2007-08-20: Security Camera Shenanigans


Church_icon.gif Felix_icon.gif Vasili_icon.gif

Summary: There is a lack of communication and Vasili finds his way into Felix's cell at Primatech; the adjectives of the day are 'painful' and 'awkward'. Woe be he who gets his hands on this particular camera recording. Contains blatant Felix abuse and bad puns.

Date It Happened: August 20th, 2007

Security Camera Shenanigans

Throughout Primatech Paper, Hartsdale, NY

It's day….two, here in the Chateau d'If, AKA, Primatech Paper's east coast location. Or at least by Felix's reckoning. With no daylight, no calendar, no phone, no watch, he can only guess by periods of sleep and waking. He hasn't begun scratching little clusters of hatchmarks on the walls. Mostly because he's deep in the cold turkey twitches - with his body betraying him, it's mostly been a little hajj between sink, toilet, and bed, around and around again. Between withdrawal and Vasili's beating, he looks like a complete trainwreck - at the moment, he's sprawled on his side on the bed, only barely conscious, eyes cracked open and focussed on the opposite wall. He hasn't spoken since Church left him, hasn't asked for help.

Help isn't going to be arriving any time soon. Instead, the face - the very /angry/ face - of Vasili Babenkov appears at the window. The Russian has since been released from the medical ward, and layered bandages are wrapped around the bullet wound in his shoulder. Since he's currently wearing a sleeveless black muscle shirt over fatigue bottoms, it's readily apparent that he's been injured and that he's not happy about it. One fist comes up, knuckles curling outwards.

Tap, tap, tap. Daddy's home.

Food, water, and medicine is provided for Felix, though it has been all up to him if he chooses to take it. In reality, it has at least been a day since Lawrence had bothered him inside his cell and given him a startling example of why he must be here. Felix has largely been left to his own devices because of the addiction prying itself through his system. Watching someone go through that was never what Church expected from his first New York job. For these reasons, nobody else is around when Vasili raps upon the glass window; though Church's visit is impending, it is not quite here.

Felix comes out of his daze sufficiently to sit up, propping his back against the wall. He's in the prisoner pajamas that are the default uniform here. Vasili gets a glare that should be able to etch glass, but no verbal greeting. He's drunk from the sink, eaten a little of what he was offered, but refused any sort of drug. Not that they couldn't dose the food, but why make it easy for them.

"Rise and shine, Ivanov. It's about time I evened out that face of yours; I won't be satisfied I've done the job right until you can't open either of your baby blues." A vile grin crosses Vasili's face at that, and he disappears from view in order to start messing around with the door. It soon swings inwards and Vasili's boots clip against the floor as he strides into the cell, shutting it behind him again with a foreboding click. "Not happy to see me?"

"Fuck off, Babenkov," Felix says, lips curling in a snarl, even as he slinks off the bed, ready to start circling. Did Vasili leave that door unlocked? "I'll kill you with my bare hands, if that's what it takes."

Oh, that door is locked, Vasili might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's not the dullest either. He wouldn't take a chance on being prematurely interrupted in his newest game of cat and mouse, and though a chase down the halls of Primatech might be stimulating, it'd probably end badly for everyone. Most importantly himself. "That's an interesting idea, seeing as how /you've/ had the shit kicked out of you and are currently going through /withdrawal/, or so I've been told." And the thug swaggers closer to Felix - circling is not in the cards today. It's time to continue the pain with no beating around the bush. "Naughty, naughty."

"Took you two helpers to take me down. And now you're here alone. Foolish," Felix asserts. The veneer of urbanity and civilisation he usually has? Gone. If he's afraid, it doesn't yet show - he's light on his feet, though his movement is definitely slowed, weakened by the addiction. He darts for the bed, trying to rip a sheet off of i, as if intending to turn a strip of cloth into an impromptu garrote.

Oh no he /di'in't/.

Vasili isn't the type to let the mouse get the upper hand, and as soon as Felix turns back for the bed his assailant is right after him, leaping forward with both arms outstretched to force the other man down onto the mattress in a half-baked pin. The reason it's half-baked is mostly because the agent immediately starts thudding his fists into every part of available flesh. It's /beating time/.

Man, this has to look so wrong, assuming anyone's watching. Because, really. Felix is fighting back, aiming for Vasili's throat and face, trying to throw the younger man off of him. He's still not crying out, save for the occasional grunt at a particularly vicious blow.

Vasili was not supposed to be here. They actually weren't supposed to even give him cell block clearance at least for another day just because of this. When Lawrence Church happens upon a poor intern that offhandedly mentions seeing one Mister Babenkov heading that way, the older agent gets a chill before scuttling off down the hallway and practically flying feet-first down the stairwells. It's not a hurry, but Church would rather not come back to a pile of man-meat smashed all over the concrete cell floor.

When the man reaches the floor, he takes off like a rocket. Not literally, but there /is/ a small, warm breeze behind him when he passes others by. There's little to no warning when the cell door flies open, banging hard against the wall. Church's normally neat hair is tousled around his forehead, the squeak of sneakers grinding to a halt inside of the little room. It takes the man a moment to gain his bearings, and even then his expression is bewildered at this particular sight. "/Ohhhooooo/!" While it looks bad at first, it is soon apparent that Vasili is not making Felix into his sweetheart. "You damn crazy Russians. And here I thought the Dutch were wild." No, he's not physically helping, but prying Vasili off of someone is probably like trying to yank a Tasmanian devil off of roadkill. Gotta plan before you do it.

No, Felix is not Vasili's sweetheart. He might be his punching bag, though. The thug is what you'd call 'experienced' in the art of making people feel physically uncomfortable, and amidst the powerful punches there is a neat, methodical order to be found - he's starting from the base of the spine and speedily progressing towards the back of his current victim's head. It's going to be an interesting time when he starts beating around Felix's skull.

There's an unpleasantly sharp crack that happens to be the sound of Felix's skull impacting the bedframe, and the fight is literally knocked out of him. He goes limp under Vasili, no longer struggling against the beating - his face is streaming blood like a boxer's in the last round, and he's struggling for breath past cracked ribs.

If he doesn't do something now, Felix is boned.

Church's first try is a poorly executed one, whereas he simply strides forward to try and pull Vasili off of Felix by the waist. He's grabbed the Russian agent in a reverse (and not so friendly) hug, which one: makes this situation ten times as awkward as it was the first ten seconds, and two: at least gives Lawrence a better grasp if pulling doesn't work. Jeebus, this little guy is a Scrapper.

What the -

Vasili startles as soon as he feels Church grab hold of him. Man-hugs aren't exactly his idea of a good time, after all. He heaves upwards to try to shake poor Lawrence off with a barked curse and a loud "Get /off/!" The agent helpfully accentuates his point by giving Felix's nose a good smack against the bed.
Felix hs decided that the better part of valor is discretion, and instead of trying to fight, he's trying to get away. Albeit feebly - it leaves him clawing desperately at the bedsheets, though another hit against the frame has him seeing stars. There's a cut above one brow now that's gonna need stitches, and the bed is starting to look like an abbatoir.

The security tapes -will- be found later. Hopefully. If the guys in the television room aren't making copies by now. "Sorry! Shoulda invited me!" He keeps digging himself deeper. His arms link together around Vasili, despite protests, and another attempt at pulling him off of Felix is made. HRRGH.

Vasili is unfortunately and significantly outclassed in size and weight by Church, and despite his superior strength his attempts to continue assaulting Felix are thwarted when he's bodily hauled backwards, fingers catching at the edges of Felix's clothes until they slip free, leaving his arms to wave in the air.

Which nearly succeeds in tearing the scrubs right off of Felix. His snatching at the sheet is now more about preserving what's left of his modesty than about strangling Vasili with a length of cotton. He scrambles away into the farthest corner of the cell to put his back against the wall, wheezing for air, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Mad cats have never been Lawrence's specialty. Vasili is like a man-sized cat, but through some means he keeps his grasp. "Holy fuuu-dgenuggets, Babenkov." The Evolved agent turns the angry man towards the wall and gives him a shove into the two-tone paint. "This is NOT how we treat people here. I don't care if he kicked your puppy or screwed your sister, don't touch him again." Church is a bit flustered at this point, catching his breath and looking bedraggled compared to usual. His hand is up, finger jabbing at the air towards Vasili as he speaks.

Finding his face up against the wall is not nearly as troubling to Vasili as is his fellow agent's short 'I-don't-care' speech. Where before he might have been willing to stay against the wall and let his temper cool down to a gentler simmer, it now flares up like a bad case of Very Angry Herpes, prompting him to spin around - red faced - and throw a punch right at Church's face. Forget finger-jabbing; the situation has just escalated. "Don't you talk about my sisters that way!"

The door. Please, god, let the door be unlocked. Because while the two are fighting, Felix is creeping for the door like nothing so much as Gollum with broken glasses on.

Church was not expecting that. At all. Nor was he entirely ready to deflect something like it. But, he was ready a long time ago to defend himself. There is a loud thud as Vasili's fist meets Lawrence's eye(that'll be at least a black eye), followed by a yell of anger and surprise, then - WHOOMPH. A rather loud, concussive explosion rocks the small room, and Vasili is thrown into the wall as if a car had just hit him into it. The smell of something smoky has filled the cell, and the feel of dissipating heat prickles at the skin.

Oh. Oh, fuck. That hurt. The explosion was very unexpected, and Vasili's back tenses against the wall behind him for several seconds before his knees buckle under him, sliding down to the floor with an abrupt thud while his arms splay out to his sides, his head rolling down to rest on his right shoulder. All he can really bring himself to manage is a grimace of pain.

Sweet freedom. Becauase while they're struggling, Felix has snuck right the hell out that open door. Nevermind that he's leaving blood spoor behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs, or that he's wearing only a t-shirt and a sheet wrapped around his lower half. There's the pitter patter of little bare Federale feet on the concrete outside the cell, as he searches desperately for the way out.

The hallway outside is about as helpful as the cell was. Boring walls, boring floors, boring doors. There's nothing but hallway in every direction, but lots of corners to turn; the windows show empty cells and occupied cells all the same, but nothing will be familiar there.

Lawrence has to once again catch his breath, eyes wide at the downed Vasili before he whips his head around. No Felix. Door wide open. Cursing himself for letting that detail slide, Church gives Vasili one more glance before trotting out into the hallway. Brunette shocks of hair follow his head as he scans the hallway; blood, the patter of bare feet on concrete - the exploding agent moves after Felix's trail. "Felix!"

Felix darts down the hallway. It's like the substance of his nightmares, all too reminiscent of his previous stays on mental wards. He's already staggering, earning shocked looks from those cell occupants aware enough to notice the fleeing prisoners. He'll run until he's brought up short by a locked door.

When it is certain that Felix has gone down a bad path, Church slows down to a fast walk to catch his wind again. Ah, adrenaline. It has been a while since he did anything like this. "Felix! He's out for the count." Echoes down the hallway before the Company agent rounds the corner to where Felix is now stuck. Dead end.

Felix is not, oddly enough, pounding on the door and begging for help. Nor does he use his powers. That, he's still keeping under wraps, not to mention the effort it requires. As Church comes down the hall towards him, he puts his back to the door, leaning on it to stay upright, panting. His face is a mask of blood, his glasses are a lost cause entirely, and thus discarded, and his gaze is darting frantically around the hall, trying to find another way out, eyes just wild with shellshock and terror. "Stay away from me," he slurs.

Church frowns slightly as he approaches Felix, hand out and palm open to grab the man gently by the shoulder. "Come on, now. He wasn't supposed to even get down there. Let's get you somewhere safe." The man with the growing black eye seems earnest about this. "Get you patched back up."

Touching him? A bad idea, though it does get him to finally reveal himself. Because while Felix is staggering around with all the grace of a new colt and sniffing back blood like a kid after a playground fight, Church is abruptly hurled away in a manner no mere mortal could achieve. The Russian takes this opportunity to go bolting past him.

Church was ready to get slapped away if anything, so he was…mostly ready to be pushed at. But certainly not by nothing visible. The agent is literally spun away as he tries to avoid something impending; he gets flung into the locked doors, and Felix gets a head start. Lawrence is however, able to push himself off of the doors in time to grab at the fleeing man. Unfortunately, it's by the sheet around his middle. YANK.

That's enough to get Felix off his feet, at least for a second. He goes nose-diving to the concrete, but scrabbles back up almost instantly. Were this whole thing less terrifying and less calculated to call up age-old paranoia, it'd be laughable. The security guys watching this have to be busting a gut laughing. Those that aren't raging at their inferiors about what sort of clusterfuck ends up with Company agents fighting each other, and a wounded detainee staggering more or less bareass naked down the hall getting blood all over everything.

Church has a steel defense. Vasili started it. "Goddamnit, Ivanov-" Company man gives chase once again, turning on his heel and going back after the other man, sheet in hand. Yes, the security guys are probably pissing themselves silly by now. Lawrence's free hand is ready to grab at Felix's shirt if he can get close enough again. C'mere, you.

It's like trying to grab a ferret while wearing an oven mitt. Possible, but not at all likely. Felix is entirely unconscious of his current undress, he's that desperate. He goes bailing back past the way he came, and darts down another hallway, to be confronted by another locked door.

Church has had enough of this nonsense. Honest to goodness nonsense, and he has had enough. As he moves after Felix, the darting man will hear the telltale echo of something building up, and then a familiar *WHOOMPHOOM* fills the air. Suddenly, Church. Like he was shot from a giant, invisible cannon, the agent is suddenly bowling into Felix from behind, the sheet in his hands being whipped under the other man to quite /literally/ bag him this time. What he left in his wake looked and felt like a hot, blasting explosion, and though it leaves a dirty scorch on the walls and a long chink in the floor, it is nothing that maintenance can't fix.

Felix is tackled. And really, there's not enough energy in him left to fight further. He just goes limp in Church's grip, collapsing without a sound. Which is, of course, when some of the rest of security comes barreling in to eye the two men, utterly aghast.

Church has Felix wrapped up in the sheet at this point. He looks like he just got off of a tilt-a-whirl, though. Sharp brown eyes(one surrounded by bruise) look up at the unexpected and late security. "Ha/HAH/. Ahahaha! Got'em." Victory is mine! Wild Man Lawrence barks a short order, grabbing Felix upwards. "One of you go get Babenkov. /Now/." The other he expects to help haul Felix to the hospital wing.

The guard just nods mutely, and goes haring off to try and wake Vasili. "What happened, sir?" the remaining one wonders, still watching Church drag the limp Felix with something like horror, before yelling for them to bring a gurney.

Church eyes the guard with disbelief and mild frustration. "Everything. All at once. Babenkov has some deal with this guy and it snowballed." He holds Felix mostly upright now, glancing down at the poor man's face while the gurney gets rattled down the hallway. "We're taking him to the hospital wing and finding him a new cell."

Felix is glazed over, and about as alert as roadkill, by this point. His wounds have mostly clotted, by now, but he still looks he was hit by a truck. He might possibly be conscious and listening, but it doesn't seem likely. "So I see, sir," the guard says, as the gurney is wheeled up.

Church enlists the help of the guard to prop Felix up, making sure he is fenced in before helping to wheel him away. "Felix. You there, buddy? We're getting you away from the nutjob." Fingersnaps in the man's ear; even if he isn't awake, it is making the agent feel better. Vasili will come later. Hopefully someone else will do it first, because now Lawrence has some cleaning up to do with Felix. Luckily he will also be staying around until the recent catch is tucked into a hospital cot. Perhaps they will simply keep him there instead, what with all the unfortunate issues.

Church gets only an owlish blink and no comment. Felix is pretty much on his way to Lala Land, even as another gurney and a cleanup team heads to the cell he previously occupied, to tend to Vasili and then the mess in general. It's not far to the hospital wing, though the doctor on hand, a red-haired, imperious woman pauses in the midst of washing her hands for the hundredth time today to demand, "Jesus Chrst, Church, what the fuck happened to this guy? You said the intake was a little rough, and I bound up Babenkov, so what's this all about?"

Church sighs loudly. He is exasperated. "Gimme a break, red. Babenkov has some beef and I just had to break up their fight. Crazy bastard bashed this poor guy up pretty good in there." Here, doctor, take this. Felix is wheeled into the receiving room where there sits an empty bed ready to be filled and wheeled out. "Babenkov isn't allowed in this part of the wing unless his arm starts rotting off." This means treat him, but just not around Felix. Keep the two apart.

She just shakes her head. "Goddamn, you're not kidding," she says, already starting work on the unconscious agent. Her tone becomes abstracted and absobed in her work, irritation stowed away for later, as she assesses Felix's injuries.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License