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

[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.

[redactions]

Perhaps it's just my way of stringing you along. Getting you to lower your guard. And then, I strike.

[ This is of course belied by his helpless little smile, because coming from her, that's a compliment. Peggy will always know where she stands with him, and who he sees her as. ]

[mucked]

-- I'd like to see you try.

[ to strike! it's a brave sort of challenge, because she can only begin to imagine what changes were wrought in him by whatever process made him what he is. but they weren't talking about battle any longer. hell, they weren't talking about poker. these are the gentle false-flirtatious comments of friends finding old bearings.

and out beyond the firing range's entrance, she turns her collar up against the dust. ]

[redactions]

[ He chuckles, dryly. ]

S'long as you don't think I'm goin' easy on ya.

[ Because it doesn't matter that she's a dame. She's every bit as tough as any other good soldier. ]

[mucked]

Good Lord -- [ mild middle class indignation. ] I'd be offended if I ever thought you were.

[ whatever else they are -- whatever great rift-like differences in their understanding of worlds and history -- there must remain a stiff undercurrent of admiration for each other's raw skill in any field. ]

I'd hope the shield wouldn't change that. [ she hasn't brought it up since he did -- describing how it had been denied to him here. it's a small concession, allowing that she might be getting used to the idea.

piece by piece. ]

[redactions]

[ Small concessions. Small steps, one towards equilibrium and another towards trusting each other as they used to. ]

No, I don't think it did.

[ Perhaps it should have. Steve was good in a way Jim knows he can never be. ]

[mucked]

Then perhaps that's all I need. [ another foot of slack, given freely. to know that however different he is, there is a core of familiarity running through him. he's still the man that won't pull his punches, so to speak. ]

Thank you, James. [ for small assurances. ]

[redactions]

[ It soothes something unhappy in him — as only a sharpshooter could. She doesn't need the old Bucky, and she doesn't expect him to, just the important pieces. The base components she's familiar with. Some of them are still there. ]

Friends call me Jim.

[ He smiles at her, genuine and patchwork. ]