002 ✪ audio + action

[redactions]

Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide audio.
Action: On the moon.
When: Sept. 20th.

Good morning. This is Captain James Barnes. By now we've assessed the damage to the ships — seems like it only slowed us down some, and whoever the enemy was they don't seem to have followed us. That's not why I'm here.

[ a half-beat of pause, then, ]

We can't guarantee there'll always be shields or weapons aboard our ships at any given time. That doesn't mean we can't work out a system to make sure we're covering for each other in a fight. If we can form groups of two or three ships, at least one with weapons, and coordinate a few flying formations, we stand a much better chance.

As for communications, if they're taken offline like that again we are going to need a solution. We used manual signalling in my War; I'm open to options that don't have us scrambling blind during a crisis like that.

[ a beat ]

We got lucky, this time. We might not be again.

Barnes out.




→ shooting range

[ You know. This is simple. The pistols take getting used to, but it's a matter of practice. Assembly. Disassembly. Ready, aim, fire. One end of the shooting range is devoted entirely to Jim trying out all the variants he can get his hands on. They are laid on the table in front of him neatly. ]

[ All the shots hit the centre ring of the target, if not, damned closed. He's not concentrating too hard or scowling, just seems perfectly placid, and steady. When he feels eyes on him, ]

Sorry, did you want [ gesturing to the row of pistols ] one a'these?

→ some seedy bar

[ This alcohol is completely algae-free and that might be the entire reason he's even bothering with it. This place doesn't look quite as ripe for sudden violence either; but there's still murmuring in the background and a card game that looks like it might be heating up. ]

[ He's sitting alone, in the corner, nursing a glass. Another one sits beside him, completely untouched. It's always been for Steve. ]

Comments

[mucked]

[ her nose crinkles. it isn't that she doesn't see the appeal (because she certainly does -- and the humanitarian in her wastes no time in recognizing what cleaner work such weapons would make) but rather that it's still so hard to swallow. even now. ]

Clever, [ she allows. ] But also considerably more expensive, I would expect. Is that right?

[ convenience always comes with a price. ]

[redactions]

I ain't sure how the credits translate to dollars... [ he half-shrugs, one-shouldered ] but money is the least of your problems here.

[ He seems to have a lot of it, weirdly. Ratings or something. And it's not the Winter Soldier uses any except for necessities. ]

[mucked]

-- Is it? [ the least.

because either no one has explained quite how the credits work, or else peggy doesn't believe herself to be flush with any. she'd had no need to even consider her purchasing power until they'd arrived upon this planet. ]

[redactions]

[ Without hesitation, ]

Yes.

[mucked]

[ god, this is embarrassing. far more embarrassing than his lewd jests or anything else. in a softer, almost hesitant voice: ] Why not? [ ... ] Say I did want to negotiate a price for this gun, [ peggy taps the stock. ] Where do I even begin?

James, I haven't the foggiest about what credits I do have.

[redactions]

[ What he does is point to her communicator and send her a list of text instructions on how to check what she has, and transfer it to other accounts, or use it on a card. ]

Always get a receipt.

[ The paperwork annoys him: you can't do anything without having to run through miles of red tape. Nobody just talks anymore, it's orders, classifications. Nonsense. ]

[mucked]

How tedious.

[ dry. bone-dry. but it doesn't penetrate much deeper than that, for her eyes betray a quick interest as she scans the preliminary lines of information. all of it useful and all of it necessary. ]

And how is it earned?

[redactions]

[ A-ha. That... thing. ]

According to the Atroma, the more entertaining the audience finds you, the more sponsors you have, and the richer you are.

[mucked]

[ her face falls. sternness creeps in. ]

You're joking. [ it's barnes! he's been known to tell a joke or three. ]

[redactions]

Nobody's laughing.

[ Excuse you Peggy he only tells funny jokes!! ]

[mucked]

Presumably someone is. [ 'laughing' ] Or else you'd be making no bank at all.

[ that's almost a joke in its own right, though peggy isn't smiling.

[redactions]

[ Oh. Ha ha. ]

Well, that's a cheery thought. [ he exhales explosively. ] Least we're gettin' paid.

[mucked]

Quite. [ a soft sort of scoff, and then she tilts her head towards the range's exit. away, she thinks. they need a quiet place to talk. ] Although the mind baulks at a financial incentive for drama. [ thin smile. ] Perhaps I'm fated to be penniless.

[ wry, because the truth is that she can't help but find drama and trouble. but also because a spy doesn't like wearing that drama on her sleeve. ]

[redactions]

[ No, the drama's all unnecessary, but they all seem to be terribly dramatic people. Jim lets her walk ahead, content to follow. It's an old habit he hasn't quite registered was even still there — he's used to walking ahead. ]

You could always win some off me at cards.

[ She was always better at poker. ]

[mucked]

[ a narrow glance across her shoulder. ]

You know, that's not a terrible idea. [ she warms, again. ] Not that I'd rejoice in taking your money, of course. But -- well, someone else's.

[ profit might be made upon this planet. ]

[redactions]

[ He chortles. ]

Ah, come off it Carter, you always liked winning.

[mucked]

You were a sergeant, then. [ her smile is haunted and old. nostalgia lives in its corners. ] Fleecing you soundly was a sort of privilege of rank, I'm afraid. Wouldn't do to embarrass you now.

[redactions]

[ The nostalgia is an indulgence; he reflects it. ]

No, it's the privilege of friends.

[mucked]

No -- privilege of friendship means I always let you leave with your boots still on your feet.

[redactions]

[ oooo agent carter ooooo ]

And nothin' else, it seems.

[ The cheekiest grin. ]

[mucked]

Now, James. You'd gone and bet your uniform of your own free will. [ her glance might not be cheeky, but it certainly held only the faintest reproach. ] I seem to recall it was never anyone else's idea of a sound wager.

[redactions]

[ From her it might as well have been the equivalent of a mischievous grin. It warms him, and how terrible is it that he'd rather she was here than not? ]

Speak for yourself. All the fellas bet theirs too.

[ Solidarity, you know. ]

[mucked]

Sore losers -- [ she huffs, chin up and shoulders straight. being around him brought the army back into her body. ] The lot of you. Can't cope with a graceful loss at cards, so you start tossing your trousers onto the table.

[ men. ]

[redactions]

[ Waggling a finger at her, ]

You know how my fragile ego can be, Agent Carter.

[mucked]

Fragile!

[ pah. she'd call him anything but: vulnerable, maybe; perhaps tender in his own right. but the men she'd known had never been fragile. certainly not in their egos. ]

Your bluffing remains atrocious, even now. Positively transparent.