June catch-all

[shield]

● WHO: Steve Rogers & various
● WHAT: Love darts, robot fighting, more TBA.
● WHEN: Spanning the month of June
● WHERE: Jungle, other locations TBA.
● WARNINGS: Sexual content, aphrodisiacs, robot and plant-based violence.

( Closed starters in comments. If you'd like to set something up, I can be reached on Plurk at cosmology or on Discord at cosmology#1563. )

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Sam

[shield]

The last thing that Steve remembers from before he materialized on a rusty teleportation platform— an experience that gave him such an intense flashback to watching the tesseract burn the Red Skull out of existence that Steve had to fight to keep his last meal down— is fighting Ultron. Consequently, Steve has been wary of the robots from the start, but the addition of hostile flora has required some adaptation.

An earlier, too-narrow escape from a cluster of long-reaching vines taught Steve to keep his distance from the foliage, an endeavor that becomes only more challenging as he ventures deeper into the thicket. His downfall, however, comes in the form of a less expected long-range attack. It's almost too late when he hears the soft whistling of the first dart, but the edge of his shield connects just in time to knock it away.

The next several darts come in a flurry that forces Steve to start running with one arm raised to keep the shield overhead. Countless darts give chase, some bouncing off of the shield's vibranium surface, others finding purchase in the fabric of his suit. He is wearing his original tactical suit from the war, which is not near as well-insulated as later versions, but in much better shape than he left it after the helicarrier fight, and just thick enough to keep darts from piercing through to the skin.

With Steve so close to pulling off his second narrow escape of the day, a complication arrives not in the form of different-yet-equally-hostile plant species, nor a glitching robot, but a person. A person he doesn't have to recognize to assume that they'll have a harder time metabolizing whatever toxin is in those darts. So when he realizes that this person is directly in the path of a stray dart, his split-second decision is almost automatic: Steve launches his shield at an angle and it bounces between one tree, then two, and is on its way to three when it's perfectly positioned to block the incoming dart. The fourth reverberation is supposed to bring the shield back to Steve, but he isn't in position to catch it anymore, having just pulled another dart from the back of his neck before collapsing to his knees. The effects of the toxin hit fast and hard (pun intended) and the rest of the world whites-out around him.

And then the robots attack.

[samerica]

Sam's busy collecting fruit from the newly grown plants, using her shield as a makeshift container. Sure, there's a solid chance that it's laced with aphrodisiacs, like so much of the food here, but she doesn't have many options. Her metabolism means that the basic rations the robots begrudgingly give them don't do a whole lot for her, and, god, the thought of fresh food is enough to overcome any lingering doubts. (It's not unlike the war, when they'd been desperate for anything to relieve the tedium of C-rations.)

It's not that she lets her guard down enough for the robots to sneak up on her - it's more that there are so many threats that it's impossible to constantly stay on guard for all of them. Sam has to keep dodging vines that threaten to wrap around her limbs, so she misses the robots as they sneak up on her. There's a sudden commotion, a clang of metal on metal, and she whirls around just in time to see an unfamiliar man drop to the ground in the middle of a cluster of robots.

"Well, great," she mutters under her breath. In the blink of an eye, all her fruit is dumped on the ground, and Sam charges straight into the robots. She takes two of them out with the sheer force of her collision, and the rest start making noises of alarm. As she stoops to pick the man up, her gaze falls on the shield next to him. Of course, she thinks, and she'll have to take time to be amused by it later, because getting the fuck out of there is more important. She throws her shield at the remaining robots, buying herself time to sling him over her shoulder, scoops up his shield with one hand, and catches her own.

The problem is, she discovers soon enough, is that the last few robots are goddamn persistent, and they don't seem inclined to leave her alone. She lost a couple in the writhing foliage, but three of them are still coming after her. It's not that the other Cap is heavy, but he makes for an unwieldy burden like this, and it's hard to fight when you're carrying an unconscious man and two vibranium shields.

"If you feel like waking up," she offers out loud, "this would be a real convenient time. No rush or anything, though. Just catch up on your beauty sleep."

Max

[shield]

Robots, it turns out, are no more homogeneous than people or aliens. Just because one robot army wants to turn an Eastern European country into a meteor and bring forth the sixth extinction doesn't meant that all robots are working to end human life. Steve was willing to extend the benefit of the doubt to these new robots, with their extremely different yet clearly stated goals. He hasn't been happy about it, but it's always easier to coexist with an enemy that isn't actively trying to kill you.

Of course, the honeymoon period never lasts. And Steve, while hoping for the best, has also been prepared for the worst, so when one of the robots suddenly gets trigger happy with what appears to be a flamethrower, his shield is within reach to block the attack. When another person appears in his peripheral, he wastes no time pulling them in under cover of the shield.

Over the roar of the flames, he has to shout an apology for yanking roughly. "Are you okay? Were you hit?"

[revvedup]

Max was already fairly mistrustful of the robots after the gala with aphrodisiac laced food and hypnotic music and the fact that they've started malfunctioning to the point of attacking the citizens they've pulled in to repopulate the place is just another mark in the negative column for her. She's come to expect that the opportunity to fight will present itself more often than not in her life, but something like a flamethrower is something she's ill equipped for even with her extensive training, and despite the manhandling she finds herself grateful for the rescue.

"I'm fine," she shouts back over the sound of the flamethrower burning through its fuel supply. "We should get out of its way."

[shield]

Steve never fully loses consciousness, but the effects of the dart hit with such intensity that he does momentarily lose the ability to function in any meaningful way. Predictably, the dart delivers an aphrodisiac, although Steve might argue against such a mild term, if he had the capacity to make objections. Whatever is coursing through his veins goes beyond lowered inhibitions and spiked hormones; he's never felt so purely and uncontrollably aroused.

Objectively, it was only a matter of time before he ingested something of this nature, but knowing that didn't make Steve any better prepared for the experience. The initial wave puts him in a state not unlike shock, the sheer amount of sensory input so overwhelming that it takes the conscious part of his brain time to cut through the fog.

Eventually he comes to realize that he is a.) hanging limply in someone's hold, b.) more of a hindrance than a help, with the way his feet are all but dragging beneath him, and c.) definitely hallucinating. That must be why the blurry, shaking image he makes out through heavy lids bears such a resemblance to Sam.

The hallucination theory is further supported when his rescuer speaks, the voice unfamiliar and at least a few octaves higher than Sam's. Shame joins the lust pooling in his gut; he's let this good Samaritan carry his weight long enough, it's time to pull himself together. This isn't his first rodeo, and as far as chemical weapons go, the embarrassment of a persistent hard-on is nothing compared to the experimental toxins HYDRA cooked up.

And so Steve Rogers, true to form, clenches his jaw and powers through the dazed high of his arousal to get his feet firmly under him. With three robots gaining on them, he starts running as soon as his feet hit the ground, keeping parallel with the woman who saved him. Now that he can see her more clearly, he's more inclined to forgive his earlier confusion: she really could be Sam's sister.

"Sorry," he shouts belatedly, alternating glances between her and the robots behind them. Through the motion blur he makes out a shield and calls, "Mind if I ask for that back?"

[samerica]

It's hard (pun definitely intended) to ignore the erection so persistently pressing into her as she runs, but Sam's dealt with stranger things (probably). At the very least, it's only a secondary concern to the threat the robots pose to them; while she can certainly appreciate what she can see of the man's body (mostly his ass), there's a time and a place for everything, and this isn't it.

But thankfully, he can stand under his own power again, and Sam rolls her shoulders, glad to be free of her unwieldy burden. "One second," she replies to his question, and unerringly picks the correct shield (it's a matter of sheer intuition, but when you've kept something by your side for decades, shed blood and sweat and tears to hang onto it, you know exactly what it's like), sights, and ricochets it off a pair of robots before it spins back to Steve.

"We're gonna have to make a stand. I'm sure you could normally do this all day, but god knows what's in that dart they tagged you with." She'd rather not find out herself; she's already had one dose of aphrodisiac thanks to the food. "They don't look like they're about to give up the chase." Sam would really like to know if the glitch is just a quirk of programming, or if someone is manipulating the robotic population - she's not a tech person, but she's picked up a thing or two over the years, and through dimensions much more advanced than her own Earth.

Sam eyes the surrounding foliage warily. "What I wouldn't give for a flamethrower." They can't fight a battle on two fronts right now, not when he looks like he can barely stand.