6947/R.A.B.I.D. Assassins.

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R.A.B.I.D. Assassins.
Date of Scene: 15 July 2021
Location: Downtown Manhattan
Synopsis: An attempt on T'Challa's life is thwarted, freakin' HYDRA.
Cast of Characters: T'Challa, James Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Terry O'Neil




T'Challa has posed:
There is a podium set up in front of the City Building, a few flags for the United States, Wakanda, and New York standing on poles behind. The podium itself features the seal of the African nation, and a small group of dignitaries and city officials are seated to either side with a few pool reporters set up in front along with local youth seated behind them.

T'Challa, King of Wakanda, is speaking. He is dressed in a fine suit that features design elements that are a call out to Wakandan styles, stitched into the breast and arms especially, his hair and beard finely trimmed. "...and it is my sincere hope that through this partnership between the nation of Wakanda and the city of New York, the youth center we have offered this donation to will provide a safe place for the children of the surrounding area to go for entertainment, sports, counseling, and other needs. In my country, we know the value of a good education and the ability to grow in a nurturing environment, and I plan to be directly involved as well."

An oversized check is brought out, showing the amount that is being kicked in for the center. It is not insignificant.

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky is standing nearby, unobtrusively, in the crowd. He's dressed casually, looks like he could even be a college student based on the NYU hoodie, jeans and his hair tucked up under a baseball cap. The hoodie's a little out of place in the warm summer weather, but kids these days, right?

    Why's he here? Well, with HYDRA out enforce, he's taking it upon himself to keep an eyes where they might show, especially when someone in his small orbit of friends and friends of friends is involved. T'Challa is Shuri's brother, she loves him dearly, therefore he matters greatly to the former Winter Soldier.

    It's not a laser sight or anything so glaringly obvious that catches his attention from the rooftop across the street. No, only one trained as he has been to be the perfect assassin would even notice it. The slight glint of sunlight off the end of a scope.

    He doesn't think, in situations like this his training isn't in thinking, it's in reacting. In a heart beat, he's moving. Even with the serum running through his veins, even with the OBVIOUS 'enhanced' way he leaps over things and people in his way, he barely makes it.

    At the same time that he's attempting to knock T'Challa to the ground, that high caliber, long range round *PINGS* painfully off his left hand, sending vibrations up it and through his shoulder.

    "Are you okay?" he bellows at T'Challa... but he doesn't wait for an answer before he's up again and sprinting across the street.

    Press cameras flash, cell phones record, and Bucky Barnes uses brick, window sills and other impossible hand and footholds to scale the side of the four story building.

    "SAM! Someone just took a shot at T'Challa, heading east on the roofs across from the City Building, Manhattan! Get here yesterday! I'm in pursuit, but I need eyes in the air!" ... you know things are Really Bad when Sam and Bucky have taken to 'wearing comms' as the default mode. Cell phones are just too cumbersome when one of them's in trouble these days.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    The tv is on and showing the live telecast of the conference, but it's muted while Sam sits on the couch opposite, leaning forward on his knees as he skims another set of decoded files on his tablet. So it's Bucky's voice over the comms and not the sudden flurry of activity on the news report that draws his attention.

    "What?" Already he's on his feet. "Damn, okay, I'll be there."

    It's a good thing that Sam is just on the opposite side of Central Park when all of this goes down. The ascent to the rooftop of the converted Harlem brownstone he's camped out in is well-practiced now, and by the time he shoulders through the access door and out into the hot summer air, all he has left to do is zip up his tac jacket.

    He allows only a couple of seconds for the most bare-bones preflight checklist before he throws himself off the edge of the roof. The wings deploy, and then he swoops up into the air, gaining speed as he climbs.

    "ETA thirty seconds!"

    Sam gets there in fifteen, the EXO suit engines screaming overhead. He tracks onto Bucky's signal first, linked to the comm unit, and then he pulls back further into the air to get a better vantage point for looking ahead. "You got a description we can work with here?" he asks.

T'Challa has posed:
Seemingly out of nowhere, members of the Dora Milaje, one to either side of the arrangement, respond by rushing forward as Bucky barrels into T'Challa just as the shot rings out. It deflects away, thankfully without harming anyone, but it strikes Bucky's hand just about where the King's upper body would have been. The shot was meant to kill, but to do so in a more painful, less immediate way instead of a headshot. Whether T'Challa is aware of that yet or not is unknown.

He is also nowhere to be seen, suddenly. They have ushered him into the building and off to an empty room to check on him, to ensure his safety and well-being. "My King, are you..?" Okoye, his most trusted guard, asks as she moves to seek signs of injury.

"I am unharmed, thank you," he answers, his voice clipped, terse. Quickly, through use of the kimoyo beads at his left wrist, he pulls up a holographic image of the area in front of the building and within seconds it's recreated the shot, triangulating to reveal the location it came from and where it would have struck him. His eyes narrow, and after another moment he says, "I know the man who moved to protect me. I am going after the shooter. It is time to hunt."

By the time he's finished saying as much, his costume has replaced his clothing. "Remain here. Ensure no harm comes to anyone else." The Black Panther exits through a side door, quickly scaling the building before leaping across it. The pursuit is on, and he is not the only one on the move.

James Barnes has posed:
    "I dunno, Sam, maybe the asshole running across the rooftops? That a good enough description?" Of course, by now, there are two 'assholes' running across those roofs. The shooter had a good head start on Bucky, but that's not the only reason he's currently trailing a few roofs behind. That wannabe Assassin is FAST, has to be enhanced in some way. He's leaping from one building to the next in much the same way Bucky or Steve would; much like a Super Soldier would.

    *SLAM*

    A big old blur of a man - moving with that same serum blooded swiftness - barrels out of a roof access door and straight at Bucky. He's caught off guard, bowled over. He rolls out of the way and when he rights himself, that left hand drags against the tarred roof beneath him to stop his momentum from carrying him right off the side. He straightens, turns. His hat fell off somewhere along the way so his hair falls over his face with that head motion. It's not hard to imagine black paint around those eyes, a mask over the bottom of the face. But he's not the Winter Soldier today, he's James Buchanan Barnes, someone just tried to kill his kinda sorta friend by proxy because he's Shuri's brother and he's *pissed*

    "I got this Sam," he growls as he squares off against his the man that ambushed him. "Get the shooter."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "You mean the cyborg asshole with the staring problem?" Sam asks, because it's not like he's going to let Bucky's bad attitude go unchallenged. "You out for a light jog or something, Buck?"

    His attention has scanned forward, though, and Redwing helpfully highlights and enhances the distant figure darting across the rooftops like some kind of parkour prodigy in Sam's HUD. He says "I got eyes on him," just as the noise of some kind of impact comes over the comms from Bucky's end of the line.

    And of course Sam looks back. Just a quick check, though, and then his wings tuck in as he calculates the angle to bring him on a collision course with the fleeing would-be assassin and starts to dive.

    The wind whistles past his ears, and even with his brain fully in mission mode, Sam can't help but enjoy himself a little bit up here.

    "Might be enhanced!" Sam warns, which is probably kind of redundant since Bucky's already been bodyslammed, but it's why he doesn't concern himself too much with the force he puts into slamming into his target.

    Honestly, it's more for his own protection than anything that he brings both wings forward into a makeshift shield just before impact.

T'Challa has posed:
Silence from the Black Panther, both in word and in pursuit. The nature of the vibranium in his suit, especially in the feet, dampens sound so he can move without a sound. More beneficial at night, as it's harder to miss the sight of him in broad daylight, but the fact remains he is quiet. Very quiet.

He is also very fast. Even as Bucky and Falcon engage in the chase with a head start, the Wakandan monarch is closing ground rapidly and already sees Bucky dealing with someone else. He passes by, whether he's confident or not in Bucky being able to deal with the one who's interrupted him. He has eyes on a bigger prize.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Heads up!"

The familiar voice carries to everyone's comm unit, but also to Bucky's ears. Ahead of his target's travel path, a Quinjet is making a fast pass. It's too high up for interception...

Until a red white and blue blur drops from the open passenger door on a static rope line. Steve curls up behind his shield and gives the runner a hell of a vibe check by hitting him like a wrecking ball going well over 60mph. It sends the conspirator flying backwards with the sheer momentum of the hit.

Steve rolls across the asphalt and pops to his feet while the Quinjet pulls up again for another station loop. The familiar blue outfit acquires some stains but he looks none the worse for wear for the dramatic entrance. Cap grins fearlessly from under his helmet and drops into a guard stance behind his shield.

"Two on one, not much of a fair fight, is it?" he tells the fellow with an utter lack of sympathy.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
It is time to hunt, indeed.

Terry O'Neil was in the press for this particular event- how could he not, considering that this was part and parcel of his beat? He isn't as fast to react as the others, although he really should have expected /something/ to happen, given the people involved. People hit the ground, people panic, people run and disperse. Some of the more hardened journalists with a nose for news stick around but also seek cover to try to get something- anything at all and be the first ones with the scoop.

Boy are they going to be disappointed.

The burst of light and color that happens signals the presence of a certain Chaos Cat amidst the dispersing crowd, and Vorpal is left standing where Terry O'Neil used to be.

"Oh god, not that &*&@#$ showoff again-" that's Mandy Paris of the Evening Star. She's not a fan.

As T'Challa mobilizes, Vorpal wastes no time. He doesn't have a way to directly communicate with the assembling heroes, so he decides for physical proximity instead.

"Your highness!" comes a voice closing in on Black Panther. There is a Cheshire cat closing in on him astride what appears to be a glowing, purple-red magic carpet. "I hope you don't mind some backup. A sort of back-up contractual claws!"

James Barnes has posed:
    From Sam's vantage point up there, before he goes down for the shooter, he'll see that they might be in for more than they bargained. There's one more approaching from Bucky's direction and one from the other side of Sam's position with the shooter. Are there even more? Every one of them is moving with that familiar serum enhanced agility and speed. ...but they're even faster and able to make those leaps from roof to roof a little more easily than even Captain America; but a little bit.

    ...that may be why Bucky underestimates his opponent and winds up flat on his back on the ground, two hundred pounds of R.A.B.I.D. dog on top of him, wind knocked out. But he only takes a beating for a moment or two before superior training kicks in. *CRUNCH* Ouch, blood spurts from the rabid soldier's nose when Bucky's first move is just a surprise headbutt to the face. Once his opponent is seeing stars, the former Winter Soldier has an upper hand long enough to buck the weight off his body, shove off the wall of a man with one foot, sending him flying back a little and giving Bucky a little distance to stand again.

    "The eyes, Sam!" The other man's eyes? The whites are red. "... they're RABID!" He's had one other up close with these guys. Here's to hoping they reach their melting point soon!

    When the Falcon slams into the shooter, the guy staggers forward But doesn't fall. He catches his balance and turns those eyes, red bleeding into the blue irises, on Sam. He snarls, but then his attention is caught by the blur that is the approaching Panther. There's no hesitation though, no indecision, he tries to run right past Sam to finish the job he started.

    Some friends, man! Just leave a guy screwed! Everyone converging on the shooter leaves Bucky with the one that just took him down once and the other one that's, blessedly, about three roofs away. No, WAIT! BONK! Right into Steve's shield, the impact is enough to throw the one that was about to make Bucky's situation go from 'kinda sucks' to REALLY BAD off the roof and to the ground below. However, if Steve looks over? That asshat is up and trying to make his way back roofward and back into the fray.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Got another one coming up on us," Sam reports as he brings his arms forward over his chest. The impact his wings make with the shooter reverberates all the way up to his shoulders, and it's why there's a bit of a wobble to him as he rights himself in the air.

    From his wingpack, Redwing deploys with a computerized chirp, and then the drone is zipping up into the air for a bird's eye view. Redwing's camera feed is immediately piped into Sam's goggles. "And another one on your six, Bucky!"

    This is rapidly becoming an issue. One target became two became four, and with the added variable of them all being enhanced, the math is starting to not check out.

    And then Sam hears the distinctive sound of the shield rebounding.

    "Shouldn't you be all bundled up with a hot water and some chicken noodle soup?" the Falcon asks Cap over comms as he fires a high tensile grapple wire from his gauntlet towards the shooter he's pursuing. Except the rabid soldier suddenly doubles back, and Sam isn't aware of Black Panther's approach until Redwing brings attention to him on the camera feed, with a couple of overlaid question marks for good measure.

    The wire reels back in and Sam fires again, this time aiming at a leg.

T'Challa has posed:
"I see. What are we dealing with, Falcon?" Black Panther asks, his voice audible enough whether aloud or over comms they share. "And I notice the Captain is here."

He also..catches sight of Vorpal, sailing along on a magic carpet of all things. This throws his focus just enough that he corrects his path while leaping across a gap between buildings, still closing in on the shooter and the one who's now getting up on them. "I do not have time to watch your back, and I hope you have left the glitter behind this time." Someone has a good memory.

At least he didn't tell Vorpal to scram, but his focus is more singular right now as he adds, "Help if you can, but do not get in my way." When he's all business, he is at times blunt.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"There is no glitter. Only me." This oracular pronouncement is apparently deemed enough to assuage Black Panther's reservations- at least, by Vorpal, who leaps off the carpet upon reaching the next rooftop, the construct vanishing in a blast of light.

"And I never get in the way. Other people keep getting in mine, however." If he is fazed by the monarch's bluntness, he doesn't show it. This is because Terry has spent a year of having Raven's sandpaper-dry comments directed at him, and that means that by the end of the twelvemonth you are either a whimpering, sobbing mess on the ground, or you build up a skin so thick that you need vibranium needles to get a tattoo.

"Like, for example, this asshole." The Cheshire cat spots the approaching bogey and narrows his eyes, deciding on a course of action quickly.

See Vorpal open a pair of Rabbit Holes.

See Vorpal send the Rabbit Holes towards the approaching hostile, in the hopes of plunging him through one of them and, hopefully, causing him to be in a perpetual fall loop by placing the holes one over the other.

If he is successful, he will consider he has earned the right to say "I can appreciate the gravity of the situation, as you can see."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"You're starting to sound like Janet," Steve informs Sam. "I'm fine. Helen gave me a booster shot. It takes the edge off."

Cap looks around for anyone immediately rushing him and Bucky. He peers over the roof and whistles low as the killer starts scrambling up the wall towards them. "Definitely enhanced," he confirms, and touches his earpiece. "JARVIS, get everyone on the same comm 'net. Establish contact with the, uh..."

He stares at Terry. "The guy on the... flying carpet, if you can."

Steve drops his hand away and shakes his head, looking at Bucky. "They'll let anyone wear a cape these days, won't they?" he mutters at his friend. His handgun is drawn from the holster on his hip and offered to Bucky grip-first, along with some extra ammo. It's not a combat load, but it's better than nothing.

Steve scans the situation, assessing. "Falcon, I want you on overwatch and containment. Look for snipers and call out any runners. T'challa, don't let the gunner get to a better shooting position. Me and Buck will pick up the spares." He eyes the henchman who is currently experiencing endless freefall.

"I'm assuming that's the magic carpet guy at work, so tell him he's doing good so far."

Steve chucks Bucky's shoulder to get his attention and jerks his head towards another running moving to intercept, and breaks into a sprint to meet him head on.

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky's outmatched physically, by about fifteen percent if their files on R.A.B.I.D. are any indication, but he's not outclassed, not where it matters. He's trained, literally, his entire adult life for combat - and that time frame has been much much longer than most. He's taking some hits, one that popped a tooth through his bottom lip even, but he's giving better than he gets. He's currently backing his opponent toward the edge of the roof in a flurry of well placed kicks and jabs and then one final THWAP of a bitchslap from that left hand. The rabid solider hits the wall to the building on the other side of the alley and crumbles brick before hitting the pavement below. He turns just in time to take the handgun from Steve.

    When the shooter finds himself all tied up in Falcon's grappling hook web, he falls flat on his face. But it still doesn't stop the man. He's clawing and scrambling and still trying to just get his hands on T'Challa. It's a little disconcerting, the determination to get to his target.

    Terry succeeds and now the sound of 'AAAAAHHHHHHhaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH, can be heard echoing and fading in and out as the doppler effect plays with the sound, in and out of the Rabbit Holes, over and over again.

    Captain America's game plan, however, will prove to be pointless.

    Just as it seems T'Challa has vengeance in hand, it's ripped away. To the man, the rabid soldiers begin let out screams of unadulterated agony. They start... are they smoking a little? Angry blisters appear from nowhere on their skin before that skin just starts to melt and slide of their faces, hands, arms... legs... to reveal the bone beneath. It only takes a moment or two and they're all melted piles of goo. Even the one dropping endless through the Rabbit Holes is goo.

    Bucky's seen it once before, but it's still a little hard to stomach. He watches, blue eyes a little wide with the horror of it. He spits blood on the ground from his split lip. "Fuck, Fucking HYDRA man, just fuck'm," he barks out, his voice half growl and half 'crazypants'.

    Of course HYDRA would take a shot at the King of Wakanda. They think they have the US wrapped in a nice little bow, why wouldn't they try to destabilize Wakanda by taking out their leader? Maybe T'Challa's homeland is next on their list?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam turns in midair, the EXO suit's engine starting to roar as it spins up, redlining as it struggles to counter the super-strength pulling the wire he's holding onto taut. It's only Redwing's camera feed cutting in over the warning symbols flashing on his HUD that brings Sam's attention to the reason for the shooter's struggling.

    "This guy seems deadset on taking you out, your highness," Sam says, still holding on tight. And then he adds on a telling "HYDRA," with all the venom in his voice that a bunch of ex-Nazi extremists deserve. Which is, to make sure everyone's on the same page here, a whole damn lot. "Super soldiers. Slightly above Cap's baseline but with a limited halflife."

    He calls out for his drone and then there Redwing is, slotting itself back in the Falcon wingpack so that he can initiate full thrust and try to properly dislodge the rabid super soldier's grip, maybe whip him off the roof and against the wall of a nearby building. Spider-Man eat your heart out!

    Then Sam is withdrawing on Cap's orders, gaining altitude. "The enhancement process literally burns them up from the inside out. Get clear if the meltdown starts, still not sure if they have the capability to go supercritical or anything."

    Speak of the devil. Or the hydra, as is more appropriate. "Wow, that's..." Even Sam, with his medical training, sounds vaguely nauseous over the comm-line. "That is absolutely disgusting."

    He's setting down on the rooftop a few feet away from Steve and Bucky a few seconds later, his eyes pointedly raised upwards. "It's like something off of Cold Case Files," he mutters with a grimace.

    Yeah. Maybe he needs to find a new show for late night binging, after this.

T'Challa has posed:
"This, I can see," Black Panther answers as the shooter is caught up to and engaged in a fight. The warrior, suited to take after the feline Wakandan rulers are named as, claws at the gunman, who like the others appears to be altered or enhanced in various ways. Stronger, faster, tougher, but Black Panther gives better than he gets.

With the other one suffering the fate of Vorpal's rabbit holes building on each other, his fall appears perpetual. "Whatever has been done to them, they will not--"

He doesn't get the opportunity to finish. That's because, before their eyes, and before the eyes of Bucky and Captain America as well, their foes all begin to simply..fall apart, like the bad guys in Raiders of the Lost Ark. His instinct is to backstep a few paces, in case there is a contagion of some kind, even if he knows it is not likely. "To me," he gestures, both to Falcon and Vorpal as the bones begin to show. "Look each other over. It may be only something happening to them, but we must be cautious. I know nothing of this, and.."

His head turns sharply as he catches something from Bucky, even if he's on another rooftop. "This is the work of HYDRA?" he calls back over, narrowed eyes taking them all in.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry has seen a lot in his year as an official hero, but he hasn't seen /that/...

The snippets caught over the com are enough to give him time to close his eyes and turn away as the worst of it begins. But even then, once the worst is over, he still looks decidedly queasy. He is only nineteen, after all. The Rabbit Hole chain is interrupted and the goes.op falls to the rooftop, and the Cheshire cat takes a deep, shuddering breath. He looks unstead on his feet, but he does manage not to vomit.

Tossing your cookies, or anything else, in front of Captain America would /not/ do as far as giving a positive image of the Titans goes..

"That was absolutely ... futterwacked," he mutters, one hand across his stomach.

James Barnes has posed:
    Steve knows how twitchy Bucky's been lately when it comes to his oldest nemesis group and worst nightmare. He takes a moment to clap his old friend on the shoulder, grip firm, voice matching. "Buck, breathe, easy..."

    After a bobble headed nod from the former Winter Soldier and a steady, "Yeah, I'm good," Steve takes his leave via a line dropped from the quinjet that pauses in its pass over just long enough to make the pick-up. "Show-off," Bucky grouses.

    "Yeah!" he calls over to T'Challa. "It was!"

    To Sam, he just repeats, "Fucking fuck HYDRA, man."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "No, we've seen this before. It's some sort of internal chemical reaction, like when you apply heat to sodium hydroxide." Seriously. No more Cold Case Files, Sam decides.

    He's about to continue his explanation when the portals dissipate and the final goo pile hits the roof with a truly remarkable splat.

    Sam's forehead wrinkles as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Oh, great," he says, shoulders shrugged up nearly to his ears by the strength of a real full-body grimace. "Looking forward to hearing that in my head for the rest of my life."

    His left hand squeezes into a fist and he swallows, once, but then he has himself perfectly under control. Medical training! It has a myriad of applications even when one of his friends isn't bleeding out everywhere.

    "Redwing, let's get a sample," he says, and the drone, who doesn't even have a stomach, just chirps a pleasant midi-tone at him (to the tune of "You're my dad! Boogie woogie woogie!") before it detaches itself and hovers over one of the goo piles.

    Science-y things no doubt happen, but it's not like anyone's watching, so.

    After Bucky gets the usual Captain America shoulder-clap, Sam holds position until Steve's gone, and then he steps in. He gives Bucky a fairly subtle once-over and then nods with a commiserating, "Yeah, fuck HYDRA," which would be an in-joke between them by now if anything about this situation was funny.

    Instead, Sam just shakes his head.

    "Is your sidekick okay?" Sam asks T'Challa, because. Y'know. Cats, right?

T'Challa has posed:
"That is one way of putting it," Black Panther declares to Vorpal's colorful choice of words. If he is bothered by any of this, the faceless mask, only hinting more strongly at the feline visage of the panther, shows nothing. One might wonder at all of what he's seen.

Gesturing at the piles of bone and fleshy remains, he says, "None of this can be left for others to see. We will need to have a clean-up done." And it doesn't sound like he will be taking part in it. This is what they have others for.

After Captain America is seen off, he turns his focus toward Bucky. "It seems I have you to thank for preventing me from suffering a serious injury, if not worse," he begins, though his tone remains stern, clipped. "But if this is HYDRA attempting to cast Wakanda into chaos and turmoil, I must ask you to provide me with everything you know about..that." A gloved hand sweeps toward the goo piles. "This is a serious matter."

His head tilts ever so briefly in Falcon's direction. "I do not have sidekicks. He is Vorpal, a member of the Titans. And," he says, now facing the actual feline, "That was an effective trick, the portals."

James Barnes has posed:
    He's an asshole sometimes, everyone knows this. Especially when Bucky's feathers are ruffled over ... fucking HYDRA... he's an asshole. No royal title in the world is going to stop that. "Yeah, well, thank Shuri." She's the whole reason he was here to begin with. "...you'll get what you're asking for after I've had a shower and some fuckin' lunch. Shuri has my number, call me, we'll do tea and crumpets or something." What the fuck's a crumpet anyway? He has no clue.

    He glares immediately at Sam, mouth shut, keep it shut. But then he claps the Falcon on the shoulder and mumbles, "I'm going to Yonkers, see you at Steve's later."

    Without further ado, he takes a running start and leaps over to the next building, then the next, then to one more that's a little shorter than the rest... then down into an alleyway. He slips out the end of that alley and moves quickly away from the chaos still happening in front of the City Building.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal gathers himself enough to not be on the verge of horking. The thought of being T'Challa's sidekick is amusing, because of the feline connection, but alas, "He's right. Nobody in their right mind would claim me as a sidekick." The whole 'legacy' thing would have to come into place. And, the last time he checked, there was only one notorious person going by 'Cheshire'... and she was some sort of criminal.

And she wasn't even cat-themed or anything of the sort. The absolute gall and audacity that woman had-

"Thank you. They come in handy. They might still..." he glances at the piles of goo. Then he looks away and looks at Sam. "If this needs to be swept away post haste, I can open a Rabbit Hole anywhere, especially if I have an image. If you've got some storage place you want these gone to, I can do that."

He glances around again, and addresses the elephant in the room.

"... as you probably know, I'm also with the Daily Planet. I'm going to have to report something on the assassination attempt, since I was covering the press conference. But what about... " he waves at the goo. "This? And..." he glances as Bucky disappears, "... the participants?"

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Redwing's done and got that little scraped up bit of rabid super soldier goo stored up into some sort of internal compartment that Sam shudders to think about cleaning out, later.

    The drone is tucked back in its docking station a moment later, and that's when it brings Sam's attention to the news spreading about the attempted assassination. "Oh great," Sam says, barely holding back a groan. "We're trending."

    Which puts a timetable on what they're doing up here.

    He returns Bucky's glare, but does in fact keep his mouth shut. At least until Bucky's gone, and then he sighs. "I'll send over what I have on this," he says, and with a few taps at the control screen on his left gauntlet:

    Ding, you've got mail.

    "We have a sample. Unless you want to take something back to your sister," Sam glances at T'Challa for a yes/no on that one, "then I think we're good here."

    So after a moment of consideration, he shrugs at Terry. "The depths of space? Surface of the sun? Something like that? And then forget anything you learned about these guys," he's pointing to the goo (though not actually looking at it). "You'll be putting a target on your back in a bad way if you try to report on this. Everything else, we can work through the Avengers PR team."

T'Challa has posed:
"Get rid of it any way necessary, so there is no trace left behind," Black Panther says, then he shakes his head at Falcon's question. "Shuri does not need to see this. I trust you to keep me informed of what you learn." Since Sam's already secured a sample, there is no need to double up on it as far as he's concerned. Chances are he's still..perturbed over this whole thing, thinking much more about how this could impact Wakanda.

There is a frown behind the mask as Bucky takes his leave without giving him much to work with. So be it. It's Vorpal he answers. "It is as he says. I am aware you will not forget what you have seen. You cannot. But you understand the need to keep this away from the public. They already know an attempt was made on my life, and that I am safe. That is all they need to know at this time. I expect you will share this with the Titans, but as Falcon said, be very careful with what you tell anyone not connected to what we do. If you wish to speak further, contact me at the Wakandan Embassy, and coordinate with the Avengers as well."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Falcon..." Terry begins, smiling, "I work for Lois Lane. I already have so many targets on me just from that that I should be the spokescat for the chain. And that's before you factor in my public identity as a Titan. But I understand the importance of leaving certain things out of the public mention for the sake of an investigation or security. I worked with SHIELD people during the Doppelganger crisis without plastering it all over the front pages, after all. You can trust me to handle this delicately- just as I can intuit that 'officially,' only you, the Cap and His Majesty were present here and there was nobody else here at all that I can name, right?" he glances at Falcon so he can verify that- it wouldn't do at all to blow someone's cover just because they were decent enough to save another person from getting shot.

"I understand, your highness. I will let the Titans know. I only ask you that you keep us in mind as well if you happen to need extras to deal with a new Hydra threat. We may be kids, but we /did/ help save the world twice already." He pauses, and then adds, "And we also seem to be very good at getting sucked away into other dimensions and finding our way back. Just in case any of /that/ happens."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Yeah, but this is something that's--" And then Sam stops, his mouth flattening into a line as he nods. "Okay. Either way, it's best if none of the details about this get leaked, so I appreciate your cooperation. We can figure out some sort of semi-official statement that I can give you."

    He blows out a breath.

    "Right, okay. Captain America and I were here as private citizens to support King T'Challa's humanitarian efforts," he says, and his tone has shifted to something measured and casual, even though the general unease in his expression is still lingering. Maybe because he keeps side-eyeing the nearest goo pile.

    "We're both New Yorkers, and we wanted to show our appreciation for what he's done to help our city." Sam tips his head towards T'Challa. "And of course, we responded when the attempt on his life was made, though our pursuit of a..." He makes the mistake of trying to count the goo piles only to realize very, very swiftly that, nah, nope, he'll have Redwing do a post-battle analysis of the footage later. "A single unidentified hostile was ultimately unsuccessful. We'll of course do whatever we can to support the Wakandan Embassy and King T'Challa's security team to track down the person responsible."

T'Challa has posed:
Without need of doing anything special, Black Panther's mask retracts seemingly into nothing, leaving the visual of a high, smooth collar for the rest of the suit as it reveals his face and head. While his expression is hardened and serious, there is enough in the eyes and his tone to hint at a measure of warmth. "We are aware of the contributions the Titans have made toward keeping people here and around the world safe. Even if you do not think others notice, they do."

He listens to Falcon's statement before nodding briefly, sending a communications ahead to the Dora Milaje down below that he will return shortly, and all is well. "Though an attempt was made on my life during a ceremony to mark the donation from Wakanda toward the youth center previously discussed, I was unharmed thanks to the quick actions of what you would call a Good Samaritan." He pointedly does not name Bucky, for that is complicated and rumors might already begin if anyone caught a good look at the man and his shiny arm. "The threat has been neutralized and the people are not in danger. I wish to thank everyone for their concern."

He explains, "That is what you may print. Clearly, there is more to this than we can say, and while I am not certain what other targets they may have, or if and when they will try again, we will be on high alert for any other dangers. That is the best I can tell you off the record."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry makes quick notes on the statements, using stationary he produces out of a Rabbit Hole- because who needs pockets when you've got rabbit holes you can put anything into? "Understood. I'll get this over to the Planet for print, which should at least get some of the speculation to die down. Except for the crackpots out on the internet."

The internet was full of things you couldn't stop. Like that website full of drawings. God knows he's tried to get them to stop. Some people needed a life.

"Let's get this... cleaned up." A Rabbit Hole opens up and quickly syphons the remnants into the inky void of space. It is done /very / quickly, because otherwise he might end up sucking up /other/ things. Or people. And that's just not kosher.

"Cleanup done. I've got a Bullpen to go to... but please do keep me in the loop, I would appreciate it very much. Cap, Your highness, Falcon..."

And with that, he steps into another Rabbit Hole with the destination of the Daily Planet.

Stop the presses!