A/N: Enter Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers ^ ^

It was time for the second and last meal of the day. Meals in a cafeteria were always a terrible situation for someone new, whether they were in a school, prison, or any other institution. That is, unless you had friends in the place. This was the case with Prisoner Number One-Zero-P-Four-Zero-One; Thor Odinson. A biker back on the outside he was now serving eleven years for manslaughter. Apparently he didn't know his own strength when he got into a fight with that guy in the bar. He had nine years to go, and was up for parole in another three. For a man of his stature and presence he was a surprisingly down-to-earth guy, preventing or stopping several fights rather than starting them since he got to Oz. When he got here two years ago, he already knew some people inside and instantly had a place of his own. Most weren't so lucky.

Sitting at one of the long tables in the cafeteria, Thor mindlessly dug into the food upon his plate. It wasn't the best food, but it also wasn't bad enough that he wouldn't eat it. Members of the 'biker group' of Oz sat around him chatting amongst themselves. His attention was divided from his meal only when there was commotion from the man across from him. Looking up, he saw his new podmate standing there. The man had blonde hair, though it was much darker than his own light locks, and also shorter. In fact, it was stylied in a military fashion. From what Thor had gathered, the man was dishonerably discharged from the military for something, and that's why he was here.

"No place for you here." A biker spat at the man.

Apparently he'd asked to see if he could sit with them. The others must have wondered why the seemingly out-of-place man would even want to sit with them, but Thor knew. The dark-blonde, Steve Rogers was his name, was his new cellmate. Thor had only been in the joint two years but it was still enough to be elected as a host inmate. Truth be told he didn't mind hosting the guy, it wasn't a big deal. Rogers glanced at Odinson before ambling off with his tray, presumably to find a place he could sit. Looking back to his mates he tried to gauge their reactions but they only went on with their previous conversations. It didn't bother him that they denied Rogers, that sort of thing happened every now and then when new inmates came in looking for a place to sit.

Rogers felt terrible; physically, mentally, emotionally, and just about every other way one could feel awful. It was school all over again, with no place to sit and no one to be with. The knot in his stomach tightened as he left the table his new podmate had been seated at. Why didn't Thor say anything? He acted as if he'd never seen me. The thought made him feel even worse. He'd have to find someplace to sit, it wasn't as if he could sit in the bathroom or wander outside instead like he did so often back in school. Though it made him uncomfortable, he tried to discreetly eye the other groups at the tables, trying to see if any seemed somewhat inviting. He was either completely ignored or given back dirty looks. Eventually, but not soon enough it seemed, someone welcomed him in.

"Greetings. New here are you? Don't mind the others. Come sit." A dark-brown haired man spoke up as Steve started by them. Stopping, he was startled at first. Was it some sort of trick? Everyone else had been so rude, though it was expected, and this man was rather welcoming out of nowhere. Well, he really had no choice did he?

"Yeah. And thanks, I appreciate it." Steve said somewhat timidly as he placed his tray down and sat beside the man. A couple others that seemed to be there with him gave him a look, but they weren't ones of contempt.

"Christ would do the same. Are you a follower of his ways too?" The man asked, returning to his food as he awaited and answer. Steve looked down and prodded at his own meal a bit before coming up with an answer.

"Well, I am religious but I'm not interested in being in any sort of cult here or anything." He peered up at them, trying to figure out their intentions. A true religious group in a prison seemed rather sketchy. He figured them to be the kind that only turned to God in dark times such as these. Though perhaps there was a chance they were normal and that he, therefore, had a place in this madness. He was no faith fanatic, but chances were slim he'd find anyone else to relate to in the slightest in here. Here where he didn't belong in the first place.

"We are not a cult. Merely a group that is dedicated to representing the good word and being leaders for all." The man said, starting with a quiet chuckle. "Name's John by the way." Steve offered them his name as he peered at them before looking down at the food before him again, noticing he hadn't touched a thing. Leaders? Well, he considered himself a leader too.

Maybe things won't be so bad after all.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

Dull grey invaded Clint's vision as he opened his eyes. A strange feeling washed over him but only lasted until he finally realized where he was. For a moment he'd managed to forget where he was when he woke up. But the busy chatter outside the door along with the not-so-pleasant smell in the room reminded him well enough that he was in Oswald State Correctional Facility. Turning on his side he saw no one in the small room, which he should probably be grateful for. Deciding he'd have time to sleep later, plenty of time, he shifted with a groan. Slowly he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and hopped down only to be surprised by a voice.

"Well good morning sleeping beauty." Came Tony's voice from the bottom bunk. He was lying along the mattress on his side, head propped up with one hand. Is it really morning? The somewhat irrational thought went through his head, but in his defense he was rather groggy.

"How long was I out?" Fatigue could be heard in his voice as he brought a hand to the back of his head and turned towards the sink. Behind his back Tony looked away from his magazine to respond.

"Twenty minutes?" It came out more like a question rather than a solid answer. It was then Clint noticed there weren't any clocks around. Maybe it was a good thing else he'd probably find himself constantly watching the hands move, seconds ticking by. At the sink he splashed his face with water, waking him up some more. In the reflection of the mirror above he saw part of the common area downstairs behind him. Well, I have to venture out there eventually…

Clint wasn't the biggest people person. Yeah, he'd get along with others, but if he had a choice he'd rather do most things on his own. Things were different here though, and he wasn't sure he could get by on his own. Stepping out of the pod, he stopped to observe everything before him. Nearly everyone was in a group, whether of two, three, or more. They were cluttered around the small tables below, sitting in front of the television that was set in the wall, or maybe standing here on the second floor leaning over the barrier and watching the others below. Starting down the steps he found himself to be moving aimlessly with no destination in mind. He walked by the television set but found the only way to hear it was through special headphones. Beyond that he saw some bodies moving about under the staircase, up to no good no doubt.

"Hey boy, see something you like over there?" Before Clint could realize it, a man came up from somewhere behind him to stand by his side, an overbearing hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Alarmed, he swatted the hand away and turned to look at who it belong to.

"What's your problem?!" He blurted out before he'd even seen the stranger's face. It was Goose, the guy that was next door to his and Tony's pod. But Clint's expression didn't falter, he only narrowed his eyes and waited for his next move. To his surprise the man only laughed, though it sounded overly fake. The larger man brought a hand up to rest on Clint's shoulders, dangerously close to his neck. He gave no response to the question as he started moving forward, nudging Clint with him.

"I've got to show you something, kid." The younger male was reluctant to move. Quickly he calculated his risks. If he refused to go, there was nothing the guy could do. Clint could see at least two correctional officers from where he stood, though they didn't exactly have the best vantage point. Before he could take his leave from the man he felt something press against the back of his neck. The bastard had hidden something in his hand that was now resting on the back of Barton's neck. Something sharp was there, hidden underneath Goose's finger and resting against the smaller man's neck. Well, he had no choice now. With a shaky sigh he stopped resisting and stepped along with Goose. "That's a good boy." He whispered. It nearly made him cringe hearing those words as he was escorted to the spot under the stairs he'd been observing just before. Are they going to kill me? The horrid thought ran through his mind.

"Come on, ease up. I'll give you something to take the edge off." Goose smirked, the others noticed the newcomer but hardly paying attention to him. The older man adjusted his hold on Barton's neck, makeshift weapon still threatening his skin. Clint's heart raced, mind spinning, wondering what they wanted. He didn't have much time to think though before the man holding him took something in his free hand. "Open your mouth." Goose said, rather nonchalantly. Barton was taken aback. What did he want him to do? Unfortunately, he hadn't much choice. Just as he started to grudgingly comply, the man tightened his grip around his neck. Clint nearly choked as his windpipe was threatened. Something was placed on his tongue and he closed his mouth, the tab already dissolving on his tongue. 'Drugs, he gave me drugs.' Dread filled his insides and the grip on his neck was released. He heard a laugh, but as he turned his head to see who it came from he noticed the things around him were in some sort of slow motion. 'They're taking effect, I-I need to get out of here.' Not thinking, the brunette broke out from the small circle under the steps and headed into the common area with a quick pace. 'No, not too fast, they'll know.' Panic was taking over but just before it peaked a strange calm came over him. Now he didn't bother to look over his shoulder and didn't check to see if the guards were looking at him suspiciously. No, he didn't care, and he liked that. Somehow he found himself at the top of the stairs, one hand clasping the railing. He was finding it harder to keep on two feet , but luckily his pod was in sight. Reluctantly he let go of the railing and took a step. There was another blank between then and now as he stood at the entrance to his room. It seemed to take forever as he turned to look at the bottom bunk. Tony was lying there, neck stretched out as he looked over his shoulder at Clint. It looked like his mouth was moving but the younger male heard nothing. He went to take a step in but, as if he were in some sort of strange dream, he never felt the ground under his next footfall and started falling down. He could feel the blow as his body hit the hard ground, but it didn't hurt. Turning himself over onto his back he peered off with half-lidded eyes. The dark outline of someone standing over him, Stark maybe, obscured his vision as he fell into unconsciousness.

A/N: Hopefully the story should pick up after this, just had to introduce the characters, Oz, and Em City in first before I could start with everything.