Coulson Comes Prepared

October 12, 2014: Given those who have gathered in SHIELD Medical, one thing is certain. Coulson comes prepared.

The Triskelion - New York City

The Headquarters, Armory and Fortress of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics division is, for the most part, an unassailable tower in the midst of the diplomatic sprawl that is Midtown East. The primary intelligence clearing houses and most of SHIELD's senior leadership are all housed hear, along with a veritable army of agents and staff to keep the place running, the world spinning and the weirdness at bay.



  • SHIELD Medics

Mood Music:
"Sunglasses at Night" by Corey Hart

SHIELD Medical. It's a popular place. At least, Darcy wishes it was. Because after Leo left, she got to sit there, staring at hte ceiling, enjoying hte new prescription. No comment about the Doctor Who Leo gave her face or the new bright red hipster glasses. She's never giving them back! Ever.

WIth a sigh, she dropsher head back, praying for her iPOD.


The stink. Every step down the corridor sends those that may be passing in the opposite direction scurrying. Clint Barton is a man on a mission. He's got his arm wrapped about his ribs and he's sporting more than a couple bumps, bruises and contusions along the way.

And he smells like the Gotham sewers. No, worse. Stagnant, fetid, out of use Gotham sewers.

Rounding the corner, the door opens to him, and the moment it does, Clint is nose to nose (almost literally) with one of the duty nurses. At first, she looks as if she's happy to see him- and then…

"Decontamination. Right now, Agent Barton. And your clothes. Incinerator."


"Oh, that's just bloody brilliant, Simmons!"

The bickering tends to precede Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons everywhere they go. Such is the price one pays when one is within earshot of brilliance. This time, it's Fitz who is virtually dragging Simmons into the medical wing. "Let me get this straight. You can't make the dosage high enough without exceeding the flashpoint specifications, which means that my Night-Night Gun is worthless. Oh, unless I can somehow come up with enough vibranium or adamantium to outfit enough barrels for production, which you and I both know is physically impossible!"

The glass doors leading into the medical bay begin to open for Leo, but he's walking too fast, and bashes right into them. They jam for a moment, then begin to close up on him, so he opens his arms out to either side with an upset look upon his face and cries out, "Wot the hell!?"

Looks like he just missed getting into medical on the coattails of Barton.


"Language, Fitz," Simmons tells him with a shake of her head. Only a step behind him, but clearly already rolling her eyes at his assessment of her findings, the biochemist sighs and shakes her head. "Like I told you, it is quite a volatile substance. It's much like anesthesiology, which is incredibly dangerous if the proper dosage per weight is not administered. And, beyond that, you know how volatile dendrotoxin is." Her voice doesn't raise, but there is certainly the normal edge reserved for discussion (arguing) specs with Fitz. "Perhaps if you could find a way to lower the friction necessary to fire the bullets?"

As she's walking slower and slightly behind Fitz, she's already clear by the time he runs into the door and then slows. As she approaches, they automatically start to slide open again and she gives her research partner pointed look. "And I wish you would stop calling it that."


Coulson is en route to the Triskelion. Some agents actually get to go home, or wherever they're staying, until the agents under their change indulge in an old fashioned SNAFU. He's reading the reports as they come in, multitasking. Only something like this would get him a call at O-Stupid-Thirty at night/this morning. Let's see. There's a Fitz, a Simmons..big shock there. A Barton in Gotham Sewers and currently in decontamination — mental note: bring Barton some Febreeze and a Shawshank Redemption joke. Oh..well..this. This is new: A Darcy Lewis is involved..weird. I thought she just followed Foster around and drooled after Asgardians. Well, this is a welcome change. On his way, he makes the requisite stops at a drug store. He tosses a message ahead, to find out who's gonna be in medical still and who's going to already be hemmed up in debriefing. If it's one thing that's for sure, never a boring night with SHIELD.

At least there's coffee. They do brew some decent joe.


Darcy lifts her head as the doors open for Barton. She starts to smile, when Pain-In-My Nurse cuts in and Darcy rolls her OH MY SWEET BOG OF ETERNAL STENCH! Darcy gags, coughing and turning to try to hide from- "Ohmygod, Hoggle. Seriously, dude! Shower!" More coughin more gagging, more missing who else walks in because of Wall-o-Clint is going to kill her, she swears to jesus.


Nose to nose. Literally. Barton looks down at himself and he exhales in a sigh. "I know…"

"Now, Agent Barton."


Those entering behind him, the two- "Oh, hey, did you get my request for-"

"Now, Agent Barton."

Decontamination. Stepping to the side, the stinky agent in question looks to the side door with the biohazard markings all over it, complete with a red light on the top of the door to announce if it's being used or not. "Okay.."


Fitz is busy trying to push those doors open when they suddenly slide open for Simmons. "Brilliant," he quips drily, before turning to discuss (argue) further with his research partner. "Yes, of course I understand it's volatility. What do you think this is, eighth grade science fair? But there's simply no way to lower the friction without increasing the stock weight, and you and I know every field agent will… wait a moment!"

If one had eyes to see such things, they just might have seen a light bulb going off above the young scientist's head.

"Self-propelled rounds." He turns back to Jemma, reaching out to grasp her by the shoulders. "Self-propelled rounds, Simmons! All we need is a meticulously perfect design to the shells themselves, and we've got it! Aerodynamics. Oh." He snaps his fingers three times, eyes squinting closed as if he was trying to remember something else. Something… else…

"Oh, right. Medical." He pivots about to locate Darcy's cot, and points right at her. "Darcy Lewis. She might need your help, wot in the hell is that God awful stench!?" The poor guy's got a hyperactive brain, and it manages to change from one thing to the other without missing many beats. His nose, however, has finally caught up with his brain, and now his eyes are looking about in putrid objection to that smell. When they finally land upon Barton, his nose and face scrunches all up, and his eyes begin to water. He looks from Barton to Simmons, then back to Darcy, and suddenly goes bursting toward the research lab that neighbors the medical facility in a full-paced run.


"You can't force automatic doors," Simmons tells Fitz gently as she sees him struggling trying to get through them and into medical. As she moves forward, her eyes light up just as easily as Fitz's do at this sudden brilliant idea.

"Oh! Fitz! Yes, that's brilliant, it would keep the weight down as well as the drag and the heat. We'd be able to inject the proper dosage without worrying about heat rendering the toxin either useless or backfire explosive!" The British scientist clasps her hands in front of her in excitement as Fitz grabs her shoulders. They've stopped moving for the moment, only starting again once the train of thought is picked up again and she's led to Darcy's cot.

At the sudden smell assaulting them upon entrance, Simmons wrinkles her nose and gently places a hand it and her mouth, making it easier to breath. She's a scientist and used to horrible smells, but that doesn't mean that she is impervious to them. "Oh, don't be just a baby, Fitz!" she calls after him, "It's just a bit of stink! Also, you didn't tell me is wrong with Ms—-!" But, he's gone and Darcy is right in front of her. Lowering her hand, she smiles at Darcy. "Well. Hello. Fitz mentioned you migh tneed my help. What might the problem be?"


Coulson arrives a few minutes later. Let's see: Sunglasses? Check. Suit? Check. Sidearm? Check. Febreeze? Check. Clothespin? Check.

Making his way to the medical ward, he gets a couple of corridors away when he begins giving a couple of sprays ahead of him as he walks. *spritz spritz*

"So..what do Barton, Fitz, Simmons, Darcy Lewis, and the medical unit all have in common?" he asks no one in particular as he makes his way, "I have to deal with all of them on a regular basis." he says flatly, as he starts in towards the medical unit.

"Coulson. Stop. Now" his second nature warns him, three steps into the medical unit. *spritz spritz* His Seasoned Agent(tm) senses are tingling.

And then Leo Fitz goes storming past him to the research lab.

"Fitz." he says, casually, by way of greeting.

*spritz spritz*


Darcy is cursing her choice of the corset-style top of the red and black school girl outfit that she's STILL wearing. She curls her knees up as high as she can while curling her shoulders down so she can grab the hem of hte short pleated skirt to cover her nose and mouth with.

Calm down! She's wearing spanky shorts underneath!

"I didn't do it," she calls out to Leo just as he turns and runs for it. Jemma at her side draws her eyes and Darcy's forced to shove those red rimmed glasses up higher on her nose in order to see the biologist person more clearly.

"…Hell if I know. But he Who'd my face, so blindness is not one of my problems right now. He said I was on drugs, but I'm not. At least, not that I know of. I don't think Rob snuck a roofie in my ice cream, but that was before Chuckles open fired on the front window and Ninja Nanny frowned at me."


Poor Agent Coulson. Agent Barton is home from assignment. Of course, the first night home, what happens?

Gotham sewers.

As the archer opens the door leading to decontamination, he catches the departing Fitz. Or is that the rapidly fleeing Fitz?

No matter. He's in, and the light above the door begins to flash. This'll take a little while…

In the meantime, however, one of the duty nurses is readying an exam table for the Agent from the Black Lagoon when he emerges. Complete with gown.


The door to the research lab is sealed, and soon enough, Fitz can be seen peeking through the window, his face still contorted. One hand goes for the intercom, and his voice comes through into the medical bay with the tinny, filtering of a comm system. "It's not 'stink'," he complaints. "It's like putrid, decaying animal feces, mixed with yesterday's meatloaf and a two-weeks old ham and cheese sandwich!!"

You know, for being so disgusted by smells like this, he's got quite the ability to describe them.

"Agent Coulson, sir." A simple greeting and acknowledging the senior's presence, of course!


"Alright, I think you may have to go back to the beginning," Simmons tells Darcy kindly as she attempts to understand what in the world was just said to her. However, as she speaks, her eyes focus on the glasses she pushes up on her nose. "Is that…?" Reaching her hand forward, she stops right in front of Darcy's face, fingers outstretched to pluck the red-framed glasses off of her face. "Fitz gave you those, I'm assuming?" She raises an eyebrow, "May I?"

Though her eyes still water a bit through the stink, she smiles at Agent Coulson. "Agent Coulson, sir," she greets as cheerfully as she can manage under the circumstances. Without turning, she calls over her shoulder to the blocked off Fitz, "See, look, Agent Coulson is taking care of it and Agent Barton is already in decontamination." He's Febreezing, Clint is showering - that should at least help the matter. She smiles at Darcy, confiding to her, "He has a bit of a delicate stomach. One time at the academy, I was mixing an organic compound and he got sick in the corner. Poor thing."


Coulson does not make a move to remove the clothes pin. Nor does he put down the Febreeze. Giving spritzes here and there as he moves. "Simmons." he says holding a hand up in greeting, "Miss Lewis, good to see you again." he says, giving the woman a sidelong glance, "Nice to see you without the entourage of Astrophysicists, demigods, or interns.." he says, smiling. He goes over to the nurses station, and speaks with them a few moments. Afterwards, they hand over to him a few items, each one wrapped in an evidence bag. He nods, holding onto them as he makes his way over to where Simmons and Darcy are, since Fitz is researching and Barton is getting the Silkwood treatment.


"He also turns the most adorkable shade of red when you mention potential threesomes," says Darcy to Jemma, smiling brightly now that Coulson's come in with the fabreeze.

"Hello, Mr. iPOD Taker Man in Black Guy. Nice to see you too. And I miss my intern. Staple running is lame," she says to Coulson, without a touch of formality. That Jemma's reaching for those red glasses has Darcy leaning WAY WAY back and away from her hands, and trying to bat at Jemma's hand lightly away from her face.

"My glasses. Get your own," she quips gnashing her teeth for good measure, because Darcy's an effing college graduate and that's what you do.


Oy. So that was Special Agent Barton? Fitz peers past the others and toward the decontamination area, expression boggling for a moment. One might be able to discern the gears… spinning. Give an engineer and weapons specialist an idea and he'll come up with twenty. He promptly slides a notepad over and begins scrawling stuff down in rapid fire with a pencil. This could be terrifying.

His hand darts over to the intercom again, opening the channel. "She forgot to mention what was in that c" he starts to defend, when Darcy's words have him choking up on himself. "om.. I didn't, not what she, of course I'd never, but it…" The intercom gets shut off, and whatever else he says goes unheard by the others, but that mouth is definitely moving. He's not going to mention that Darcy's glasses are, technically, not hers. They aren't even technically his, even though he designed them. They're SHIELD property, of course.

Oh, what the hell.

The hand comes up to the intercom again. "They are SHIELD property, of course." Another click, and it's back to the scrawling of pencil upon paper.


"Actually, I believe they may be Fitz's," Jemma replies to Darcy with a straight backed and professional cripsness to her tone. "They're screeners," she explains. "Fitz designed them to match a person's prescription by using micro-packets of nano-silicone. Of course, I came up with the biological algoriythm responsible for being able to track each drug's effect on the human body, but he was the one that designed the lenses."

Though, she can't help but grin at the mention of Fitz's reaction to threesomes. She can only imagine. "Yes, I'm sure. He can be quite adorably shy on the matter." Pause, then much faster, blushing herself, "The matter of women, that is, not threesomes." As Agent Coulson appears, she smiles. "Perhaps you could shed some light on exactly what it is that happened to Miss Lewis? She mentioned something about Chuckles? And a nanny? And being drugged?"


Agent Coulson looks down, "Well technically, it's more of a light charcoal than black." he remarks, neutrally, looking down at the suit he's wearing. He smiles, though, holding up the bag, "Sorry, evidence. I also have Barton's stinky yet still helpful sunglasses." he looks to Simmons, "You'll enjoy those, I'm sure." and meanwhile, the whole talk of Fitz, Women, Threesoms, and blushing go absolutely unphased with the senior agent, because let's face it - Coulson has been there, done that, and has a lovely wardrobe of shirts or at least a graveyard of skeletons in his closet. "Well, that's what I'm still trying to get to the bottom of. Though I'm sure Barton will help with that when he smells less like the south end of a northbound mule." he says, "We're waiting on lab results to help with the drug.." he turns back to Darcy, "Okay, so..take a deep breath, and tell me exactly what happened." he says, before turning back around behind him and looking towards Barton's decontamination chamber and spritzing a couple more times.


Seeing Jemma blush now has Darcy laughing.

"You're both adorable, and Leo's on restraints duty. He promised he'd bring some. I'll supply the drinks, so you're on whip cream duty. Trust me. Whip cream is a must," Darcy states, pushing those glasses up her nose again.

"Yeah. You did sciency things, he waved a Harry Potter wand in front of my face, I'm still keeping them until a new pair come in. Because I don't have a clue where my old ones are."

As requested by Coulson, Darcy takes a deep breath as she turns her green eyes to him. A tiny smile, almost girlie, and she starts talking again.

"I had a night off, so I went to Gotham to watch the derby bout between the 'Girls and the Liberty Belle from Philly. I figured I'd wear my old Jersery colors, which ended up being the same as the Gotham colors, so I wasn't completely out of place. After the game, I had a few drinks with the Girls, then left the bar to get home. Buses stop running stupid early in Gotham and so I was walking, when — I shit you not — Tuxedo Mask flew in out of no where and yanked me up to a rooftop.

"…Okay, so his name's Robin and he hangs with a Nightwing and a Batman, but whatever. He's car is fucking hot as hell, and I'm still not forgiving him for enacting the Panties Must Stay On rule for the car. Hood perfect to-… Sorry. Getting back to the point.

"He thought I was some notoriously evil school clown girl, Harlequin, and was trying to.. I don't know arrest me or something? But when he realized I wasn't, he apologized, and I demanded he take me for ice cream. He thinks Cold Stone Creamery names are stupid. Naming a car the Red Car is even stupider. Some clown with green hair and a purple suit used a gold AK to open fire on the front windows before I could getting into the naming of vehilces with him. May showed up. Some dude drove his motorcycle into the wall, and then the White Rabbit was telling me I was going to be late for work and the Mad Hatter was inviting me to my unbirthday party….

"And then Prince Endymion smashed my face in with Pluto's Power Staff."

Joker Hallucinagens. Robin attacked his car thinking it was a dinosaur.


The light above the door changes from red to green, and the sound of automatic doors comes from within the decontamination chamber. Finally, Barton emerges, towel wrapped around his waist, his expression unamused as he barefoots it out. "Okay, who took- Oh, hey, those are mine." Clint points to the bags now in Coulson's possession in 'evidence bags'.

When Darcy begins her story, from beginning to end, that causes the archer to pause and his head cants. "I've heard dumber. Like, the 'BatBoat'." Which is what got him out of the sewers last night. But still, he's trying to make heads or tails and somehow, either he needs an English to English translation or he needs it written in a report so he can follow it. (The 'Panties must stay on rule' is more than a little distracting.)

"Agent Barton…" a nurse calls out. Clint waves a dismissive hand in that direction as he works out Darcy's story, though he does give a nod to the one remaining R&D scientist.


"And the retinal mappers," Fitz adds from the other room. "I designed those too." Click. Beat. Another click. "But yes, Simmons helped to program the pattern-to-synthesis algorithms that enable the retinal scan to fabricate the nano-silicate synthesis procedure."

He scrawls a few more times onto his tablet of paper, then eyes the medical room through the separation of glass dubiously. The pane of separation seems to keep him safe enough from Darcy's sassing to keep him from blushing, but everyone knows it's only a matter of time. He's got that fair, Scottish skin, after all.

Another click. "Read her chart," Fitz declares. "Says the medics were flushing her body of hallucinogens." He says this with a scowl. SHIELD agents on drugs? Pitiful. Then again, Simmons is bound to have an absolute hay day with Darcy's labwork.

Once Barton emerges, Fitz considers it safe enough to emerge from the research lab. He does so, coming back into medical with a hesitant look on his face and slightly flared nostrils. He sniffs at the air a few times, then eyeballs the Febreeze bottle in Coulson's hand dubiously. "Positive thinking, sir. Always be prepared for nasty situations." Then, he promptly walks over toward Barton, offering his steno pad, upon which are scrawled approximately 23 concept ideas for radically new and creative arrow-tip designs.


Eagerly, Simmons takes the evidence bags from Coulson and places them on the table behind her. They'll go into the lab first thing. "Of course." Despite the smell, she may still be able to get some evidence from them. She glances up as the door opens and then quickly averts her eyes, blushing at the bare chested Barton as he emerges. "Well, yes, of course," she flusters. "And they're still yours. I'll be sure to return them to you once I've gathered all the evidence. And cleaned them.


Eagerly, Simmons takes the evidence bags from Coulson and places them on the table behind her. They'll go into the lab first thing. "Of course." Despite the smell, she may still be able to get some evidence from them. She glances up as the door opens and then quickly averts her eyes, blushing at the bare chested Barton as he emerges. "Well, yes, of course," she flusters. "They're still yours. I'll be sure to return them to you once I've gathered all the evidence. And cleaned them."

As for Darcy's story, she raises an eyebrow and is already reaching for her chart and looking into the silver lenses even as Fitz asks her to do so. "I know, Fitz!" she trills behind her, though she is still blushing at the suddenly almost naked agent has emerged from decontamination. Attempting to focus, her eyes scan the chart. "My, these readings are remarkable. Look at these: deliriants, psychadelics, even traces of dissociatives…these are incredibly complex chemical bindings."

Eyes study both the chart and Darcy as she works. "Blood work has been done on her, I'm assuming? I'd love a few samples to take back with me to see if I can isolate some of these things, see if I can find a working antiserum." Though she was not talking to Darcy at all while speaking about her, she focuses on the other woman again. "Are you still feeling the effects of the hallucinogens, Miss Lewis?"


Agent Coulson listens to Darcy's story and nods, "Ahhh, okay. This all makes sense. You ran into what SHIELD considers "Indepdent Assets" within Gotham, while being mistaken for one of their hostiles, she was inadvertantly attcked by one of their heavy hitters who has been known to employ terrorism, mass murder, hysteria, and..well, obviously, toxins." he looks over to Barton, "BatBoat? Yeah, that sounds about right." he says, nonplussed. "We have an..understanding with Gotham." he says, nodding. "We don't intentionally interfere with Gotham, and whatever is in there doesn't get out. Intentionally."


"Yeah, well, a company memo would be nice. My night wouldn't wouldn't have been ruined by a dick measuring contests between baby Robin and a purple cat," she snips, sounding a bit grumpy about it before looking to Clint and smirking. "Bat-boat. Seriously? Fuck. I told Robbie that he needed a new PR department. Names are stupid as hell."

Looking at Leo, Darcy's red stained lips smile broadly as he comes in then goes to… oooo hello NURSE! Archer… person in just a towel. Darcy leans over for a better look since mostly naked didn't register until JUST NOW.

"Yeah. Sure. Why not? If you draw enough blood, maybe I'll be too woozy to run post-it notes to Fred's office."


It's not that Clint expects to put the stinky clothes back on, because he doesn't want to. He went for a swim in that filth and the 'incineration' thing sounds good. Except for his sunglasses. "Can I just have my sunglasses back?" It takes a bit of a hand-swap, but he holds out the left for his beloved shades, complete with a little bit of a fingerwiggle to underscore it.

Fitz' scrawls, however, does gain the archer's attention, and if there was anything other complaint to exit, it's gone as he goes wide-eyed at the concepts. "Oh.. hey… that looks…" Amazing. And it's something Barton certainly does enjoy- his work. "Do you really think you can get it down to fit in," and at the same time, he's giving a measurement of the tips he's got to work with between thumb and forefinger, "…about that size?" No jokes from the peanut gallery!

Clint doesn't seem too terribly concerned now that it's just a towel even though the nurse is trying to wave the Field Agent over. In response to Agent Coulson, his tones lower to something of a mumbled complaint. "Well, 'Tash and I went into a burning building after a crazy-assed Batboy." Which, yes, eventually dropped him into the sewer. "BatBoat, yes."

Truth be told? Clint is a whole lot more interested in those designs!


Fitz positively frowns at Jemma's reaction to half-naked agent. Then he rolls his eyes dramatically and goes right back to Barton. "Well, these are all concepts. Not even prototypes. Just, you know, things that might work, but I can't guarantee anything until I've gotten to work on them. Now, the G-Peggers, the Retriever Tags, and the Nerve Jackers? Those will be easy. But things like the Bye-Bye-Bolt? That's gonna depend greatly upon what miracles Simmons here can work with dendrotoxin."

He casually slides his eyes over toward Jemma, anticipating a response. "It's a lot better than, I dunno… Night-Night Nub, or something."

He promptly offers a hand, looking at Barton like some kind of young fanboy wanting to impress the older, more fight-worthy agent. "Fitz. Agent Fitz, engineering." Then he jerks a thumb toward Simmons with an almost dismissive nature. "That's Simmons, she's bio-chem."

A glance is spared toward Agent Coulson. Talk of Gotham and the way SHIELD treats it? Well, Coulson had a way of putting it that just made it seem cool. He grins, then looks back toward Barton, giving two big thumbs up. "Yeah. Gotham. It's like, a bunch of psychotics over there."


At the outstretched hand, Jemma looks at it and then over to Coulson. "Well, um, only if Agent Coulson says it's alright." It's in an evidence bag and that means that there are protocols to be handled. "I think I can get everything off of the clothes," she offers to Coulson to help with his decision.

As for who is terrible at naming things, Simmons nods, "Yes, Fitz is not the best with names, either. We have a prototype tranquilizer rifle that he insists on calling the Night Night Gun," she tells Darcy. And as she does so, she moves to put on latex gloves and then to grab a needle and vials for drawing blood. "I promise I won't take much. Just a vial or two so that I can test it." Swabbing her arm with a bit of alcohol, she sinks the needle into her arm - getting a vein on the first try.

"Actually, dendrotoxin in arrows might actually be easier. There's no firing mechanism to worry about overheating. You would just have to design a sort of casing for the arrow tips in order to ensure that the toxin was safe, as there's not quite the same amount of protection of arrows as there are for bullets. Though, of course, I bit if is Fitz can design a sort of hollow arrow and injector, I would be able to adapt the dendrotoxin for arrowpoints. And, no, we are not calling it the Night-Night Nub." At the introduction, she gives Barton a shy smile. He's still just in a towel, it's hard to look directly at him.


The blood being drawn, and seeing Barton fresh from a shower, reminds Darcy that she hasn't had a shower yet either. Asking Jemma to free her from the IV, Darcy hops up out of hte bed, sways once, then pushes herself straight up.

"Okay, Shirtless. My turn. Leo hinted that my file has my bra size. You're not getting hte glasses back," she says as she makes her way to the decontamination — why did no one TELL her about that room!? — shower. And she heads in without a backwards glance.


Agent Coulson smirks, and looks back towards the agents, "Well, at least she's not noted for being boring." he says flatly, " for Gotham. The freak in the clown costume is just the start of their problems. Trust me, you want that city contained. If I had to dictate policy, if they ever get loose, I'd just dust off and nuke 'em from orbit." he says, giving a shrug.


Clint has difficulty at times when geniusses talk really quickly. He really does meet them all the time in the labs, mostly when he's passing through, or learning about a new gadget he'll forget and leave behind on the quin' whenever he's jetting away to all points of the world. "Dendrotoxin," is repeated, brows rising in a silent 'What's that?'. The other stuff, he is so very on board with!

"Oh.. yeah. Sorry." And shifting his hands again, Barton takes the man's hand in greeting with the introduction. "Barton." If Fitz is fan-boying, the Field Agent is trying to ignore it. On the reverse, he's actually pretty stoked about the new potential arrow-tips.

After his hand is retrieved, Barton spares a wave for Simmons. "Agent Simmons." Or, it's probably more accurate for 'Doctor', on both their parts.

Darcy's refusal to give him his glasses back gains a scowl and a look towards Coulson. "Did you hear that?" That's not long lived, however, when Coulson speaks up, and the scowl turns into a lopsided grin. "Nuke Jersey. From orbit. Who do we have to convince?"


To Jemma, Fitz smiles brightly. In spite of all their bickering, this was why he enjoyed working with her so much. Separately, they were geniuses. Together, they were virtually unstoppable. "Right," he nods along with her. "Exactly." He scratches at the back of his head while mentally taking notes and chugging away at potential design flaws, benefits, and the elements needed to accomplish the goal.

Whatever he might have said next, Darcy's remark brings him a distraction. He darts his head toward her and retorts, "I did not!" Then he looks back at the others, his face flushing a bright red. "I said no such thing. Bloody hell."

Back to Agent Coulson, he smirks a bit. "It's the only way to be sure," he says, quoting the same movie. Not that he agrees at all with the sentiment of letting off a nuclear bomb over American soil, or any soil for that matter, but… well, let's just say a part of him hopes the Agents are joking. He folds his arms and declares, "Well, that's where Simmons and I can become helpful. It's our job. You guys bring us intel from the field, we'll design things that can be used to fight those psychopaths. Armor, munitions, investigative and containment tools, it's our specialty." He glances proudly toward Simmons.


With a shrug of her shoulders, Simmons can't really give Barton glasses that she doesn't have. Instead, she carefully puts Darcy's blood vials in a holder and places themon the counter. Then, she puts her chart back on the edge of the bed, as is its proper place. Taking care of Darcy's IV so she can head into contamination properly, she starts to wind up the clear tube and hang it from the bag holder.

"I believe you, Fitz," Simmons tells him genuinely, though she can't help but grin at the implication. "She's under quite a few hallucinigenics. I'm sure she misunderstood you." Then, she beams at the proud pomp from Fitz. "Dendrotoxin, yes. It's a toxin that is able to paralyze a subject, however it can only be used in very small dosages otherwise it will prove fatal. I've been able to extract it and purify it so that when broken up under the subcutaneous tissue it will immediately knock the target out."


Agent Coulson listens to this, "Well, I'll see if I can get the full dossier. If not? I might have to improvise something. It'd be helpful to have," he says. "You can start with the results there. He's one of the top targets in Gotham. I wouldn't mind having somethig to neutralize what he uses in cases like this."


Again, Barton repeats it, "Dendrotoxin. Paralyzes. Gotcha." Small doses. "I'm going to assume that you're making it untraceable?" If so, it'll be amazing. "Have it somehow make it look like the target had a stroke? I'm looking for fatal too, by the way." After all, some metas have a high immunity, and there's got to be someway to even the score. Fatal-to-humans is probably the way to go. "And before you ask," Clint glances to Coulson, and he dips his head, "Sir.. I would actually label this one."

Now, however, Clint is starting to get a little tired of the draft, and gestures towards the waiting nurse. "I think she's got something that might be a little better than this. I'll… be right back."


"Even metahuman targets," adds Fitz upon the edge of Simmons' explanations. "Though we're going to run into some difficulty dealing with those types who have super-strong skin. I'm still trying to sort out a way to include a multi-chamber munitions system, something that field agents won't have to fuss much with in order to change the striking power on the fly." He looks from Simmons back to Barton. "Striking power… and dosage. There's a difference between trying to knock out a person and trying to knock out a bloody elephant."

He looks back toward Coulson now, and gives him another thumbs up. "Excellent, sir. We'll have our hands full, but that's how we like it." A glance is sent Simmons way. "So long as Simmons keeps from tainting my pristine workspace with her… body parts and cadavers." His nose curls again.


"I'd love that," Simmons tells Coulson eagerly. "And a copy of all the work done on Miss Lewis, if it's readily available. I can run my own tests on her blood, but I'd love to see the results taken when before anything was flushed out of her system. Just to make sure that I'm not making an antiserum for a lower dosage." With a tilt of her head at Barton, she raises her eyebrow. "Dendrotoxin comes originally from the poison of mamba snakes. It will dissipate through the system and my distillation and process is quite complex, however if someone has the proper scientific know-how they will be able to break it down into its original biological compounds. But, that is the way with all poisons. But, I also am not branding the SHIELD logo on every practice round." She grins, glancing at Fitz.

"As for fatal doses, it is possible to make Dendrotoxin fatal, but then, one would think a bullet or an arrow in the right place would also be just as effective." She nods at the elephant comparison. "Yes, of course, it's all in the science." Everything is in the science to them. Then, she rolls her eyes at Fitz. "It was the one time Fitz, and they're not my cadavers, they were an assignment. Technically, they belonged to SHIELD." Much like the glasses.


Agent Coulson holds his hands up, "Okay, okay, everyone just relax…" he says, his own voice not even raising, "I'll make sure medical makes the initial labs available for you, and I think we can probably facilitate dosages with various levels of the toxin in it. That way if we need to take down an elephant, we can, even if it's not always required." he says, looking between Barton and the two scientists, "That sound good to everyone?"


It's not that much better, and Clint is forced to call across the room, much to the nurses' dismay. They need temperature, bloodwork, vitals, and the agent isn't the most compliant at the moment. "Wait, wait… did you just say you could modify my quiver so I can get graduated doses of things?" Blue eyes light up at the thought of that, and if it weren't for the pressure of a hand on a shoulder keeping him on the exam table, he'd be next to the scientists in a heartbeat.

"Or… if you didn't, could you?" Sometimes it's hard to understand them. "Could it be done?" As it is, he's able to set tips, allow for the shaft to choose a tip on demand before he pulls it and uses it. It's handy, to be sure. A tip for every purpose, potentially. A SHIELD R&D product and the schematics of what is is currently is on file.

"Yes sir, sounds good."


Nope. No SHIELD logos on any of his designs, unless someone specifically asks for it. Fitz returns Jemma's glance proudly. He's proud of his work. With regard to her defense, he simply raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh," he mutters.

"Oh, it's certainly possible," the engineer answers Clint. "I mean, it's science. Anything is possible in theory. It might require some upgrades to your quiver, but I'll be sure to pour over the schematics right away."

To Agent Coulson, Leo smiles brightly and fires off a somewhat silly-looking salute. "Positively brilliant, Agent Coulson."

It's like someone just handed FitzSimmons a Christmas Tree filled with unwrapped presents. Leo looks over at Jemma, flashes his eyebrows and grins widely. "We're gonna need a fresh pot of coffee and some snacks."

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