Getting with the Program 7: And We're Off

Summary:
August 25, 2014: The last few people board the Bus, and they start on their way to Syria.

Hangar 14 - The Bus

All matte black, this jet — heavily modified from a Boeing C-17 Globemaster — is enormous. The main pair of wings sport two huge jet engines each, and a second smaller pair of wings behind the primaries just ahead of the tail sport two more engines as well. Small porthole-like windows are scattered down the sides of the jet's body, and when viewed from overhead, the jet has a black-on-black SHIELD logo centered over its primary wings. When not in the air, the jet's cargo ramp is typically left open to allow people and supplies to come and go easily.

The inside of this cargo jet has been completely redone, outfitted to be used as an airborne mobile command station. The interior areas no longer used for cargo have been split into three levels — the topmost being a smallish command deck with a large bullet-proof glass skylight, the upper main deck divided into three comfortably sized staterooms and nine smaller bunk areas as well as a kitchen/lounge/dining area, the lower deck divided into laboratories and storage and prisoner holding/questioning rooms. The back fourth of the plane's interior space has been kept as cargo space, including room for two vehicles to be secured to the loading ramp.


Characters

NPCs

  • Redwing the falcon

Mood Music:

  • None

Sam Wilson shows up to the tarmac early on a cloudy evening. He's already in his full flight suit, goggles dangling around his neck. He's got one duffel bag at his side and another hoisted on his shoulder. And settled on the lower piece of luggage is… that can't be right. There's a blanket over it, but it looks like a birdcage. A really large birdcage.

He looks over the Bus as he passes underneath the tail, noting both its similarity to cargo planes he has traveled in before, and the extensive modifications to its flight profile. Should be interesting to see just what SHIELD has in store for him. May seemed, well, as close as May ever gets to excited about this plane.

~

Melinda May walks down the currently open back ramp of the Bus, the left half currently holding a standard black SHIELD SUV, the right half still completely free. "Wilson." Clearly, security alerted her to Sam's arrival, but NOT about the… "Is that a bird cage?"

She looks from the birdcage to Sam and back for a moment before adding, "If you have an owl in there, I will never let you live it down."

~

"It sort of is," Sam admits with a sheepish smile as he steps up the ramp into the plane. "This is platform nine and three quarters, right?" He laughs, then shakes his head. "The cage is just for the ride over. We can let him loose once we're in the plane — he won't cause any trouble." There's a short pause. "I mean, unless you have mice. If you have mice there will definitely be trouble."

He looks around at the interior of the ramp area curiously. "This is a lot nicer than most cargo planes. Smaller, though. What have you guys put in upstairs?"

~

Melinda May just looks at Wilson flatly at the insinuation that her Bus has a mice infestation. When he asks about what's upstairs she tilts her head in a 'follow me' sort of gesture. "Best way to find out." She walks up the ramp and stops at the doors separating the cargo area from what looks like a sealable lab area. "Science lab, and beyond that, cargo storage." She then indicates the spiral stairs so Sam can precede her to the upper level.

~

Sam looks up at the stairs, then down at his bags, then up at the stairs again. "I think I'll make two trips," he says, settling one bag down and gently hoisting the blanketed birdcage off of it. Then he heads up past May onto the next deck of the plane.

He comes to a halt as passes through a hatch into the carpeted interior on the middle deck. "Whoa. Okay. This is NOT what I'm used to. This is nice." He glances back at May. "You may have trouble getting me off this plane once we land in Syria," he jokes.

~

Melinda May rolls her eyes after Wilson then hefts the bag he set down and follows him up the spiral staircase. "She's on loan. Don't get used to it." She steps past him and lifts her chin slightly toward the smallish berths arranged on either side of this level of the plane. "No one's claimed their bunk yet, so you've got first pick."

~

Barton always appears in unexpected places. It's part of his charm. In this case, he's out in the kitchen area, cookie jar set on the table. In front of him, there are thin, metallic cylinders in groups of four apiece, and his quiver sits on his lap. One by one, he checks the tip, checks the charge, then sets it in a small slot in the quiver itself. One… then the next… then the next. To the side, his ever present cup of coffee.

"I've got top right. Number 3," is called out. "It's got my pillow."

~

Without needing any more encouragement, Sam heads straight over to the bunk farthest from the entrance, where he will deal with the least foot traffic possible. He pauses halfway when he spots Clint, and gives the man a quick nod of greeting. "Barton. You're in on this, too?"

But in case there are any other archers lurking on the plane to snag the prime spot before he can, he doesn't stop for a chat. He sets the cage — it's actually called a hawk box — on the lower bunk and stows his bag below the mattress with a practiced efficiency. He accepts the other bag from May with a genuine smile and a "Thanks," and gives it the same treatment. "For the record, bag one is firearms. Bag two is clothes. The box is a bird. You cool with birds, Barton?"

~

Melinda May narrows her eyes at Barton but doesn't comment. She finds his habit of sneaking aboard like that particularly annoying, but it's not like she's surprised. Well, maybe a little. After all, she'd gotten the impression the last time they talked that he wasn't interested in this mission. "Let me guess, the sparkly purple pillow your friend with the Mustang gave you." She nods at Wilson's thanks as she lets him take his bag, then steps aside to give him room to settle in.

~

"Of course I am. I had an actual date set up for this week and weekend. Why should I be able to make those?" Barton doesn't skip a beat as a hand moves across the table to nab a few more points and slot them into the quiver. It's a pretty cool gadget, all in all. Little blinky lights and everything!

A deadpanned expression meets May's narrowed gaze, and he looks away again, his brows creasing. "A bird? Not one of those parakeets that squawk all the time, right? Because if it keeps me from getting sleep, I'll be kinda annoyed."

Sparkly purple pillow… "Oh, no. That's Kate's." Barton chuckles as he pops the last tip into the bottom of the quiver. Next stop, the right shafting. "It is a sweet car, though. My pillow is the one that I found that didn't have too many bullet holes in."

~

"A falcon. Redwing. And if he hears you calling him a parakeet, he will chew your face off, so keep it down, yeah?" Sam says. He sounds serious, but it's hard to tell. "I could probably leave him with mom, but since we aren't completely sure how long we'll be gone and you said cargo space wasn't a problem, I figured, what the hell. He may even come in handy."

He gets his stuff stowed and then returns to the common area between the bunks. Looks like he's across from Clint's spot. "I was sort of kidding earlier, but I'm really kind of surprised. This isn't a transport plane — this is for long-term occupation. How long is this thing supposed to stay in the air for?"

~

Melinda May leans against the back of one of the lounge-type chairs filling the center space and crosses her arms seemingly idly. "Fuel reserves can keep her in the air for as long as twenty four hours." Of course she knows that's not what Wilson meant, but she intentionally chooses to take his question literally and answer accordingly.

~

"Back in the cold war, the US had an aircraft in the air 24/7. Refuelers had the code for 'the bomb'. In Vietnam, they had a plane they designated 'Crown' that stayed up for months on end. Pilots used to say that they only landed when they ran out of ice cream." Barton sounds distracted as he pulls shafting from a bag on the floor and starts to set it carefully into the quiver. The fletchings are a dark purple and black. Unspoken, 'This baby can and will stay up in the air for as long as it's needed.' That information is unclassifed (now).

Hawkeye looks towards the box, and it's given a steady look before, "As long as it doesn't wake me up, I'm good."

A swallow of coffee is taken and once everything is set and straightened, he pulls a string from one of the pockets on the quiver as well as a rather yellow looking ball of wax. "You get the whole tour from Agent May? Galley is that," and Barton points in ball of wax fist behind him. "Coffee is good."

~

"I was in the Air Force," Sam answers with just a hint of a chiding tone. "I know about midair refueling. I asked because this looks like exactly the kind of plane you put the President on during a nuclear war." He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks. "I like you guys okay, but I didn't pack enough deodorant for a deployment that long."

As for Redwing… "You've got coffee. What do you need sleep for?" Sam goes to get himself a mug, and throws May an inquisitive glance to see if she's interested, too. "But Redwing's chill. He sleeps at night, too. Just don't sneak up behind him or grab him or anything."

~

Melinda May lets the two men natter on about planes and mid-air fueling if that's what they want to talk about. The question about how long they'll be gone, though, she can answer. "I don't expect to be gone longer than a week." She shakes her head no at Wilson's offer of some coffee while he's getting himself a cup. "Wilson, do I need to secure special provisions for Redwing?" The falcon's a passenger also, so falls under her jurisdiction of securing supplies.

~

"Nah. Ours is better." And Barton says that with a straight face?

Rising from his seat, he puts the ball of bees wax back into a quiver pocket as well as the extra string. "Long enough for a potential girlfriend to erase my contact info from her phone." That's… about a week, yup. After no calls? Lost cause. "I'm gonna go check the top-maps again." Time to memorize the topography of the region. Whatever can be used against Hydra, will. Including high ground. "Give me a shout if you need me." Beat. "Welcome aboard."

With that, Barton tosses his arrows onto the his top bunk and heads towards the ladder leading upwards.

~

"Thanks, Barton. And don't worry — we'll find you another," Sam says to Hawkeye as he leaves, before turning back to May. "If you've got any uncooked meat for the trip, like chicken or turkey, he should be fine. He can hunt for himself once we're on the ground. Rabbit's his favorite, though, if you want to spoil him."

Then he glances over at the door Hawkeye left through. "If he's really worried about topo maps, I'll be able to scan that stuff in through the air. Memorization isn't really necessary." He waggles a finger between May and Hawkeye's last visible location. "Or is there some kind of issue between you two, and he just wanted to give you space?"

~

Melinda May shrugs lightly at the question about Barton but straightens up. "I think we have some, but better safe than sorry." And, she knows a butcher shop that specializes in Asian fare and does in fact carry rabbit. And snake. And other less common meats.

~

"Well, if you're buying special, try to get 'em whole. I'll do the trimming — raptors like to eat some stuff you wouldn't really expect," Sam says. Little could Hawkeye guess that his namesake's diet was a lot more likely to cause distress than its cries. He turns back to his bunk, tugging the blanket off of the hawk box and undoes the latch. "Speaking of which, guess I might as well get his perch and everything set up, if you don't mind."

He notices, of course, that his question about Barton was summarily ignored. So long as the two of them can work together without friction, he supposes any 'issues' won't be a problem, and May doesn't seem the type to let her feelings interfere with a mission.

~

Melinda May nods to Wilson and moves to step out of the Bus proper to place her call to that Asian butcher shop, and to have someone from Security go pick up the order.

Hangar 14 in what is marked as private property. Awfully honking HUGE hangar for a small-time airstrip, and SHIELD security at the entrances. Inside the hangar, the Bus is ready and waiting for everyone to arrive before takeoff, the back loading ramp lowered with a matte black SUV secured to its left side. Standing just past the end of the ramp, May is talking on a cell phone in rapid-fire Cantonese.

~

He said he would transport his own equipment, they said they would send someone to pick it up for him.

He said that he would rather do it himself, they said they were under orders.

He said 'Well tell the Deputy Director that there is no way I'm going out with her now.', they stared at him like he was clearly suicidal.

That is the entire conversation that got Tony Stark packed up into what would appear to be a regular U-Haul truck, but is in actuality designed specifically to carry the pair of suits he's opted to bring to this mission.

The truck pulls up to the hanger and Tony, looking pretty good for a man who is likely dying, jumps out of the passenger seat wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans over sandals. A pair of ray ban sunglasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he walks around to the back to check on his equipment, SHIELD agents already unpacking the suits which are locked in self contained energy reservoir containers that appear as thick as the armor of the Iron Man himself. "Be careful with those… you break it, you're paying for it.."

There's other things being brought out as well. He genuinely looks like he packed every possible item he could find, like a rich housewife going on vacation in South America.

~

Back inside the bus, Sam acquires a length of rope from the hawk box and, with a bit of ingenuity, secures it to a clothes hook beside his bunk and the wall next to the door into the command center. There's a nook here that will make a nice little habitat for Redwing, where the falcon will be able to people-watch in the lounge without getting in anyone's way. He lays the blanket down below the perch, then retrieves the man himself from the box.

Hooded, Redwing perches comfortably on the gauntlet of Sam's wing suit for the short trip to the familiar rope perch. Then it's short work to get a little basin set up for water: resealable Tupperware, to prevent spills during takeoff and landing. A few more touches and everything's good to go.

Sam glances out the window, and sees Tony doing his best Princess Vespa impression. With a sigh, he goes back down to the loading bay to greet the technologist.

~

Melinda May looks at the arriving truck and ensuing chaos, and is thankfully done with her phone call. She steps up the ramp to pull a control keypad from a storage space set in the wall then approaches the men unloading the equipment. She hands off the keypad to one of the men and looks at Tony as they start loading what look like cargo containers that open out sideways from either side of the giant bird's belly. "Mr. Stark."

~

"Agent." Tony watches the Agents handling his equipment with a critical eye, "I'm going to need some space to work." Nodding to one of the containers which he is defiantly preventing from being loaded as if it's just regular cargo. "These two.." Pointing to two of the smaller, but still relatively large containers, "Need to come onboard with me. I'm still doing modifications on one of the suits, so if we can put those where I can get to them… that would be super."

The glasses hide the worst of his sickly visage, but he's still not one hundred percent health. Even with the injectors. "I tried to tell them I would secure my own transportation… I've got a plane designed for this kind of thing… but of course that isn't acceptable at all." Sighing quietly with a glance around the hanger. Inwardly knowing they're going to say he's being difficult when he tried his damnest to get around this.

~

Sam bounds down the ramp, giving Tony a broad smile. "And I thought I was overdoing it by bringing a bird. You got an unfolding mini-penthouse in there?" He points to one of the side doors into the cargo bay. "You could set it up right there — balcony view and everything. Steerage, with all the comforts of home." He's had Tony on a pretty rigid schedule of injections, with definite positive effects on his mobility and energy level, but he's secretly hoping that having Tony under observation for a while will give SHIELD a better idea how to come up with a long-term solution.

~

Melinda May nods to Tony and looks at Wilson as he arrives from inside the Bus. "There's a lab just up there if you want to get started immediately." She looks at Sam, then reaches to heft one of the two containers that Tony is insisting on keeping close. "And there's a berth for you upstairs when you're ready to get some rest." She's being careful to NOT mention the inventor's current health, suspecting he's the sort to HATE being coddled.

~

"Damned place is filled with craters," Hawkeye slides down the ladder rather than actually taking rung by rung. Yup, he's been on this thing before and this time won't be the last. He wanders into the galley area, but not without a soft 'tsk' and a glance towards May. His words are for Stark, however. "Damn. You look worse than I do."

~

May and Wilson have just met Tony outside the Bus's cargo ramp to start loading his Princess Vespa level of over-preparedness (according to Falcon) into the giant plane's cargo area, and are preparing to get the inventor introduced to the lab area.

~

"That's saying a lot… I almost packed some stewardesses, but.. seemed a bit risque for a hush hush hero mission. After party? After party.." Tony replies to Clint, glancing in the reflection of one of the windows to brush around the strands of his hair from off his forehead. With his boxes going where they need to be, he walks backwards and snap points at everyone. "I'll be in the lab. I'm going to initiate a security circle for the next four hours. I have this little mynx I'm skyping with… so if there's cameras, you'll want to turn those off." Pulling a face, "And you might want to be ready with one of those.." Mimes like he's holding shock paddles, with a glance at Sam.

"Worth it. So worth it."

~

"Careful, Tony. If she's hot enough, I may have to let you wait while I take over where you left off," Sam warns with a smirk. One glance at May cools his bravado, though. "I, uh… I wouldn't' actually do that," he clarifies. "It's just part of our playful workplace dynamic." He glances over at Hawkeye as the archer appears, grateful for the distraction. "I think it's like rock stars. Kinda doesn't matter what he looks like."

~

Melinda May just raises her eyebrows at Sam. Like she's never heard banter before. She carries the container in her hands into the lab area and sets it gently on the nearest table. "Computers here are linked to SHIELD or can be run independently," she says to Stark. "Please don't hack them if you can avoid it. They're linked to the plane's flight computers. If you need access, just let Barton or me know." And with that she's fully ready to leave the inventor to 'his space' for the duration of this mission.

~

Logan all but appears at the top of the loading ramp leaning his back into the posh transport's hull and sipping from a weathered steel flask. For the most part, he's kept to himself, grabbing a few winks in a berth as far from 'central' as one can get on, well, a damn Bus. He's dressed in a sleek black and grey sneaksuit complete with trademarked cowl, currently resting down his back, and takes a moment more on those outskirts just to weigh the various members of the gathering team with enhanced senses and the measured eye of a veteran spook— one with a nigh-on legendary jacket, even if most of that shit -is- full of redacted redactions to the highest levels. Tony gets a nod as he passes into the jet, the runty mutant not housebroken enough not to stare, taking a long and assessing moment with the passing billionaire.

~

"Man, I was gonna volunteer to help, but not now," and Barton gives a theatrically disgusted look at the pair. Brows rise, "Yeah. Like rock stars. The more strung out, the more street-cred, yo?" He shakes his head at the sickly billionaire, "If you even think about putting the aircraft into a swan dive…" He's not above shooting the man.

In the galley, Hawkeye starts rooting through the cabinets, and there… stashed away in the back is his chocolate. Bite-sized Snickers. Score!

~

Falcon spots Logan for the first time, and starts. "Uh. Who's that guy?" he asks May quietly. Giving the diminutive mutant a once-over, he adds, "He's not going to eat my falcon, is he? He looks kind of… carnivorous."

Barton gets an amused look as Sam follows him back into the what he's involuntary starting to think of as the party deck. This is a really fancy cargo jet interior. "Relax. I don't think this plane is really his style of ride."

~

Tony walks backwards a few steps short of the loading ramp and shakes his head. Now that he's inside the ray bans are pulled off, folded closed, and slipped into the pocket of his jeans, "I am not a hacker…" He just has JARVIS take over systems, "And I'm not a prankster." That one is kind of a lie. "Also, I've met Keith Richards… once you get past the mobile dialysis machine, he's not a bad guy."

Turning as he nears the ramp, Tony returns the nod to the runty mutant. Not knowing any better, and probably not really caring even if he did, the stare is returned. Completely with a grin, until he disappears into the cargo hold and makes his way to the labs. "JARVIS, link me to my evening appointment, huh?" Glancing around, "And remind me to design ANOTHER plane for SHIELD? I was clearly drunk when I did this one."

~

Private airstrip. Unlikely HUGE Hangar 14 at this airstrip, with increasing amounts of activity by the currently open bay doors. Inside the hangar is, well, the Bus. The giant bird is currently waiting for everyone to finish boarding, her back cargo ramp lowered to reveal the smallish loading deck area and a black SUV secured to its left side. At the top of the ramp, Tony has just laid claim to the laboratory section of the Bus, and Wilson, Hawkeye, and Logan are all just outside of the lab's closing glass doors. On either side of the plane, side-loading cargo compartments now filled to the brim with Tony's accouterments are slowly locking back into place, and the SHIELD Security people are driving a van away to be parked nearby.

May simply turns to nod to Logan when he appears from seemingly nowhere, then makes a few terse introductions. "Wilson, Stark, Logan." Yup. No titles, no honoraries. Deal.

~

Agent May's terse intros are punctuated by equally simple nods from the diminutive bundle of muscle she introduces. If he regrets not knowing who might expect him to salute, it just doesn't show. "Yup." He confirms of his own identity, or perhaps finalizes his initial impressions of the other men, offering Sam a vaguely offended, "Falcon's safe, Birdman." That's one, at least, the Wolverine can guarantee. His attention shifts back to May after the introductions, and another swig from his flask, "Gearin' up to leave?" The only thing worse than flying: waiting to fly. Not to mention the pressing business at hand.

~

Kate looks like she's showing up for the hero intern meeting, in jeans and a t-shirt with her quiver and an athletic bag over one shoulder, purple-tinted shades pushed up on top of her head as she makes her way up the gangplank and toward the current crowd. "Hiya," she greets cheerfully, lifting a hand to wiggle her fingers at the group. Apparently, also not one for saluting.

~

Sam has the decency to look embarrassed when Logan gets an ultra-sensitive earful of what was supposed to be a quiet aside. "Sorry about that," he says, extending a hand. "Call me Sam. Nice to meet you, Logan. You SHIELD?" Unspoken: you don't look SHIELD. Whether that's a compliment or not is up to everyone else to decide.

But even Logan's not nearly as un-SHIELD as Kate Bishop, when she appears. Sam glances over at May for confirmation that this is indeed one of their team. "Hi?" he replies, crossing his arms less in sternness than to cover his disbelief.

~

Melinda May looks from Sam to Logan and back. There had better not be problems here. She has the right to kick people off her Bus before they get underway if she feels it warranted. And then, Kate arrives. And of course, Barton has disappeared again. "Bishop." The teen gets a nod, and then she starts up the spiral staircase leading to the part of the Bus where everyone will be spending most of their time. It's unsaid but heavily implied that everyone is supposed to follow.

~

"Sorta." Wolverine answers Sam. Or more accurately, doesn't really answer. The handshake is returned firmly, and to call the mutant's grip resilient is understating the fact. He's careful not to squeeze -too- hard with those adamantium-laced digits, however, grinning wolfishly for half a moment as he meets the Falcon's gaze evenly. "Let's just say I've got a particular set o' skills, bub." A wink is tossed flippantly with the lack of information, a moment spent considering Bishop as the girl arrives, and then he turns to follow May deeper into the belly of the bird as she passes him.

~

"Don't worry," Kate grins at the question in Sam's voice, reaching out to clap a hand to his shoulder as she falls in line to follow May on up. "I'm not actually in high school." That's reassuring, right? "Anymore." Maybe. Luckily, though, May is still within hearing distance, and even Kate knows better than to take things too far where she can hear about it if she wants to stay with the group. "What sort of skills?" she asks Logan as they walk, unabashed.

~

With a little bit of effort, Sam doesn't wince at Logan's handshake. His own is firm, but there's certainly nothing unusual about his grip. He answers the wink with a wry smile: "Yeah, judging by the people I already know, this group's all about particular sets of skills.

The black flier waits for latecomer Kate to pass him — Darlene Wilson didn't raise a punk — then obligingly climbs the stairs after the rest of the group. As they come into the heart of the plane, probably the strangest piece of decor is going to be a falcon perched on a wide arc of rope in a nook beside the command center. That would be the bird Sam was so worried about Logan going Sylvester on.

"That's alright. Plenty younger girls have gone to war," he answers Kate with a warm smile. "I guess I'm just wondering what scary kung fu you've gotta have to hang out with this crew. And also a little afraid to find out."

~

Melinda May leads the strange gaggle of people around the glass walled command center and toward the sleeping areas and looks at the five berths. Mental math… this is a problem. Wilson, Rogers, Logan, Barton, Stark, Coulson, herself, now Kate… there's not enough beds. She looks at the teen critically for a moment before saying aside, "Logan, move your things to the pilot's bunk."

~

Logan takes more interest in that bird than anything else in the command center, studying (and likely being studied by) the creature with a periodic tilting of his head hither or fro. It's through this interaction that he falls slightly behind the procession, drawn back into the present by May's instruction. There's a moment's consideration, followed by a simple, "Got it, Mel." before the Canuck moves to do just that. It's not like he packed a Princess-load like Stark— one duffel bag, and not even a very large one, that's all Wolverine has to retrieve.

~

"Jujitsu, not kung fu," Kate answers Sam with a flash of a smile. "And a few other things." There's the bow. And it looks like there's a sword in there as well. And something in the bag is clacking against itself or something else. "Okay, that's cool," Kate blinks when she sees the bird in the cabin. "Who's the bird guy?" She doesn't even move toward one of the bunks, taking her stuff over toward a couch to set bag and quiver in a corner of it as she takes a look around. The well-appointed jet, nothing new. But the bird? That's interesting.

~

Redwing is indeed watchful, returning Logan's gaze with his impassive, black eyes. He's a wild animal, but remarkably well-behaved for one. No tether, no hood: just an out-of-the-way perch with a good view of the lounge. Logan keeps a respectful distance, so the falcon does the same.

"I'm the bird guy," he admits, adding cryptically: "In more ways than one." After a glance at Logan, he nods at the man. "See how he's not trying to touch the bird, or run up at him or anything? That's the right approach. Redwing won't mess with you if you don't mess with him, and he's cool with people, but he likes his space and it takes him a while to get used to you."

He glances over at May, looking quizzical. "We need a bed? I can rough it. This carpet is hell and gone nicer than any mattresses we had in the Air Force."

~

Melinda May shakes her head no at Wilson as Logan goes to get his things. "It's sorted now." Her phone pings and she checks it, then looks at the others. "Redwing's provisions are here." She gestures Kate toward the berth that Logan just vacated. "All yours, fresh linens in the larder next to the galley." She indicates the closed door to the left of the open entryway that shows just a bit of some countertop surface and cupboards.

~

While he takes note of the small talk flitting back and forth around the Bus, Logan engages little of it, seemingly satisfied to survey the strange surroundings and observe the team occupying them instead. Sam definitely has the right impression of Wolverine and the bird of prey, however: he's already quite aware how to keep the falcon from trying to flay him alive. "SHIELD regulations." Wolverine does snark of the rearrangement, "Everyone's gotta be nice 'n cozy." The feral runt casts a wry look towards May and plants one broad shoulder against the wall adjacent to his new digs.

~

Kate quirks a brow at Sam, smirking faintly. "Did you just tell me how I shouldn't touch the strange animal?" she asks, hopping off the couch with her things when May directs her toward a berth. "Should I also not put my fingers in its mouth?" The smirk breaks into a grin as she winks and drops her things into the berth without really looking at it. "How about the outlets here? Are they safe to stick my fingers into?" And with those 'put away,' she goes back to the couch, dropping down and lifting her feet like she might put them on the table…for about three seconds before deciding the floor is actually a perfectly acceptable place for her feet.

~

"Great — thanks, May. Hear that, buddy? Rabbit for you tomorrow." That's right: Sam is talking to his bird. The falcon just swivels its head to contemplate Wilson with the other eye, and shifts from foot to foot on the rope perch.

Sam puts up his hands defensively, smiling at Kate. "Had to be on the safe side. People assume he's a pet. Like, a lot. That is not a line of thinking that ends well for them."

The former pararescueman also laughs at Logan's comment. "Yeah — I, for one, was not expecting to ride to Syria in a flying hotel. Not that I'm complaining. Beats a C-17 any day."

~

Melinda May looks from Wilson to Bishop, then leaves them with Logan spectating to go deal with the just-arrived extra foodstuffs. She's gone for several minutes, and when she returns with a Styrofoam cooler presumably containing Redwing's food, Coulson is following her while talking on his phone. She continues on toward the galley while the suit and tie agent proceeds straight up the spiral stairs without so much as acknowledging anyone else in the room. Must be that kind of phone call.

~

"Yup." Logan watches May dart out curiously, but can't argue with Wilson's analysis. Even if his general take on the Bus -is- a fairly sarcastic 'it's always nice to have heavy furniture when you crash'. Necessity is the mother of courage, however, and things certainly could be worse. Aside from only half-chuckling at Falcon's expense, Kate gets a completely deadpan, "Those outlets are completely safe. I tried." Don't try this at home, kids. When the Cavalry charges back through, it draws a renewed arch of the Canucklehead's dark brows, before he nods to the others and ducks into his— well, May's— berth. Where he will, suspiciously specifically, absolutely not eavesdrop on anyone else on the Bus.

~

Kate pulls out her phone now that she's settled in, flipping through a few emails and checking on some fun things. "No need to worry," she chuckles to Sam. "I am, in fact, more responsible than I look. Slightly. I manage to keep Barton on track most of the time, at least. Sorry, I don't think I actually introduced myself," she realizes, leaning forward to offer a hand. "I'm Kate Bishop, Hawkeye."

~

Barton's been upstairs and down so many times, and the thing hasn't yet taken off. One check on topography, another on buildings and structures in the immediate area, new and ancient. He passes Coulson on the way down, and doesn't bother giving way too much; a game of chicken on the staircase. Swinging around, once on deck, he looks as if he's about to pass back to the galley for more coffee when-

"Kate? You just get here?" Barton looks at the others before, "I'm grabbing a pot. Get it now." Coffee. His life's blood.

~

"Nice to meet you, Hawkeye," Sam replies, shaking her hand and offering her a friendly smile. "If we're doing codenames, I guess I'm Falcon. Sam Wilson until then, though, while we're just hanging out. Seriously. Otherwise the raptors theme is just getting weird." And he doesn't even know Clint's codename, yet.

Coulson gets a curious look, but then Sam simply shrugs. The man sort of seemed like a midlevel bureaucrat rather than a member of the team, anyway. Maybe he's in charge of refreshments and the inflight movie.

~

Melinda May returns from securing the falcon's provisions, but only long enough to say, "Taking off in fifteen, buckle in." The she disappears toward the cockpit.

~

"He really does mean literally grabbing the pot," Kate notes for Sam's sake. "So unless you want Barton cooties. Nice to meet you, Sam," she adds with a nod, kicking off her shoes before shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch. "I got here about five minutes ago, Clint," she answers the other archer. "I considered telling these guys I was part of the internship program, but I decided that probably wouldn't be useful down the road."

~

At the coffee pot now, Hawkeye considers drinking from the -pot-, but after a quick glance from one side to another, he pours it into a mug. Black and bitter. Just like he likes his… coffee.

Walking out from the galley, he pulls a chair out with his foot before flopping into the seat.

"While we're tossing around codenames, I'm Hawkeye." He looks sidelong to Kate and points in her direction, "Yeah, that's Hawkeye too." Two. As well. "Falcon, huh? Who'd have guessed?"

Fifteen minutes? Fifteen? Aw, hell.

"Let me just finish my coffee, then…" Yeah, okay. One slow sip of coffee, two… ow.. hothothot..

"Yeah, you're not. You'd kick an Olympic archer's ass. And outshoot him."

~

"Wait, what?" Sam's head swivels so he can glare at Clint when Kate rats him out. "I've already had some of that stuff! Not cool, man!" Redwing is also looking especially fierce, somehow: perhaps he's feeding off of Sam's general attitude. Then, Sam-falcon narrows his eyes. "There's a simple way to solve this 'two Hawkeyes' thing, you know. Air Force rules. First one of you to do something really dumb gets a new handle based on it."

~

"Damn straight I would." Kate grins over at Clint. "Hey, I met another person in our line of business down at the range yesterday, now that you mention it. Roy Harper, Checkmate? Not a bad shot, but you should see the shape of his bow," she shudders. At Sam's suggestion, Kate snorts back a laugh, inspecting her phone carefully in a failed attempt to hide her expression. "If those are the rules, I've been the real Hawkeye for a long time," she snickers, casting a sidelong glance toward Barton. "We're good, though. You could sort of call it a master and apprentice thing. We're the dread pirate Roberts."

~

"Yeah, well I had it first. Then, everyone thought I died, and she got my bow and my name. News of my death were greatly exaggerated, and when I came back, she offered to give it back, but.. nah. I changed my name for a little bit but it didn't fit. So, back to Hawkeye, and she's Hawkeye." It's like a royal title! As far as Barton is concerned, it is.

The coffee pot thing is given a mild shrug; he's not worried about it. He has his cup of coffee! His life's blood is assured.

"Wasn't ever in the Air Force," Barton begins, his tones sounding a touch wary now. "What's in—"

*beep*

The sound of a text coming in on his phone.

Pulling the cell from his pocket, he thumbs down, looking for the new message. "Ah.."

Now, Barton is a touch distracted as he begins to type out (slowly) a return message. "That's actually a good way to look at it. The Dread Archer— what? You met Harper?" Oh god. "You're -not- joining Checkmate."

~

May's voice calls out over the intercom. "Ten minutes. Barton, put a lid on that coffee and sit down."

~

"Well, if you two have it worked out, I guess that's okay. But now we really better hope we're just going by our names, because Hawk, Hawk, Falcon, and a falcon sounds like either a really bad comedy act or an even worse band," Sam says with an amused smile. "And rest assured, I'm actually good at telling whether someone's dead or not. They trained me for it and everything. If either of you get your asses handed to you, I'll be the one you want to call. I'll be there as fast as my little wings can carry me."

~

Kate points a thumb not-so-covertly toward Barton when Sam mentions people getting their asses handed to them, grinning. "Who said I was going to join Checkmate?" she counters Barton's statement, shifting on the couch until she can find the seatbelt. Because she's not getting in trouble with May. "He was kind of cute, though." And it's possible she's watching for the reaction to that.

~

"Yeah, I noticed he was favoring… everything," Sam comments wryly when he catches Kate's gesture. "But I figure it won't affect his performance, or he wouldn't be here. Anyway… I better get my stuff secured before we take off. Guns, y'know? Less forgiving of bumps than your typical bow and arrow.

~

"Anything the Mongols would travel with," Kate winks to Sam's comment about guns and bows, getting herself strapped in for take off. "Talk to you later, Sam," she waves, looking back to where Barton is very carefully getting himself strapped in with coffee in hand. Which, conveniently, saves him from having to respond to Kate's comment about cute archers. Clint's not stupid, after all. "Hey, do you guys think I need to turn my phone off for take off?"

~

"Yes," comes May's voice from the intercom system.


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