6726/Code 084: 1943

Code 084: 1943
Date of Scene:	03 July 2021
Location:	1943: Brooklyn, NY
Synopsis:	A trip back in time leaves the team wondering how they'll get back home, but maybe... at least one of them isn't so eager to see that happen.
Cast of Characters:	James Barnes, Clint Barton, Jethro Glass, Cael Becker, Sam Wilson, Shuri, Steve Rogers

---

James Barnes has posed:
    It was Cael that alerted Bucky to the strange shipment scheduled from Sokovia. It wasn't so much the shipment that was strange but the hub-bub around it. That many armed men for a shipment arriving from that location, it was Red Flagged in her mind.

    So, SHIELD is doing what they do. They're checking it out. Getting past the milling guards and doing so quietly really wasn't a challenge for the team assembled. Getting into the Giant Ass shipping container on docked ship wasn't that hard either.

    Man that's a big ass box for that one little thing sitting in the middle of it. It's just sitting there, on the floor... it looks like one of those old fashioned clocks that flip, the first 'digital' kind. The numbers lit up on the front of it right now show the current time even. On top are three buttons: Set, Auto, and Go.

    "Huh..." is all Bucky can muster. He's looking a little like he's been ridden hard and put away wet. Seriously, he looks BAD. Unhealthy bad, a little sweaty, a little pale, moving a little more gingerly than he usually does when the situation doesn't warrant pushing through the pain of it. He really should not be here.

    ...and Shuri's got a hard line right to that fact in the 'repairs' she did on his arm last night. It's kind of an open invitation for her to show up and look at him disapprovingly truth be told. It's pretty certain she's more than resourceful enough to get through any remaining guards and into the Big Ass Box with the others without even them being aware immediately.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint is in ninja guise as has been the case since SHIELD went dark, since Hawkeye can't been seen on SHIELD operations. A combo of stealth, ICER rounds and taser based throwing knives has taken out guards along the way to help get the group to their objective without an alarm going up.

Looking at the item that has caused all this hoopla, his only comment for the moment is, "Really? I could get one of those at Goodwill."

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro was called One Hit Wonder for a number of reasons, the main one was his ability to knock a feller down from a mile and a half away with one hit from his rifle and the second was that mean right hook of his. In his time in the future he's furthered that training down to a T.

     He's none too keen to be traveling in silence unable to use the rifle on his shoulder. Truth be told he was a sniper more than he ever was a close quarters expert excelling at being as far away from the action as possible while still taking out targets with that antiquated rifle of his and yet here he was on the front lines shaking out his fist from where he'd managed to knock some poor mooks teeth out with his right hook.

     Jethro reaches into his breast pocket pulling out a match book as he looks over towards the crate, his attention falling down on the contents as he sticks a hand rolled cigarette into the corner of his mouth. "All that fighting for this little thing." His voice is a gravel country road covered in six miles of broken dreams and glass made by a lifetime of hard drinking, hard smoking and even harder living.

     The match is stuck against the back of his calloused hand before he cups them together puffing away on that cigarette of his encased in the amber glow of his cancer stick, his whitworth rifle clear as day hanging on the back of his SHIELD uniform as he looks over the downed figure of the man he'd bodied out cold.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael had been called back into work as soon as she'd woken up. It's becoming a weird and unhealthy habit. Moonlight off the books with SHIELD? Get called into the FBI earlier than she'd like. It isn't fun.
    But she had no doubt she'd be doing it again after she informed Bucky of her find - and saw that look in his eyes that he would be Handling This Himself (with help). That man looked like shit. And hadn't she just said she'd be in his corner?
    Fuck.
    And that's how she finds herself slipping in with the SHIELD agents - pausing to study a guard who'd been hit with one of those ICERs, a puzzled look on her features. She doesn't linger, and she doesn't ask, however.
    And soon she too is studying the clock. "...I've got nothing," she offers simply, before heading back to the entrance to the large crate, peering out to keep watch.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Though the Falcon is looking a little worse for wear himself, it is admittedly nowhere near as bad as Bucky's looking. Still, his reflexes are slower for it, and by the time he lands atop a nearby container he's sporting a nasty bruise on his cheek and some sore ribs.

    You should see the other guys, though.

    He's just about to wrap up an aerial sweep of the immediate area, and his hand falls from the side of his goggles as his HUD identifies two incoming thermal targets. His wings deploy and he's back up in the air.

    "Whatever that is," he says as he strolls in after, still shaking off the sting in his knuckles from that last punch. "It was worth the effort to make an entire custom container for it, so it's gotta be something dangerous."

    And then he leans in to look. The journey that Sam's expression goes through is a long one, starting at concerned, then surprised, then confused, then annoyed, before rounding back to concerned again. "Okay. Not what I was expecting."

    Not much he can do without Redwing's onboard AI to run analysis, but he still flips through the optical modes of his HUD in case there's some area in the light spectrum where the probably not-just-a-clock looks... like it's not-just-a-clock.

Shuri has posed:
    You have GOT to be kidding.

    Literally JUST the other night she had to Uber herself out to Harlem to save Bucky's life and fix his shoddy Russian arm. And now, here he is getting himself nearly dead again? Shuri is going to have Stern Words. For Bucky. For Sam. For Gun Stripper. Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dishonor on your whole family!

    She Ubered again, to get out to the docks. But the signal is coming from the boat, not from Yet Another Random Disgusting Place. So she just plain started up...only to realize not everyone was friendly. THAT involved busting out her version of the Panther Habit.

    What she can't do by virtue of the Heart-Shaped Herb, she can do by virtue of technology. Her visor tells her where she needs to go, and her omnidirectional gear and nanowings get her there. Occasional application of weapons if need be. She stalks into the room, annoyance all but dripping off her.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve scowls at the machine in mild irritation; it looks old enough to be from his era, and the fact he still can't figure it out clearly has him mildly perturbed.

With one last look Steve carefully leans back to look outside the container and ensure no one's coming over to investigate their location. His helmet jawstrap is unbuckled to give a little relief and the soldier starts looking around for documentation, labels, even crayon scrawls about what it is and what it could possibly do-- and why it's of such interest to nefarious people shipping it across the world.

Shuri's sudden arrival makes Steve jump a little and half cock his shield-throwing arm. "Darnit, Shuri," he sighs heavily. "You're as bad as your brother. You're getting bells for Christmas."

Steve hunkers down near the machine and nudges it once with his shield. When it doesn't explode he carefully angles the shield's lip under the edge and lifts the clock up a few inches to check under it for wires or pressure plates. Steve looks up at Bucky, brow furrowed under his helmet, and shakes his head with a 'I got nothin' expression in his clear blue eyes. "About all I can tell you is that runs on some kind of electricity," Cap remarks, dry-voiced, and tilts his head to try and catch the sound of ticking components or winding springs.

James Barnes has posed:
    Well, nothing's happened yet and nothing's gonna happen if they all just stand around looking at the thing. The longer it takes them to make a decisive move, the more chance they end up discovered and engaged by the enemy.

    "Well, we gotta get it out of here, then. Get it home, figure out what the fuck it is..." He strides right on up and picks the thing up, CAREFULLY, by the sides, hands no where near the buttons on top.

    "Steve, does this look.. familiar to..." He holds it out for Steve to get a better look. So far nothing's gone boom, so...

    It's then that he notices Shuri. It says something about his health that it took him that long. "Oh for fuckssake," he whispers. Well, might as well use it to their advantage? "Shuri, you know what this is?"

    But before he gets an answer, Steve reaches out to touch the thing, maybe take it from Bucky? With a murmured, "You know it... kinda..."

    The AUTO button blinks orange and then turns a steady yellow. There's a sudden feeling of 'motion', it's hard to tell in what direction, it's disorienting and confusing, a little nauseating, kind of like an uncontrolled free fall.

    When the feeling subsides, everyone is still right side up and still... standing in a box. The clock thing, however, is gone.

Clint Barton has posed:
Closing his eyes for a moment as the disorienting motion sweeps over them, Clint shakes his head once it passes and looks around the container. Everyone is still here, so that's a good start. Clock is suddenly gone, so that's probably bad.

"Ok, that was a little weird. Cael, you're by the door, we still in the same place? Did they move the crate or something?

He looks to Bucky, "Any idea what happened to the clock? Vanish, fall apart or what?" His gaze sweeps over the others, then he adds, "Ok, everyone be ready, we've obviously got a little strangeness going on here."

Jethro Glass has posed:
Jethro hits the ground hard, he's not used to the spinning and turning collapsing on the spot onto his hands and knees. He looks down at the floor of the crate with head still spinning as lunch hits the floor.

     He shakes his head one side to the other wiping off his lips as he attempts to stumble his way back to a standing position. "Yeah we moved alright " coughing into his hand.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "We've got comp-" Cael is just starting - as Steve identifies the woman. "...oh. Sure. Why not. A weird clock and royalty in a shipping crate. Let's make this night a little weirder."
    Then a moment later she adds, "Isn't the Princess a tech expert or something? Have her take a look." Genuflect when you say that, lady! But no. Cael does not. She tosses the title out with casual disregard, because it's that sort of a week. And besides - she's American. What self respecting American gives a rat's ass about royalty?
    Of course - thats about when the world goes sideways. Cael grips tightly to the edge of the door frame where she stands beside it - grounding herself and propping herself upright. She fights back the nausea, then shakes her head - looking around the interior of the crate, then back out towards New York City, at which point she breathes out, "...what the fuck even?" She blinks a few times to make sure.
    "Guys," she says in a tense, urgent voice, about the same time Clint is speaking to her. "...that city's //wrong//. The skyline- Look. One World Trade Center's //gone//," she says while pointing at something she can see - or perhaps more accurately //not see//. "The skyline's //wrong//. But- I mean- ...thats the Empire State Building, yeah? And the Chrysler Building... It's New York, it's just- wrong. What the shit."
    Maybe this is a dream. A weird acid trip dream prompted by all the weird shit around Bucky and his friends lately. Right?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Nothing. As in, what Sam's got after trying to take readings of the thing. He lowers his hand and gives a minute shake of his head before he looks over the assembled SHIELD team (with their FBI Agent +1) annnnd there's Shuri.

    Sam looks over sharply when Steve announces her arrival, and then as he braces himself for whatever reckoning the Princess of Wakanda is about to bring, he glances at Bucky. "I feel like this is the universe dropping an 'I told you so' in our laps," he says. "But, hey, silver lining?" After all, she is a technological genius, and this clock could... loosely be considered technology.

    He's still deeply uncertain about the thing in the crate, and his posture rapidly becomes tense and poised for some kind of disaster as Bucky picks it up. There's not much else he can do but be ready. Then Steve reaches for it, and...

    Well. If there's one thing Sam is familiar with, it's free fall.

    His stomach lurches just the same as everyone else, but he recovers lightning fast, and then one of his wings is deployed in shield configuration over his arm as he sweeps their surroundings, expecting hostiles.

    "A little?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at Clint, but maybe in the grand scheme of things this really does only qualify as a little strangeness. Something starts to blink on his HUD, and he frowns, hand moving to the touch screen on his left wrist. "My connection to satnav is down," he announces, because the timing is too suspicious. And then Cael's talking about the skyline, and Jethro's sick, and Sam backs himself up against the wall of the container. "No ping. The container wasn't obstructing my signal before."

Shuri has posed:
    Shuri watches the distortion, and she frowns as the device vanishes. Her hardlight visor vanishes and she pinches the bridge of her nose. "I can't examine it if it isn't here. Asking me /before/ we touch it is probably a good idea."

    She frowns at Sam's words, and the visor re-appears. "I'm picking up nothing on wifi frequencies." she explains. "And more radio and broadcast signals than I would expect." She's already more or less put it together, given the evidence. Sometimes being supersmart is a curse. "I think we're in the past."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "That's imposs-" Cael starts, but then cuts herself off. Fish people. Claw ladies. Mobsters that turn into monsters that rip out hearts - and that's just the last week. "Yeah, okay, fuck it. We're in the past."
    Great.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve lurches with everyone else; when reality settles he looks around, reflexively counting heads until he's sure no one is missing.

"What are you talking about, Becker?" He moves to follow the FBI agent, eyes widening in minute surprise at the significant changes to the cityscape visible from their end of the docks. His mouth opens partway to voice his idea before Shuri's brain beats him to it.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, with a little awe in his voice. "It's definitely Brooklyn, though. It's..." he swallows once, shaking his head. The boat they're on churns sluggishly at the lapping low tides; there is significant industry and the smell of a great many diesel-burning vessels near the mouth of the bay. "It's something. I don't know what year though." Steve shifts uncomfortably, resettling his shield on his arm. "Lotta military boats docked across the harbor," he says, and uplifts his chin at a flotilla of grey US Navy vessels and swarms of olive drab uniformed men and their gear being moved up the ramps and into the vessels.

James Barnes has posed:
    When his world goes all topsy turvy, it sincerely takes everything Buck has in him to not vomit too. He's been fighting the urge to do just that for nearly twenty-four hours now. By the time it stops, he's doubled over with his hands on his knees just breathing and struggling not to toss his cookies. A moment later, he's got it under control again and straightens. "Didn't know you were here before I touched it." His voice is a little rough sounding, hoarse, he's still tasting the bile he threw up in his mouth a little before he got it together.

    The crate they're in now sits in the middle of the deck of what appears to be a large fishing vessel. The only one on board is the Captain, an older man, wide of birth and probably, normally, much with the cheer. Now he just looks dumbfounded. He obviously didn't expect that!

    But Bucky isn't looking at the Captain, he's looking at the skyline in the distance and then something more nearby catches his attention. "Uh... Steve?" His voice is soft and a little distant, because wow, those are some memories. While everyone else is standing around in shock and freaking out? Well, Buck is feeling a little like he's come home. "...look..." He points to a poster attached to one of the railings on the side of the pier they're docked near. It's barely visible from the distance. But it might shine out to Steve like a beacon just like it has Bucky.

    WORLD EXPOSITION OF TOMORROW, presented by Stark Industries, Flushing Meadows New York. ... 1943.

    The poster isn't all that faded, in fact it looks near new.

    "Steve..." and that's the moment Bucky loses the battle with his rising lunch and throws up.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Well.. shit." Yep, another dollar for Steve's swear jar. "Ok, so we're in 1943 and the thing that apparently brought us here is gone." He looks to Bucky, but asking the man questions at this moment is a bit pointless, so he turns to Steve instead.

"Ok, this is your time, so... know anybody present in this time that might be able to get us back where we belong? I'm not terribly keen on spending the rest of my life getting back to where we should be."

He looks around the group, then adds, "We'll probably need to figure out a way to get some clothes, we kind of stand out like sore thumbs right now, which won't help us figure things out." He glances down at his ninja outfit, then over at Sam and his wings. "They're not used to costumed folks like we are in our time."

Jethro Glass has posed:
Jethro Glass says, "Wait, we're in the past?" he practically throws himself at the mouth of the crate. He looks at the skyline for a long moment and his his heart sinks down into his stomach. "of course NINETEEN forty three" He sounds almost heartbroken as he says the words looking at the skyline. " Hardly blame a man for hoping"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael looks towards Bucky - a moment of sympathy on her features, before she looks away again. She takes in the military men and their uniforms - with a frown of confusion on her features. How'd she overlook that? "This is like some- World War II shit, right?" she asks. "I mean, those buildings weren't up during World War O-" she starts, before her brain starts to catch up with her, and she recalls whose company she's keeping. Her gaze darts back to Steve and Bucky for a moment.
    Okay. She's not going to genuflect for the princess, but she might show at least some consideration before trodding all over what might be trauma for that pair.
    "Maybe the clock exists in this time and we need to track it down at let the Princess have a crack at it?" She doesn't sound convinced about that plan, though. How would they find it? "Or may be just yo-yo back after a preset length of time?" In which case they could just hunker down and wait.
    ...she hates that idea, though.
    At Jethro's exclimation, though, he gets an odd look. "...do I want to know?"

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Given he's the one with the medical training, when Sam passes by Jethro he pauses to look the man over, but he's up and on his feet. So unless he gets sick again, Sam gives him a mental all-clear. Everyone else gets to deal with the shock and awe of their apparent time travel, but right now there are more immediately pressing matters.

    Specifically, "Take a few breaths," Sam's telling Bucky, standing nearby but not close enough to pin him in, aware how that might make his nausea worse. "Slowly. We don't want to risk you tearing your stitches." Stitches Sam just did! The last thing he wants is all that work getting undone by some dry heaving, and it's not like he has his medical kit with him now, does he?

    He's still watching Bucky, but his head tilts slightly towards the rest of the group. "Among other things," he says to Clint, and at his left side his hand curls into a fist and then relaxes.

    "I'm not up to date on my Avengers time travel training," which is probably a joke, right? ...right? "But we need to be careful about avoiding anyone here who might end up recognizing us in the future." Sam looks pointedly towards Steve. "Or making any kind of impact that could change the timeline. I don't want any of us to pull an Ashton Kutcher and erase ourselves from existence."

Shuri has posed:
    Shuri considers. "We likely want to keep as low a profile as possible until we can find a solution. At least one of us is probably one of the most famous people on the planet right now." She looks over to Steve.

    "We should get out of HERE. There's not anything on the docks in 1943 that's going to help us get back home. The Expo would be the most likely place to get to the technology we would need to fix it."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve spares Bucky the indignity of being observed while puking by staring at the shoreline in stone-jawed silence. It's not a hard act to pull off; the combination of old memories and the decisive industry of a nation going to war is a hard sight to shake off.

Sam's doing the counselor thing. Steve digs a packet of gum out from a pouch on his belt, extracts a silver-wrapped stick, and wordlessly holds it in Bucky's direction while the Winter Soldier heaves.

"Hate to break it to you, Shuri, but I wasn't born looking this good," he remarks ruefully. "It's..." he sniffs the air, thinking. "March, or June. Might even be before I met Erskine."

The moment passes and Steve shakes it off. "Bucky. Gimme a coin," he says, holding his hand out towards the Winter Soldier. "I'm gonna go make friends with the skipper." Steve slings his shield and straps his helmet to his belt. "Everyone else, empty your pockets. Sam, take up a collection. Paper cash won't work but no one's going to turn up their nose at precious metals. A few silver dollars won't get us far but hopefully we aren't here for long enough that we need to get jobs."

He adds one of his own authentic silver dollars to the one Bucky handed him. "Priority is shelter, then clothing, then food, and then we can figure out how we're going to get home. Maybe there's something at the Expo that can--"

He turns to look at Bucky, head cocking to the side with an avian fascination. Their gazes lock and Steve's eyes widen at the conclusion he can see forming in Bucky's expression. The two of them point fingers at each other simultaneously.

In stereo: "It was at The Expo!"

James Barnes has posed:
    It's over quick, a little tidal wave of very little food and a lot of yellow bile and it's done. It leaves Bucky looking a little more like shit than he did before it happened, but he's ready to soldier again now that it's over with. "I'm good, Sam." It's likely a lie, but what other answer is there right now? What choice is there?

    His voice is still that soft, distant thing, it's not a way James Buchanan Barnes normally sounds on an OP but this is different. "We didn't... know jack or squat about shit then," he tells Clint. "...now..." Since they're in 1943, is it then or now? It hurts his brain to think about it. His brow's all furrowed over those pale blues of his. So many emotions at war in those eyes, in his expression. But he does hand over that coin when it's requested.

     "We were fucking kids, man. Stupid clueless kids." ...that were both about to make the biggest... mistakes? Decisions? Maybe the former for Bucky, the latter for Steve? ... of their lives.

    Seriously, back then, he would have scoffed away ALL of the Big Three, not just Wizards. Back then he thought serving his country was such an honorable, even exciting choice. Back then... Steve stuffed newspaper in his shoes.

    ...and back then, the two of them visited the World Exposition of Tomorrow, presented by Stark Industries, on a double date with Bonnie and Connie... the night before Bucky shipped out.

    "It was at The Expo!"

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint raises an eyebrow at the 'at the Expo' duet and interjects, "Care to let the rest of us in as to _what_ is at the Expo?"

Looking over at Steve he shakes his head, "Even on those rare occasions I carry cash, it's bills. Change doesn't go far in the modern world, and I don't carry cash in my ninja outfit. On the other hand, I don't carry ID either, so guess I won't confuse the authorities if we get stopped."

He checks the various pouches on his outfit, "Yeah, I got like nothing worth much to these people, unless it's explosive throwing knives. We need to not get caught, between all of us we have a lot of tech that we really don't need showing up in 1943."

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro pauses on that city skyline slowly walking towards the edge of the boat. He lowers himself against the railing with a long pause putting his weight against it as he watches the ships sail out to harbor. The sights and sounds are still so foreign to him but in a different manner than before. He places one hand against his chin as he looks to the city deep in thought lost in his own mind.

     He catches the looks he's gotten from his reaction to this bit of time travel but there's still something more weighing on his heart as he looks across the way closing his eyes so that he can hear every single sound abounding in various directions. He's a hunter first and foremost a man of the wilds, and right now the sounds and smells are what's got his attention, he's about to speak up when Captain America beats him to the punch, causing a little smirk to cross his face.

     He's not used to being behind on the draw when it comes to information about nature in a group but it's something he's going to have to get used to when dealing with the big guns.

     Jethro reaches deep down into the pocket of his SHIELD uniform pulling out the coinage from his person. A wad of 1860's bills and coins of various denominations. They're in good shape for the shape they're in. A mix of confederate money and union bills and coins. He's even got a small stack of tin coins. Obviously someone's been slow on catching up with the modern currency.

Cael Becker has posed:

    Cael looks around, searching for understanding in the gaze of any of the others in the room. ...she doesn't find any.
    Fine. At least Clint asks the question.
    She turns her attention to patting down her pockets, and pulls out some coins. She frowns at them. "You sure these will do us any good? Is-" she looks at the back of the quarter in her hand. "Alaska even a state yet?" Because - yes - it's one of //those// quarters.
    "It won't take much for people to question our funny-money. Honestly, I think we're going to have to steal, guys." She says it flatly, and evenly, as if the thought doesn't bother her in the least.
    How was she supposed to know that someone in the group was carrying around //vintage// money?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Uh huh," Sam says. Between his tone of voice and the way he continues to eye Bucky after, it's pretty clear he doesn't believe that at all. But he leaves it, for now.

    The exchange of coins has him briefly perplexed, but he's already catching on by the time Steve's appointing him the unofficial collection plate. He starts gathering up what Jethro and Cael (and anyone else) can contribute, but says, "I don't have anything on me besides tactical equipment." Sam nods to Clint, and adds a "Same here, I pack light."

    Because, y'know. Flying.

    A pause, some sort of unspoken conversation happens between their resident super soldiers, and Sam crosses his arms over his chest. "What-- wait, the clock?" He looks across the docks towards the poster, and after a bit of magnification on his goggles, he frowns. "At the Stark Expo?"

    Which isn't actually the Stark Expo, yet. But Sam's a bit hazy on the finer details of that, history-wise. "Not until 1959," he tells Cael, though, because that's something he does know.

Shuri has posed:
    Shuri gives another long-suffering sigh, and the Panther Habit retracts from her head, the nanotech returning to its home, as she reaches a hand up to an ear, removing an earring, then repeating on the other side. "This should handle the money needs as long as you can get a buyer." She drops them in the collection plate. Unsurprisingly, the /princess/ has jewelry worth...well, lots.

    "I still say we should try not to be here too long. There will be questions we don't want to answer if we're found."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve returns from his conversation with the skipper. "Congratulations, everyone, you just joined the Office of Strategic Services," Steve says with a wry tone. "I told him we were on maneuvers. That and a little silver greases palms even in this day and age."

The vessel sluggishly turns back to port, puttering towards a temporary loading dock. He claps Clint on the shoulder and nods once in thanks for the man's notion about technology.

"Clint's right. We cannot compromise the timeline any more than we have to," Steve says, sternly. "Even I know that's bad. The clock-- I've seen it before. In 1943, at the Expo. We'll have to find a way into there and get up close enough to see if it's the same one."

"If anyone asks, you're attached to headquarters battalion of the 107th Regiment in Latham. I'm your CO; Bucky's the platoon sergeant. Hopefully it doesn't come to a point where you need to tap-dance any more past that point. If you don't think you can come up with a convincing lie, then don't get detained."

He looks around the harbor. "I know some places we can get clothing. If we *have* to steal," he says, looking at Cael, "we will. But we've got a little money among us, especially thanks to the Princess."

He looks between Sam and Shuri. "Uh... with deference to her Highness, Sam, you might brace her for some unpleasant truths about New York in the '40s," he says as diplomatically as possible. "You can fake an identity as a Tuskegee or something, but the world is not ready for a Princess of Wakanda." He looks at Shuri and grins, fingers flexing in a placating gesture. "Not that I wouldn't mind seeing you kick in the teeth of some guys I knew. Know. Knew then. Now-- no, know now."

Steve sighs. "This is going to get old fast," he mutters to no one in particular.

James Barnes has posed:
    "The clock, yeah, it was the same," Bucky offers to the room at large, a little more certain than Steve. "It was there... it'll be here... it was here?" He might have even copped a feel from Bonnie, or was it Connie, in front of the thing. The flyer may be out there, but when was/is the event? Is it over, is it a week away, two?

    "Did you ask the guy the damned date, Steve?" Bucky grouses.

    107th. Hearing that regiment number out of Steve's mouth makes him twitch inwardly and go a little 'thousand yard stare' for a second or two. Would it really be so bad? Changing things?

    He shakes his head to clear it and mentions, "Steve, not that I'm opposed to stealin' what we need, but... as soon as we know what day it is, we... know when our ... their... I mean, our? Our homes will be empty. We can just take our own stuff..."

    "Shuri, you gotta keep the sass to a minimum here, kid," he cuts right to the chase. "It sucks, it's unfair and it... fucking sucks, but you and Sam both, you gotta be careful."

    His attention gets all caught up by the scene outside their little box again. "I can't believe it," he whispers to himself. "...home, I'm gonna go home."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve blinks twice at Bucky's question. "Uh... hold that thought," he says, and turns back to walk towards the skipper's deck and get the answer needed.

"Thirteenth of June!" he calls back a few seconds later.

Clint Barton has posed:
With a nod, Clint says, "Well then, we're going to the Expo. Might I suggest we send Steve and maybe Jethro to do a little clothes shopping? Don't know about you guys, but people might notice me walking into a store dressed like this. Sam, you at least can stay out of sight in the sky since I don't think you want to leave your wings behind. Shuri.. rooftops maybe? I know your brother is awfully good at staying out of sight when he wants to, I assume you have some of that training."

"Once we have clothes that fit in, we can look for somewhere to pass the time until we can get to the Expo and look at this clock again. Steve, Bucky, I know it's a shock, but you two at least know your way around this time and place, so tell us what to do. We want to get this done with a minimum of disruption, because we do _not_ want to end up accidentally killing or even injuring someone who might need to do something important to our future."

He looks around the group, "That's the biggest thing.. even something as simple as knocking someone out could make them miss an important event and change the world we're trying to get back to, so we need to be very careful." He shrugs, "Time travel... sucks. Every time they start talking about it I get a headache, so let's try not to change anything and just make it home to the same world we came from."

Jethro Glass has posed:
     "I'll allow it's still the future to me." Jethro offers as he takes a moment to sip from his canteen. He's loaded up with a little bit more equipment than the standard SHIELD Agent. Actually truth be told he doesn't feel comfortable unless he has everything on his person he needs to set up camp for the night. He holds the cap in his hand rolling it over one end over the other as he looks across the waters seeing the shore grow closer by the second.

     He places his pockets back inside in keeping a bit of his old tin coins with him out of force of habit, the man seemingly unable or just unwilling to hand over quite everything in his possession.

     He spins the cap back on taking another swig before shunting the hand rolled cigarette back into the corner of his mouth for one last lengthy drag to ease his wits back into sorts.

     The ash drops onto the deck before he drops the last vestiges of the cigarette into the waves watching as the skyline grows ever more the closer. "We're not staying?" he adds almost half joking as he secures his rifle and revolver once more into position.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...were women attached to battalions back then?" Cael asks in a dubious tone. "Let alone," she shoots Shuri a brief look, "hate to say it - //black// girls. Are we your... typists?" She gets thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Weren't there women pilots? Who ferried planes from the factories to the fronts and such? Something like that?" She can't fly.
    What else does she know about women and World War II? Not much, really.
    There's a brief pause. "...I'm going to have to actually watch my mouth, aren't I?" Great.
    Her attention shifts to Clint next - a frown on her features as she takes in the man's words. "The whole... butterfly wings, chaos theory kind of stuff, huh?" she asks. "Alright. Message delivered, we'll be careful."

Shuri has posed:
    Shuri looks over at some of the comments. "Sass or no sass, I am not going to pass for an American." She points out. "I don't sound the part." Her Wakandan accent is too thick to pass for an American accent at any point. "Which means no matter what, I'm going to have problems."

    A deep sigh, and she shakes her head. "Colonizers."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam's got limited knowledge of what the contents of their metaphorical collection plate might be worth, so he leaves that to Steve or Bucky for estimating. Beyond, "I'm not sure we'd be able to find a pawn shop that could afford those," he says of Shuri's contributions. If you don't count military tech, those two earrings are probably the most expensive things he's ever held in his entire life.

    Except for his baby nephews. Raising kids ain't cheap!

    "The Butterfly Effect," he chimes in, after Clint. "Seriously. I'm not the only one who's seen it, right?"

    He watches as they begin to drift back towards the dock, and his weight shifts from one foot to the other, the tension building as the distance between them and the New York City of 1943 closes. "Trust me, I don't need the warning." This is why Sam always derides those dumb TikToks about being born in the wrong era! "And I'm pretty sure the Wakandan education system is better than what any of us grew up with, so--" He gestures when Shuri speaks up. "Yeah. We got it."

    His eyes scour the horizon. "There's no way I can take off from here." The docks are way too crowded, buzzing with war-related activity. "Not right now, at least. Shuri and I can lay low until nightfall, and then we can rendezvous with you all." He pauses to push his goggles up onto his forehead. "If you don't mind hitching a ride with me, Princess."

James Barnes has posed:
    "Tomorrow then, the Expo's tomorrow." There's that soft, distant voice again. A lot of thoughts swirling in that 'cyborg brain' brain of his. That poor, Swiss cheese brain of his. But here, now? It's all coming back, his childhood anyway.

    "Steve, didn't the Branston's move out of their house about a week or so ago? The house should be empty." Right across from Bucky's house, well... right across and two doors down. We'll probably have to steal a car to get to Flushing tomorrow though." He's making plans, but his head's so not in the game. It's really not. He's distracted, barely paying attention. That's not good.

    Jethro's comment about staying has Bucky's gaze snapping in that direction. ...is that longing in those pale blues. Stay. Can he? Just... fucking stay? Here? When things were simple? Would that be so bad? All the people he cares about wouldn't have to deal with the mess he brings to their lives just by being him.

    "Okay, clothes and the Branstons." It's a start anyway. "I think I can get my hands on some things we'll need." Things, vague that. "I can do it without being seen. I'll meet you guys there. Steve knows the address."

    What he'll really do? Is spend an hour or so in the shadows... watching Steve and Bucky from this time swimming off that same pier Steve nearly drowned jumping from when they were about 12 - well, Steve is mostly flailing, but still. Really would staying be so bad?