1454/SHIELD: Hans! Ve Can Vin Ze War!

SHIELD: Hans! Ve Can Vin Ze War!
Date of Scene:	30 April 2020
Location:	Bryant Part - New York
Synopsis:	Nazis take hostages, and SHIELD responds with punching, biting, and ICING. Dignity and foot chases through subways optional.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Bobbi Morse, James Barnes, Mikhail Uriokovitch, Daniel Hastings, Dane Whitman, Jemma Simmons, Samuel Morgan, Steve Rogers

---

Jane Foster has posed:
Dusk falls over New York and the city glitters upon the water. The sort of picturesque evening dawning on the Hudson River boasts the cold clarity that British dreaded in 1940. A waxing crescent moon hangs in the sky, adding a pale glow to the brilliant sky. It's at this particular moment two reports strike an already readied SHIELD headquarters.

Verbal and visual reports come flying in about an attack on the Consulate General of Germany, located mere blocks from the United Nations headquarters. The consul general ended up wrenched out from his car, thrown in the trunk of a vintage silver Porsche, and the rest of the staff ended up in lockdown. To those familiar with an incident on 34th Street, that Porsche -- reported stolen by a very wealthy businessman -- looks pretty familiar. 1960 was a good year.

Next, a near riot in Bryant Park lights up another line, and that green rectangle boasts, quote, "Nazis declaring the freedom of the US from the gold standard." Four executives are stuck under a tent usually reserved for New York Fashion Week, and they're guarded by a good number of handsome devils in SS uniforms. If anyone actually *doubts* they're SS uniforms, Mikhail can probably confirm this to be the case. Of the four victims, one is a senior official for the Fed, another a banking CEO, and a third screaming up and down on the audio track projected in that he doesn't deserve to be here. "Go mess with bloody Deutsche Bank, you bloody effing Nazis!"

Franz and Otto take to their demands with relish, encouraging a crowd of the media /and/ pedestrians to make clear their will to the government. The Reich is back. Supposedly.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
There is no such thing as a quiet day at SHIELD, but some days are much louder than others. "You have got to be kidding me," Bobbi says standing in the ops center at the Triskelion. "Scramble a rapid response team. First priority secure the area, remove all civilians. Second priority, rescue those hostages. Third priority, detain those... I can't believe I'm saying this - actual fucking NAZIs." She starts to march with hurried steps, "I'm heading to site. Any agents currently available please join me."

Bobbi is dressed for action, all in black, special goggles on, staves on her back, gun at her left hip, ICER at her right hip. She takes the express elevator to the parking garage and gets on her bike. The trip from the Triskelion to Bryant Park is a quick one on two wheels.

Over comms she says, "Agents report in..."

James Barnes has posed:
Well, if there's anyone in SHIELD that's got a really personal reason to take exception to the resurgence of the Thousand Year Reich, it's one James Barnes. He's not in SHIELD fatigues - he wasn't actually in the city for anything other than personal reasons. He's in a simple blue workshirt over a white t-shirt, old jeans, Cyclones ball cap. "'s Barnes. I'm in Brooklyn. On my way there."

On three wheels, rather than two; he's got that Russian sidecar rig, complete with bemused German Shepherd in a snappy pair of doggles. This was supposed to be a visit to Steve and an outing in the park. So much for that.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
When the word went through SHIELD of Nazis being on the street, Mik was concerned and got some vague flashbacks to his youth, not good memories. Soviet Siberia was not great, even worse when the Great Patriotic War was going on. The angry agent in training was called in, in the most tactical of black gear, the slightly darker shade of black one would require for this. He frowns and curses in Russian as he makes sure his weapons are in working order and says over comms, <<Ursa checking in>> he says, taking the moment to look over the crowd, <<I never thought I would see these again>>.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
"Acknowledged." Daniel doesn't identify himself but the SHIELD dispatcher would identify him by his radio tag. He knows Bryant park well enough so it takes him no time at all to quickly suit up into his SHIELD fatigues and.. appear on the roof of the New York Public Library. He takes a knee and lifts a hand to cover the glare of the city lights as he begins to scan the site. "Journey is on site. Four hostages confirmed. Stand by for target count by the numbers." His jaw is set in a grim line as he recognizes the uniforms, his other hand is forming a fist.

Dane Whitman has posed:
And here Dane Whitman thought he was done with Nazis for the day. More evening work had kept him in the Triskelion long enough to hear the call. He cues up his comms and starts towards the Quinjet hangar, "Whitman here. I'll meet you in the hangar, Agent Morse." Not really fatigues in his case, but he tends to carry his "specialized" gear wherever he goes...the benefit of being able to call it at a moments' notice. Well, he /does/ grab an ICER on the way out, at least, though if it's the same folks from before, he's not sure how much good it will do.

Jane Foster has posed:
Bryant Park ( https://tinyurl.com/yby684oa ) sits smackdab in the middle of Manhattan, surrounded by popular restaurants and no less than two subway stations in neoclassical elegance. The only advantage for SHIELD is the hour, as they don't have to empty out a major branch of the New York Public Library. Most of the surrounding offices are shut down, but blocking 5th Avenue definitely takes the cake. Units swing into action, the NYPD probably earning a serious dressing down for failing to catch "some Nazis at a neo-Nazi rally" earlier. Neo-Nazi, Neoclassical: there's nothing Neo about the gentlemen keeping a sharp watch within those tents.

The earlier chaos of the traffic accident mostly over doesn't hurt Bobbi for getting around on her motorbike. Of course, there are the hastily erected police corridors being thrown into place, killing east-west traffic. She strafes past pedestrians and no signs of a silver Porsche. Converging for the others is difficult because simply -not- stopping trains at the subways is easy.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    A very familiar voice sounds over the radio. Tinged with the most British of accents, it sounds out. "Simmons inbound." That's...odd. Simmons...as in Jemma Simmons, out of the lab? That is most unusual. And running to a situation, rather than holding back as support. Most peculiar, indeed.

    Fortunately, Jemma has some of her own specialized gear...some odds and ends that she and Fitz have been cooking up that needed a field test. And...what better way of testing that out in the field? Though, she isn't carrying much. Only a nondescript black backpack, to go with her own special tactical gear. What's inside the bag? Only time will tell!

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    When you live on Manhattan, there is one thing there is no shortage of. Well, cars aren't exactly in short supply either... or rude pedestrians... or hotdog vendors... anyway, there is no shortage of green spaces. And responsible dog owners take their trusty canines for a walk whenever they can. Some responsible and /paranoid/ dog owners take their dog for a walk in different parks on different days, to no set pattern but instead relying on the roll of a die to decide the destination.

    At least, that's how Sam does it.

    This leaves him in the rather unfortunate situation of being in Bryant park with Bear when the Third Reich rises again... or, well... you get the idea. One look at those uniforms was enough to make his blood boil, and considering the incident earlier today, he's expecting this to get ugly. So really, he'd like to get Bear out of there, but the crowd is making it hard, and there is a good part of him that wants to settle a few scores.

    Finding a bench where he has a clear view of the tents, the teenager in the nondescript hoodie places a bluetooth earpiece in his right ear and dials up his phone. Dialing the number of an agent that recently left him a card...

    "Don't know if this is a bad time, but there's actual Nazis in the park. Got eyes on them..."

Jane Foster has posed:
Sitting in the middle of Bryant Park are those two large white tents, more than sufficient to broadcast whole movies in with a full audience. Or a performance of the latest hot artist. Floodlit and handsomely appointed, they also make for a block-long swathe of plastic with multiple entry points, all of which are currently -- evidently -- shut for the night. Except for those Nazis actually flitting in and out of the entryway of the forecourt, where the media is swarming the concrete steps usually prowled by photographers and models. /They/ aren't listening one bit to the removal order unless forced. Too many juicy scoops. JJJ would have someone's head for being there or not, as the case may be. One of the gentlemen in front has a crisp look to his uniform, cropped blonde hair short. He answers questions with a screen of people around him, hardly visible except from above. Nonetheless, there are microphones, booms, too many things. Clearly he's been there long enough to get some attention and his clear English answers at least amuse a few reporters. Several are obviously less than thrilled, constantly asking, "Are you aware World War Two, you know, ended?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you here?"

"Have you seen the suffering of your country and the political establishment that causes your people so much unhappiness? Such divisions?" the German soldier replies. Clearly a problem.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Black Knight," she says using call signs on this particular mission, "You're my eye in the sky. We're looking for a ye olde style silver Porsche. "Winter Soldier, Journey, Ursa, J..Jemma?, reconnoitre. Congrats you're all on park duty." She weaves through the traffic. Bobbi has serious voice on, "Civilians, Hostages, then Nazis. That order people."

"Ops is telling me we have 6 confirmed injured at the consulate.. conflicting reports at the park, 15-30. Journey can you illuminate the sitrep." Bobbi is surprised to get a phone call from Morgan, "Sam, where are you? the park? good golly kid.. there's a team assembling near by. Don't get hurt, I know you know how to handle yourself."

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik's observation of the Nazis already has him on edge. The problem is that one appears very... similar. He calls out over comms <<We have problem. There is one here that is familiar. He looks like Moll, Otto Moll.>> He lets his hand rest on his ICER and moves to get into a position that he could get into a position for a better view. <<Be careful all, this is not good>> His tone reveals a barely controlled rage. Not quite mad enough to go full rage, but not by much.

James Barnes has posed:
Temptation says Buck wades in, after ordering the German Shepherd to stay in place in the sidecar. Training and habit decree that he *not* take a leaf from Steve's book and just go for the frontal assault. Besides, he can't take the arm off and throw it and expect it to act like a magical frisbee, unlike *some* people. "Heading up."

Up proves to be scaffolding at the 42nd St station, left for the convenience of your friendly neighborhood sniper. Whereupon he's assembling a rifle. Oh, he's got ICER for it, if they need to do this nonlethal.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane lags a bit behind Bobbi, if only because it's his first time checking out a Motorcycle. He COULD arrive in speedier fashion but it's not in any way inconspicuous. So either way, he peels off from Bobbi's potential chase and instead moves towards Bryant Park. He makes a slow circuit on the bike to see what he can see, and parks along one side, hopping off the bike and piping through the Comm, "So I'm betting the hostages are in the big windowless tent. These guys may be crazy but they don't seem stupid."

And then Mikhail pops up, and Dane frowns, "What can you tell us about this guy, Ursa?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Twenty some odd reporters, cameramen, bored lackeys, and a few civilians running afoul of a corridor cluster in closer. They have questions, some shouted, some not. One's actually in German and gets an enthused but severe German response. The soldier speaking is not the kind of man who smiles easily or cheerfully as Americans. The vantage from the NYPL is not good: the tents give him total coverage, the double line of white plastic leading to a smaller tent where he's holding court. Proof New Yorkers will listen to anything. 6th Avenue gives better frontage, albeit with some kind of elevated stage and a pesky fountain blocking clear access. Kitty-corner to the tents is the 42nd St Station, and it takes only a bit of clambering at Winter Soldier speeds to get a nice, cold overlook behind industrial scaffolding cloth. A matrix of metal bars holds it in place while the windows are replaced. All he needs to do is rip a hole for a sightline straight down on the forecourt and the near two dozen reporters.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Understood. Would you like me to remain on sight to provide intel, or is this an exfil at first opportunity moment?" For all the world, Sam looks like he's having a normal, jovial conversation on his phone. He sees what he can see, the smile never leaving his face. "Because let me tell you, this is a disaster waiting to happen. These guys are playing nice, but that only lasts until someone asks the wrong question or pulls a trigger. Hook up or bug out? Your call."

    He is, of course, not on the network with everyone else, but it won't be too hard for a sniper or elevated observer to spot the blue eyed, blonde haired teenager, sitting nonchalantly in the park where everyone has clearly decided to get lost. Next to him sits a German Shepherd, and both seem utterly unconcerned about what's going on."

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Yes, yes. No cool callsign for Jemma. But, the fact that her checking in catching Bobbi by surprise might have given Jemma a small smile as she closes in to the park. Then...a comment through the comms. "I may have a solution to see into that tent. Or, rather, through it, if you like." And the first toy out of the bag....are a pair of seemingly nondescript safety glasses. But, then out comes Jemma's usual tablet, which is always an indication that something fun is about to happen.

    Just give me a moment to see what we can see."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi first responds to Samuel on the phone line, "Ground intel is good Sam, let me redirect your call through SHIELD ops so we can hear what you're seeing."

She presses the buttons on the handle bars of her motorcycle to control the call and gets back to the mission channel. "Otto Moll. He's meant to be dead. You're right Ursa that guy is no joke. We have a civilian asset on the ground, name is Morgan, he's looping in to the call."

To Dane she says, "Yeah no joke, that is the best spot." To Daniel: "How brave are you feeling, when we're ready meet up with Black Knight and breach that tent. Get your warp and jedi on. Yes! Thank you Jemma, give us the vision."

Back to ops center, "Get Kaleidoscope active, find that Porsche."

James Barnes has posed:
"I really, really, really hope he's just a look-alike, and not someone *else* those bastards managed to freeze into immortality. Moll makes Mengele look like Mister Rogers." A beat, and he clarifies, "The guy in the sweater with the puppets Rogers. Not Steve. I've got eyes on the forecourt, but it's just full of reporters, right now." Buck sounds a little annoyed about things. The price of being under SHIELD's aegis is playing by their rules, which means he can't just start slaughtering indiscriminately. Fury's not likely to buy the 'PTSD hysteria' excuse, after all.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
"They've got the interior dark." Daniel quips over the standard SHIELD comlink. "There's twenty plus bodies in there for sure. Someone's cut the lights. Cannot confirm weapons. I could drop a flashbang in there easy but that wouldn't help our lighting issue. I doubt the couple of glowsticks I have will do much either. I've.. got one of the hostages tracked. Yes. There he is. Say the word and he's out."

Daniel did not like this. Nazis. Here. NOW!?

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik turns to Dane, "Nazi fiend of Auschwitz. Thought he was dead." The Russian frowns and does not let his eyes stray from him. "Nazi in tent I do not know, but he is Nazi, so problem. Problem I can fix." He snarls and nods to Bobbi, "What do we do, now? Just let me know when I need to do my thing."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Techno, reporting in." Sam notes as he gets told the call has been added to the network, and catches some of the last comments. "Did someone say lights? I can try to make that happen."

    So he stands up from the bench and saunters towards the tents, seeing just how far he can look around without looking too suspicious. Just a kid out for a walk with his dog... the blonde, blue-eyed kid with the German Shepherd. He's hoping that for once the usual misconceptions are going to work in his favor. "I'm hearing names I don't like. What's our play?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"Patching in," replies an analyst somewhere in the bowels of the Triskelion, totally not jumping for joy about the thrill of combing through data at length. "We've got assets from the Port Authority and NYPD coming online. We'll hit you back when we can." Because a silver car in a grey city is -soooo- easy to find. Bobbi's commlink crackles with a ping.

Another voice, calm, reports: "Civilian casualties from the Consulate report being attacked by, quote, 'storm troopers' and 'soldiers telling us we were traitors.' Injuries include major impact trauma and second degree burns. I'm not sure how to put this... a man threw a gate on a victim. The bulletproof gate."

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    The glasses are slipped on. Jemma taps the frames on the left corner as she taps a button on her tablet at the same time. Bluetooth technology at its finest. The glasses activate, giving Jemma a lovely view all the heat signatures within the tents. And...with that bluetooth connection, she's recording.

    "There's 22. 11 in one tent. 9 in the other. 2 look like standing guard in the forecourt. The two in the courtyard are exceedingly bright. Very intense heat signatures. As if more solid than some others. There are 15 others in the tents with the same sort of double exposure presence. 5 others who are not...but one of the 5 appears to be extremely frightened. The heat signature is similar to that of extreme panic." There is a pause..."Da...err, Black Knight is correct. there is no electricity inside. Only heat signatures are from the individuals within."

    A hand reaches down to Jemma's left side, touching the ICER sitting on her hip. It gives a moment of reassurance, as Jemma slowly scans the area, making sure to get a nice recording of everything she sees.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi pulls up and takes off her bike helmet, approaching the group. She places a hand to her ear, "Storm troopers? Really?" She looks to the team and over to the tent. "Thank you Jemma. Reports from the consulate attack say one of these guys threw a security door at them. They reported storm troopers attacking them. I think these resurrected fucks might be metas. But considering we don't know where that Porsche is, I say it's time we storm these assholes. Ursa, Black Knight, enter via Journey's _totally not a portal_ from the back. Winter Soldier, take your best shot. I'm going to stroll right up to them. Jemma, you've got toys you want to try, now's the time. Techno, I'm going to regret this but.. find me that Porsche. Okay people, let's kick some Nazi ass."

Jane Foster has posed:
At this point, anyone walking around Bryant Park without a press affiliation or SHIELD affiliation -completely- sticks out. The cordoning effect is slowly whittling away the bystanders, and you know, having someone /pointing/ authoritatively at you and saying 'get lost' is more effective than not. Samuel isn't at all subtle at all, even less so walking his dog. It's actually enough to bring out the younger Nazi in a junior officer uniform for those who recognize it, slipping straight up to his companion's side. Soft words are exchanged, a cough given to excuse himself. There are protocols in play: this is martial, clearly.

"Gentlemen, ladies, if you will follow me please? I can hardly address you equally," Otto Mull - or someone who wants to be him - asks. "Not when we are not standing on even ground." He withdraws back to the forecourt tent, gesturing broadly. "I will of course answer all your questions. I have all the time in the world."

Rear angle of attack made even worse, and of course, the crowd trying to get him on film or for the night's broadcast -- some are even live, possibly -- /aren't/ going to stand way back! At least three more plucky reporters move forward, a battery of questions on hand. The rest move as a group, blobbing forward. "Can you tell us what you're doing here? Why have you taken a banker there?"

"Someone who defrauded the poor of their homes? He has never been brought to justice..." So the answers roll. Ugly. Bad!

Dane Whitman has posed:
"I don't think getting in is going to be a problem once we make our move. Dealing with what's inside, on the other hand...." That goes over the comms, but after that Dane looks to Mikhail, then pauses, considering, before adding "We need to get the reporters clear. I'm getting the impression these guys aren't looking to be interviewed in good faith. I think I can provide a distraction that might pull their attention away, though I don't know if it'll get them moving."

Ah well, if you're in for a Penny....

And so after just a few minutes, with a rather loud whinny, a big ol' white stallion with wings descends out of the sky and lands just a couple dozen yards behind where the reporters are starting to follow the Nazis. He doesn't need the reporters to scatter, but anything that keeps them out of the tent for the moment seems for the best.

Strider can take care of himself beyond that, besides, he's got a winning personality. For now, Dane extracts the hilt of his photon blade, and nods to Ursa, "Ready whenever everyone else is."

James Barnes has posed:
Moll or whatever he might be....doesn't get to finish that. The report's suppressed, but it echoes anyhow. The flash is hidden; they did leave him a convenient hide. But with permission given, Buck's firing and the apparently resurrected SS man takes an ICER round to the head. Nonlethal doesn't mean he can't add a little convenient TBI, since the opportunity's presented itself. A little belatedly, he says, "Taking the shot." Really, Barnes?

Jane Foster has posed:
Look at all those nice reporters being a beautiful human screen for the Nazis. Look at how beautifully they block line of sight with human casualties, and how they wrap around the only clear entrance into the place without trying to break through one of the plastic-meshed doors front or back, or tearing down the tent structures themselves for whatever good that would do.

Someone on the commlink swears, and swears louder. "Out. Get out, get them out, you're dealing with someone who used to mow down Jews by the boxcar. Lit out, they're casualties and they strung him up for having a death count higher than a U-boat commander!"

Jane Foster has posed:
And just
    like
        that
            Moll crumples to the ground in a heap.

Someone screams.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Go go go, civilians, hostages, nazis." She gives Jemma a look and then takes out her ICER in one hand, a knife in the other, and charges toward the tents.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    "Well....that's a sight you don't see everyday..."

    Even with the infrared glasses on, it is hard to miss the pegasus incoming. The commentary slips out before Jemma could put a clamp on it. It looks like it is time to head in. The tablet is placed in the bag...and replaced with what looks to be another ICER. But....a white ceramic version. This...looks to be something new. That is switched to the left, while the regular ICER is drawn with the right.

    Two-fisting her weapons, Jemma swallows hard...then heads in.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
"One back door to the main tent coming up." Daniel gives the yelling banker a sizing up then.. jerks him back from somewhere to somplace else. The top of the library of course. He gives the man a salute before slipping back inside the tent with a ripple in space leaving the man to yell all he likes from the rooftop. Daniel, for his part, is hoping this isn't a bad idea as he closes his eyes and lobs a flashbang while turning his focus to the back wall. "Firecracker in three. The back door is open!" Thankfully, he was wearing his helmet so the noise wasn't going to be an issue.

Jane Foster has posed:
(The cheap layout map)

----------5th Ave-------
----------NYPL----------
                              
-------        -------          
|       |      |       |
|       |      |       |    
|   #1  |      |   #2  |    
|       |      |       |    
|       |      |       |    
-------        -------    
      ------------
     |     #3     |
     |            |
      ------OM----
         NF


-------6th Avenue---------
BU

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane lights up his sword, set on neural stun mode for now. No telling if it will work at this stage, but it's the go to. Only this time there's a little more than just the "lightsaber" and shield, as a pulse of pale light coalesces around Dane, and leaves him clad in well...chain mail, and a tabard and helmet. Though he goes for the jacket instead of the cape. Metas just might require a little more protection.

And with that all in place, the Black Knight charges into the fray, quick to keep an eye out for the hostages...not that he's trying to avoid looking out for bad guys in the interim.

James Barnes has posed:
"What are these guys? Every one of these SS jerks is running really hot. Enh, screw 'em," Steve's not even here and Buck's still censoring his language. Then he's sighting in on Tent #1 and the most convenient of those vivid heat signatures. If they want to be easier to hit, by all means. There's another *crack* of a rifle report. No doubt his dog is wondering where he's gone.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mikhail realizes things are getting hairy. He sees Dane go in loud, and Bobbi takes a similar tack, but he follows his instructions and elects to go through the portal, ICER out, ready to shoot the first threat he sees. <<In portal.>> He says over comms, taking a look around the dark tent for the moment.

Jane Foster has posed:
Tent #1, the one further north, suddenly has a Dan in it. And the complete and total darkness enfolding him has the usual scents: wet cement, plastic, a weird kind of ozone. Sweat, reeking sweat of fear. Then comes the explosion that ignites whatever shadows lay cloying and sick over the space, igniting the white outline of the tent for everyone else outside with a decent vantage point. The Deustche Banker having a panic attack pisses himself on the library roof, slumping down with a hasty scream. His Savile Row suit is ruined. Brief outlines flash and fall in an instant, dazzling against the eyes, for anyone in close proximity. If you had night vision in there? Now you absolutely don't. The media crowd is already horrified, and most of them are not brave people. Of the twenty in front of the forecourt, seeing Otto 'dead', they break like chickens in front of a fox riding a pegasus.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
KAPOW SHHHHSSSS!!! Sparks fly and a thundercrack goes off in tent #1, briefly giving an outline of the interior. Then it was dark again. The 'totally not a portal' was also briefly highlighted by the sparks and flash and smoke coming out of the folded space. Daniel, for his part, was cracking glow sticks and tossing them as fast as he could get them out of his pockets. Sure, that made him a target, but he was reasonably sure he was safe from most assault as he stayed crouched where he'd made entry.

Jane Foster has posed:
Tent #2, the one further south, is strangely quiet. More quiet as Dane approaches the plastic filmed doors that hang shut with no sign of motion behind them. Privacy mesh in the 'windows' -- also heavy plastic -- distorts the shape of his sword. But Dane's own image rears up to him in dull ripples, and the only way through is tearing it open or yanking on a door. How do you lock a plastic door other than by zipping it shut? Either way, it takes a few moments depending on lightsaber entry or not. And as soon as it does. Why, HELLO! There's a //Nazi//! He's there to give Dane the oddest look. "Why, the man who fell in the street!" he calls in German. "I guess you wanted to die. //Franz!//"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    The shot kicks over the ant hill, it seems. As people start to scream, or run, or caper in circles as per temperament, Sam is already tracing the trajectory of the shot back to its source, snapping his head over towards the scaffolding that's hiding the Winter Soldier. There's a smile on his face, giving the universal 'thumbs up' signal of approval as he walks away from the chaos. He'd love to wade in, but he has orders... and Bear to look after. Given the circumstances, he jogs around the corner until he finds what he was looking for: an NYPD squad car. In the shadows of a malfunctioning street lamp, which was totally working a few moments ago, Sam crouches down and takes out his phone, grinning. It's a matter of moments to link into the cruiser's MDT, and from there a trivial matter to gain access to the police database. It's really just a matter of finding the car's last known location, given that it's flagged stolen already, and then piggy back onto the ANPR system the city is so fond of to track average speed limits. Your tax dollars at work... "Running a search for the vehicle now, give me a minute or two."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi places an arm over her eyes, 3.. 2.. 1.. firecracker, bang. She moves swiftly through the portal, her Mockingbird goggles giving her sight in the dark. There's a big one, first one she sees. She lifts and aims her ICER and shoots. His arms were flailing from the flash bang, but she has no sympathy. She ducks behind the cover of a table and finds the scruff of the neck of one of the hostages. She has no idea who, but doesn't care. She drags him back out through the _totally not a portal_ portal. "One down, one out."

James Barnes has posed:
Maybe he can plead running out of ICER rounds and just revert to good old fashioned lead. The spectre of paired disapproving looks from first Fury and then Steve is enough to make James sigh, put upon, and keep using ICER. He's got no reason to think the targets, whatever they actually are, are on to him, so he doesn't obey the old dictum of firing and relocating. Still working on whittling down the figures in Tent #1. Nothing like a sniper to disconcert the enemy.

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Far better men than you have tried." Dane replies to...Hans, perhaps? But he's moving even as he's talking, lighting up the photonic shield to go with the sword, attempting to slam the Nazi off-balance for a follow-up arcing strike with the neural sword. He'd mention the contact over comms, but...fight now, talk later, mostly.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    'Firecracker in 3? What is...oh bloody hell!' The thought runs through the two-gunning research scientist as Jemma suddenly realizes (at 2.5) what Daniel meant. The brunette suddenly her head away from Tent #1, clamping her eyes shut just before the brightest of lights, and the heat signature that comes with it, threatens to blind her. There might have been an unladylike cussing under her breath which *might* have been picked up by the comms...something colliquially British, for certain. After the audible explosion, Jemma twists back around, swinging her guns up as she seemingly aims at the 1st tent.

    What is Jemma shooting at? She is shooting at one of the dense heat signatures, using her infrared vision to easily identify her target without actually having to go inside. The trigger is squeezed, sending a rather cold round flying to her target from her white ICER....which looks suspiciously like a cryogenic railgun, for those keeping score.

    And...it hits...but something is wrong. It dissipates...but there is no cooling. In fact, it looks like the burst travels *through* the body. Like...almost a liquid. And that rings a warning bell to the biologist.

    "The Nazi! It isn't flesh! It looks amorphous in nature! Be on your guard!"

Jane Foster has posed:
Tent #1 has but a single hostage, someone tied up and very clearly in range of trouble. Oh, Bobbi gets her hand on him and he's a white-haired man with a distinguished bearing ruined by wearing his own tie and several socks as a gag. He's tied, wrists back. Hasty frantic shouts are thrown her way as he's light-blind, and for good reason. The person that Bobbi hits with the ICER gun -- hello, a Nazi, drops. But the one swarming around him goes low and doesn't bother with an actual shot. Why bother? It's so much more fun to /plow/ into the hostage being dragged to the portal at unnatural velocity for a standard Nazi peon. Nope, this one's moving with a very clearly augmented speed. Not speeds that suggest 'Hi I'm Steve Rogers behind a shield,' but something that leaves a weird sussurus of low audio bangs until point of impact. Bobbi might get out of the way, and that's fine. He's after the banker, who goes flying. They saw this at the parade: the horrific strength.

Jane Foster has posed:
Tent #2 meanwhile has another battle going on, one man versus a bunch of Nazis. Odds that a star-spangled man with a plan gives a thumbs-up to. The first swish of that illuminated blade does the real damage, because the photonic shield hitting the fine black and grey uniform induces a wave of crackling, explosive-burst infrared visible up there to Bucky and anyone else with thermal scopes. It looks like a solar flare blew off the corona of the sun. To anyone else, well, the shield warps and ripples against the man's arm. Human arms don't really do that. The sword though, it works just fine! Mind you, the Nazi soldier moves with some pretty acute skill. He is not, however, a swordsman just like Otto was a butcher, not a Winter Soldier. It doesn't end well for the Nazi. It might end in pieces.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Today is not a good day. First Nazis, now a bright light and a loud bang. Whatever restraint Mikhail had is now gone and his suit rips away as his muscles and bones expand and fur covers his skin, leaving a more ursine figure there, still holding his ICER, the joy of still having opposable thumbs. Once his transformation is complete, Ursa blinks a bit and sniffs out of habit, "Smell is off." He notes, "They sound like quiet bees." He snarls and rushes forward, electing to go after this guy tooth and claw, he's not people, he's not due less-than-lethal force.

James Barnes has posed:
"Great. Things that aren't even human can't resist snappy fascist tailoring," Bucky grouses. "Seriously." He's reduced to fiddling with the scope for a moment, to make sure it isn't blinded in earnest. "Do we have any idea what they actually are?" He's still shooting them. If ICER stops them, all well and good, they can pick them up and sort them out later. Neca eos omnes, kids.

Jane Foster has posed:
In Tent #1... The Nazi who side-kicked a banker through a portal has himself face-to-face with problems. A bear that was not a bear. Nope, no recognition there. Bobbi, with her funny goggles. Jemma, shooting things and talking in weird words. Mr. Flashbang, however, looks very appealing. Without hesitation, he goes charging for Daniel.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Mockingbird sees the next nazi that starts running for her.. no, her hostage. She pumps him with the ICER, but to no avail. The hostage goes flying and she takes note of just how fast and strong he is. If she were Black Widow, her thighs would be around this guys neck.. but she's not. She holsters her ICER and takes out her staves and charges at the man, dropping down and capping his knees with her hard sticks. "Let's see how fast you move with broken knees Hansel." The NAZI drops to his hands and knees and says something in German in a pained voice as Bobbi drops down again with her staves to the back of his head and neck, sending him to night night land.

Jane Foster has posed:
While Samuel is fiddling with an NYPD police car, the radio comes. It's rather noisy when it crackles to life and he is busy convincing a machine to do his bidding, sorting through heaps (and heaps) of data. It starts to play a particularly odd processional song, crackling in and out, fine detail being absent. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRRG43WBbig

James Barnes has posed:
Well, this really was too good to be true. Because one of these not-actually-really-human Nazis turns his way and slings a big chunk of concrete at him. It *was* a planter. Now it's rubble....but it's taken out the scaffolding he was using as a hide.

Buck's got presence of mind enough to sling the rifle and start getting down, using the arm to swing down like an ape. Then he's got the gun up again, sighting in on the one attacking him. Because what he really needs is phone footage of himself on every conspiracy theorist's website from now until Judgement Day, after he's been trying so hard to stay under the radar.

Jane Foster has posed:
In the forecourt, it's just not acceptable for someone to be taking potshots at the tent with impunity. That isn't sporting. Amidst the media personalities taking cover and still broadcasting, or running around screaming, one man stands... slinks... alone. He's not stupid. He zigzags using the cover of the raised stage-like area that diners eat their overpriced sandwiches on for protection. Then he has to negotiate zipping between the trees and running, hell for leather, to the protection of... a building. A nice building with a subway station in it. Is Nazi Flunky going to take the train and get out of dodge, meeting up with his /other/ Nazi buddies on the lam? It's a great strategy.

Except he stops in front of the building and leans down, snatching up... a decorative swan with some early spring flowers erupting from its back. Clearly it took probably two people to put the swan there, but not for him. He lifts it and shouts incoherent German, flinging it up at the scaffolding. Up at a perfectly nice Mr. Assassin. It rips a hole in Bucky's screen, throwing shade in a long tongue to flap limply in the wind. <<You coward! Stupid shadow! The soil you walk on will be barren!>> Then some curse words go. He's presumably now going for a train.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    If there is one thing that Jemma excells in, it is snap research decisions. And...since the body she shot at didn't freeze...maybe it will fall. The two guns adjust, the cryo gun in the left hand pointing down....at the ground at the base of the feet. The gun fires, sending a cryogenic round right in front of the feet, with the surface quickly glazing over with a sheet of clear, and ideally slick, ice.

    A split second later, Jemma fires a round from her normal ICER. The dendrotoxin round escapes the barrel of the gun...but not immediately at the figure as she sees it standing. Instead, due to some quick mental math, the round is placed lower, heading to a spot in which the body should find itself at, prone on the ground, should the initial plan of Operation Ice Skate succeeds.

    Fortunately for Jemma, Nazis are not good ice skaters. The figure falls....right into the path of the dendrotoxin round...

Dane Whitman has posed:
Well, the Neural Sword doesn't carve people up on this setting...it's more like an extended taser effect, albeit not one entirely based on electricity. He steps deeper into the tent and...spots the next 11 Nazis.

OK, he's had worse odds.

Hesitation isn't really in his vocabulary in times like this, so he charges in. "Surrounded" is just another word for "Lots of enemies in sword reach." He slams into the next with the shield, stabbing him with the neural sword over its' top, and trying to drive him into a couple of his fellows. And then the blade becomes a blurred arc of orange-white light, lashing out swiftly as any given enemy closes on him.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Well, you do not drop in a Cold War weapon and not expect things to get wonky. Mikhail lets out a primal roar and rushes the nearest Nazi. He is not quick enough to swipe at the guy, bug a grapple and neck bite later leaves a strange taste in Mik's mouth as he calls out, "Taste funny, no blood!" With ursine fury, he lifts up the Nazi and slams him into the ground, "You deserve far worse." With that, Mik smacks the Nazi with a backhand.

Jane Foster has posed:
In Tent #1, the last of the Nazis are busy rushing at Dan to clobber him, but they get smacked by the coordinated attacks. Punches and kicks play into it, one eagerly rushing into attack... a bear. It doesn't need to be explained -why- there is a bear! Only there is a bear, it must be attacked, and punched. Until there are none left. He doesn't bleed when that big maw bites him, but he does punch Mikhail in the stomach twice. Maybe the big furry Russian notices. And maybe. Just maybe it hurts to be hit! But in the end of the day, the soldier ends up flying through the tent to land floppily on the stones outside. Cue chorus of media people shrieking like frightened chickens.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    It's a lot of data. Honestly, there's a lot of cars driving around the city, and even narrowing it down to just the /stolen/ ones leaves him with enough targets to track. It's like finding a piece of hay in a stack of needles. But it's something he's good at, and one by one the targets can be eliminated. Give it time... time and patience, that's how you get your quarry, Sam.

    No, it's the music that makes his blood run cold. He knows that tune. His right eye twitches for a moment, deciding that he cannot let that abomination stand. So he cues up the priority broadcast on the cruiser's radio, and decides to change the tune, overriding the marching song with one of his favorites... 'Links', by Rammstein. If they want German music, they'll get German music, but he'll pervert their entire intent. Don't try to get one over on the technopath...

James Barnes has posed:
Mr. Assassin is so done with this guy's crap. "Good luck, buddy. I survived the real thing, you're just some crummy carbon copy," Bucky informs the guy who's attacking him with the landscaping, as he stalks towards him. "Try and run, just try it." It's very much that 'do you feel *lucky*?' voice, as he sights down the rifle, still advancing.

Jane Foster has posed:
In Tent #2, zorching is still a possibility with a bear on the loose. Never underestimate the power of rogue bears. Nine Nazis can't quite fit in range of Dane, so they take turns dashing in and behind to flank him, forcing him to keep on his guard unless he wants a hell of a blow to the back with a punch that literally staved in a man's chest. The flashes keep showing where he intercepts with the shield, but only to IR or UV vision. The sounds, though, they are particularly telling of a scuffle. While he's guardedly chopping down Nazis with a flash and searing strike of light, disrupting them to turn odd shades and colours before the distortions solidify back into black uniforms, one of them is really an ass.

He just approaches the one hostage who rolled away and grabs the other, smashing his head into the ground several times for good purpose. The other one, tied up, is bleeding but damn well scrabbling fast as he can for 'the dark.' Which is not a fight with a gang of Nazis surrounding the Black Knight.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi takes a moment to catch her breath and then gets back on the comms. "Ops coordinate with state highway patrol, lock that Porsche down. They still have a hostage." She looks back to the team who dealt with Tent #1. "Okay Journey, let's redirect to that other tent." She twirls her staves and prepares herself to charge in through the portal when it moves.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    "Right."

    It is a single word uttered by Jemma, but to her, it means so much. For the first part, the cryo railgun works. Second, it doesn't work to hit the denser signatures in her IR vision. Third, the regular ICER rounds are effective. Armed with this knowledge, the Brit holsters her ceramic prototype into her left holster, moving her free hand to cup the bottom of her regular ICER, giving her increased stability.

    And...now to scan. The second tent is noted for the sparks of heat picked up by the IR display. And....in the middle of the light show appears a rather formidable form with what appears to be rather murderous intentions.

    "Right"

    The word is repeated...but this time, only one meaning for Jemma. It is time to take down that figure. She sights her target, aiming for the head, and pulls the trigger. The knock-out round fires, ripping a small little hole through the tent wall and smacking itself into the base of the neck, right underneath the left ear. Which, if her theory holds true, should knock the rather large bugger down and out.

Jane Foster has posed:
By the train station, the Nazi Flunky flips the bird -- so crude! -- at Bucky. "You were not the only one. Unlike you, my body isn't flawed." The German comes back with a sarcastic tilt to it, and there's something vaguely contemptuous, almost amused. The Nazi keeps slipping back towards the abandoned train station, and is more than prepared to dive right down the escalator in a way only a suicidal maniac would.

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Son of a...." Dane growls as he glimpses the errant Nazi attacking hostages. He really hadn't wanted to rely on this, not knowing the full nature of his foes, but he's not going to let that stand. The Neural blade is flung across the tent towards that particular Nazi, and immediately replaced in his hand by the night-black Ebony Blade, which he continues to swing no less quickly against the advancing Nazis, though always with a bit of a twist at the end to slap them with the flat of the blade. There's already three or four of them on the ground, but more still advancing.

In other words, help is certainly welcome.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Right then. When the call comes back from Kaleidoscope, Sam's job is over. It's done. The objective has been achieved, although via a circuitous route. That means, in theory, that he's now a free agent. At least, until his next orders come in. They haven't. He stands and looks over to the fight in progress, taking a deep breath and balling his fists. The smart thing to do would be to walk away...

    Sam is, in fact, smart. But in one thing, he can be incredibly stupid. This is as much his fight as anyone else's. More so, considering the large stains of his past that still need expunging. Time to make a start.

    And so he jogs back to the corner, in time to see the Feldwebel in a stand-off with Bucky. Now there's a sight he hadn't expected to see. There's a complicated whistle, and Bear scuttles back around the corner, huddling down.

    "You talk of purity, Heinrich? Perhaps you should understand what that really means." It comes out in flawless German, and Sam starts to advance, smiling as he whistles 'Lili Marleen' on the way over, staying /well/ out of Bucky's sight line. He has absolutely no illusions that the Winter Soldier won't shoot through him if necessary.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Seeing Journey is busy she huffs, "Never mind," and takes off at a run. She charges across the park to Dane's valiant 9 v 1 effort and flying kicks the first Nazi she sees. She lands on the ground on top of his chest and plants her staves in to his chest, pressing the hidden buttons to send a shock through him. "Have some taser Friedrich," she says and then leaps back up, keenly aware that there's a lot of them here in their anachronistic uniforms.

Daniel Hastings has posed:
Redirect. Daniel looks to the other tent, seeing the dim light flashing about with the bodies of combat throwing themselves about. So.. he takes a page from 'Superhero Landing'. He gives the spot a quick look then.. falls through the floor.. down from the ceiling.. then into the ground. Only.. the ground bends downwards like it was water receiving a droplet from above. This absolutely defies the laws of physics. Especially when it snaps back with a rippling of the ground cracking cobblestone and bending support beams.. to say nothing of tossing Nazis about like water from a duck's back. When the ground settles back to its normal 'flat' state, Daniel is rising to his feet looking about. Did it work?

James Barnes has posed:
It's lucky, perhaps, for Sam that Buck's round, ICER or no, does not hit home. Something about the situation's thrown off his aim. But he's barrelling after the fool who dared flip him off. "YOu're not even human," he says, tone acid. Running full-tilt, now, his own unnatural speed on display.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mikhail is irate, being punched in the gut irritates him in no small amount. Nazis everywhere, not enough bullets or claws to deal with all of them. He calls over to Bobbi as she rushes to Dane's defense. Mikhail is smarter than the average bear and does not like two on nine. The trouble is that the math changes before he can completely barrel over. He looks to Bobbi and Dane, his tone gruff, "Damn Nazis," he snarls, as he gets closer, scanning the field for more enemies.

Jane Foster has posed:
In Tent #2, one hostage lies with a caved in skull on the ground. The other was already sprawled out, so whether he's an actual casualty or playing dead is up in the air without someone checking out his specifics. However, the last hostage is -not- a corpse because Jemma puts a bolt through the Nazi's brainpan -- squish! And over he topples, ass over tea kettle, crashing down to land. The odds are being narrowed significantly for how badly things are going. Numbers are dwindling nicely.

Bobbi doesn't have far to go to reach the second tent with chatter in her ear about speeding tickets on a Porsche. Neither do Dan or Mikhail-as-Ursa. The violent battle in action shows the Nazi soldiers have good strategy, wolf-pack style, multiple attackers charging with the others circling. Jemma and her gun even the odds some: gun means range. Nazis have rapid speed and sudden adjustments. Until, of course, that night black sword shows up. The first hit Dane makes, there is no more Nazi. No uniform flutters to the floor. Just a brief auditory pop like a speaker blowing out, like the distant equilibrium of the atmosphere righted after a thunderclap, minus the clap. The air fills in the void, though a sawing whiplash of heat and distortion would bother Mikhail at the very least. Bobbi's goggles show the flare, Jemma's likely too.

A look of horror shows on the combatant nearest his right flank. <<Run!>> becomes a German refrain. Run and fight another day. The two peel off into the darkness where the last hostage was scrabbling, hell for leather to get away. Now, now it gets messy. Because the ground flings them -further-, leaving them bouncing off, and they actually seem to gain momentum in being flung through the plastic walls...At high speeds.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi smirks as nazis literally come flying out of the tent. She mentions to Ursa, "All yours big guy..."

Jane Foster has posed:
In 42nd Street Station, the flunky Nazi stares at the Winter Soldier and laughs. The gun is already out when he flings himself backward, a ragdoll with his arms tucked in, and goes suicidally flop-crashing down the steep escalator. It means he misses the ICER bolt with uncanny reflexes. Several bounces and he lands on the tile platform, scrabbling to his booted feet and already running hell for leather for the tracks. Barely illuminated, the dark tunnel may or may not have trains shut down or simply passing by at speed. The sound and whoosh of air are absent. Are the tracks electrified? Yes. Does he care? Nope. The horrifying terror of the Winter Soldier chasing him in hot pursuit, a spectre after a spectre, is freaky as all get out. He runs. To live.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
"How nice of you to share," Mik says with a wicked grin. "THIS IS FOR RUSSIA!" he bellows as he goes on all fours and gives chase, they may be faster than people, but are they faster than a ticked off bear sprinting? This does not end well for somebody, exactly who is uncertain.

Steve Rogers has posed:
It comes over the team's main comms, cutting into the chatter briefly:

"Captain Rogers, tailing the Porsche. Got 'em just on the outskirts, E-495, outside of Queens. Dressed civilian, dunno if they've realized they've got a tail yet."

In perhaps a surprisingly patient manuever on his part, Steve is in fact doing precisely as he just dictated. In his leather motorcycle jacket and jeans, innocuous black helmet on his head (for once -- you're welcome, Barnes), he keeps the older-era silver car in sight and a few car-lengths ahead of himself to boot. It's not a perfect art, slaloming through the other traffic at this speed, but there's a focused recklessness to his process. It might look like a backpack on his back from a distance, but the appropriately-shaped canvas bag just might hold that spangled shield.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi hoofs it in to the tent to see the caved in head of one of the hostages. "Ahh shit," she says and then rushes over to the other one sprawled out to check for a pulse. She calls in to ops, "Bring in the quinjets, we have downed nazi.. golems? and we have traumatised hostages. One confirmed casualty, checking a second, alive but unconscious. Two more hostages on the roof of the library." -- Over the comms, "B- Winter Soldier.. sitrep?" -- "Captain, go get those as-... not nice people." Heck, even Bobbi sensors her swears around Steve. She walks over to the third hostage and helps him sit up, "Shshhsh, it's okay, we're SHIELD, we're here to rescue you." She starts untying him.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    What in the? Newton would have rolled in his grave if he witnessed what Jemma just did. The ground actually slingshotting the rejects from World War 2 up in the air and out of the tent....and right towards Jemma. In this case, there is no thought...no planning and certainly no researching this issue. Agent Simmons....just reacts. Instinctly.

    Jemma drops to the ground, swinging her ICER pistol up to point it straight into the air. As the ugly brute flies over the spot where Jemma formerly occupied, she pulls the trigger. The shot is dead to rights, sailing straight into the open mouth and down the creature's throat. There is an almost comical moment where the Third Reich flunkie opens his eyes wide, as he swallows the bitter pill from Jemma's weapon...then, he discorporates. Completely and utterly. There is an audible *pop* as air rushes back into the vacant void where once was a flying Nazi projectile.

    Now you see it, now you don't. That certainly gives the scientist a shock, as her arms fall to her sides on the ground...Jemma just laying there, staring into the empty sky above her.

Dane Whitman has posed:
OK, /that/ was not the expected result of slapping a Nazi with the Ebony Blade. It's not quite enough to take Dane out of the moment, but more like a realization in the back of his head that's starting to put two-and-two together.

Then Daniel makes his big entrance, which causes Dane to bobble on his feet a bit, but he manages not to get completely bowled over. However the scattering of fleeing Nazis does give Dane time to finish the mental calculation.

"They're made of some kind of energy." He states simply enough. But with Mikhail in pursuit of the last Nazi standing, Dane sheathes the Ebony Blade and moves over to recover his neural sword, taking a moment to offer Jemma a hand back to her feet.

"Nice shot." He notes with a faint grin.

James Barnes has posed:
He'd better run. Because let's face it, when it comes to guys dumb enough to wear that black uniform anywhere within his line of sight, Buck's like a racing grayhound after that plastic rabbit. "In pursuit in the subway, heading....north," he says, tersely.

Not a beat of hesitation, as he leaps down from the worn tile of the platform into the dark cinder, the little mice scattering away from his boots.

Jane Foster has posed:
On I-495, a cop is going to lose his job or doughnut privileges. Not stopping a Porsche 356b going 105 mph for a ticket is bad, mkay? Fortunately there is Steve Rogers, patiently out for a ride. Hans is in the passenger's seat, reading a pilfered travel guide from the glovebox. Heinrich, blond and bold about whipping at autobahn speeds without a care, is in the driver's seat, flattening the vintage car's accelerator to go past a Stark Industries truck, a van for the USPS, and a string of tired commuters heading deeper into Long Island. Hans is enthusiastically pointing out a page. In the trunk, the German consul general may have had other opinions about their impromptu road trip. They are utterly oblivious to their nation's greatest enemy coming up behind them. But they're threading through traffic at reckless speeds, totally unconcerned.

Jane Foster has posed:
In 42nd Street Station, Flunky Nazi is running. He's running for his goddamn life. Bucky is going to catch him. Eventually he is. Straight down the tunnel over those electrified tracks, rounding a bend where the oncoming tracks briefly converge for a few hundred feet. Darting to the side, the flunky keeps on bolting and abruptly hops up onto the narrowest of shelves to scamper past. Black goo on his coat? Who cares. But Bucky might care, cause that's the 12:05 AM train coming twenty minutes late.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Blinking in stunned silence, Jemma takes another moment to compose herself. While still on the ground, her left hand reaches over to tap at the frames of the glasses, now sitting slightly askew upon her nose, bringing the world back to its normal spectrum for her. The hand then takes a moment to sit the glasses properly, before reaching up to take Dane's hand in the assist to bring her to her feet. As he complements her shot, Jemma's brown eyes flit to the barrel of her ICER, then back to Dane...the expression of disbelief still fresh upon her features.

    "Thank you?"

    The response certainly lilts into a questioning phrase. If Jemma didn't actually see it herself, she wouldn't have believed it. Even though it was her shot.

Jane Foster has posed:
In Bryant Park, there are no more Nazis. Indeed, there are a few Nazis simply -gone-. No body. Nothing to show they existed. But lots of stunned or fallen people to take prisoner, which is a big plus for SHIELD. Members of the media cower outside. The bead on the stolen Porsche has alerts lighting up the sleepy hamlets in the counties in central Long Island, the token police forces stirring to the sudden warnings being flashed. Commlinks light up with the inbound emergency vehicles to deal with the injured, and reported sightings of said Porsche now they have somewhere to look. Alas, the last hostages helped by Bobbi might be captains of economic industry and banking, but they're shaking. Don't forget the guy Dan put on the roof of the library. He is still sitting up there watching a pegasus and cop-cars and the lightshow. "It's a bear market," he babbles to the wind. "Roar, a bear..."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "We've got a runner, 42nd street station." Sam mentions over the comms, but does nothing to go after said target. The Winter Soldier is already in pursuit, that makes his participation very much surplus to requirements. Much like the rest of this mission, really. There's only one thing left he can do.

    Casually, he saunters back up towards the steps, where equipment has been left discarded in the dash for safety, making sure that none of them contain any footage that might be incriminating to people who would prefer not to be seen on camera. After which he saunters to the crowd of reporters who might still be reporting nearby, doing the exact same thing.

    He might not have gotten to punch any Nazis, but he can be damned sure their ideology doesn't spread.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Bobbi grabs a table cloth off the ground and lays it over the one hostage who didn't make it. She looks over to the remaining members of the team. "I called in quinjets to take all these ... nazi things back to the triskel for analysis." Good work everyone. Let's hope Bucky and Steve can catch up to those last two soon or we'll have a full on manhunt across greater New York state."

She taps on her comms, "Sam, are you okay? I think we have this park under control, thanks for your help."

Bobbi's voice sounds sad though. If she'd planned this assault better, that banker would still be alive. She presses her lips together tightly and mutters to herself, "Shut up Lance," to the imaginary voice in her head of Lance Hunter telling her she's too impulsive.

James Barnes has posed:
So Buck does *not* get pulped by an oncoming train. But he is caught by surprise, darting aside into one of the service alcoves....not fast enough to keep the driver from spotting him. There's the squeal of brakes, showers of sparks, and a little kinetoscope parade of the faces of startled commuters in lighted windows, before the train comes to a stop. Followed by screams as Buck decides that the fastest way to deal with the train that's nearly walled him in is by prying open the doors usually only used on the platforms, so he can bull his way through the train by main force. The MTA can take the damage out of his paycheck.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Drat those reflexes of Heinrich at the wheel -- or maybe it's that the spangled shield is a touch obvious when removed from the backpack as Steve removes both hands from controlling the motorcycle. Kids, don't try this at home.

Then, with shield on his arm, he abruptly guns the Harley up and through traffic, leaned low over the handlebars. Swinging around, he tucks low and attempts to puncture one of the back tires -- to no avail. Now even he can hear the driver yelling at Hans in some panicked, infuriated tones about 'YOU SAID THERE WAS NO TAIL'.

The thing is, he catches a glimpse of the driver and passenger-rider as both turn to look at him and feels that familiar, cold jolt of shock go up his spine. But it can't be: they're supposed to be dead, both Reichleitner and Muller, or lost during the war. It makes Steve grit his teeth behind his dropped visor and swing back to ready himself for another attempt at disabling the vehicle.

Jane Foster has posed:
"I said the exit was--"

"Hans! I drive, /you/ do the route! How hard is this?" Heinrich's shout isn't likely that obvious, but he slews the peppy little Porsche hard into the other lane in an attempt to shake this madman on a motorcycle.

"How did he get there? Is he trying to release the consul?" Hans shouts back, swiveling around to glare at Captain America. Shooting out the back window would simply be foolish. This calls for worse measures. He rolls down the window a bit and flings his travel guide at Steve anyway. "Go away, fool rider!"