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Nov. 26th, 2011 at 11:33 PM
It wasn't the first time that Steve had found himself in an unfamiliar place. In the last twenty-four hours, he'd woken to find that he wasn't deceased (a pleasant surprise), that he'd been unconscious for sixty-nine years (far less pleasant), and that all of his friends were long dead (he really didn't want to think about it).
It was too much to take in, so he'd shut down and focused on business instead. SHIELD had set him up with a room and access to the exercise facilities. In return, he'd quietly submitted to a barrage of medical tests.
Just like old times, Steve mused. The thought had a turn of bitterness, but he did not like to dwell. He wanted to do, to accomplish something, even if that 'something' was selling war bonds after being benched -- or forgetting frustrations by testing out a modern punching bag to see how 2011's options stood up.
He opened the door into the darkened gym only to find that it led into a lovely, vaguely art nouveau dining car. Steve blinked and turned back to check the hallway, only to find a parlour car behind him. The SHIELD facility was gone.
Steve had no experience with psychic manipulation, but his first assumption was that something had gone wrong in his head. Perhaps the whole thing had been a trick, from the botched deception in the recovery room to Times Square, Nick Fury, and the claims of seventy-years gone by. He was trapped somewhere and this was an interrogation of some sort. When he realized how preposterous that sounded - why change scenarios halfway through - he began to wonder if he was being subjected to some sort of test.
Well. There was only one way to find out. Steve ducked through the doors into the dining car, his eyes surveying the room for any sort of clues he could find.
It was too much to take in, so he'd shut down and focused on business instead. SHIELD had set him up with a room and access to the exercise facilities. In return, he'd quietly submitted to a barrage of medical tests.
Just like old times, Steve mused. The thought had a turn of bitterness, but he did not like to dwell. He wanted to do, to accomplish something, even if that 'something' was selling war bonds after being benched -- or forgetting frustrations by testing out a modern punching bag to see how 2011's options stood up.
He opened the door into the darkened gym only to find that it led into a lovely, vaguely art nouveau dining car. Steve blinked and turned back to check the hallway, only to find a parlour car behind him. The SHIELD facility was gone.
Steve had no experience with psychic manipulation, but his first assumption was that something had gone wrong in his head. Perhaps the whole thing had been a trick, from the botched deception in the recovery room to Times Square, Nick Fury, and the claims of seventy-years gone by. He was trapped somewhere and this was an interrogation of some sort. When he realized how preposterous that sounded - why change scenarios halfway through - he began to wonder if he was being subjected to some sort of test.
Well. There was only one way to find out. Steve ducked through the doors into the dining car, his eyes surveying the room for any sort of clues he could find.