19273/Brotherhood of the Chosen: Dr. Sutton

Brotherhood of the Chosen: Dr. Sutton
Date of Scene:	19 October 2024
Location:	Memphis Suburbs.
Synopsis:	The team meets up with Dr. Emanuel Sutton and find out something Bucky knew all along, that isn't really his name. At least they managed to get the information they needed before someone tried to take Sutton out? It's on to the next target on the list - right after they have a little question and answer session with Sutton's would-be assassin.
Cast of Characters:	James Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, Richard Stadler, Cinque Evers, Camille Russo

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James Barnes has posed:
The last mission was a success, Savannah was brought home to her parents. Of course none of it was sanctioned by SHIELD and Bucky has yet to really fill the higher ups in on a thing. Only those that he trusts completely, those that he either calls friend or those that he knows are willing to color at least a little outside the lines were brought in to deal with the aftermath and the potential new threat looming on the horizon. Evidence found during that mission raised more questions than it gave answers. So Bucky went looking for the one man he thought might be able to answer those questions.

The trip to Tennessee had to be made without all the fancy means of transportation provided by SHIELD. That's okay, it was a nice drive, right? Bucky wouldn't know - whatever means of transportation the others chose, he followed on his Ural.

Dr. Emanual Sutton's home is nothing fancy, nothing to speak of, it's a suburban home that looks cookie cutter to the one next to and the one next to that one and so on. It wouldn't do to show up in the middle of a Tennessee suburb all decked out in tactical gear, so Bucky's gone for jeans, a simple t-shirt, a worn out old leather jacket and black boots - oh and black gloves, can't forget the black gloves. He's unarmed save for one sidearm at his back, a blade in his left boot and... well, his arm.

When Bucky knocks on the door, he's holding a bag from Levain Bakery in one hand. It takes only but a few minutes for an older man to open the door. Dr. Sutton looks every bit the stereotypical 'mad scientist' from the Albert Einstein-esque hair to the round glasses perched on his nose. He only stands about 5'7" and he probably has lifts in his shoes. He's packing a few extra pounds in the mid-section. He appears to be roughly in his sixties - which still puts him at about forty plus years Bucky's junior.

"James, it's good to see you again," he greets with a smile - but the smile is more aimed at the bakery bag. Once that's handed off, Emanuel ushers them all inside and pauses just long enough to stick his head out the door and look up and down the street. Once the door shuts, he turns back to the group and, quite literally, shoos them along toward the den with 'get along now' hand motions. Three comfortable arm chairs, a long sofa and matching loveseat provide for plenty of seating options. The good Doc himself takes a seat behind a mahogany desk in one corner of the room. He unlocks a drawer, pulls out a file folder, tosses it on the desk and asks, "James, what *did* you step in this time?" It's more a rhetorical question than not because he moves directly to, "Where did you find the drive his information came from, my boy?" - again, at least forty years Bucky's junior. He opens the bag from Levain and pulls out a double chocolate chunk cookie to keep himself busy as he waits for *someone* to start talking.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
And Natasha is there quietly. Almost invisibly. Even if one was directly aware of her presence, she's being so quiet as to almost fade into the background. Just the way she moves to be where the light is minimal and she's to a corner so there's as little room about her to be spotted in. The same way one might go into a room and take a chair with their back to the wall so they couldn't have someone come up from behind.

These people were Bucky's friends, but they had just been through a combat zone. So for Natasha, that means the chance of something happening is still possible. So in the event it does, she's in a position where she can engage someone coming in the front door or through the windows. She assumes given the positioning and the relative weaknesses of the walls that someone wouldn't use demolition charges. If so, in close quarters they might as well just have a mortar strike drop on them for the same result.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena Belova has on a grey jersey hoodie, hands shoved in the pockets, along with blue jeans and the kind of Ugg boots that were in style from a long time ago. Someone only had old magazines to learn fashion from, things hoarded away by Red Room girls in secret caches and little hideaways, those little secret bits of self they stole while growing up in the program.

She makes a grumbling noise of acknowledgement as she comes in, eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. Like a surly teenager.

Richard Stadler has posed:
    mit Rick really needed to figure out how these people justified jet setting around the country; Last minute flights were expensive, and it wasn't all the time you could find someone willing to take you down as a favor... and Rick was rather certain someone would call it magic on how exactly he found a C-130 doing a positioning flight from an an AFB in New Jersey to a National Guard base in Tennesse.

He still only had a working theory of how he was going to get back. It might mean driving the rental car back up a few days toward the coast. He'd never thought how he's miss quinjets.

But he felt showing up to suburban homes unannounced was getting to be something Bucky did on the regular.

He gave his own nod to Doctor Sutton, following Bucky in, and sitting down in an inexpensive, off the rack suit, leaning back on the couch. "Always feel odd having these sorts of talks in living rooms." He mutters, befrooe gesturing to Bucky. "Wasn't there at the initial operation. I'm here as a favor. I suppose Mr. Barnes will catch us up to speed?" He says, a look given toward the man.

Cinque Evers has posed:
Cinque Evers follows behind the group and stands by the dooor. Cinque pulls his hoodie over his head as peeks out a window for a moment to enjoy the scenary of surburban life. Cinque lets out a soft sigh, before turning his attention to the beginning of the conversation. He leans against a nearby wall near the door.

James Barnes has posed:
Rick can always ask to ride back in the Ural's sidecar.

"The where doesn't matter. We where there to pick up a little girl," Bucky insists. To those that actually know him well enough - probably Natasha - Bucky's likely keeping things close to the chest out of concern for Sutton's safety. He's already put the man at risk asking him to decipher the medical mumbo-jumbo found on that drive.

"Mmmhmmm," Emanuel begins - the tone of that sound only slightly annoyed. "Well then, shall we just cut to it? I'm sure you could likely sus out at least some of this. Project N.O.V.A. - Neural Optimization and Vital Augmentation is a nasty piece of work. You've probably reached that conclusion yourself or you wouldn't be here. It seems they're working on something called a NeuroGensis Serum. But I'm sure you read that too? I assume that you're here to find out what that *means* exactly."

Bucky's chosen one of the armchairs. He trusts Natasha to keep eyes and ears open and alert. He trusts the others to jump into action if she gives the signal. So he just sits - sits and stares. Oddly enough, Emanuel doesn't seem the least bit put off by that stare. He just starts leafing through that file he pulled out of the drawer. "Was this child's name Savannah?" Seems the good doc is simply looking for affirmation - he likely knows the answer already.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
And Natasha is on the alert. Always. While the others are listening to the details, she's on overwatch. Paying attention passively to the debriefing, her expression dispassionate. THere have been many monsters in her life, and there will be many more. What is one more horror on top of the rest? It will be handled. For now, her priority is ensuring that the team is not ambushed while they're getting priority information.

She's very still, and not moving, seeming to blend into the background. Thoughtful. A quick glance is given to Yelena, assessing the status of the other REd Room exile. Seeing just what Yelena's take will be on all of this. She still hadn't quit egotten a 'feel' for the other woman and her general tells.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena Belova may be slightly hungover. But she's still here. That's called being a professional.

Still, she wishes they had found a Starbucks before they came here. She had suggested as much in the transport, but she hadn't gotten any kind of answer. Seems like the civilized thing to do, but whatever, big secret off-boos mission, so no latte for Yelena.

She is listening, though. She just has a headache.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Rick nods to the Doctor, "Not sure if I like the sound of the name. Innocuous enough, but the really bad stuff normally is, isn't it? I'm curious, myself." He says, leaning forward. "It sounds like something that does some rewriting. DNA retroviral, then? Editing certain genes to allow for higher end physcial and mental functions? Or are we talking about something... temporary? Some... aggressive new combat drug?"

Cinque Evers has posed:
Cinque tilts his head, the fabric of his hoodie shifting with the movement. "Hmmm, so are they trying to figure out what causes certain humans to turn into mutates instead of just getting sick or dying?" He gestures with his hands, drawing invisible lines in the air as he pieces together his theory.

"That would be profitable," he continues, his brow furrowing in thought. "But you'd need a lot of test subjects or access to a ton of data on mutates." He pauses, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Cinque raises his arms in a deep shrug, "But, what do I know?"

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky's still staring - expression void of emotion. Like Natasha, he might as well be a statue - although he does sit up just a little straighter. He's listening and maybe a little impatient - get to the point already. But knowing where the drive was found and the emblem he saw on the computer just before it went black - he *knows* it's not innocuous.

"Did you find this at a HYDRA lab, James?" Sutton asks. So, the good Doc knows a little about about some things? "...because it stinks of them."

Sutton's attention shifts to Rick, the man actually asking questions. "The serum contains nanobots programmed to stimulate neural activity. As far as I can tell, they're focused mostly on the temporal and parietal lobes. If you aren't aware, these are the areas of the brain with all the dormant bits that people claim can be unlocked to tap into psychic abilities. They do other things as well, I won't bore you with the technical terms but will sum it up instead - they're trying to enhance mental abilities from problem solving to enhanced memory to overall enhanced cognitive capabilities. In short - super brains. The nanobots also seem to function in a way that provides faster healing and enhanced durability physically. No super strength as far as I can tell."

Cinque becomes the focus of Dr. Sutton's attention next. "No, young man, they are trying to *create* mutates. And they've succeeded. If I'm correct in my assumption that Savannah was the little girl you went to 'fetch', she was - is Subject 023. She's been receiving injections of the serum since age three. She was 'diagnosed'..." He doesn't air-quote, but his tone implies them. "...with a 'rare genetic disorder' at the age of five. There are others, sixty-seven to be exact. None of their adult subjects survived past the one month mark. It seems children are more suited with their brains being less developed, more open to the nanobots changes."

Did Bucky just snarl, maybe a little.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
This is fascinating to Natasha. It has her paying attnetion now even as she doesn't interrupt the elaboration. All the ways that humanity tries to make itself to better weapons. She goe sto speak over to Bucky. "We'll get them all out and stop this." Her comment is in a quiet tone, designed to give reassurance and for him to focus on for just a moment. Yes, she can understand this is personalt o him and triggering many things. Best to have it triggered now rather than in the field.

Where he'll have some time to process it and use it to focus himself. If need be Natasha will keep an eye on him to ensure that it keeps his edge honed, but doesn't drive him to a rage. But for now, she just keeps an eye on him, putting up a practiced air of support and concern on her face. Bucky's a comrade, and perhaps a friend in ways that most aren't. The two understand one another in a way that not even Clint does.

Bucky was taken and made over into a weapon as well, same as she was. A twisted thing to share perspective of.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena Belova hates this. She hates it with every fiber of her being. Not the tedium, although the tedium didn't hurt. She could at least keep in airbuds while riding in long transports with agents she mostly barely knew and whom she had in some cases fought against at some point in the past. Yelena had never been good at making friends. That is how she survived.

"It is always this way," she says softly, bitterly. "This is terror now. No need to smuggle weapons if you can weaponize the humans, da? And we know who taught them all, who showed the how to do it best. I know that you are knowing it, Bucky Barnes," she says. "We come from the same place. That girl could be me or you. So we should treat the ones who do it here just the same, da?"

Richard Stadler has posed:
    mit Rick grimaces. "Makes sense, admittedly. Neuroplasticity's a touchy thing, still a lot of research to be done, but it's certainly more present in children, then adults. Rather good test bed, if you're coming into this with your sense of morality grinded down as if by a belt sander." Rick mutters, removing his glasses for a moment to rub his eyes for a moment. "If you've got some of the more technical terms in documentation, Xerox me a copy. Might come in handy, if we're looking to understand possible capabilites or treatments. Granted, the main question in my mind is if this is a permanent treatment, or if they've engineered some... failsafe. Either to remove powers outside of a controlled environment, or..." He waves a hand, almost not willing to engage in it. "Remove test subjects."

Cinque Evers has posed:
"Well, I assume that the end goal would be to create mutates." Cinque taps his foot lightly against the ground, the rhythm mirroring his racing thoughts as he considers different scenarios. His tone remains apathetic, but a sharp edge lingers beneath.

"The fact that they?ve already developed a serum is troubling," he continues, his voice steady. "It means they?ve gathered data, conducted test trials, and now they have fully operational lab rats." He pauses for a moment when the recalls one of the few memories that he knows will fade, "Are they just nanobites in this serum or chemicals? I know similar happening to someone, and they developed enhanced mental powers."

Camille Russo has posed:
Camille's face twists into a fierce, angry look that matches the snarl Bucky may or may not have let out. "Child soldiers. Taken, modified, next step likely indoctrinated. That's not a play from anyone with even belt sanded morals, Stads," she snorts from her place against the wall. "Not like anyone's ever accused HYDRA as a whole of caring about anything other than power and control, really." She hadn't been on the mission, but hearing what came from it... well. "You don't necessarily need enhanced strength if you can outmaneuver or recover, it just becomes a bonus. Study, training." She tips her head to the side. "You think they might be working from some of the Red Room playbook? Learning from their mistakes?"

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky runs his right hand back through his hair. It's getting longer now - not quite to the point that it completely covers his face if he bows his head, but close. His left hand clenches into a fist - it's audible even with leather covering metal. He forces himself to relax and let it uncurl again. He makes a grunt-ish sound of acknowledgement, likely aimed at both Natasha and Yelena. But he adds for Yelena, "Da, Yelena. Wir beenden sie." If he wasn't so agitated, he might make a joke about Rick showing his age with the term 'Xerox'. Even Bucky knows that's so old school.

"Yaro," Bucky addresses the good Doctor, tossing out all pretense that this is just some American neurologist or some such. "What have you heard of La Confrerie des Elus?" The rest of it? Well, he gets the gist, turning kids into future 'mental' powerhouses. But all the medical mumbo-jumbo is over his head. What isn't over his head? Hitting these bastards hard and hitting them hard means knowing more about them.

The flinch at being called by the shortened version of his given name is barely there. Yaroslav Volkov has not been called by that name for a very very long time. Is he truly that much younger than Bucky? "Ahh, yes, Claude Cloutier. A madman truly, but this isn't his research alone, he hasn't the intellect to develop all of this on his own. He was always a ... fan ... of HYDRA."

A madman HYDRA wannabe - wonderful thought, isn't it? Just lovely.

"If I had to put a name to this research - one that might be found in Clouteir's orbit? It would be Armand Lefevre, equally mad but far more dangerous because he has the mind to be."

At the mention of the Red Room, Yaroslav's face pales. "Perhaps, but I believe it is not related. I do not believe that Claude knows much of that program." Dude sounds a little Russian now, as if calling him by his given has given him the freedom to be himself rather than some Americanized cartoon version.

"I will get you those copies," he tells Rick before his attention drifts from Bucky, to Yelena and finally to Natasha. "But we mus'nt allow it to happen again, da?"

Yoslav stands, turns toward the copier on the shelve behind his desk. Glass from a north facing window explodes. Time seems to almost stand still - but it takes only a blink truly. Shots fired. Yoslav pivots back around, his eyes wide, a hand at the side of his neck - blood spilling out through his fingers.

Bucky was on his feet as soon as the glass went flying. He's halfway to Yoslav when the man drops to his knees. "Natasha, Yelena, Go Go!" Go try and get the bastard that did this. "Rick, Camille, Cinque?" ...can anyone help? By the time Yoslav hits the floor, Bucky is there to be a buffer between the man and the ground, lowering him gently the rest of the way down.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha is listening, focused over on what is being said.. And as she stores the information for later. Then the shot comes -through- the wall to hit the man rather than the window. Dammit. Sniper with optics. Or a spotter inside, whether it's a bug or a camera. She goes to immediately switch to the short bursts of communication used by the Red Room. It's rather twisted how easily it comes. She snaps quickly to Yelena the direction the shot came through the wall, it having left a piercing through it that's trackable by the debris left by the powerful bullet punching through it.

Mind automatically reviewing the terrain that they had on their way in, the way the shot was angled, giving her an estimation of the positioning. Trying to narrow down the positions where the shot had come through. Even with optics and a weapon powerful enough to shoot through obstacles, blasting through trees or rocks would mess up the accuracy. A few quick exchanges are given to Yelena.

Then Natasha is charging out of the door, moving at speeds akin to a cheetah. Her form is a blur, weaving in and out of the trees to make herself a harder target.

Her exchange with Yelena quite simple. She'll take point and be the obvious pursuer, then Yelena is to hit the shooter from behind.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Fuck a headache.

Yelena's lethargy was gone now. This had gone from routine SHIELD pseudo-heroism to very real and very much in the heart of Yelena Belova. She had one, despite her reputation, and right now it was racing. The anger, the rage, the sheer disgust that makes her lip curl from her teeth in a snarl.

She acknowledges Natasha's strategy with a grunt, moving past the redhead quickly as she manages to keep pace quite well in her own right, angling differently to try and cut off any presumed escape. She doesn't have her bracers on, pulling her 9mm and keeping it low, her eyes scanning quickly as she makes for a break in the trees, somewhere they'd likely hide a means of escape - bike, car, whatever. There maybe she can get the jump on them. Spill a little blood for old times' sake.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Rick gives a bit of a grimace as the man lapses into Russian. The old enemy, certainly, but not as bad as Hydra. "I dislike fans of an organization like that. Well. All of it's distasteful, but nothing more so than a believer of what people like that preach." He said. "The name's aren't hitting anything on my end, though. Not on the surface, at least. I can try to do some digging if they're involved in some.. university work, maybe, but I doubt it." He notes. A look ove to the man, as he moves to the copier. "I hope that's a laser jet. You know, you never think you'll use it, but-

Rick knew what a gun shot sounded like. It was hard to put that together with the tense scene in a comfortable living room, however... or the man bleeding in front of them. And it took seconds of time to react. Seconds that were more precious then ever.

"Round went through the window. Cracked glass, still open. Possible vector for fire, if there were a number of them. Hadn't collapsed, so probably not the spine. Neck. Either it was a graze, or a jugular. Had to assume the former. Line of fire first, then-

Rick boldly reached up, grabbing the doctor and yanking him down to the couch. His coat was thrown off, his dress shirt underneath yanked hard enough to pop the buttons and reveal the undershirt and slimline vest underneath as he jams it into the wound. "Move your- Move your hand." He says, trying to keep his voice low as he presses down hard. "Russo. Tell me you have some Hocus Pocus- And someone cover that goddamn window!"

Cinque Evers has posed:
As Cinque waits for his answer, his eyes widen, and each moment seems to stretch into infinity. Time slows as he watches the shards of glass explode from the window, catching the light and hanging in the air like a slow-motion nightmare. His mind races, calculating the possible trajectories of the bullet, analyzing every detail as if he were a machine.

The bullet inches closer to the Doctor, and with every fraction of a second, Cinque narrows his choices down to a dozen possibilities for the sniper?s location. By the time the Doctor is hit, the air around them feels charged, and he slips into his apathetic state.

By the time Richard rushes to the Doctor?s side, Cinque bursts through the door and steps outside, raising a finger into the air, gauging the wind. With a leap, he hops onto the hood of a nearby car for a better vantage point.

"Four blocks that way!" he shouts, pointing towards the distant supermarket roof. "He?s on the roof or a top of truck near the supermarket, Cinque tells the Red Room Assassins.

Camille Russo has posed:
Everything is very slow until it's suddenly very fast. A conversation, a shot through the wall, the doctor grabbing his neck as he falls. Cam's diving a split second after James does, her eyes already fading from their usual dark brown to something more milky, the color leeching out of them a visible tell that she's gearing up to expend a massive amount of her magic. "I might can buy us 20 minutes. I'll be dead weight after if it works. Like Houston." Passed out for a moment and then aware but lethargic. With another magic user, she could probably borrow some energy, expand the time, but for now...

Her hands press into the man's chest and slip into the blood seeping from the wound, and she uses it to paint her symbol for 'slow' on his cheek as she quietly chants, invoking the quartet of loa that might be able to help her keep him stable long enough for them to find proper medical assistance. Legba, to open the gates. Loco and Danto, for healing and continued assistance to help the children they've been speaking of tonight. The Baron, as the ultimate arbiter of when it is someone's time to go. It will work or it won't work. Stasis has always been one part chance, one part belief, and many parts the will of the loa worked through her. If The Baron said it was his time, her magic couldn't buy them anything.

James Barnes has posed:
"Nothing else is coming through that goddamn window," Bucky barks in response to Rick. Really, it's just the situation that has him barking. But he *knows*, James Barnes *knows*. Even before his time as The Winter Soldier, he was a sniper - mostly just a more politically correct term for an assassin in the grand scheme of things. The shot was taken, the mark hit - the gunman was exiting the scene quickly. Take the shot, get out.

Still he pushes himself to his feet and moves toward the window. He's not expecting to see much, save maybe the blur of Natasha and Yelena on the hunt. A person doesn't need to be a psychic or an empath or anything of the sort to see what Bucky's feeling. He runs his hand back through his hair again, this time leaving it streaked with the blood on his glove, blood that came from a *friend*, a friend that *he* dragged into this mess. His retreat to the window was to give himself something else to focus on, something other than his friend laying there bleeding.

There's a lot of blood, but it's not *pumping* out, it's not spurting out. But it's a *lot* of blood, enough to be life threatening.

Yasolov does move his hand, but only to snag Rick by the wrist with it. "It's not his fault," the man garbles out around the blood gurgling in his neck. It may not be a jugular or carotid hit, but Yasolov is gurgling and spluttering - choking on his own blood.

Normally Bucky would be right out there with the girls, probably trying to beat them to the target - probably so he could snap the bastard's neck and be done with it. It's that urge to do something of that nature that holds him back. Can't question a dead man and the man responsible would certainly be dead if Bucky caught him now. The cold of Winter would just take over completely in the moment and he *knows* it. Hot rage would turn to ice and in the frigid depths he would become a cold blooded killer. Better he stay put and rage.

Even if not another person on the team is wearing a communication unit, Bucky would have been certain Natasha was. His own is built in now - thanks to those awful implants. <<Natasha, report.>> His tone is terse and dripping with that barely contained rage. It's not her fault, he knows this - it's only been a matter of seconds and he knows this as well. But he can't fight the urge to demand answers *now*.

Rick, Camille, even Yasolov fade into the background as his struggle to keep the cold at bay holds the majority of his attention.

The flow of blood slows. Yasolov's gurgling and spluttering eases somewhat. "It's not his fault," the man repeats, but this time in Russian. Maybe the 'boy's' listening, maybe not. Again in English, "It's not his fault."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
They have the position of the man up on the rooftop. Natasha is heading there at rapid pace, not bothering to try and conceal herself. The roof is three stories up. She's not Spider-Man. She might be a good gymnast, but she's not capable of a vertical leap of that height. And using her grapple gun would slow her down too much to get up there and intercept the man. She's playing cover for the other two after all.

Natasha goes to leap, activating her gauntlets. What they have is quick activating micro-adhesives. Better used for glass but the cheap exterior paneling of the supermarket is close enough. She reports back to Bucky <<Engaging>>. She leaps up, latches on, and then launches herself up once more. It's her momentum and the quick grip and ability to boost herself that lets her keep going rather thana nything innate or supernatural. But she bleeds off almost no momentum and inertia, and almost seems to run straight up the wall two and a half or so stories to quickly land and flip over it.

SHe's not Hawkeye who could do a clean fastdraw to take out the man's gun. She can't quickly reposition to reenage after pushing herself to this level for at least a few tenths of a second.

But she's just the decoy here. All she has to do is keep the focus on her for those few tenths of a second while the others rush up to take him down.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena Belova pumps her arms and legs, hard and fast, pushing herself towards her limits. SHe feels herself honed in on the target, all that damned Red Room programming taking over. She just moves faster than ordinary because she didn't just learn it the old fashioned way, she had it drilled into her, programmed. She operates without thought, a shadow among shadows. Just the way they made her to be.

She gets to the assassin and just launches herself, body leaving the ground and driving the textured heel of her boot across his jaw. She follows with an elbow to the throat, grabbing his hair and pulling him down into a kneestrike. She could have shot, but she wanted this, wanted to get her hands on him. She sees Natasha coming in the other side and turns him towards her.

"We are the end of such as you," she says, turning him around and now putting the gun to use, putting a bullet in his calf and drawing a y owl of pain as she pushes him off his feet, for Yelena and the others to gather around like vultures on fallen prey. They would pick him apart, one way or another, find out where he came from. They were too good, this lot, for their enemies to get away with it. That is the message this unit must send.

Thou shalt not fuck with us.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Not spurting out. A lot of blood, but not aterial. That meant they had a chance. Rick doesn't bother with arguing with Bucky. There was simply no time, and he was either getting shot or he wasn't, at this point. Both hands holding pressure from the shirt onto the wound itself, pressing past the hand that grasped his wrist, as the other man manages to gurgle a few words. 'He shot you. Actions have consequences, no matter the intent.' He didn't say that, of course. That would be insane. It was a thought that entered his head in the stress he as in.

Rick putting a lot of effort into holding the blood in there. Which created it's own problems as Yasolov aspirated on it. "Goddamn it. Goddamn-" He said, as Russo managed to slow it down. "Not his fault. Understood." At least he could acknowledge it. "All right, then. 20 minutes, and then you're another casualty. Not going to wait for an ambulance. Keep him on his side." He says. As if it wasn't obvious they needs to let the blood drain somehow. "Hold the shirt there. Hard, as long as you can."

Rick would head to the kitchen, running, digging around. A sharp knife and a plastic straw. He didn't need them yet, but he knew he would need them soon.

Cinque Evers has posed:
Cinque walks back into the room and says, "Are we planning on taking the shooter, and departing." Cinque walks over the computer and pulls out his hacking tool, "I am about to copy and delete everything on his harddrive." Cinque looks to Bucky, "If you want this endeavor to stay off the books, I can delete any camera footage around here that has a wifi connection. If we are staying to talk to the police, I can leave it." Cinque turns to Bucky, "Your call."

Camille Russo has posed:
Cam nods, hands moving firmly into place as Yasolov is turned to his side. Milky eyes still stare at the doctor, but her head tilts, voice aimed at James. "Mon hiver, come assist us." Aspiration's a nasty thing, and she'd rather have the blood on her than listen to the man choking on it. "And call us a quinjet, we can't just take your doctor to the local ER and drop him off, now can we? Too many questions. He needs more medical than a field trach, and if we've got a live prisoner as well..." she trails off, turning the man's shoulder slightly forward and grimacing as she ends up with blood coughed over her knees. "I don't have the sort of mojo to keep him alive an entire car ride, hon."

James Barnes has posed:
Has anyone even *called* an ambulance? Bucky hasn't. He's still pacing near the window, waiting on word from the group outside.

As far as Yasolov goes, he's still insisting, "It's not his fault, James, it's not his fault." Apparently this man knows Bucky well enough to know that's where the man's mind would instantly go. It makes a person wonder just how many contacts the former Winter Soldier still has out there in the world, contacts that had connections to the likes of HYDRA or other nefarious organizations - contacts that managed to turn their backs and run?

Bucky gets drawn away from his pacing like a caged animal long enough to ask his friend, "Keys?" .... "Hook by the door," not quite so gurgle-y as before but still not good.

Bucky breaks away from the window to make his way to the front door. It's likely always a surprise - how silently a man with a thirty-ish pound metal arm can move. When he returns he has the keys to Yoslav's car. He sets them down near Rick. "Get him stable, take the car, get him to a hospital - make up whatever you have to. Stay with him until we can get him safe." Calling in a Quinjet and waiting is likely going to be longer than a car ride?

Then it's back to the window and <<Natasha, report.>> It's clear in the tone of his voice, the change in it, the near absence of emotion - it's getting a little chilly.

"Clean it," he tells Cinque. "Clean it all."

Some idiot playing with guns too close to homes? Maybe a possible hunter straying too close to a residential area? Maybe 'Emanuel' was cleaning his own firearm and it went off? Doesn't matter.

Other than Rick and Camille, the rest of the team was never here. There is no project NOVA, there is no NeuroGenesis Serum - there is no French organization that's trying to follow in HYDRA's footsteps. Clean it all, wipe away the fact that anything other than an unfortunate accident happened here.

<<Nat, New Orleans.>> Just that, nothing more. She's the one person on the team that would absolutely know about Bucky's little safe house there - Rick as well if he thinks about it. Rick and whoever else might have been present the night they dragged Bucky back from that Winter chill. Take the shooter to New Orleans. Doesn't matter how - just get him there and do it quietly, quickly and be invisible about it.

When Bucky turns to look at Camille, blue eyes that were as hard a steel a moment ago, soften just a little bit. He thinks he knows what she's trying to do - give him a task, distract him, make him feel useful? But he has his distraction, he has his task - calling in every one of those contacts, every favor, in an attempt to find one man - Armand Lefvere, or at least find a breadcrumb of a trail that might lead to him. The brains behind Coulteir's organization just found himself in the path of a Winter storm.