Kids in a candy store

January 31, 2015: Hawkeye brings Falcon up to the Watchtower. Very, very cool.

Hall of Justice, Metropolis and Watchtower, geosynchronous orbit above Earth

Impressive marble edifice that looks open and welcoming, and a sooper sekrit spacestation, complete with blinky lights.



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Mood Music:

Everything about the Watchtower is cool. Just, very cool.

Hell, the Hall of Justice is still something of a thrill. It's open to SHIELD's barriered feel, marble-columns to the Triskelion's steel and glass, and it feels as if 'things' are being done in the wide, expansive House. Support staff walk through the lobbies, and there isn't really a feeling of 'overt security'. After all, who would go after the place? It's built for -superheroes-.

It's something of a teleporter that ferries people up to the Watchtower, but that particular bit of technology is behind many closed and locked doors. After all, there are some secrets that should be maintained.

All through the walk, Clint's got this… bounce in his step. He's not dressed in his SHIELD blacks, but rather jeans, hooded sweatshirt under a jeans jacket, sunglasses, and a grin plastered to his face. Even with everything that is sitting squarely on his shoulders, there's a lightness- everything's gonna be okay.

He's got help.

Walking backwards now in the marbled halls, blue eyes behind sunglasses look up. "Thing is, it gets even cooler every time I come here." Front staff know their names, already, and have extended greetings each step of the way!


Sam Wilson follows in Clint's wake, mirroring his enthusiasm. He's dressed in his current silver-gray Falcon getup, since that's the identity he'll be using as an Avenger, but even the flimsy disguise of the goggles has been given up — he doesn't want anything mediating his first view of the team's headquarters.

So far, that view has done nothing to disappoint. Whoever designed the place knew what they were doing: the edifice is impressive and inspiring without being intimidating, and the friendly, efficient staff have him feeling like a worthy member of the team already. The weight of his flight harness is completely forgotten as he strides across the marble foyer.

"I believe you," he answers Clint with a broad grin. "This place is big enough that it'll take a while to scout out, even for me." That's a bit of an exaggeration, but he's caught up in the moment. "So, do we get keycards? Wrist radios? Secret decoder rings? Or do I just show up and assume everyone will know who I am?"


Clint laughs and points at Falcon. "Thing is, it's cool. We get fancy communicators, but our metrics have already been taken. It's like… a fancy whole body retinal ID scan." The grin remains behind as he continues, "Everyone knows your name."

Turning about again, steps slow as Clint tries to get his bearings. Through one door, another door… and a third brings the pair to a room that looks deceptively plain, but for the transportation 'module' in the center. Gesturing at it with a hand, he looks back to his now team partner. "That's the way up. It's a hell of a thrill and lasts about a second or so. I just hold my breath because I can't help it."

Into the tube, Clint does hold his breath… and landing is in a room very much like the one just left. If one didn't know better, they'd swear they hadn't left!

Stepping out, Clint waits the requisite few heartbeats before he crosses the room to open the door.


"Oh my god. This is so Star Trek!" As he steps onto the pad, Sam Wilson, freshman Avenger and newly minted space explorer, is geeking the hell out. He's caught up in the moment during the transport lighting effects himself, but he doesn't hold his breath. Given the altitudes he sometimes works at, remembering to breathe is something that he has been drilled on. He seems a little disappointed as he steps off the pad, however — not entirely sure that the thing actually worked. Artificial gravity and identical rooms will do that to you.

"Are we…?" he asks, looking around. "They should have a sign or something. Like on an elevator." He flicks one finger against one of his flight suit's gauntlets and adds, "If it did work, it sort of makes flying around redundant, gotta admit."


Clint's grin is plastered to his face to watch Falcon's reaction. "Yeah. We're now in orbit." Pausing at the door with a theatric step back, he points at the top of the door, "Should put a sign up there 'Welcome to space'."

There isn't a lot of 'character' to the room, but when the door opens and Clint leads out into the corridor, it's pretty damned impressive for a space station. Roomier than, say, the International Space Station. "There's hydroponics. Water. Plants. Labs. Lounge. Living areas." Here, Clint finally removes his sunglasses, and there's a gleam there. "So, do you want to see the flight bay where they have THREE freaking ships first, or out to the main room where you can see Earth rotating underneath you?"

Trick question?


"'Now entering space. Population: who knows?'" Sam agrees, his grin only growing as he steps through the door. Character, shmaracter — the place may be a little sterile, but so were Cloud City and the Enterprise D. He's in freaking space!

He turns to Clint with a look of surprise. "So, wait, we have teleporters AND spaceships? Are we talking Millenium Falcons or Colonial Vipers?" It's becoming clear that golden age superheroes weren't the only figures that appealed to Wilson in his youth. "I mean, I may be Air Force, but I was more the helicopter guy than the F-16 guy." As for the question of where to go first, Sam seems uncharacteristically torn between his gearhead side and explorer's spirit.


In the hall, the space station isn't 'dead'. Those who walk the halls have SHIELD's insignia on their uniforms. It was one of the agreements; SHIELD supplies the technical support. But there's a whole lot of alien technology incorporated in here that it becomes a 'win-win' for both sides. One tech slides by, and catching the look on Falcon's face, the young man grins back and keeps going, wordlessly.

Very. Freaking. Cool.

For the few times Clint's been up, he's still a kid in a candy store. How could he not be?

"Short distance space, atmospheric and it's rated for underwater, but wouldn't suggest it. Cargo, room for 6, but it's also outfitted for weapons." The archer holds up a hand to forestall the pilot from bearing headlong down the corridor to check out the 'new rides'. "It's also got a failsafe and lockout. If the system senses something that's about to go down, it may do an override. So, it really is 'something else'."

Instead, Clint starts a path towards the 'front', the main control room for the place. "We don't need to be in the control room too often. Place pretty much takes care of itself, but if you want to feel like Kirk?" Brows rise for added effect, "C'mon, Sam. We'll head there first."


"So it's like fly by wire, but with more backtalk?" Sam summarizes, chuckling. "I think I can find a way to live with that, somehow."

He follows after Clint, keeping up the best pace he can while still peering intently at everything remotely high-tech that they pass. They pass a lot of high-tech stuff, so it involves a lot of awkward rubbernecking. "Man, there's a bridge, too? They really checked everything off. I'm probably more of a Bones or a Sulu than a Kirk, though." He smirks. "Haven't got the legs for Uhura."

As he starts to get over the sheer overwhelming newness, a few technical questions occur to him. "So, what's our orbit like? A patrol, or are we geosynchronous over a particular spot? Can the station maneuver around up here?"


"Once the ship realizes you know what you're doing, you get more control. At least that's what it says in the flight manual." Flight manual? For a space ship?! Clint's grin remains, though it shifts towards the lopsided. "You, my friend, are going to need some flight time." Like that's going to be a hardship?

It's something of a walk to get near their intended destination, and the closer they get, the busier it seems with techs, with support personnel. Clint looks to ths side and shrugs, the humour easily dancing in his tones, "Well, we do have Wonder Woman for legs. Or Kate. But one can kick my ass and the other can make me sleep on the couch, so there is no way in hell I'd ever say that to them."

The door to the main control room opens, and it's full of blinking lights (a necessity in any Science Fiction setting!) and below, the Earth rotates. "Geo— whatsis. I'm an archer, Sam. You need to ask the techs about all that other stuff. Far as I know, it stays put. How, no clue. Why? Because Wonder Woman said so." It's easy enough to admit his limits of knowledge up here.

"This is where, I hope, we'll be helping out SHIELD- by scanning and looking for any wierdness. But, gotta get the files from SHIELD first to run through."

There is a tour, absolutely. And once the rotating world beneath them is taken in, the men need to continue; lounge, private rooms, and… the bay where the ships are.

Then, sadly, back to Earth. There's work to be done, and contacts to make. Clint will leave Sam to get his space legs and log a few hours in on the new ships.

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