12028/What we study, so we create.

What we study, so we create.
Date of Scene:	15 July 2022
Location:	Weapons Testing: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Lots of different dangers on the firing line!
Cast of Characters:	Mary Jane Watson, Leopold Fitz, Clint Barton, Hellboy

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Mary Jane Watson has posed:
There were the remnants of her sword. Hyborean steel. That had been shattered by the Red She-Hulk some time ago. There were things requisitioned over and approved by the command chain - perhaps with some curiuosity given what was being given. So, some time then over in an area setup for the utilization of secondary adamantium. Equipment that needed to work with extreme heat and temperature, and extreme precision.
    Mary Jane is just looking at all of it curiously at the systems and the safeties.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
The Triskelion.

Night or day, doesn't really matter. The building has a 24 hr operation; no such thing as a 'skeleton crew' here, no. As a result, departments that might be considered to be a 9-5, aren't. And that includes engineering and R&D. Definitely those two departments as they are critical in mission support.

Thus, the jokes and comments regarding Dr Leopold Fitz and his hours. And the fact that there is no official cot in the lab under orders of Chief Peggy Carter.

Nothing official, mind. But when exactly was the last time Fitz actually saw his own apartment, much less his own bed? Rumors have it that the Scotsman is actually homeless, though that is far from the truth.

Honest.

Today, tonight, whatever the time, it has Dr Fitz in the weapons testing area, as that is the safest place to house a smokeless forge. It's in one of the cement bunkers, and it's turned up to a healthy glow, the heat waves radiating off the smokeless smoke box. The scientist is dressed in a light colored button down oxford with sleeves rolled up to his forearm, a plaid tie, and a pair of pressed slacks. On his feet, a pair of leather oxfords. His ID hangs from his belt, and off to the side, just to keep away from his hands and his work.

"Now, I'm not a smith," Fitz warns, the soft Scottish brogue highlights the words, "So, I'm going t'be relying on.. well.." and he waves his hand, "Her."

Clint Barton has posed:
It could have wairted until the next day. A few arrows he had been tinkering with in his room; new ideas that he had come up with. Yt, the thought of whether they wuld actually work or not would not escape his mind. There was only one person he trusted to "check" the arrows as it were, a man he knew could fix whatever might be lacking: Leopold Fitz.

He was not a hard man to find. He was either in his lab or the weapons testing area. It was not like /Where's Waldo/. Thus Clint mad his way down to the weapons testing area with a few arrows in hand, calling out before he reached the opening in the doorway upon hearing the unmistakable scottish tone. "Fitz. I got something I want you to look at. Not sure if I did it right." He steps inot the doorway in a pair of jeans and simple plain grey t-shirt, only now seeing Sonja there as well.

"Oh I missed the take-a-number thing outside the door. I can come back." However his curiosity of what is actually going on seems to get the better of him as he steps further into the room. "Well this seems more interesting then folding my laundry...which I never do anyways."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would go to glance over at Fitz, "Thank you." Mary Jane is over in control for the moment as she would glance over at things. "Sonja kind of understands this but she thinks it's a bit over the top.. But she says that about everything from the steam era." The redhead would qiup over at herself over as Fitz would go on to 'her'.

Then Mary Jane's eyes would narrow to thin slits and her body language would change. Standing up tenser and taller, hands tightening to fists. Rocking over on her heels. "I fail to see -why- these excessive preparations are necessary but you have said that they are. And is he here for the entertainment?" She would muse, and Sonja's eyes would go to travel over Clint's body in a casual sort of.. "He is a pretty one."

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy walks into the weapons testing wing of the Triskelion. Despite his size, he's got a kevlar vest on, which is an interesting departure from his usual huge and nebulous overcoat. In his left hand, he carries an old gun case that looks like it's from WW2. The gun case has a combination lock at each latch, a padlock, and it's wrapped in chains. In his right hand, he carries two signs similar to the 'caution: Wet Floor' signs, only these are red and say 'Danger!' with no further explanation.
    The demon steps into the small arms testing area and puts down a danger sign in one alcove, skips one, then puts the other down in that one. He then goes into the one between them and sets the box down. He puts his Right Hand of Doom atop the case and steadies it, treating it like it's a bomb, rather than a weapon that should be tested.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
Fitz drops his hands into his pockets, only to have one pulled out again in gesture as he speaks. This is more 'lecturer-mode' for him rather than designing engineer. He's not even wearing a lab jacket!

"It's actually much simpler than what she's used to." He amends it as Sonja breaks through and offers her two cents. "Than what you're used to. And, safety is important. Can't have anything getting away from us and burn the building down." Not that it'll happen, mind, but can't be too careful!

Clint's arrival brings the engineer around, and the hand that is out of pocket offers a wave and a quick smile. This is obviously someone he knows, and has for some time; bodylanguage never lies. Fitz is a touch more relaxed as the other man approaches, "Agent Barton," formality in the Scot, however, is ingrained. "Welcome. An' no," the brogue lilts, "it's fine. I'm setting up a forge I made for Sonja," he points lightly to the now slightly modified MJ, "So we can see how it works for a new sword." Which he so isn't going to make.

Agent Barton, MJ Watson an' Sonja. Ladies, this is Agent Barton."

As for the arrows? "Let's have a look at them," and he holds his hand out, finally pulling his other hand from his pocket, "How's the weight? Balanced for you?"

Hellboy's entrance with his guncase that looks as if it could double as a crate gains Leo's attention, and brows rise before he exhales. "Looks as if we'll need ears soon enough." He doesn't know the gun; he respects it...

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint strides further into the weapons testing with a casual strut, setting the arrows down on a side table before turning to give a nod to the entering Hellboy who seems like he is on a mission, so a word is saved. His attention then turns to Fitz and Mary Jane, hopping up on said tavble beside the arrows and shrugging. "The weight is good. The balance is good. I am just not sure if they are going to do what I want them to do. I am 90% sure they will." A small pause. "Okay 60." Another little brak in his words. "Yeah more like 30."

He offers a smile and a nod to Mary Jane, his hand waving to her casually. "Ms. Watson. Good to see you again. Glad to see you are keeping Fitz busy. He starts to quiver a bit if he is not working on something. Why I bother him so much." He leans back on his hands, narrowing his eyes to see what they are working on. "A new sword huh? The other one not doing it for you anymore? I had a girlfriend like that once. Traded up for a better model." He waits a moment before laughing lightly. "I'm kidding." Words followed by a soft murmur. "Okay it was me that was traded, but...new sword. Good for you."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja goes to sneer over at Clint as he speaks, and the redhead responds by flipping a dagger over at him she decidedly did -not- have in her hand a moment before that would whip right past his shoulder. Close enough that it might snip off a couple strands of hair if he didn't dodge or block it. Her green eyes would flash with emtaphorical acid as she would go to take ehr hand back to her side. "Respect my blade or it's first blood when it has been restored will be your's."

Red Sonja would nod over at Hellboy respectfully, "Demon." Speaking it in a tone of voice that was intended as a copmliment. Then over at Fitz, "I appreciate this what you are doing. It will be.. Nice to have something to rely on again." Yes, Sonja could improvise with most weapons and no, she was not attached to the blade extensively. But it was still among the few things she still -had- with her from the age she had been in, rust and disuse and all.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy acknowledges the greeting, but he really is on a mission. With his left hand, he undoes the locks one by one. They're a bit more heavy-duty than one might expect on a simple gun case. What's inside the case doesn't glow, but it's a lot more obvious to be felt than radioactivity. To anyone holy and/or good around, as soon as the case is opened, the unholy energies can be palpably felt.
    Hellboy picks up the handgun. It's a machine pistol with a sliding mechanism. Something red glistens around much of the mechanisms and actually appears to have worked its way into the mechanisms to become a part of the hand gun itself. It's similar in size to a desert eagle, making it look like a glock in Hellboy's hand. Not tiny, but not like the larger firearm it actually was.
    As Hellboy's fingers tighten slightly around the handle of the weapon, part of that red mass opens where the hammer should be. The parting red flesh reveals a golden eye that looks intently at its cambion wielder. Hellboy is very careful not to get his finger anywhere near the trigger, nor to point the weapon even vaguely in the direction that anyone else might be in.
    "Okay," Red growls out, his natural way of speaking. "You're awake. You're gonna behave so I can get data." It's unclear if the firearm can hear or understand him, but the uncomfortably evil aura it gives off doesn't seem to be affecting him, so that's...good?

Leopold Fitz has posed:
"Weight an' balance, I'll give you 60%," Fitz concedes. "Means I don't have to do that part." When the shafting is weighted for the bow, that truly is half the battle. It's the fletching and then point that then takes the attention. "I'll get out my scale, look at the grains, an' then we'll look at the insides. You can tell me what you want, an' I'll tell you if it'll do it." For all his support and optimism, he's pretty sure that Clint's 30% is pretty much on the money.

Brows rise at the teasing, and the Scot chuffs a laugh, "I do not quiver. Nor twitch." He's just unhappy and he's a bother until he gets something he can sink his attention into.

Right now? He's apparently now the medieval weapons expert, what with arrows and now sword!

And it's not lost on him.

Sonja's reaction to Clint, however, takes Fitz by surprise, and he finds his voice rising, "No, don't do that. Please.. just put it away, if you don't mind. I don't.."

Great.

"Let's not attack each other, an' we'll be fine. Or, I'll be called onto the carpet for rearming you."

Fitz can't help but watch the large.. man, demon, as he unpacks his weapon. Upon opening of the case, the hairs on the back of Fitz' neck rises, and there's a decided bit of discomfort felt. Should he look at it in retrospect, perhaps he should be happy that it elicited such a primal response from him, but for the moment? He takes a halfstep back only to turn finally to pick up a set of ears for himself, Clint and MJ. Just incase.

It's the talking to the gun that unnerves him just a little bit more, and taking a deep breath, he tries to find his own center, and looks back at the pair in his immediate environ. "Now, Sonja.. your sword?"

Clint Barton has posed:
It's not the first time a woman has thrown something at him. It usually was a beer bottle. There was the time it was actually a cat. Yes, Clint was no stranger to having objects tossed in his direction. So when the dagger is flung in his direction, he leans to the side and tilts his head as the dagger strikes the wall behind him. His eyes then narrow as he watches her with a half-smirk. "Now Ms. Watson. I thought we were better friends than that. I am going to assume that it slipped out of your hand. I am sure whatever Fitz has constructed for you will be able to repair your blade." He says nothing else about the incident.

"Not a priority Fitz. Just something I have been working on. Figured you would know how to make it work best. Don't need it going off in my quiver." His eyes drift to Hellboy and the weapon in his hand and when the ears are offered to him he politely declines and reaches up to take his hearing aids out, holding them gently in his hand. "Benefit of needing these. Don't have to listen I don't want to."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Point made, Red Sonja goes to give a nod over at Fitz, "As you say, Smith." It seemed to be respectful. So Red Sonja would go quiet then and move to cross her arms. Nodding over at Hellboy and then querying, "Your weapon is being rude, it seems. Perhpas you need to remind it in the greater span that it is a tool. A deft one, but still a tool. And a tool that is -operated- by you and that must do what it's master tells it." Apparently sentient weapons were completely normal and threatening them into doing stuff without backtalk was also fully normal.

She would glance over at Clint, "Why if you have troubles do you rely upon those? Are there not better, more efficient ways to have that level of damage treated and repaired? Or is there another reason why you do not utilize them?"

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy listens to Red Sonja's little tidbit of advice, but he doesn't take his eyes off the firearm in his hand. Its golden eye glances back and forth between the glowing embers of the demon's face. His gaze is more inscrutible, given his lack of pupils. With his right hand, he carefully pushes the button to send the paper target back in the range.
    As the electric motors quietly wheel the target away from him, he quietly raises the weapon and points it. He looks up a bit at the track and the little device on it that's dutifully performing its task. He looks thoughtful before there's a buzzer in his booth. He raises the firearm and aims down the sights. The paper is very still as he lines things up.
    Hellboy gently pulls the trigger. The recoil is about what one might expect from such a weapon in Hellboy's hand. The sound is quite loud, but not unusually so. It's definitely loud enough to get people's attention if he didn't have it already. With the sound comes a wave of fear. It's not like someone flicking one end of a rope and the wave propagating down it. It is punctuated by the sound, but anyone in sight of the weapon who can feel fear and is subject to such effects will, for a split second, know true fear.
    The paper target does not survive the experience. In less than a second, the paper had shredded itself from the impact zone outward in a pattern reminiscent of shattering glass more than tearing paper. It flies apart at the seams, blackening as embers smoldered at the edges of what was left.
    The ejected cartridge looked quite normal. Stamped brass ejected from the weapon and bounced off the wall, hitting the counter and falling to Hellboy's boots into which his hooves were stuffed.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
"Thank you," is breathily given, complete with the hint of finality. "We'll have no more of that."

Fitz has an idea of Clint's skills; he's heard about them, even if they may not have gone on missions together. (Clint's more an A-lister, while Fitz? Well, he has to remind people he actually IS an Agent...)

"I'll be more than happy to look them over at dinner. Really. If it's shielding you need, I've got a new mix.." and the good doctor is soooo close to going into the stereotypical enthusiastic description of all the changes of mass and bonding techniques, not to mention the testing.. before he's pulled back to center, as it were, for Sonja's weapon.

"I'm not a swordsmith, Miss Sonja," Fitz begins again, so polite, "An' while I do have an idea about tensile strength down the blade, I'm afraid I'm not the one to do the job. I can find someone to forge it, however, if you can't." He's a Scot. Half his home country are probably smiths, or born in a line of smiths.. how hard could it be?

The ears refused by Clint gains a quick nod, and he sets that pair aside. Sonja, of course, is also offered a pair, and his own find their way upon his head.

The timing works as once they're settled, the buzzer sounds, the line is hot, and the weapon is pointed downrange. It's not the sound of the weapon; that is reasonably common enough. It's the burst of fear that grips the Scotsman. In that heartbeat, in that fleeting moment, there is a touch of that deeply seated terror that bubbles up, then is gone. It's enough, however, to leave a residual feeling, and to look at his hands, they're shoved into his pockets to see if he can't keep them from shaking as they are. That's not to mention the fact he can feel his heart pounding, and the heaviness in his chest from taking those extra, rapid breaths. Good for him that he managed to remain in place!

Every man has something he fears, certainly.. and Dr Fitz is no different.

That is one hell of a gun.

Clint Barton has posed:
Perhaps he took the hearing aids out to early. I mean in his defense he was not sure exactly when Hellboy was going to fire off the gun. Thus, when Fitz and Mj speak to him, there is a little bit of confusion as to what they are saying and his reply clearly shows this. I mean he tried to read their lips, but truth be told it was a skill he had bene working on and was not completly well versed at. It would be MJ that would get his first reply. "Oh I've been in trouble lots of times. Could have been better prepared(repaired)." There is a small pauses once more before he quirks a brow and nods. "Yeah been working out. Proud of my thighs(utilize). Thanks for noticing."

Attention then turns to Fitz as he hears the miffled sounds of his words as well, picking it up in a dull manner. "You want me to cook you dinner? Alright. Not going to be anything fancy. We can look over th arrows then. You like hot pockets?"

It is then that the sound of th gun going off draws his attention. It is loud, and he does hear it, but not fully. It is not the sound of th gun that scares him, but the feeling of fear that overtakes him a moment, causing him to slide himself back on the table a bit, wide-eyed before it passes. "Tell me that was the gun." With the firing completed, he moves to put the hearing aids back into his ears, his hands still shaking a bit.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja goes to watch for a moment over at Hellboy, and what he's doing over with the weapon curiously. The sudden sensation of fear has her hiss, even as a hand is going to another dagger that hse decidedly did not have on her. "Tell that thing to still itself or I'll cut it apart myself." A harsh warning but one that then goes silence thanks to Fitz's reminder of proper etiquette in the workshop. It is his smithy after all.

Sonja would glance over at Fitz, "YOu will do fine. The technique can be taught. The blade needs cleansed. For this.." She would gesture over at all of the eqiupment, "Is beyond what any I know could work with. I trust you over with the weapon. I can also refine it myself when done. That is how I will make it feel more like mine."

But irritability would go over to return to Clint and shrug. "Why arrows? Is nto something more efficient appropriate?" Sonja can fully appreciate the classic methods. But she also had to accept that with changing times came changing tactics. There was a reason that the bow and arrow was abandoned en masse sa soon as muskets were developed after all.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy doesn't seem to notice any of the criticism or anything else. He puts the weapon back into the case and slaps it shut. Suddenly, calm returns, or at least, it's allowed to return. Chemicals released in the brain take a bit to re-uptake. He holds the case closed as he begins locking it back up.
    It is only at the point it's fully locked that Hellboy takes a look around the room. He makes eye contact with all three of the others there as he picks up the chained gun case. He thumbs to the side, clearly gesturing at the signs he put up. "Danger," he informs them all. He holds up his left hand and the gun case its clutches. He gestures with his flattened Right Hand of Doom palm under the weapon case, indicating the contents. "Danger," he repeats. The whole thing is a little condescending, admittedly.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
"Hot pockets is fine, Agent Barton. Or, we could go for some fish and chips at the pub.. bar. The bar." And have a pint.

Sonja's faith in him is flattering, it really is. The faith and trust that he'd be able to build as fine a weapon for her as, well, he does for the others is a testament that one could hold as a point of honor- if anyone outside this small circle could understand it. For obvious reasons, above and beyond the fact that everything he sees and does is HIGHLY classified, Fitz doesn't talk about work outside the confines of his lab.. at all.

"Thank you, Miss Sonja, for the faith. I'll do my best," which means lots of research, more than a few nights of study and then possibly swinging his arm to work the heavier metal. He'll need advice on this one, and even then? Unless he can pull something out, it won't be as perfect, as //right// as it needs to be for her.

Aaaand, that's probably why she's entrusting it to him? Sneaky, sneaky.

Hellboy's careful and considering repacking of his weapon is caught in the corner of Dr. Fitz' eye. It's hidden away, which gives a slightly better feel to the immediate surroundings, now that he's got his heart's pounding under control. Not going to trust his hands, however; not yet. They remain where they are, in his pockets. The impromptu lecture on the dangers of the weapon just fired gains a scowled frown from the scientist; WAND is not his thing. He prefers science and technology which, at times, can be indistinguishable from magic. Demonology, however?

"We get it.." as if he speaks for them all!

Clint Barton has posed:
"No shit." Clint says what everyone was thinking in response to seeing the DANGER sign in relation to the gun he just witnessed. The fire power and th sense of fear it exhibited was a level of danger Clint had not seen in a long time in a fire arm. "That's some gun you have there. Would not want to be on th recieving end of that. I mean if it don't kill them, they are running away."

A small breath is taken and he looks over to Mary Jane, seemingly pondering her inquiry a moment before answering her. "Well there is the stealth aspect of it. The skill involved with archery that not everyone can do." He furrows his brow, thinking of other reasons. "The variety of firepower of different purposes I can bring to battle." He shrugs and in a calm tone asks her a question back. "I might ask the same of you. What is the purpose of engaging with a melee weapon if one can simply strike from a distance with no risk to themselves?"

A head nod is given to Fitz. "Deal. Dinner out. Your choice. I pay. You let me know when you have time. I'll clear my shechedul, which is pretty open right now. Yeah wide open. Like name the day and it will happen open."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja goes to look over at Hellboy for a moment, and then Mary Jane takes over, "Isn't htat supposed to be your middle name?" She would qiup. "You don't seem like a WIll Robinson type." Which is probably a show she's never seen in her life, original or Netflix. Mary Jane would quip over and watch at Clint as Sonja would take over. "There are other ways to attack quietly. And SHIELD typically goes for medium range engageemnts. Normally firefights occur at ranges of ten to thirty meters with limited cover. So one needs to close the range as quickly as possible given the nature of them as we are often outnumbered, having to advance rapidly against superior forces. There is no real room to dodge or block, just go forwards and break the enemy's ranks and file. Combat at such distances is effective to get into close quarters from." She would flash her teeth over in almost a sinister grin.

She would glance over her shoulder hten at Fitz and give a bow. "Thank you, Smith." Yes, Fitz has said that he is not one. But Sonja respects him and as far as she is concerned he is doing just as good a job as any.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy collects his danger signs, thus removing the Danger Zone. He tucks them under his arm and looks around to the people again. "Obviously, this didn't happen, none of you saw anything, yada yada. You're all in SHIELD. You know the drill." He begins for the door. "Later!" he says, waving with his Right Hand of Doom without looking back at the others.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
Fitz' hearing protection is removed in order to continue the conversation, and there.. the contest. An exhaled, somewhat exaggerated sigh escapes the man before he looks to Sonja with a questioning expression. "Actually, we do a lot of long distance as well. Stealth and not. We all have a place, including me." He's a field agent too!!

"How about all this over a pint?" Please?

"Clint, let's take a look at those arrows. Miss Sonja, I may have something for you. I can't promise it will be tomorrow, but.." But by the end of this, Dr Fitz will look like he's worked out! He may even get arm and back muscles!

A half-wave is given to Hellboy, and he exhales at the reminder. The scientist/engineer might look young, but he's SHIELD through and through! "Take ca--" and the demon is gone.

"Right," Fitz begins again. "I... I have some more research to do. Pub later. An' no picking on my food." Everyone is a food critic!

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint gives a wave to Hellboy as he departs, looking at the gun case one more time and shaking his head. "Not sure who he plans on using that on, but would not want to be them." He pushes himself from the table to the floor once more and gives Fitz a nod. "You know where to find me Fitz. If not, just send me a text. We can go get some of that haggis stuff and I can pretend I like it."

He leaves the arrows on the table, gesturing to them. "The blue tipped one. Keep it away from the forge. Or a lot of heat. Just um..yeah."

He starts to make his way towards the door as well, but pauses besides Mary Jane before exiting. "I'll make a deal with you. Next time we are on a mission together. You charge in and cut up anything in your way and I'll make sure you got the cover fire. Deal?" He then points to the dagger that is still on the floor. "Oh. Don't forget that. Never know when you might need it again." He then makes his way for the door and his voice can be heard in the hallway. "Yeah...you guys deliver? No hot pockets tonight.