Summary:Things get complicated when Steve seeks out help from Jemma. Thank goodness for Koa and May and the quick-draws of ICERs. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Ten days, with six of them spent returned to his usual human form, have passed since Steve's unfortunate incident in the Park and consequential brief stay at Brooklyn's local hospital off Washington Ave. His efforts at catching up with late deskwork have had him staying late with his office door open, soft music playing, and his temple rested against his knuckles long after the building has gone quiet for the evening.
Tonight is no exception, but tonight's something different. Steve hasn't been keeping track of his stress levels and he realized not too long ago his nape has been itching madly. Scratching at it had helped, to the extent that scratching might, and now there's blond hair all over his shoulders and desk. His heart-rate seems to have jumped noticeably and his teeth are…tingling? Regardless, he seems to have shoved aside his stubborn pride and now he knocks on the entrance to the labs, hoping to find Jemma — or someone who can help.
"Doctor Simmons?" he calls out into the open spaces, taking a step inside. He's got his leather jacket slung over an arm, leaving him in a plain Army-green t-shirt (fitted rather nicely, let's be honest) and jeans. "It's Agent Rogers."
Watch him blush a little when he's reminded of the last time he was in close quarters with the scientist. They didn't know each other that well, after all!
Koa doesn't normally come down to this part of the Tri. This is the Science part. The part where pointed reminders that science doesn't cover everything aren't very welcome. At least this is Jemma Simmons' lab though. Koa's met her a few times. She's a good agent. He hears she's been through a lot.
The man he's looking for, though…
Ah! There he is. "Captain Rogers. Just the man I was looking for. You have a doctor's appointment I take it?"
Jemma is in, of course. Jeriah's only managed to drag her out of the lab once, the british born biochem is still a workaholic.
Looking up from a culture she's working on as Steve walks in, her blush matches his as her eye falls on his chest. "Oh. Uh. Captain Rogers … Agent Rogers." *cough*. Pull it together, Jemma. "I'm here and it's Jemma, remember. Did I thank you for saving me the other day?"
This is what Koa walks to. That and the half dissected carcass on Jemma's workbench. It's impossible to tell what it is, with the bright green goo that covers a grey, slimy looking skin.
Yep, cue blush brought on by blush in Jemma. Damn you, Irish skin, revealer of all emotional swings. Clearing his throat, Steve reaches back and tilts his head to one side to scratch at his neck even as he takes another few steps in.
"Right, Jemma," he concedes with a small, awkward smile. "'nd you don't have to do that. Just happened to be there when I was needed."
Hearing footsteps behind him, the Captain turns in place. Koa is given a look eloquent in gratitude. "Agent Turner — yes, I'm hoping to, in regards to the, uh…recent issue of mine." By how he turns, he silently invites the other agent to accompany him over towards Jemma.
When he gets within about a dozen feet of her table, however, he coughs once — and then begins sneezing…rapidly…many, many times. Steve's eyes end up watering as he brings his wrist up to cover his nose and partially his mouth. "Oh, god, that smells like — god, when the fishmongers used to upturn their cleanings into the river in July." Back in about 1938, you see.
It might be sliightly disturbing that the WAND agent is carrying a a set of chains and a muzzle. Why on earth would he need a set of chains and a muzzle. They look um… well… they look very effective. And big. And thick. And heavy.
"Not a smell I'm especially familiar with. And would this be the issue where you need an additional shave in the morning?" Koa's smile is tight, trying to keep the conversation light even though he knows it's serious.
"Hello… uh. What IS it you have there, Doctor Simmons?"
"Oh uh, Agent Turner." Jemma looks at the man when enters her lab. "How can I help you? Oh, you were looking for Steve?"
"What issue is that Steve? I've not seen any reports, not that I would expect to …" she frowns as the sneezing starts and the words. "Well, it doesn't smell good, I'll agree with you on that but … maybe I'm just used to the smell. Is that bad, Agent Turner?" The chain and muzzle get another frown "I assure you, the Agent who bought this is in ensured it was quite dead."
"Extra shave?" Jemma looks between the two men in question. "And I don't know, Agent Turner, that's what I'm trying to determine. It jumped an Agent who was investigating a disturbance." It's possible WAND has the report on the dimensional interference detected a few hours ago.
Sneeze. "The issue's like Agent Turn —- " Sneeze. " — Turner said, about needing an extra — " Sneeze. " — shave. Wasn't going to — "
Hold that thought. Steve pauses, looking as if he's going to sneeze once more by the eye-watering squint…and ends up sniffling. The spate passes and he sighs from the depths of his gut. "Pardon me, still getting used to that part," he mutters, blinking markedly and wrinkling his nose. It's then, with something very nearly an actual foot scuff on the lab floor, that he looks between Koa and Jemma.
"Thing is, Doctor S — Jemma," the blond soldier amends even as he scratches at his neck again; short blond hairs fly.
Somebody's shedding everywhere these days.
"Agent Koa took a phone call from Agent Barnes about ten days back about an incident of mine. Got…bit by something, 'nd it's making my life…difficult. I was hoping maybe some bloodwork might help me — us, WAND, SHIELD — get ahead of it." He eyes the items in Koa's hands and then gives the man a look now mildly betrayed. "Assuming 'm already gonna require that grade of gear?"
"Well not now. Not yet." Koa says setting the heavy set of chains down. And the muzzle. "There's a blood moon tonight and that's going to make your condition all kinds of complicated. You MIGHT even get violent in a non patriotic kind of way. So when you go home before moonrise tonight just give these to Bucky - he's your partner - and have him chain you up." The WAND Agent pauses thoughtfully. "You'd have a fairly sturdy bed right? So chained to the bed should be fine I would think. The chains will take most of the strain."
Yes. Koa just said that Bucky needed to chain Steve to the bed tonight. And muzzle him.
"Captain Rogers has contracted a werewolf curse." Koa catches Jemma up succinctly as he peers over to see what she's got. Lord that thing smells.
"Oh. That's a Grimalkin. That's been turned inside out. Somehow."
"Do you have an allergy, Steve?" Jemma starts, peering at the blonde super soldier in concern. "I might be able to whip u——" beat "YOU GOT BIT BY SOMETHING AND DIDN'T COME TO SEE ME?"
The blush disappears as the biochem blinks. "What is it with peo——" Oh dear the blush comes back with a vengeance when Koa says what to do with those cuffs. "Chain him to the bed …" that's said faintly. "Do you gentlemen want to have this conversation elsewhere?"
Not in her lab please. She's British!
The embarrassment dies away though as the story comes out. "A … werewolf … curse." The tone is something like - you've got to be kidding me. "You mean rabies, or something, right?" Shaking her head, frowning at the fine blonde hair that fills the air, the biochem gets her gear.
"Let's have a look at you then. I'll want to do a full work up, ok? But let's start with getting your sleeve up so I can take this blood."
"A cat, Agent Turner?" The carcass is forgotten for now but it should probably be put in cold storage while she's doing this.
|ROLL| Steve Rogers +rolls 1d10 for: 10
Steve can, in fact, go redder than he just was a minute or two back. With a cough, he looks to one side and then winces at Jemma in particular. He's fully aware that his explanation didn't do the truth any justice. To hear that there might be additional troubles than the need to itch himself nearly raw and maybe eat another five pounds of uncooked bacon, styrofoam and plastic packaging and all… It makes his stomach more unsettled yet. A prickling rushes under his skin and Koa might note how the Captain cycles through a steadying breath before he speaks.
"Yes, the, uh — right, the blood draw, we won't worry about the…the…muzzle," he mutters even as he sets his leather coat aside. The soldier waits at the far end of the laboratory counter, far from the inverted Greymalkin and its sneeze-inducing noisome state. Rolling up both sleeves showcases the muscles of his forearms and admittedly a bit more hair than usual along their outer lines. "Ready whenever you are, Doctor." Plunking down on a stool, he lays out his arm along the cool surface of the counter, veins-up.
Koa is given another look. Steve's pride has been mildly bruised at the idea of him losing control of himself. "Don't think I'll be needing those," he says more quietly, again eyeing the chains and muzzle.
"Your call Captain but unless you plan on having Bucky wrestle you all night you might want 'em. Blood moons are nasty business for Loup Garou." Koa says. He looks at Jemma but doesn't say 'no, no he does not mean rabies.' She's going to find out in a minute.
It's interesting, watching the WAND agent. His eyes gleam red slightly as Steve's skin seems to crawl and there's a moment where his own features seem somewhat leaner and his expression rather… sharklike. A fact of his existence though not a commonly known one outside of WAND is that Agent Turner is very much a predator in a very metaphysical but still very real sense and that portion of him is reacting to the presence of another predator.
Jemma will see it though she may not know what she's looking it. Steve probably can't miss it.
He's gonna stay and watch because his expertise might be needed once Jemma rules out rabies which… will be shortly.
Jemma wants to deny that things like werewolfs don't exist but she can't. She's seen too many things in the time she's been with SHIELD. "I really wish you had said rabies." She mutters. "Can you describe your symptons, Steve? Shedding clearly. I hope you have a dyson with the pet hair attachment at home. Enhanced smell, judging by the way you reacted to my patient over there."
The blood draws are quick and painless, Jemma putting them through the analyser to process. Whilst that's happening, she turns back to the super soldier. "If you remove your shirt, I'll check your vitals…." Yes, that gets another blush. At least there's no one to call her Jemma of Nine at the moment.
"What do you know of this, curse, Agent Turner? And judging by the looks of you, you're overdue for a checkup as well."
|ROLL| Steve Rogers +rolls 1d10 for: 2
Steve, perhaps to make a point to himself, watches the draw of each vial of blood with a narrow-minded focus. He muses on how to explain things to Jemma, so solidly rooted in the confirmed sciences of the world.
Why can't he be the weirdest thing still?
"Symptoms are shedding, yes. Hyper-acute senses. I opened the spice cabinet back at the apartment 'nd thought I might sneeze my nose off my face. Insomnia. Restlessness. Itching. 'm hungrier than usual, which is…we've got good pensions here, but keeping the larder stocked has been a task." He rubs a hand at his temple and back through his hair to make it a total mess on the way to itching his neck again. "The dreams're weird too, like…"
His eyes flicker to Koa suddenly and the Captain slowly sits up from his slouch in the stool, elbows no longer rested on the counter's surface. It's like the entire world narrows down to the subtle alignment of predator realizing another predator is nearby indeed. From deep within his chest, an unnaturally basso growl rumbles as his lips pull back from his teeth. In overt threat, he rises from the stool and begins to step around the counter, still focused on Koa specifically.
Gosh, Steve, what sharp teeth you suddenly have.
Koa slowly unhooks a small wallet chain from his pocket and spins it into his hands. And low and behold it's a four foot length of much more normal looking chain. His eyes have gone completely red now and there's a sense of something pushing at the edge of his skin. Unlike Steve he doesn't growl. But that chain lights up with runes that look nordic.
"Hey there big guy. Sun's gettin' real low. What say we don't do this in the Brit's lab. She'll fuss."
Koa's not at all sure that Steve can understand him right now but he keeps his tone nice and calm and even and what he hopes is soothing.
"Simmons what's the strongest sedative you have in the lab? Or failing that do you happen to have a pound of uncooked bacon?"
Jemma wasn't really paying attention to Steve, not realising how bad things are for the man. The growl has her looking back and yelping a little, before putting herself between Koa and him. "Dendrotoxin, in my ICER and … no bacon. Just the Grimalkin over there and I trust that's not to his taste."
It's then the blood test pings but for the moment, the biochem isn't going to move.
"Do I need to sedate you, Captain Rogers?"
|ROLL| Steve Rogers +rolls 1d10 for: 1
Completely unaware of recent events involving Rogers, May has just entered Jemma's lab with a question and stops just inside the doorway, her eyes going from Steve to Koa and back, then at Jemma.
"Simmons, if you don't have that sedative Turner's requested, come over here, please."
English is heard and processed, but it's so much less important than removing this other maurader in the lab — on his territory, the Triskelion — and another low growl resonates from him as he continues to approach Koa with that unceasing deliberate pace. It's the unspoken body language that he takes continued offense in.
Maybe it's to everyone's favor that when the scale finally tips, and the final heartbeat necessary to raise his homeostatic levels beyond that of self-control, he crumples rather than launching himself immediately at Agent Turner. With a howling outcry far louder than anything a normal human could manage, Steve bends at the waist with arms clutching across his lower ribs. In a blurring of agonized ripping at himself, there goes the long-sleeved t-shirt…and most of the jeans. Skin stretches, splits, his size easily doubles as bone and sinew warp. The end result is absolutely five-hundred or odd pounds of blond werewolf, over seven feet tall, sporting peach-colored talons at the end of humanoid fingers and a bone to pick with Koa.
The flattening of the high-set pointed ears is accompanied by a consequential snarl fully baring teeth last seen in the Ice Ages. Strings of saliva burn hot with the virus in his blood. He takes a single step towards Agent Turner and begins to stoop as if readying to launch himself from his bipedal stance, his blue-eyed attention entirely on Koa.
May and Jemma don't seem to even exist.
Koa also crumples immediately but the effect is much different. A glowing ethereal being that looks part shark, part man and part canine emerges from his comatose body, holding that chain. He surges forward trying for a nasty trick. He can be intangible. The chain is not. The idea is to phase through Stevie the Wonder Wolf and wrap the chain around his arms, or neck or really anything that can hold him. It might not work though. Werewolves are well known for being slippery and Koa imagines that Steve's reaction times are even better in this form.
"Little help?!" The now astral agent growls.
Jemma gasps as Steve changes, taking a step back … and stopping when Koa astrals out. "What the hell?!" There's a tremor in Jemma's voice as she draws her ICER.
And shoots. Twice. Right at the werewolfs heart.
"Nice puppy. Good puppy. I can find some milk, if you like …" She croons. Hopefully May can do something as well because Jemma's not making any sudden movements.
Okay, that was … very unexpected. May almost imediately pulls her ICER — no lethal weaponry here, thank you very much — and she follows up on Jemma's two shots with two more of her own, though she's a bit less merciful, aiming for Steve's head and neck.
She wants him to STAY down and she's not taking any chances.
In a blur of blond fur, Steve fully commits to the lunge. Teeth bared wide aim for any open patch of Koa's skin, to rend and tear and — but wait, he's gone Astral. The chain finds itself about the werewolf's mid-torso and traps an arm against his body. With a roll, the Captain makes his way to standing again, snarling in abject fury at the chain-weapon preventing him from savaging the Agent into oblivion for daring to trespass onto HIS TERRITORY HOW VERY DARE —
In quick succession, the ICER shots land. Hot prickling spreads out from his chest just to the left of his sternum and then from the crook of his elongated jaw as well as behind one ear. Clawing at the darts doesn't help his case. Numbness rapidly spreads with the frightening ease of each heartbeat and he keels over to one side with a thud. A slow whine leaves him as he stares at the base of one stool leg, barely able to blink, his breathing slow and steady within the wrapping of Koa's chain.
"Soft Stevie, warm Stevie, big blonde ball of fur. Sleepy Stevie, angry Stevie. Grr. Grr. Grr." Astral Koa croons in a rather growly way as Steve starts to cool off. Once the canine man isn't struggling anymore - more thanks to the icer shots than his lullabye, he loosens the chain and looks over at his own body. He'd really like to get back into it but he's not sure it's safe right now…
"So yes. This is why I brought Steve the chains. I'd be good if we could figure out a way for this to not be a problem otherwise we're going to have to do some serious thinking about what we do with the Cap, here. Hello Agent May."
Just an astral shark-dog-thing. Noooothing unusual here.
Jemma doesn't stop as she grabs the manacles and muzzle, hurrying over to the downed werewolf as he whines. Fumbling to get them on him. "Really Agent Turner, I don't think that's helping." It's so very, very british.
"So ummmm… I'm not sure where to start. Agent Turner, do we need to do something to help you return …" she looks at the shark-dog-thing, going pale "… to your body? Agent May, we need to ensure Steve is restrained but comfortable. Perhaps call Bucky to come and keep him company …"
"Oh yes. Blood tests… that's what I was doing." Focus Jemma. Go through the process. You can fall apart later.
May keeps a wary eye on were-Steve even when it's clear he's down and staying down, though she does acknowledge Koa's greeting with a curt, "Turner Linghun."
She nods at Jemma's suggestion and taps at the comm link in her ear and speaks with someone on the other end briefly, requesting Barnes' presence in Jemma's lab. And no, she doesn't explain why.
Getting the currently lycanthropic Rogers off the floor is a more immediate concern. The man is normally approaching twice her weight, she can safely bet he's well exceeded that now. "Turner, do you perhaps have a way to assist us in getting Rogers out of the doorway."
Those true-blue eyes roll slowly towards Jemma as she approaches. Subtle twitches and the delayed flick of one ear are proof that the Captain's attempting to fight the dendrotoxin with all the mad supernatural capacity he can bring to bear, but four ICER shots are sufficient. He's impossibly easy to chain and muzzle. His fur is coarse on the outer layer, softer beneath to the touch.
To move him truly is the question now. Nearing half a ton of muscled bulk, he's no small fuzzy semi-mountainous lump strewn on the floor. Each slow exhale is tinged with a frustrated whining-growl.
Koa floats back over to his body and flows into it. After a moment his eyes open and he stands up. "No, I can get back into my body on my own."
A potted plant in Jemma's office withers and small motes flow into the WAND agent. An ability that he has but doesn't often use is the ability to be, well… more than human. Sufficiently more than human that he just picks Steve up.
"Right so. Containment or do you folks want to take him somewhere else?"
That was a yes, to May. Koa can help move Steve.
"It's okay Rogers. I won't mention this to Barnes." He might find out on his own but Koa won't mention…
Jemma looks into Steve's blue canine eyes as she chains him, surprisingly gentle for all that's occured. "Don't worry, Steve. We'll work this out, I promise. And we'll after you. Bucky's coming in." With the wolf fettered, she strokes his ears.
"Containment, Agent Turner…" the potted plant gets a look and Jemma scrambles out of the way to let Koa near. "I'll stay the night to observe and monitor, run some tests. See what we can do to reverse this. It's probably just a virus … or something."
The motes from the plant earn Koa a raised eyebrow, but she doesn't argue with the results. She nods her agreement with taking Rogers to Containment as she puts her ICER away again, and moves to hold the door open for Koa.
"Simmons, I'll stay and monitor as well, at least until Barnes arrives. Turner, what are your plans after this?"
Koa's strength lifts the werewolf from the laboratory floor with ease. Slung over the agent's shoulder like the results of a fox hunt, he lets out another slow, wheezing whine from behind the muzzle. His tongue, also numb and slipped from his unfeeling lips, begins to let forth little drops of saliva. It's a bit like a loose faucet.
Plop. Drip. Drip — on the lab's floor.
Drooling. Always embarrassing.