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

Action: → shooting range

[takeabow]

[ Nova looks between him and the pistols ]

It might not hurt to practice.

action (range)

[mucked]

[ -- she suppresses the urge to offer up slow applause. such congratulations are crass in the face of all that's happened and all that's yet to come. instead, she wraps her anxious fingers around the stock of a pistol: one slightly smaller than the rest, and with a pleasing set of proportions. ]

I can't imagine I'll be allowed to keep it no matter how much I do -- [ want one. peggy has been missing that sensation of being armed with more than her muscle. she draws back the firing device and approves of the hard sound each moving part makes. ] Shockingly well-cleaned, given all the dust. Is that your work?

Action; shooting range

[save_the_souls]

[Hawke's departure from the fleet didn't go unnoticed. With him and Aang gone, they were without a security person - and a lot of power for protection. Sure, there was still others in the ship, including himself, that could hold themselves in a fight- but the weakening of their defenses put Allen on edge. And so he finds himself heading to the shooting range, where he spots Jim and his...many, many pistols. He can't help but watch, a bit fascinated.]

Only if you don't need them all at once.

[reconstitution]

[ As always, he doesn't want to interrupt Jim's solitude- especially after the commotion aboard the ship. The captain is allowed to have his time at peace, but his counterpart's expression is worrying enough for him to approach. Winter watches him from the distance for a few minutes before making the trip across the bar to the corner that Jim has taken up.

He doesn't miss the empty glass, nor the way Jim's eyes scan everyone in the room. It's not any different than what he does. ]

Permission t--

[ A shake of his head. ]

..Can I join you?

Audio

[iamawaited]

War parties.

shooting range

[deshabille]

[Guns don't come to her so naturally to Mal. She knows how to work a crossbow, but she's only just learned how to operate a firearm. Admittedly, though, she's learned from the best, and so she heads to the shooting range in an effort to contribute to her growing tendency towards perfectionism.]

[She recognizes Barnes immediately, smiles at his back as he hits the target over and over. At the question:]

At least one. I've never tried to shoot with both hands and one foot before.

Audio

[redactions]

Yeah — something like that.

[ You understand. ]

[redactions]

[ A pistol that happens to be approximately the same weight as her famed Walther. Jim smiles at her. ]

I dunno; I bet you could charm the owner.

[ a beat ]

Yeah, he said I could use the range for free if I got these things workin'. They just needed some vigorous cleaning, s'all.

[redactions]

[ He smiles, and hands over one to Allen. ]

Even I've got limits. Here, try this.

[redactions]

[ The corners of his eyes crinkle; the mouth doesn't follow. ]

Sure, buddy. You want my seat?

[ It's the better position in the room, which he'd be sorry to lose, but it'd hurt Winter more not to have. ]

[redactions]

Definitely wouldn't hurt at all to learn the weight.

[ He hands her one, and stands away, giving her space. ]

Try this.

[redactions]

[ She has a smile that shows teeth in the wrong places, which would be unnerving if he hadn't had a year back home to get used to it in Natasha. The familiarity of it wraps around him. ]

Getting ahead of yourself, Corporal.

[ But he still gives her two medium-weight pistols, and steps away so she can use the lane. ]

[takeabow]

[ tries to get a feel for it just in her hand ]

Any pointers?

[redactions]

Back straight, feet flat but not too much pressure on 'em. These don't recoil that much, just get a feel for how much you need to lock your wrist. Squeeze the trigger, don't pull.

[ gesturing to the target. ]

Good to go.

[reconstitution]

[ His eyes flick between the seats and then back to Jim's face. While he wants to say yes, he steels himself and simply takes the empty one, right leg bouncing in place.

It's not a horrible vantage point, but he feels exposed. ]

No.

[takeabow]

[ she fires some shots. she's not... bad, but she's not comfortable, either. better than what one would expect from a complete beginner but nothing like ace levels ]

[redactions]

[ Sometimes it chokes him with bile, how much more naturally being a shield comes to this man. But he can't bring himself to be envious. Somewhere out there this is the better man. ]

I've got the whiskey. It's not bad.

[reconstitution]

I'm fine.

[ While he knows it's probably fine, the paranoia is still taking precedent to his new found autonomy. Better safe than someone slipping cyanide into his drink somehow.

There are just enough people in the saloon that he doesn't want to lose the awareness he has. There were enough unsavory civilians.. ]

[redactions]

All right.

[ Jim tips his glass in a cheers gesture and sips, rolling it around in his mouth before he swallows. It has no effect on him, will never make him drowsy or sick, but the burn down the throat is the same. ]

[ He taps the untouched glass next to him. ]

This is for Steve. It's what soldiers do when they've lost a friend. Buy one. Some folks fill it with the same s'what they're drinking. I don't.

[reconstitution]

[ He takes his attention away from the crowd to regard the empty glass in front of him. He doesn't touch it. ]

It's a tribute. [ He nods in understanding, gaze flicking back out to the other patrons, though he's not paying attention. He's unfocused.

Five men are sitting around a dusty table, beaten glasses in their hands. Their clothes are tattered and dirty, shoulders hunched in, protecting their drinks.

Their faces are blurred- almost as though they've no features. The words are garbled.

There is an empty glass sitting in the middle of the table. Six glasses raise and clink together.

Winter's attention snaps back like a jolt of electricity and he looks back to Jim, blinking owlishly.

What the hell was that? ]

[redactions]

[ He tenses up like he's prepared for some assault — it may as well be, from the Winter Soldier's ghosts, and like hell Jim's leaving him in a fight all by himself. ]

What's the matter?

[ He snaps his fingers in front of Winter's face to get him to focus on the sound. ]

Pal?

[reconstitution]

[ His eyes snap toward the sound, and he finally looks back at Jim with clarity. It takes him another silent moment to process, tongue darting out to wet his lips. ]

...Where was it? [ It's mostly to himself, and his focus goes away from Jim, though his eyes dart over the wall past his shoulder. He chases it, trying to come up with an answer. When he doesn't get one, he looks to his counterpart for clarification. ]

One.. he-- had an accent. French, I think.. I don't know what he said. Couldn't--

[ Couldn't really focus, there was too much to process. ]

[redactions]

[ Where was wha — oh. Understanding, perhaps, dawns on him, followed by worry. He glances around at the other patrons immediately; none of them seem to have noticed. ]

Shh. It's all right. Keep talking. Come on, let's go somewhere with less eyes'n ears.

[reconstitution]

[ He shakes his head, eyes focusing back on Jim. This is fine. What if it was situational and left once they'd gone?

Really not possible, but this is something, and he's determined to keep it. He reaches out to pick up the glass in front of him, turning it over in his hand almost reverently.]

We knew him-- young.. first week out? It was raining.. We were supposed to watch him..

[redactions]

Yeah. He had a Luger he scored from a small mortar post we took — playin' with it, shot himself in the leg and bled to death. Damn stupid way to go. What d'you tell 'em? All of those idiots... who just lie on their forms and think they're set for glory.

[ He makes a face. ]

Dernier. He was the small one, smoked Gauloises. I couldn't stand the fucking smell. He used to make fun a'how throaty my French was. [ smiling wryly ] I could never get the vowels right on the first try.

[ the smile fades ]

It was just a few months before Operation Nordwind, I think. We were out in the country, on our way back to base.