Nose and One Eye. His eyes were blue spheres of defiance. He knew better than to answer any question they launched at him. It was all a part of his training. Looking past the agents, his mind wandered. They spent most of their time shaping him to be a perfect physical weapon. They taught him various combat techniques, stealth tactics, and even some basic weapons training. Brian thought the idea of teaching him what to do in case he was ever captured was pointless. They taught him to never get caught…leave no loose ends. Brian wondered if this was just another roundabout way for them to hurt him. Just another excuse to push the limits on his pain threshold disguised as a “training exercise.” A pointless interrogation simulation. “Braddock!” Brian’s eyes flickered back to the men in front of him just in time to see Agent Broken Nose slam his fist onto the table angrily. Brian raised an eyebrow at the unintimidating display of emotion. He hadn’t been paying attention. They didn’t like it when he ignored them. It provoked them. A small grin crept onto his face. He liked to provoke them, sometimes. They made stupid mistakes when they got angry. Brian thought that they would have learned that by now. His grinned widened as he remembered breaking the agent’s nose a week ago. Now, however, was not the time. No. Brian molded his face to the blank, emotionally void mask that they taught him. They taught him a lot of things and he would use all of those lessons against them. Soon. For now, though, they needed to believe. He would play the part of the mindless toy soldier. Until the time was right. Until then, he would learn and wait. “Yes, sir?” Agent One Eye quickly spoke up before Broken Nose, “We’re done for now. Go to the cafeteria and get some food. Someone will come to retrieve you for your next training session.” Brian waited until he was released from his shackles before trying to stand. He stood tall over both agents. As he walked out of the interrogation room, he grinned as he heard One Eye mutter, “Bloody hell, what are they feeding that fucking kid?” The cafeteria was a dull and lonely place. Especially if you were a living test subject or a mutant candidate for human mind control. At least, that’s how Brian looked at it. Just like every other day, he sat alone at a table far away from them. The humans. The normal people. He hated them. They represented everything that was bad in his world. The lies, the pain, the lonliness…humans were responsible. They treated him like some sort of animal. Hurting him when he was “bad” and giving him insignificant treats when he was “good.” Brian hated being treated this way and he hated them. And he knew that they hated him. They hated and used him. They tried to fill his head with ideas that mutants were bad, that mutants were a problem that needed to be dealth with. But he knew better. Humans were the bad ones. Humans were the problem to be dealt with. They couldn’t be trusted. No one could be trusted. The only one he trusted was his sister. She was family, after all. The only family he had left. That’s why he had to look out for her. Protect her. It was the promise that he made to himself long ago, and it was that promise that kept him focused. It was that promise that stopped from his trying to kill them. All of them. Oh there would be deaths, but not yet. He wasn’t ready. “What are you looking at?” The voice of one the younger agents broke the silence. Sitting there, deep in thought, Brian didn’t realize that he had been staring. The agent stood up and walked over to Brian’s lonely table. “I said…what are you looking at, freak?” Keeping his mouth shut, Brian’s jaw clenched in anger. This was another regular occurrence of the cafeteria. There was always some hot-headed agent or pissed off scientist who thought that they could say and do whatever they wanted. Gripping his fork, he felt the metal give way in his hand. With a smirk, the agent knocked Brian’s tray to the floor. “You made a mess, Captain.” The agent spoke with heavy sarcasm. “Clean it up.” Dropping the mangled fork, Brian stood up slowly. His chair hit the floor with a loud thud. A second later, the agent himself hit the floor with a sickening crack. Thirty seconds after that, Brian was on his knees as severe volts of electricity went through his body. The response team was there on standby. They were always there. Waiting. Through the pain, Brian managed a weak smile as he saw the unmoving body of the agent. The captain of the team shook his head as he checked the lifeless body of the agent. “I told them to leave the subject alone. These young recruits never listen.” |
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| Brian Braddock(old) | Dec 17 2009, 08:09 PM Post #4 |
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Superhuman Strength/ Stamina/ Reflexes, Flight
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Date: December 2002 Place: France ![]() “The Prime Minister owes you his life. Thank you, Captain Britain.” Captain Britain. That is what they called him. It was a name that was meant to inspire the people. It was a name that was meant to send a message to anyone who even thought about going against this great nation of people. He was a meant to be a beacon of hope. He was a very physical and real life symbol of strength. The uniform they gave him was easily recognizable to the people. And with his daunting size, he made the people feel safe. Brian almost felt pride in it. Almost. While he was used to ensure the safety of persons of importance, he could almost feel the fear radiating from them. They were afraid of him and his power; as they should be. They were beneath him. They were weak humans, fat with pride with their illusionary mastery of a “wild animal.” That’s what they really thought of him, and other mutants, after all. He couldn’t read minds, like his sister, but he didn’t have to. He could see it in their eyes, their faces, their timid movements and sideways glances. They were afraid of what they had created. They had created a powerful weapon. He wondered if they knew that they did not….could not control him. He was sure that they had procedures to neutralize him if it came down to it. The way they had with some of the others like him. The other mutants that they made him work with sometimes. As if he needed them around to help. A few had gone rogue and been neutralized almost immediately. In some cases, he’d had to do it himself. He wondered if that was the kind of thing one was supposed to feel bad about. He didn’t. They were mutants like him, sure, but he had no connection to them beyond that. Not like his sister, Elizabeth. Britannia, that’s what they called her. He preferred not to call her that, but she seemed to like it. Most of the time he called her Elizabeth or Betsy…like he did when they were children; when things were good. He wondered if he did it more to remind himself than to remind her. But never in front of them. One less thing for them to take away from her. From both of them. “You did a fine job out there, Braddock. Fine enough to finally earn the name we’ve given you. You deserve to be called Captain Britain. I’m proud of you, son.” The agent in charge, Agent Sterling, his “handler”, spoke encouraging words and put his hand on Brian’s shoulder to emphasize. A year or two ago, Brian would have broken that hand just for touching him. But he had learned a measure of control for his temper. It was the only way for them to trust him, to believe in his complete submission. But he couldn’t help it as the muscles in his jaw tightened momentarily when Ricks called him “son.” The privilege to call him that belonged to one man and he was long dead. Father. A man whose face he could barely remember. This hole in his memory of his past, along with others, only fueled his anger and hatred of S.T.R.I.K.E. even more. He was not allowed to have any pictures of them. He was not allowed anything that was reminiscent of his old life. A life that he could barely remember, most days. All he had was his anger, his desire to be free and his sister. It was these things that sustained him now. “Thank you, sir. May I retire for the evening?” Brian spoke in emotionless tones. He found that these worked better than trying to feign any other emotion, aside from anger, rage or disgust, when it came to interacting with his handlers. Sterling paused. Although Braddock had improved significantly over the years with his behaviour, Sterling couldn’t help but wonder what really went on behind those stone cold blue eyes of his. As big as he was, Braddock was still a kid. Sterling felt bad for him sometimes. He couldn’t live like normal teenagers. Being a mutant ruined the kid’s life, but there was no use crying over spilled milk. His abilities were being put to good use. The kid was a hero. Even if he didn’t see it that way. Sometimes he wondered if they made a mistake with Braddock. The kid was smart and ridiculously strong to boot, a dangerous combination. And S.T.R.I.K.E. just handed him the tools and knowledge to make him even more dangerous. Hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, stealth tactics…they even encouraged him when he showed interest in mechanics and math. Braddock was dangerous, alright. And Sterling hoped that they had him on a tight enough leash. “Sure, kid. Get some rest. We’re heading back home in the morning.” “Thank you, sir.” Brian watched as Sterling signaled to Agent Martinez. Brian liked Martinez. She was the first female agent to be assigned to him. And she was nice to him. She was young too, probably just a couple of years older than him. Martinez smiled at Brian as she stepped up to escort him to his room. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s get you all tucked in for the night.” Brian offered a nervous half smile in response and for a few seconds he almost felt like a normal guy walking with a normal girl. The illusion quickly faded as several other agents appeared, guns in hands. His smile faded and was replaced with his usual emotionless visage. When they reached the door of his room, an agent clamped the ever familiar shock bracelet on his wrist. It was a smaller and more powerful version of the ankle model. They still didn’t trust him. With good reason, Brian knew. “Sweet dreams, Captain,” Martinez said with a wink. Brian managed to stutter a weak “Thank you” before the door of his room was closed and locked from the outside. As the door closed he could hear one of the other agents, Harris, snicker. “Why do you do that, Martinez? You’re going to give him the wrong idea. The last thing you want is some super powered freak of a stalker with puppy love.” “Get off it, Harris. He’s an ok, kid. And he’s kind of cute. Come on, before Sterling comes looking for us.” Brian took his ear away from the door. There was no use getting attached to any of them. They’d shoot him as soon as look at him. Martinez was no exception. The others were just more honest about it. With a sigh he looked around his room. It was an exact duplicate of his room back at the base. Walking up to the mirror, he pulled off his mask and stared at his reflection. The blue eyes that he shared with his sister, stared back at him. He wondered what she was doing. Sitting in her room? Watching tv? Without him there, she wouldn’t have to fight for the remote. He smiled at the thought. Fighting over the remote was one of the few normal sibling activities that they were allowed. Thinking more about it, anger rose up into him again. The anger was always there. He resisted the urge to break something. He closed his eyes. Soon, they would be free. He would see to that. He would be free to fly wherever he wanted. To feel the wind whipping around him as he soared high into the sky without limit. They would be free to run and jump and live, the way they were always meant to. With their freedom, maybe he could help his sister find some peace of mind. Maybe he would find some peace within himself. Maybe. Looking back at his reflection, he felt the anger again. What he saw there was not the free man he longed to be. All he saw was a slave. Mask still in hand, Brian’s fist crashed through the glass of the mirror. He pulled his unharmed fist away, glass shards falling to the carpeted floor. With a sigh, he dropped his mask. Captain Britain was a puppet, a toy soldier. That was something he refused to be. -end- |
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1:02 AM Jul 11