The Emperor's New Groove [Invited]

[Connor Hawke]

Players: Connor Hawke, Raven, Blue Beetle [posting order]
Location(s): Russia, 1916
Plot Summary: While the rest of the team is taken to meet with Rasputin, those who are left behind in the Russian prison must escape. Upon doing so, they discover that the royal family is in danger and they must be escorted to safety.

Connor rapelled to the balcony of the apartment in question. He approached the door and carefully closed it behind him. Connor wasn't too big a fan of the supernatural regardless of the personal connections he had to it. Yet he knew how to deal with these situations. Any spectre that haunted a home wanted something. Connor wasn't about to deny that this was a ghost at work. Children were honest and didn't close their minds off to the impossible. "What do you want?" He questioned into the darkness. Not long after he said this a glowing blue spectre materialized in front of him. He had a long beard, flowing robes and a fierce look on his face. He snarled something in Russian that Connor couldn't understand and the next thing he knew he was unconscious.

---

Connor woke up what felt like a moment later. He groaned and shook his head. He hadn't felt anyone hit him on the back of the head or knock him out. Instead that thing had touched him on the chest and Connor had suddenly been displaced from the apartment. Now he was propped up on his knees with his hands chained high above his head. Every breath he took was painful and when he tried to lower his knees he had even more trouble breathing. Connor realized that he was currently attached to some type of torture device. That wasn't comforting. Connor sighed and let his body sink until the pain in his shoulders slowly subsided. He relaxed his shoulders and put himself in a meditative trance. That was the only way to deal with the pain. His interrogators or jailers would show up soon enough.

An hour later Connor was awoken with a splash of water to his face. He was met with two bearded men. One of them held what looked to be a blade in his hand. He turned to his companion and murmurred something in Russian. Then he turned to Connor and asked him a question. The only work Connor knew in Russian was "da" and he wasn't even sure if that was Russian. The man asked him again and Connor shook his head. Enraged the man raised his hand and struck Connor across the cheek. Connor winced though he realized that he had an idea. He muttered something as the man began to speak. The man stopped and Connor continued to mutter. The man leaned in close to decipher Connor's words and that's when Connor took a prepatory breath before he raised his right knee and slammed it into his sternum. Pain radiated across his shoulders and chest but he ignored it.

The man stumbled backwards and the knife tumbled from his fingers. Somehow Connor managed to catch it. The second man rushed forward as Connor hurriedly jammed the tip of the knife into the tiny keyhole of the cuffs on his right hand. He undid the cuff with one simple twist and stood to his feet. While Connor was still chained to the wall with his left he was able to stand up high enough to strike the man in the throat. The man tumbled backwards gasping as Connor undid the last cuff. Connor rubbed his wrists and then his right shoulder. That hurt but he was sore. Nothing more. As painful as that was it was a feeling he was used to.

Connor glanced down at his clothes. He was wearing his vigilante outfit but it was mudstained and water logged. He touched his bare hands to his face and realized that his mask had been removed. Connor didn't know where he was but he was going to find out soon. He approached his door and pushed against it. It was locked from the outside but somebody had to have heard the fight. As if on cue the door opened and two fierce men in military garb burst inside with old wooden rifles. Connor blinked as he glanced at the weapons. They were archaic but they looked brand new. He took this in stride and quickly grabbed the first man's gun and forced him to fire into the air. He then jerked the weapon from his hands and jabbed him in the face twice with the butt of his own rifle. The man stumbled backwards and hit the ground. Connor then grabbed the second man by the shirt and slammed him against the wall juxtaposed to them.

Before either of them could recover Connor quickly stepped out of the prison and locked the door behind him. The question at the front of his mind was why those rifles had been so old and why those men had been speaking Russian. The answer was obvious but he refused to believe it. He continued to edge his way down the hallway looking for his weaponry. They had to be keeping it in some sort of supply room or something.

[rae]

A small cold hand gently patted Raven's face. It sent a chill through her. She opened her eyes to see a child crouching over her. His face was difficult to make out in the dark room, albeit for his piercing blue eyes. Raven blinked a few more times before sitting up and finding herself in pain. It was her left hip that stung, almost as if she had been pierced there. She was about to check her wound when she realized her surroundings and the fact that she was the center of attention in what appeared to be a jail cell.

Around her were women and children of all ages. There had to be at least twenty of them, each filthy, starving and wearing only scrapes of clothing. Stranger still was the fact that she couldn't hear any of them with her empathy. In a situation like this, her empathy would be going haywire, but nothing. There was only silence and quiet whimpering in the dark. "Where...?" she began to whisper. The little boy ran back to his mother's arms. Another woman nearby reached out her hand to Raven. "<You will not stay warm like that.>" Raven shook her head. She didn't understand the language. Was it...German? No. Russian perhaps? "<You will die from the cold.>" She whistled through dry lips. A pair of children carrying scraps of cloth approached the woman and handed the items to her. She too was aware Raven didn't understand her. She pointed to Raven's clothes, and then to the clothing in her hands. They nodded.

Several minutes later, Raven was on her feet after abandoning her robe and dress for a makeshift Russian ensemble that was far warmer than what she was wearing. She tried to remember how she ended up in the jail cell, all the while coming to realize she no longer had her powers. Nothing she tried was working. No portal, no astral projection, nothing. The others in the cell watched her as she inspected the only window for any way out. She approached the door and checked the hinges, the handle, the boards and their nails. She followed a trail of cold wind she felt coming in from one of the corners of the cell to discover a thin pipe pouring it in. She reached into the stone wall as best she could to try and grab the pipe. Her hand was too big. A boy watching her crept closer and closer as she worked. She gave up when her hand felt raw and sat on the floor to rest. The boy stuck his hand into the wall as she did and gripped the pipe easily. He stared at her for some instruction. She tried her best to mime what she wanted and in just a few minutes, a fourteen inch pipe was pulled out of the wall and handed to her.

A kick thumped the door before it opened up and a burly man stepped in. The women and children cowered and moved to the opposite side of the cell as he dropped a bag of food on the ground. When he turned around, his jaw met with the pipe. He fell over dizzily and Raven used the pipe again to knock him unconscious. She searched his pockets for keys or any weapons, but he carried none, much to her dismay. Checking the door, there wasn't anyone in the hall. If she were to lead these people out of here, could she protect them with only a pipe and the few hand-to-hand combat skills she had? She signaled to the women and children to step out of the cell. They didn't move. She signaled more urgently, but the woman who had dressed her stood up and shook her head. She pointed to Raven and and swept her finger across, then placed her palm on her chest and pointed to the floor. They were staying, even if Raven begged them. She didn't understand why, but there was nothing else she could do. Raven nodded and left. Down the halls, she had yet to see another living soul but she stayed in the shadows anyway. Now just where was she and where were her teammates?

[Blue Beetle]

"Urgh.." The young Jaime Reyes groaned as his eyes began to open. He felt sore and in mild pain. His vision was blurred and whatever light there was felt nearly blinding to him. All he could see was blotches and off looking blurs. "What the...?" He felt cold and really chilled to the bone. There was a cold wind that scattered over his skin. "Eh-?" Blinking a few more times, he looked down and noticed something odd. His breath was held for a moment as he noticed the missing attire that was his clothes.

"Great. Juuuust great." He huffed angrily with added embarrassment. "Scarab?" He questioned through a shiver as his arms were tied at his back. Not quite tied, but held by some cold clamps of metal that served as handcuffs. @$$*$ Just what the hell was going on? "Error? What do you mean?" He asked again and his eyes darted to his side, waiting for his mental friend to answer. @$$*$ Again, error.

"Even better." His sarcasm was palpable to say the least. Scooting up with his legs and propping his back to the chilled wall, Jaime looked around at the area he was tossed in. There were three walls of cold stone. A window towards the back of the room. Eyeing towards the front, Jaime saw the metal bars and the lock of the door. "You're kidding..." Using the wall, he slowly propped himself up to his feet. "I got arrested?? The heck?" The cold air was no kind greeting. And with the scarab lying dormant, Jaime was on his own for the time. No armor to keep him warm. Whatever was going on, Jaime was not happy. He had to get out of here and see what was going on. Maybe other team mates were here. He had to look.

A loud bam and a sudden creak of a distant door down the hall of the man holding cells jumped Jaime from where he stood. Stepping back, he cornered himself to the wall. His hands fidgeted with the bindings, trying to see how sturdy they were. Feeling with his cold fingers, he could feel the presence of a keyhole. Okay, super strength was out of the question, but at least there was a chance he could snag a key.

From the opened door came several suited men, all most likely guards of this weird prison. Their steps marched through the hall and aimed towards Jaime's cell. "Aw crap.." He struggled and peered his head towards the front of his cell. Embarrassment was nearing his cheeks, but now was not the time to be embarrassed over his nude self. The faster he can get out of here, the faster he'd be able to get proper clothes, if anything at all.

Patiently standing, he watched the shadows of the men step closer till finally, three men stood at the front. Uniformed and at the ready. Great. Guess it was interrogation time. The head honcho stepped to the gated door and opened it with a turn of the keys from his side. <"Look who finally woke up."> He man grumbled deeply. There was an odd accent and Jaime could have sworn there was another tone talking past him, both in English and in... Russian? The Scarab was still translating? Well, at least there's something. "What's going on??" Jaime asked in a demanding tone. Sadly, the Scarab could not translate his own words back. The man stared at him, brow raised at the question asked. <"He speaks a different language."> The second man stated to the first. <"I know that."> He replied angrily. <"How can we get the information we need if we cannot understand him?"> The third asked.

There was a moment of silence and Jaime stood there, still cold and chilled to the bone. <"Bring him to the interrogation cell. We'll let actions speak for us."> With that notion, the man turned and the two made their way towards him. Jaime's eyes widened. Oh this was not good. He had to act fast. Looking at the two of them, his brow lowered to form a glare. Quickly, he lowered down to the ground and sent a swift kick to the taller man's ankles, sending him crashing to the floor. The second man jumped at the action and Jaime lept from the ground and sent his forehead into the man's, knocking him out instantly. Both bodies were to the ground, out cold. All that was left was the head honcho who was turning to see his men taken out by this young man. Jaime rushed to the man and tackled him head on. Both fell to the floor in a large scramble. Rolling to the side, Jaime got back to his feet and bared his teeth.

"Give me your keys and your clothes and we'll call this even!" Jaime demanded, knowing he wouldn't understand but he felt the need to say something. The man rushed a hand to his side as he prepared to get back to his feet. Jaime stepped over and placed a foot onto his wrist, pinning it to the floor and stopping him from the action. As awkward of an angle as it was, Jaime had no time to think on modesty. Placing his other foot to he man's chest, he glared down at him.

"KEYS. NOW."

The man cringed as he tried to move out from under him, but Jaime was not having this crud today. He used his eyes to point to the keys at his side. The man, continuously cringing reached down and untied his keys for Jaime. Tossing them to the side, Jaime nodded. "Thanks." Stepping off the man, he then sent his own foot to the man's head. Not hitting to hard, but just enough to knock him out for the time. Scrambling to the keys, he laid at his side and let his hands work the metal items. There were only a few keys, but it was all difficult for someone having to use numbed hands and not be able to see what he was doing.

Slowly, but surly, there was a click and the binds were undone. With a stretch and a sigh of relief, Jaime made his way over to the smaller of the three man and began to undress him. He just needed the pants, shirt and jacket. Hopefully the boots would fit him. His toes felt like they were going to fall off.

A few minutes later and a snatch of the keys from the floor, Jaime closed the cell door behind him and locked the three men in. "Okay, now where's everyone else?" With a thumping clamp of the heavy shoes, finally clothed Jaime ran as hastily and as quietly as he could through the mostly empty cells. With the scarab down, he couldn't contact the others or track them down. It was up to his instincts to get him through this mess.