[When the feed comes on, it shows Steve in full dress uniform, looking fatigued. He forgets for a moment what he wanted to say - rather, how he wanted to say it.]
It seems like a lot of us got... unpleasant surprises, this holiday. [Silence. Then,] I'm... I don't know how many of you are familiar with the history of Earth as I know it, but I
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What a touching story, Captain. How fortunate we are to have you here to inspire us.
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[It's a greeting, nothing more. When he goes on he's just as calm and sincere.] Or. Would you prefer Magnus?
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We are not on a first name basis. Magnus, if you must, although I really could not care less what you choose to call me.
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The speech was for me as much as anyone.
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But there is nothing here. This is a prison and we are labrats for the AI's amusement. I wonder how you can find comfort in that.
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[There's no hiding the brief flash of concern that edges Steve's voice at the thought of what it must be like here for someone who survived what Magnus has. Not pity; just pain, worry. Steve knows what Pietro says Erik turns into but here - here, he goes by a different name, and maybe that means something. Maybe it can.] And that doesn't have to be all we are.
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Our imprisonment is a fact of reality. We struggle to survive, we form connections that we hope will be beneficial with other captives, but in the end we have no control over what happens to us. Who stays, who leaves, who dies. We're at the mercy of a machine.
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[That's all very quiet.] I'm alive. I'm here with someone I care about. You're right, I've formed connections with others here - and... I have to ask, have we ever been in control? I mean yes, we make our own decisions. We fight, or not. We choose to give up, or not. But I couldn't stop the Second World War from happening, or people I cared about dying then, either. All I could do was fight and believe in something better after the end.
[He catches himself mid-speech and stops. Preaching to Magnus won't do anything.] Those are my feelings.
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This must be your first time as a prisoner.
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['Technically' isn't an answer that will satisfy.]
Yes. It is.
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[ SUDDENLY ENCRYPTION, and his conversational tone turns to ice. ]
What is it that your little group of toy soldiers is holding over Quicksilver to make him stay? He doesn't belong with humans.
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He goes where he wants to. And he belongs with friends.
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You're from the 1940s. The other Avengers didn't recognize him. Your lot might as well be strangers, so you'll forgive my skepticism about any of you being his friends.
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[Voice getting progressively colder] You can be as skeptical as you want. It doesn't change the truth.
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