004: Albert Heinrich (
copesetic) wrote in
makinglies2013-06-12 01:42 pm
Entry tags:
The bitter end
They had failed.
Albert could still hear the sickening thud ringing in his ears as Skull had dropped Joe's battered form at Gilmore's feet, a message to them all. Each cyborg watched helplessly, the electromagnet keeping them from action as Skull taunted them all with promises of being broken, of torture and death, even of erasing their memories.
At least they wouldn't have to live with this, if that were the case.
The soldiers were careful to keep the magnet close as the cyborgs were lead to what little of the compound remained. A secondary system, with its own power and facilities and everything else. The original had at least been severely damaged through the actions of the cyborgs but it hadn't done any good. None of it had done any good.
They were transferred to cells, two to each, though Gilmore and 001 were taken elsewhere. Precautions were taken, each cyborg being bound, relieved of weapons, or otherwise rendered unable to use their skills. Albert in particular was divested of his hand - the left, not the right - so as to be unable to use his knife. For the rest they simply took his ammunition. For Jet they surgically severed the fuel line, rendering his rockets unusable. Chang's fuel was also cut, GB was set with a restraint that prevented his shifting, and Junior they simply sedated, his strength too much to keep caged.
When they'd advanced on Francoise with a specialized mask to dampen her abilities, something snapped. She'd been crying quietly to herself since Joe's body was dragged from their presence, but the tears had turned to cold fury and she'd lunged at the nearest guard, gouging his eyes out with her nails and leaving wicked gashes across him and two others as she struggled wildly. They'd shot and killed her, like a rabid animal.
And now here they were, each imprisoned with no means of escape, two to a cell with the promise of retribution for their insolence hanging over their heads. Albert, for his part, seems to have gone mute. He sits in the corner of the cell he shares with Jet holding the stump of his removed hand and staring at the wall. It's a familiar state, an utterly passive demeanor as he had displayed originally, decades ago when he'd first been taken.
They'd failed. He'd failed. Joe was dead. Francoise was dead. Ivan and Gilmore are likely to follow, as will the rest of them if they're not stripped of what little humanity they have left and made as automatons to serve Black Ghost. What's the point in fighting anymore?
Albert could still hear the sickening thud ringing in his ears as Skull had dropped Joe's battered form at Gilmore's feet, a message to them all. Each cyborg watched helplessly, the electromagnet keeping them from action as Skull taunted them all with promises of being broken, of torture and death, even of erasing their memories.
At least they wouldn't have to live with this, if that were the case.
The soldiers were careful to keep the magnet close as the cyborgs were lead to what little of the compound remained. A secondary system, with its own power and facilities and everything else. The original had at least been severely damaged through the actions of the cyborgs but it hadn't done any good. None of it had done any good.
They were transferred to cells, two to each, though Gilmore and 001 were taken elsewhere. Precautions were taken, each cyborg being bound, relieved of weapons, or otherwise rendered unable to use their skills. Albert in particular was divested of his hand - the left, not the right - so as to be unable to use his knife. For the rest they simply took his ammunition. For Jet they surgically severed the fuel line, rendering his rockets unusable. Chang's fuel was also cut, GB was set with a restraint that prevented his shifting, and Junior they simply sedated, his strength too much to keep caged.
When they'd advanced on Francoise with a specialized mask to dampen her abilities, something snapped. She'd been crying quietly to herself since Joe's body was dragged from their presence, but the tears had turned to cold fury and she'd lunged at the nearest guard, gouging his eyes out with her nails and leaving wicked gashes across him and two others as she struggled wildly. They'd shot and killed her, like a rabid animal.
And now here they were, each imprisoned with no means of escape, two to a cell with the promise of retribution for their insolence hanging over their heads. Albert, for his part, seems to have gone mute. He sits in the corner of the cell he shares with Jet holding the stump of his removed hand and staring at the wall. It's a familiar state, an utterly passive demeanor as he had displayed originally, decades ago when he'd first been taken.
They'd failed. He'd failed. Joe was dead. Francoise was dead. Ivan and Gilmore are likely to follow, as will the rest of them if they're not stripped of what little humanity they have left and made as automatons to serve Black Ghost. What's the point in fighting anymore?

no subject
Probably because he trusted Albert to have his back...and now he wasn't there.
"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. The only person taking away your humanity right this second is you." He turned away from the man slumped against the wall and turned his attention to the door of the cell. It was the only weak point he could think of. "No one said you had to look forward to living. All you gotta do is look forward to dying."
It was something he'd been told once, when things were just street gangs and stealing to live, simpler times. 'Live for the day you die.' He'd thought the drunk bastard who'd said it was crazy, but he got it now. It was the depressing way of saying seize the day.
Jet didn't look back at Albert, it was only him and that door. They'd clipped his wings, but he still had his accelerator--faulty as it was--and he used it now to slam himself into the door. A flash and he'd disappear, only to reappear as he bounced back from his impact with the door. He wasn't the science-y type, but he figured if he hit the damn thing hard enough and fast enough, something would give.
He'd just have to hope the something was the door and not himself.
no subject
He blamed Jet's tenacity, his lust for life that kicked him at every turn. It was an abusive relationship that Albert had watched with fascination since they'd met. How someone could want so badly as to live through anything. It was amazing. Even now he resented the younger cyborg for that ability to keep going beyond all reason.
Maybe that's why he kept saying what he did, but it was also why he wanted to protect that vigor and said what he did next.
"Stop, you're just going to hurt yourself. I have a plan."
no subject
The flyer leaned himself up against the wall beside the door and fixed Albert with a look that was both curious and cautious. "If you're plan is any variation of 'hurry up and wait,' then I'm going to go back to slamming the door.
no subject
He looks at the still-open compartment of his machine gun arm, scrutinizing the inner makeup. There's no way he can rig that at the moment, not missing his other hand, but his legs he can probably get away with. He closes the panel again with his chin and proceeds to pull off his boot one handed. "Once you get everyone together, we'll make a break for it back through the duct system. We at least saw the map of the compound earlier so finding the hanger shouldn't be too hard. Once there, you should be able to retake the Dolphin and get out of here. The goons aren't hard, it's Skull we have to watch out for."
He grits his teeth as wires get unplugged and repositioned, the feeling not so much one of pain as just sheer shouldn't be. Even when he's had them for years, his body still protests the cybernetic parts.
no subject
He might not be as smart as some of his teammates, but he wasn't stupid either, he'd heard exactly what Albert had said.
"You mean we'll take the Dolphin out of here, right?" He stared at the German, hoping to catch his eye. "What are you doing?"
no subject
"I'm rigging up the other part of the plan, just in case Skull catches up before we manage to bust out." He closes one leg and starts to take off the other boot to rig the other. "Shouldn't you be picking locks?"
no subject
As soon as Albert went for his other leg, Jet had his hands in his collar again and was pulling his face closer to Jet's. "If you think for one second I'm going to just go along with some suicide run you intend to take by yourself then you've got another thing coming cause that's not my speed."
He hoped it was just the pure anger he was showing in his face and voice, cause the twisting of fear and pain and worry was still gripping his insides. He'd never felt this before they'd been captured. Before Francoise and Joe died. That was when it started and it only strengthened with each idiotic thing that came out of Albert's mouth.
"I'll pick the locks, we'll bust outta here, and we'll stick together. We'll get Ivan and the doc and then blow this joint and if trouble comes at us we can't handle then you and I will take care of it. Strength in numbers and it'd give the others more time."
no subject
"That's enough!!" Great Britain's voice rings across all three cells, effectively silencing what Albert had been about to say and causing the German to look at the wall in stunned silence. The echo of GB's yell has barely faded as he lays into them. "You're both a pair of bloody idiots! Do you really think we can get everyone out of here safely with you two waving your damned cods around like that? You have a whole team for Pete's sake! Or what's left of it."
He pauses out of respect, then carries on. "There's no use in being martyrs if you don't have to so both of you quit concentrating on which of you gets the bigger tombstone and get to work instead. 008's been able to walk me through how to reattach Chang's fuel line so we should have firepower in a moment, but it'll be better to sneak out then break out since it'll buy us a few more seconds."
no subject
After a beat, he let go of the German's collar and picked the wire and pin back up, that neutral expression still masking his face. When he spoke, his tone was quieter, meant for just the two of them, and dead serious. "If you start to sabotage yourself again, so help me, Albert, I will knock you out and drag your ass out of here."
He didn't even wait for a reaction, much less a response before he was turning to give his attention to the lock on their door.
no subject
"We'll have to figure out where they're holding Ivan and the professor. It may be separately, plus we have Skull to contend with, and the magnets that can disable us." His voice is clinical and even, the volcanic bubbling that had been directed at Jet hidden under the sheet of ice that is Albert's tone.
If anyone was going to provide an answer it's drowned out by a groan from Junior coming to. Albert blinks in surprise, muttering so only Jet can hear. "I thought he'd be out for hours with the amount they gave him." This changes things.
no subject
After only a second or so of messing with the tools, the lock gave a hope-giving click as Jet got it to pop open. "Gotcha." The teen stood and listened at the door a moment. If there'd been any guards, they likely would have done or said something by now, but he was still paranoid enough to pause a moment, just in case. When there didn't seem to be any sign that stepping out of the cell would be a bad plan, Jet opened the door, flashed a smirk back at the German and slipped out of their room to put his skills to work on the cells of their teammates.
no subject
Midway through Jet picking the lock to Chang and GB's cell, Pyunma and Geronimo appear with a wave from the African. It seems Jet's not the only one with lock picking ability. Albert nods to 008 and cocks an eyebrow at Junior, to which the large Native American just gives a stoic nod and deliberately cracks his knuckles. It seems they're all raring to get out of here.