6824/Code 084: 1943 pt.3

Code 084: 1943 pt.3
Date of Scene:	03 July 2021
Location:	1943: New York
Synopsis:	The team makes it back from 1943. Everything's fine! Yeah... juuuuust fine.
Cast of Characters:	Sam Wilson, Cael Becker, Clint Barton, Jethro Glass, Peggy Carter, James Barnes, Steve Rogers

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Sam Wilson has posed:
    When Cael slides into the driver's seat of the truck, one of the HYDRA thugs in an exoskeleton turns, aiming his gun. A few bullets ping off the cab with little fanfare as she drives by, but then suddenly they're clear, as is the road ahead of them.

    Behind them, more gunfire, shouting, and an ominous voice reciting words in Russian, but they're clear.

    NYC traffic in 1943 is a hell of a lot different than it is in 2021, and once the HYDRA roadblock is no longer in the rearview mirror, there are no further difficulties beyond the occasional pothole and careless pedestrian. Even parking isn't an issue, if only because they get waved into the commercial lot backing up the park by a green-looking cadet who obviously mistakes them as staffing for the Army recruitment center. It's early enough in the day that most of the people arriving are indeed there to clock in and get to work, so the crowd milling about is sparse.

    Which means it's easy enough to see the World Exposition of Tomorrow in all its glory... and, honestly, it's not nearly as awe-inspiring in the daytime as it is at night. Sure, the Unisphere is an impressive installation for the time, and the suspension monorail zips past with impressive speed, but something about the sun overhead just doesn't do it justice.

    Plus, it's warm out. The temperature has spiked into the low 90s, which has many of the people who've come along to see the sites early bird-style hanging out in the indoor installations, which have air conditioning--not something widely available at the time.

    One of those indoor installations is where the clock is out on display, amidst dozens, maybe hundreds of other newfangled tech that one industrialist or another has paid the city handsomely to market.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Driving while hung over is not Cael's favorite thing - but she gets the job done, occassionally squinting against the light as it reflects off something and flares brightly into her eyes. With the car finally in park - she simply sits for a moment, taking a deep breath - and letting it out slowly. Barnes, Sam, and the Cap would all be fine. They'd be //fine// - and they'd join them soon. Right? Though that leaves one important problem...
    "It was Barnes and Cap who knew where the damned clock is at," she grumbles - as she lets Shuri finish getting her hair up in place.
    "Look, I know we're on the- ... we need to get this done, but I vote we find some coffee, and //then// the clock. I think one of those things is going to be far easier than the other."
    She turns around, scanning the others in the back of the truck, before her eyes lock onto Clint. "You running this thing until the others rejoin us?" she presumes.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint looks around at the group in the truck, "Ok, so did anyone else notice that both guys who knew where the clock is jumped out of the truck back there? We're going to have to spread out and try and find it. Let's try and stay out of trouble, find the thing and get home. Cael and Shuri, you two pair up, Jethro, you come with me. If you spot the clock, let the other group know on comms. We'll hang near it for a while and give the others time to catch up, I'd rather not strand people here."

He gives everyone a once over to make sure disguises are correct, then opens the back of the truck, "Let's get this done, it's time to get back."

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro ducks his head grabbing out his pistol from its holster as the group zips out from one side to the next in their truck against the exoskelleton clad figures. He lowers his pistol ready to take the shot only to at the last moment pull back up his revolver and shove it back down into its holster as they speed off into the distance.

     He sets back down hard into his spot on the truck lowering himself deep into the seat. His eyes lock down onto the ground in front of him rushing by as he still gets used to just how fast motorized horseless carriages can travel in the modern age. He keeps to himself for most of the ride looking off into the distance lost in his own thoughts.

     When they finally arrive he walks out from the back of the truck with a sense of professionalism and pride of uniform that almost completely vanishes the moment he sees a clear view, for the first time really, the sheer wonders of the future. Yes for many of them it's decades in the past but for Jethro this was almost a hundred years in the future, and it certainly felt like it.

     His eyes darted from one sight to the next taking in the majesty on display with a childlike wonder as his hand rolled cigarette bounded from one corner of his mouth to the other hanging so loose it threatened to fall from the corner of his gob.

     "I weren't born in the woods to be scared by no owl but if this don't cap the climax nothing will." He rolls the cigarette to the other corner of his mouth unable to quite take his eyes off of everything out there as he adjusts his stance in the back of the truck. He pauses for a moment before ripping his attention away and back to clint. He gives a more sober nod towards the more senior agent in the group offering a firm. "On your lead." He offers as he passes out some of the cash he earned from his rather lucrative spin playing the banjo on the street corner just yesterday assisting to the pile.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Howard, I don't care how many strapping young men are coming through the World Expo, this isn't the place we're going to find the *one*. And I know you want to show off that bloody car but you can do that without dragging me all about the recreation of the damned world in *Flushing*." Peggy's accent clips out to the man at her side, her exasperation barely hidden. She's in her uniform today, as are many of those attending the expo. Mainly because she'll end up working the sign up line for Erskine's work at least half the time. But now, Howard has convinced her to come out and see the sights. She doesn't look thrilled by them, not yet.

The young woman, just turned 23 years old and as fresh faced as any other young military recruits who have yet to see real conflict, definitely looks like Director Peggy Carter. Just with a few decades of exhaustion stripped away. Her hair is set in those traditional victory rolls and she's dared to unbutton her uniform jacket since she's not on duty, but the SSR wings still fly at the lapels. She's walking alongside of a brunette man in panama hat with sunglasses on and a linen shirt. He looks like he's trying to be in some sort of disguise, but is making smiles and exchanging handshakes with far too many people.

A reporter even runs up after him, yelling: "Mr. Stark!! Mr. Stark! A photo for the Daily Planet, please!? Is this your new lady!?" Before Peggy knows what's going on, she's turned around with Howard and a flash bulb goes off in both their faces. "Oh HELL I am not his *lady*. You Americans will print *anything*."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    If anyone decides to consult one of the posted maps, the sheer size of the Expo might be a little daunting without their centenarian guides. It's broken up into seven zones that are themed after various areas of technological development, and none of them are 'Time Travel'. Communications, Food Production, Manufacturing & Distribution, Transportation, Community Advancement, Military Excellence (the zone closest to where the team enter, near the recruitment center), and an Amusement Zone that is basically a glorified theme park in miniature.

    The question is really just: where to start.

    There are certainly places to get coffee at the Expo today, while that question is considered. Of course, even in this heat most New Yorkers still like their coffee, and the team has arrived just as most of the workers are arriving too, so it's a simple matter of finding where people are waiting in line. Inevitably that will lead to caffeination.

    A nearby barker is warming up his act to draw people into a presentation on the "Underwater Cities of the Future!" hosted by Atlantis Enterprises.

    A group of young kids, no older than 15 at the most, stand around a sealed glass tube containing some sort of inactive automaton called "The Synthetic Man," jeering at an old white-haired man who fiddles with a clunky control panel at the back of the tube's casing, demanding that it *do something*. The man, Dr. Phineas Horton, is a well-known inventor who has publicly derided Howard Stark in the past. That Daily Planet reporter is likely to head over to him shortly.

    Other people wander by. As much of a tourist attraction as it is, bringing people in from the tri-state area and beyond, there's plenty to see and do.

    Too bad they kind of have the whole pressing need to return to their own time thing going on.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods to Clinton at the suggested division. It made sense - having the two girls togethers. A white guy with a black girl was somehow less offensive than the reverse (stupid sexist racism) - but a black girl with a white girl was less controversial yet. Once out of the truck, and with the money divided, she turns her attention to studying the map letting out a quiet, "Huh." Yeah. There's a part of her that really wishes they had the time to take this in.
    "I'd say... Manufacturing & Distribution for one team, and maybe... Community Advancement for the other?" She looks to see if the others agree before the two groups split.
    But once they do - yeah. She finds the nearest line for coffee, and walks away a few coins lighter, gratefully sipping from a cup.

Clint Barton has posed:
At Cael's suggestion, Clint nods, "Good a place to start as any." His reply is a bit absent as he scans over the directory but he continues, "Jethro and I will take Manufacturing, you guys take Community. If we come up empty at both spots, we'll move to Transportation for us and Communications for you two."

Looking over at Jethro, he asks, "You need anything before we get started? I'm gonna grab some coffee, personally." He's not far behind Cael in line, then starts heading to his chosen area. With the light crowd, it's not difficult to make their way over and then into the display areas, in search of... a clock.

Jethro Glass has posed:
     "Should be fine enough." Jethro comments moving away a short ways as Clint moves to stand in line. While the others are in line he does what may not be his brightest move. He makes his way over to that display with the jeering kids and looks down towards them.

     "Your parents ever teach you to show a man respect when he's working?" His voice is firm and stern as he looks towards them. "Could be you down there being jeered at for his life's work, show a bit of empathy."

     Clearly he's a bit new to the whole 'don't interfere with the timeline' thing as he looks down towards the man at the center and just calls out. "You've got this, sir I believe in you." A still gravel filled and militaristic voice but one filled with a bit of hope and an attempt to lift those downed spirits and frustraightions.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Thanks, Mr. Stark!" The kid yells and gives him a little salute before dashing off in the direction of Dr. Horton, not very far from that booth as they wonder the community advancement part of things. That was always where Howard looked -- the future. Making the world a better place. Peggy scoffs quietly as she pushes her hair back across her shoulder and tries to make certain her pinned victory roll is still smooth and straight.

"Howard. You know half the papers are going to print that I'm your flame of the week now? I told you, no photos! Colonel Phillips doesn't even want me to be here. People are going to start asking questions about the project." Peggy sighs deeply to him, stalking along the vendors a bit faster. She needs tea (or, more likely, coffee since they are in the US) and an exuse not to stop for Howard's admiring followers again. It means she's coming up on Clint and company (looking for Coffee themselves) fairly quickly.

James Barnes has posed:
    After having flagged down a vehicle, provided his military ID and explained that he needed to 'borrow' said vehicle for an emergency, the old man behind the wheel willingly gave up his keys. ...along with an address where they car could be left later. Here's to hoping that doesn't make the old fart late for something important that set off a reaction that destroys the world! Sometimes, risks are necessary.

    Bucky took the wheel, silent for the most part, other than to say, once again, "I'm so sorry, Steve." ...because once again, his shit has spilled over onto his friends.

    When they arrive at the expo, some half an our or so behind their friends, he finds a place to park and leaves the keys in the car. At some point, he'll ask a guard, another military man, someone to return the thing to its proper owner.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Drive now, apologies later. How the hell did Zola find us?" Steve wonders aloud. "That's just a little too convenient on his part. We must have screwed something up, left a-a- note for him, or some sign, or something."

He shakes his head in frustration and rearranges his disguise so they're more or less presentable. It's not much but it's at least enough to keep from getting spotted instantly.

The two of them ditch the vehicle at the Expo. "Okay, I remember the clock being over past..." Steve looks over and grins, then laughs. "Holy smokes. Look who it is," he marvels, and uplifts his chin past Horton at the android in the tube. "Torch. Vision's great-grandad." His smile fades, grows a little melancholy. "Wish I could say hello," he tells Bucky, and exhales. "C'mon, let's get out of here before we bump into anyone we shouldn't."

Steve does a sharp left turn, takes two steps, and almost plows right into Howard and Peggy.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    None of the teens scatter off at Jethro's scolding, though one or two of them look a bit contrite. The smarmiest looking of the group, who is about half a head taller than the rest of them too, makes a rude hand gesture and says, "He ain't even doin nothin! It's just a stupid statue!"

    "My creation is anything but stupid," Dr. Horton replies. He still looks harried, but there's something desperately unstable in his gaze too.

    One of the kids starts flicking popcorn at the glass tube encasing the so-called Synthetic Man.

    Community Advancement is just a clever way of packaging technology that improves the home life of a modern (for 1943) family, with all of the period-appropriate sexist slant to the displays. This is where the 'Home of Tomorrow' displays are: ultra-sleek, over-thought kitchens with the kind of technological integrations that sound nice on paper but would never prove to be all that useful for a homemaker. Probably because nobody actually consulted any homemakers during the design process.

    There are displays for fashion, jewelry, and cosmetics that tend to veer a little too far into the kind of retro-futuristic aesthetic of pulpy sci-fi of the day, rather than anything that would be practical.

    In semi-related news, posters announce the inaugural meeting of the International Science Fiction Convention, currently being held in a nearby pavilion.

    The Manufacturing & Distribution Zone is about as unexciting as the Community Advancement zone is infuriating, unless you happen to be really into industrial science. Most of it's just new technology related to assembly line manufacturing.

    Whether or not one of them contains the clock they're looking for is up in the air; the sheer amount of things on exhibit here make this a very literal needle-in-a-haystack situation.

    Not far away from Dr. Horton's exhibit, Sam is looking more than a bit unsettled, trailing along behind the two guys who actually know where this damn clock is in his USAAF uniform, Army duffel slung over one shoulder. Mostly he keeps staring at Steve's back, occasionally glancing towards Bucky. "It was a trap," he says, eyebrows drawn together. "Had to be. This is too convenient." He mutters out the word HYDRA under his breath in the same way someone would spit out a curse.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nurses her coffee as she walks - her gaze going over the various displays of domestic bliss. The imagery of perfect housewives, with perfectly coifed hair, wearing aprons and waiting hand and foot on their slipped husbands with cigarettes in hand, and a tumbler of brandy to the side... "I want to deface all of these," she mutters quietly under her breath.
    She forces a tight, polite smile at a woman who talks about the wonders of the new gas ranges that can be controlled with a turn of the dial - no more oven tending! Roasting failures will be a thing of the past!
    "I've changed my mind. The sooner we leave, the better."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint spends a decent amount of time wandering through displays of 'ultra modern conveyor belts' and 'The last word in variable speed drills!' looking for the damn clock. He finally looks over to Jethro and shakes his head, "This is going to take a while, it could be anywhere. You'd think with both of them remembering it that it would be pretty obviously displayed."

He clicks on the comm then he finds a quiet corner where he can talk without people looking at the crazy guy talking to himself: <<Cael, you two find anything yet?>>

Steve and Bucky will probably pick up the broadcast since they have made it to the Expo as well and are in range now.

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro at this point has made his way away from the statue of tomorrow and over to Clint to join in the actual reason for their operation in the first place. He looks towards a strange little stall for The Worlds Finest Portable Industrial Drill. He looks it over for a moment.

     For many people here this would be the most boring segment of the park but for Jethro it's the most fascinating thing in the world. He loves every moment of it fascinated to no end with every little detail about this world of tomorrow and making little notes in his personal notebook of these strange inventions that he would never have dreamed of even seeing himself.

     "If that don't beat all." He mutters under his breath looking towards one device and then the next still searching for the clock.

Peggy Carter has posed:
When Peggy nearly runs into two men she doesn't recognize, she's going to blame it on Howard. She was so determined to get away from his photographers that she wasn't quite looking where she was going. She nearly body slams into a blonde several inches taller than her and built like a football player (American, of course), when she stumbles back on her high heels, cursing lightly. She looks identical to the woman Steve first met on the SSR training fields back at the camp in New Jersey - down to her uniform, hair, and red lipstick. Probably because this woman is her, just a few days younger.

She, rather subconsciously, smooths one hand back through her hair as she stares up to Steve and then over to Bucky. There is no recognition in her eyes, but definitely hint of blush on her cheeks. She clears her throat, "Gentlemen, sorry. I... I really should be watching where I'm going. Howard. Come now. Before that reporter catches up." But then she's looking back and Howard isn't right next to her. He's five feet behind her, leaning against a Stark Industries life size model advertisement and a very pretty blonde while someone else takes another photo. Peggy gives an exasperated sigh, "Howard... HOWARD!"

"One minute, Peg! She's in her second year of university, a science degree! I gotta inspire the young minds of tomorrow! I'm gettin' her number... to help her... Study." Peggy's eyes roll to the sky and she gives the other men an apologetic smile.

"Ah... nothing to see here, I promise. He's not near so important as he thinks he is." Even if his name is plastered over a third of the things on display here.

James Barnes has posed:
    Once they're inside, Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets and plants his gaze on, well... honestly? America's Ass in front of him. Well, more above it on Steve's middle back or something. Dark thoughts, dark places... he's having them, he's in one. It's definitely not typical Bucky to not notice Steve's stopped, but it happens and it results in Buck running right smack into his friend from behind.

    "Fuck..." he mutters as his hand flies to Steve's shoulder to maybe help steady the man if he was knocked askew by all that.

    Pale blues land on... Peggy. Nononononono. This isn't happening. He double steps back, it might have him bumping into Sam. Avenger pinball bumpers with Buck as the ball? "Nnnnngggg..." Yeah, he actually makes that sound before... "Steve, Sam...." Hello, this is notOkay. It's *almost* more than his messed up, fucked up, Swiss cheese mind can take. The absolute, horrible, painful LONGING to run right to her and wrap her up in a hug so tight he might suffocate her is a little overpowering. He's been missing her in their own time for sooooo long now.

    "It's not her," he whispers, in an attempt to stop himself from Really Fucking Up.

Steve Rogers has posed:
There is about a half a second where Steve softlocks. Peg. Literally days before they first meet. A lifetime of memories from that phenomenal eidetic memories, an affection for the woman that had turned into a deep and unyielding affection that had taken years to get over. There are so many ways things could play out. So many things left unsaid.

It's in the moment before Peggy actually makes eye contact with him that Steve makes his choice. For once that reflexive bashfulness of his youth comes into play (though it's been a long time since -that- particular habit was an issue). Steve's eyes drop, that brain of his working full tilt to make up for lost time.

"Aye ya banjaxed geebag, watch yae primpin'," he blurts out in the heaviest of Irish accents possible. Shoulders slump, back slouches. He whirls on Bucky and grabs his collar, staggering into him as if drunk-- and also maneuvering them both so Peggy can't get a good look at Bucky's face. "I soor tae Christ 'Iesus hisself, ya bloody sossanooch, clear way 'fore I battar ya oop ye paralletic nonce!"

Steve propels Bucky a few steps backwards and into the crowd, smoothly making the two of them disappear from view while Peggy's looking for Howard.

Once they're safely out of line of sight, Steve releases Bucky's shirt and the two of them do the left/right shoulder lookaround to ensure no one's watching them. He smooths out the collar with an apologetic expression, eyes rolling around and cheeks puffing out with a theatrical (but very sincere) sigh of relief at the near-miss.

"At the rate we're going, Owlman's going to pop up from the shadows and ask us what we're doing here," Steve mutters at Bucky. "C'mon. Let's find the others."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    The Community Advancement Zone is a bust. As is the Manufacturing & Distribution Zone. Sure, there are clocks, but not the clock they're all here looking for. Time to start looking elsewhere.

    Back at the Synthetic Man exhibit, the kids have gotten worse, their voices louder as they start demanding that Dr. Horton produces some kind of show with his so-called robot. Dr. Horton is still frantically pushing buttons on the control pad, and inside the tube the humanoid figure twitches, but does not move.

    If the team on the ground splits up again into the Transportation and Communication Zones, they'll find much of the same as with their previous explorations, though with less sexism and more excitement: things like fancy new television, electric typewriters, even a so-called electric calculator using punch cards that is basically a prototype computer. Plus, Howard Stark's flying car, though given it's not yet being presented by Mr. Stark, for now it's just a car sitting on a stage.

    Sam's far back enough that he doesn't see the really unfortunate, potentially timeline-altering mishap that they're about to walk right into. Even he's a little gobsmacked to see Peggy, though he doesn't have the decades-long familiarity. Just concern for a coworker and friend back in the present. Sort of like seeing a ghost, really.

    His hands come up to brace Bucky before they collide off of one another, and his voice is quiet as he says, "We gotta go, now," because this is, yes, very much Not Okay in so many ways that Sam can't even parse.

    Which is good portion of the reason why he's left standing there, jaw agape, as Steve all but drags Bucky away. He blinks once, twice after them, squeezes his left hand into a fist at his side, and then clears his throat. "Ma'am," he says to Peggy politely, cover securely in place as he tips his head, and then he executes a smooth turn on his heels to beat feet.

    <<We need a rendezvous point,>> he mutters over comms as soon as his back is turned. For a moment he scans the area for an easily identified marker of some kind. <<South of the Parachute Jump, big red tower with the circle on top.>> Fun fact, it's still in New York City back in 2021, relocated to Coney Island, though it hasn't actually been in operation for a while. <<Cap, Buck, where the hell is this clock supposed to be?>>

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Did you know people are still using coal and wood burning stoves?" Cael hisses into the comm. Utterly ridiculous. "I'm ready to burn this whole exhibit down. The sexism is toxic. Would it alter the timeline if I destroy it? Or... What if I just //screamed// for a little bit?"
    Okay. Fine. In the grand scheme of things, this is a small problem - but it's driving Cael nuts. "No luck on the clock, tho- Sam?" she asks as the man's voice breaks through.
    "South of the Parachute Jump," she confirms, nodding for Shuri to accompany her. The sooner they get out of this room, the better for her sanity.

Clint Barton has posed:
<<Good, you guys made it. We'll see you there in a couple minutes, then we can head for the clock.>>

He looks to Jethro who actually looks interested in the things on display and comments, "Must be interesting seeing a middle ground between your time and the stuff you're dealing with in our time. There was a heck of a lot of rapid advancement in the nineteen hundreds. The guys made it to the Expo, we're meeting them and then heading for the clock."

He gestures at the tower of the parachute jump looming over the immediate area and starts heading in that direction. "While we have a minute, how are you doing with the changes? We haven't had much chance to talk yet."

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro takes pause in looking over the displays. "Sard to call this earth anymore." He chuckles to himself looking down at his book as he folds it back up top place into his shirt pocket. "Suppose it bein so differents what's made it easier on me, just like to magine it's a whole different planet, an somewhere out there my Indiana, an Texas are still out there just waitin for me."

     He makes his way along with clint passing by the tube again on their way to the parachute tube. Jethros fist clenches up into a ball as he passes by and it builds to a moment that he has a hard time controlling his emotions and calls out in that drill instructor voice of his.

     "Each and every one of you aughta be ashamed of yourselves." He raises his voice at the children standing there. "It don't make a lick of stifference if someone's having trouble, you don't go pokin fun, just to make yourself bigger."

     "This man's makin a brilliant addition to human history and y'all little terrors just can't accept that sometimes life just don't work the way we want right when we want it. Man's ten times the science type a any of yous and if I see one more you little terrors throw anything his way I'll toss you right out this blessed fairground my own blessed self."

Peggy Carter has posed:
As the large Irish man starts screaming at his friend, Peggy cannot help but roll her eyes to the ceiling. "There's no fighting in the Expo, take it out the doors! Bloody *hell*..." She huffs out to the two, shaking her head quietly. But Howard was her concern, and getting back to the recruitment table. The fight seems to have disappeared from her line of sight. Well enough. She dashes back to go claim Howard, physically grabbing his arm to pull him away from the blonde. "We're finding Phillips again. *Now*, Stark. Come on." The tone of her voice is not a question, but an order. She disappears back into the crowd.

James Barnes has posed:
    After that quick right/left, Bucky's attention is almost immediately drawn back to Peggy. His brow furrows slightly. He's still at war with himself. It's not her, but man it looks like her! Can he smell vanilla and rose oil all the way from over here? He thinks he can.

    Sam's voice in his ear brings him back around a little, but not enough to actually spur him into any decisive sort of action.

    "Steve, I can't..." he whispers. ...can't what? Take the lead here? Make a decision? Put one foot in front of the other? Resist the urge to SCREAM at the top of his lungs? All of it. He just can't. Bucky's autopilot is off, Steve'll have to take the controls from here if they stand any chance of getting to where they need to be when they need to be there. Literally, it might take Steve actually *physically* manhandling Bucky in the right direction through part of it.

    Some might see it as him being weak, but the very fact that, given all his issues - the PTSD, the flashbacks, the memory glitches, the paranoia, the panic attacks, the very REAL mental illness that's a result of decades of torture - that he's still standing at all amid all this trigger material is a testament to how *strong* he really is. He got the ride, he got the uniforms, he basically got them this far... but he's done; checked out and unable to even *think* two minutes in front of them now.

    ...and the scent of rose oil and vanilla is still very very real to him. It now mixes with the faint smell of a shared cigarette. Fuck, he misses her.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve can't literally carry Bucky, but he can move him along. One hand in an amicable grip on his shoulder, and the other holding Bucky's flesh-and-blood arm. Just keep moving; that's the key. Buck is shell-shocked and needs a few moments.

That's OK. That's what friends do for each other.

"<Everyone get to the building that says 'The Day After Tomorrow'>," Steve whispers into the comms. "Go in the door, take a left, then a right. It'll be next to a display talking about the theory of time travel. Should be eye level. I'm incoming with Barnes. Clear the room out somehow because we're gonna need some privacy. As soon as you figure out how to get clear, /do it/.>" His orders are low but crisp toned, an imperative difficult to dismiss.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Something about the way Jethro talks to those kids this time around seems to take hold. Maybe not fully in the way he's intended, because these kids are punks, but the tallest one looks annoyed enough by the continued hassling that he waves his hand and says "Aw, forget it. This dumb robot's crummy anyway."

    They move off, and Dr. Horton gives a recalcitrant nod towards Jethro. "Thank you," he says, begrudgingly, before he burrows his head down and returns to his calibrations.

    For the time being, the Synthetic Man remains no more than a statue on display.

    The redirect means they're no longer rendezvousing at the Parachute Jump, so some people are going to have to double back to find the Day After Tomorrow exhibit, which is a fitting pavilion to house that science fiction convention that's happening right now. It's a small gathering in comparison to what would be considered a convention in modern times, but the group of several dozen is a potential roadblock for any time travel plans.

    Anyone on the team who happens to be a fan of classic sci-fi might be able to spot Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury in the crowd, amongst other notable authors and scientists of the time.

    Sam's further behind than everyone, it seems. He doesn't show up right away, and for the time being he's silent on comms.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Copy, Cap," Cael answers into the comm, nodding at Shuri and moving through the crowd at pace. The fact that she's got that coffee in here... helps a lot. Some hydration, some caffeine for the headache - it's like magic.
    Okay, it's also partially placebo. Don't tell Cael that part.
    After a quick map check - Shuri and Cael are en route and Cael? I mean, sure, she'll have heard some of those names. But could she recognize the people, or name a single one of their books? Probably not.
    Instead, she decides to launch into an attempt tp clear the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, we do apologize for the inconvenience. We've been asked to clear this exhibit for some repairs and improvements. If you'll come back in an hour's time, there will be new sights to astonish and amaze you. Please, just this way to the exits... Please accept our apologies. Yes, just this way..."
    Are people of this day and age polite enough to take this nonsense at face value? She's hoping so. But then again, who knows? It is //America//.

Clint Barton has posed:
Coming in on the tail end of Cael's attempt to clear the room, Clint looks at Jethro and says loudly, "Yep, this is the place. Once we get the people cleared out we can bring in the upgraded displays." He looks over at the crowd and politely gestures to the exits as Cael continues to try and get the people to head out. "Sorry folks, but it won't take long, we just need to get some stuff in for the big crowds later tonight. You know how it is, never enough time to get everything done."

He's doing his best to contain his impatience and be polite about it, the clock is _right there_ but they need a little time and privacy to deal with the situation. And he can't go into modern crowd control mode, because that would just be horribly impolite in this day and age.

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro returns that nod still having been unsure in the moment if his callout would lead to a fight or not in the heat of the moment but it seems that the thugs have wandered their way to greener pastures.

     He lets out a low sigh under his breath before adjusting his cap and moving his way along to follow with clint. He's only a few steps behind as he walks his way in making a look over the place as he checks through the area.

    To be fair Jethro's crowd control methods wouldn't work too well either. It's a fine line really this point in time, and a strange one at that.

     He's sizing up the room with hand motions and taking his time to look things over as if he really does know what he's doing and is measuring a spot for the next display to go down. Obviously the military has something to do with this change of display but he's friendly and courteous with a bright smile and a light nod of his cap as he works 'measuring' the area.

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky is moved along by Steve for a bit, his mind just blanked out... it's the down time he needed to recharge and, after a bit, he's moving of his own accord again. "I'm good," he murmurs for Steve's benefit. It's ... not really a lie. He's far from good, but he's better.

    He'll soldier on.

    Day after tomorrow... also fitting given the day they arrived here... two days before the end of Bucky's carefree, confident life was set on a collision course to what it is now, to what he is now.

     He's still following Steve's lead, but at least he's doing it consciously now. It's right when they're a few steps from their destination that Bucky stops in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder and then back at Steve in front of him. The war inside him, his indecision, it's written all over his face. James Buchanan Barnes has a unique gift, or maybe it's a curse, in the ability to communicate or even just slip up and reveal, his thoughts and emotions with just... that face, just his expression, just in the crease of his brow or the set of his mouth, the wrinkle of his nose, the curl of a lip.

    He doesn't have to say a word and Steve would know, Sam will know when he gets closer, that Bucky is considering ... rabbit-ing, staying here in 1943.

    It becomes even more clear though when he says, "Steve, find Zemo, he'll know what to do about what Zola did to you!" Really Buck? Zemo?

    One look over his shoulder and then another back to Steve to be sure his friend understood, yes, Zemo.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"What?" Steve turns to look at Bucky, trying to process the words. Not the words-- he'll never forget those, his flawless memory making such a task trivial. But it's the tone that Bucky uses, the phrasing, and the strange use of future tenses.

"We're almost there Buck, let's deal with Zola tomorrow." Surely Bucky was thinking of Zola. Right? What could Zemo have to do with anything?

But when Steve looks back... Bucky is gone. Vanished into the crowd with that ninja-like talent of his. Steve turns a circle. Takes two steps this way and that.

Swearing under his breath with a sulferous tone, Cap heads into the meetup point and glowers at anyone that the rest of the team hasn't persuaded into leaving.

"Okay. Show me how the damn thing works," Steve says, as soon as they have the room to themselves. "And then let's get everyone home ASAP."

No mention is made of the missing Bucky.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    If not for the fact that Cael is decked out in a WAC uniform, the convention--mostly older white men--probably wouldn't listen to her at all. As it stands, some people do start to pack it up, others grumble and stay put. It isn't until Clint and Jethro's appearance reinforces her story that any real movement happens, and within a few moments the chairs have emptied, left in some small amount of disarray but at least the pavilion has cleared out.

    There are books still on the tables, papers scattered about, certainly enough mess that would be inconvenient to work around.

    Of course, they're not actually here to do repairs.

    Sam's the last to arrive, cover tucked under his arm. He looks annoyed about something, expression pinched, but not so worse for wear that there should really be any concern over what delayed him.

    When he spots the familiar clock on display, Sam lets out a visceral sigh of relief. He hasn't mentioned it recently so it bears repeating: he really hates time travel. He digs his fingers into the back of his neck as he sidles up to Steve, keeping his distance while brighter minds (read: Shuri) deal with the clock.

    The key to making it work, at least in a way that's going to send them all home, is one of the kimoyo beads.

    And while Shuri is taking care of that, Sam thinks it's a great time to ask, "Steve, where's Bucky?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael walks around the building - makes sure it's empty, and makes sure the doors are all closed. Of course, while doing that she runs a headcount - and like Sam, she comes up worryingly short. "What gives?" the woman chimes in a moment after Sam, from her position near the door - where she can politely but firmly let anyone who approaches know that the exhibit is closed.
    But her expression is tight with concern - rather than the relief she should be feeling. She has also come to discover her loathing of time travel.
    But Barnes is several apples why of a bushel - and having him be the only one missing doesn't sit right.

Clint Barton has posed:
As Shuri starts examining the clock, Clint looks around, gesturing Jethro and Sam to guard the doors so that nothing interrupts the princess' work. Everything led here, so nothing can go wrong.

Which is when Sam asks about Bucky.

Clint's head snaps around to look at the man, then scans over the people in the room. "Sonofa.. <<Barnes, where are you? Get back here before you seriously fuck up our history.>>

Turning to Steve, he says "We cannot let him stay behind. Giving Zola a second shot at two Winter Soldiers is bad enough, but what if he can't keep himself from making sure Bucky doesn't enlist or something? He's not handling this well, you know that, we need to find him. You know him best, what's the best way to track him down quickly?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"He ran off," Steve growls. "Shuri, show me how to work this damn thing." He ignores Sam and Clint while he tries to focus on Shuri, but the insistent shouting from both of them finally snaps his temper.

"I know. I KNOW!" he bellows at the two other men. "Bucky's going to go off and do something stupid and dangerous! And I have to /stop him/ before he manages to wipe out the timeline!"

The clock's shoved back into Shuri's hands. "Me and Bucky are the only ones who are equipped to deal with this era. And if we both get lost, then you'll get back to 2020 and find a couple of grey haired old men standing there ready for your 'I told you so'. But /I'm/ going to get him back," Steve fumes through gritted teeth, and gives Clint and Sam each a look that brooks zero argument. "And I'm not losing anyone else in the process. -Get home-. If this works, we'll be right behind you. If it doesn't, you couldn't have saved either of us anyway."

Jethro Glass has posed:
     Jethro takes up position guarding the entrance to the room, he unhooks his pistol leaving it at the ready. It's far from standard 1943 issue instead a custom gold damascened 1860 style .451 caliber black powder revolver. He keeps it on the level near the side of his head pointed towards the ceiling as he waits for someone, anyone to come through that door and get one hell of a surprise.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    It takes a second for the shouting to kick in from Sam. And it's not really shouting! His voice isn't raised, he's just maybe a little bit distressed, eyes jumping from Steve to the door and back again. "What do you mean--okay, it's fine! We have the clock now, we can just go find him!" He looks over. "Shuri, hold up, we need to--"

    And then Steve's yelling. Sam's shoulders set, and at his side the fingers of his left hand splay wide and then fold into a fist. He goes silent.

    Sam doesn't argue back, no. But he does stare at Steve for a long moment, obviously working something out internally before he's willing to speak.

    "Fine," is what he decides on. His tone is tightly controlled. "But you both better be on our heels, Steve, or I swear to--." He cuts himself off again and lets out an angry breath though his nose. "See you back home."

    That's all Sam has to say, turning his back on Cap to address Shuri, giving her a quick nod. "Let's go."

    People have approximately 15 seconds to say or do whatever they want to do to see 1943 out the door before the kimoyo bead activates something in the clock, and then there's that strange sense of motion under their feet, sort of like that feeling you get when you're on the edge of sleep and suddenly it feels like you're falling. Hypnagogic jerk is the technical term.

    And this time around it's much more obvious that they're somewhere else. Well, not somewhere else, just somewhere different. It's the same pavilion but it's run down, empty, dust on the floor and barely any light streaming in from boarded up windows. The air even tastes different, stale and damp.

James Barnes has posed:
    And there, in that pavilion? Well, there sit Bucky and Steve. They look a little bored truth be told.

    Bucky's on the floor with his back against a wall, knees bent, elbows resting on them. "Damn, man, Steve, it's been an hour. Should we ... try to go back and see what the hell's the hold up?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "What? //Fine//? No. No fucking way." Cael turns on the comms. <<"Barnes, get back here or none of us are going anywhere, God //damnit//. This trip is everyone or no one,">> she claims. <<"You don't think for a second the Princess is going to leave without y-">> That's probably about where that sick lurching feeling hits her - and Cael ends up on the floor this time - staring at the ground and afraid to look up. Where are they? When are they? What state is the world in? Where's Barnes? "God fucking damnit," she growls out. "Who the hel-" Wait - was that Barnes voice? She lifts her head reluctantly.
    You might expect relief - instead there's aggrevation. "I hate all of you so much right now," she mutters.

Clint Barton has posed:
With a raised eyebrow, Cap's shouting is taken in stride, followed by a quiet, "He's not the only one having problems, and I understand why, but keep it together, Captain. You know standing orders on time travel. Well, I mean past the set that say 'Don't do it' you have the set that says, "Don't change anything.'. I know there's a lot of bad stuff coming, but it makes the world we know. Find him, bring him home." He claps the man on the shoulder, then Shuri's work takes hold and 1943 vanishes.

When the movement settles down and Clint looks around, the first thing he spots is Bucky and Cap. Shaking his head, he agrees with Cael, "You and me both." Raising his voice slightly, he asks them, "So, when I step outside, is it still the United States of America out there, or do I need to shoot you both?" It's not entirely clear from his tone if he's joking or not.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve and Bucky look... relaxed. Almost in a good humor. The big blonde soldier gets to his feet and dusts his hands off, then offers Bucky a wristgrab to haul the Winter Soldier to stand as well.

"Well we've been here about an hour, and so far all the radio stations are coming in with pop rock," Steve tells Sam. "And no one's announced mandatory reeducation time, unless volunteering at the local library counts."

He counts heads, and gives a relieved sigh. "I'm glad to see everyone made it home in one piece. You all did a good job keeping your heads screwed on straight. It was a bad situation and you all pulled through. Good job, people."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam doesn't look like he's all that affected by the sudden lurch of the ground beneath their feet, but dealing with the feeling of falling is kind of a cornerstone of his skillset.

    He sure as hell looks affected by coming back without the whole team.

    There's no telling what he would have done if Steve and Bucky weren't waiting there for them, because Sam's expression is suddenly closed off. Clint and Cael clap back, and Sam just tilts his head down as he digs around in the duffel bag still on his shoulder. It takes him a little bit, but eventually he finds his phone where it's buried near the bottom, and he taps at the screen. "Great," Sam says, voice especially even. He doesn't look up. Tap tap tap. "Uh huh. Yep."

    A few seconds later and then he's making for the nearest set of doors, phone to his ear.

James Barnes has posed:
    When everyone starts popping in, Bucky accepts Steve's hand up. "What took you all so long?" he asks. He does seem... well, a whole lot better than he did just a few minutes ago (to everyone but him and Steve). He still looks haunted, he still has dark circles under his eyes. But he manages a half smile that looks real, honest, not forced. That doesn't happen much these days, so...

    "I was just thinking we were gonna have to launch a rescue mission."

    Pale blues follow Sam's retreat to the doors. "Uh-oh, I'm sleeping in the dog house tonight..." It's a JOKE people, because they're sharing a room at the ... uh... Playground - seriously that name needs to CHANGE.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael pushes herself up to her feet. She looks around - her gaze taking in the others, taking in the way Sam is headed towards the door.
    Bailing sounds like //such// a great idea.
    She pinch the bridge of her nose. "I want something like a month off right now. But. ...we still have that damned clock out there. Do we need to saddle up and ride back to the port? We can't just leave something like that in unknown hands."
    Focus on the mission. Freak out later. Focus on the mission. Freak out later.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint rubs his temples, "God, I hate time travel." He looks at Cap and Bucky, "And I'm not loving you two at the moment, but I daresay that will pass. So you made it back, good. I can't wait to read the report on the whole thing." Ah, paperwork, then bane of all SHIELD agents.

Looking around at the group, he nods, "I agree with Steve, you all did really well. I know that wasn't something you're really trained for, but you kept it together and did what needed to be done. Cael, especially, given that you're not a trained SHIELD agent and are probably less accustomed to dealing with weirdness than the rest of us."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    A backup SHIELD team had moved in swiftly to recover the anomalous object in the shipping container, but it's long gone. Which does not bode well at all, does it?

    Time travel certainly has its list of protocols to follow, if the aforementioned "DO NOT" protocol that tops the list isn't followed. Which means all of the SHIELD agents get to endure a hell of a lot of debriefing once they get back to the Playground. On the other hand, Cael and Shuri basically don't have to deal with that at all... because one of them is the Princess of Wakanda, and the other one doesn't have any kind of clearance to get brought in. Sorry, Cael.

    Somewhere, in the dark hollow of a locked container, all three of the buttons atop the clock light at once, and the numbers on the face flip down from midnight.

    11:59.