2019-10-17 - Saint Bartons Day


Qualifications day at the range turns strange.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Thu Oct 17 05:06:27 2019
Location: Triskelion

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It's qualifications day for a certain group of SHIELD operatives. Every so often they have to certify on various forms of firearm and personal weapon and the range has been open from 0430 so that people could come in as work allowed and get those qualifications done.

Even contractors have to qualify which made Jeriah London grumble a bit. To get back at SHIELD for making him do that he resolved to make the process as inefficient as possible and THAT is why on a table near the firing line there are bagels and doughnuts and coffee. It's almost 0630 now. Just in time for people to start filtering in.

Jeriah is munching on a potato peppercorn bagel. With lox. Mmmmmmmm.

Clint Barton, the Incontrovertible Hawkeye, doesn't need to qualify. To be fair there are offices in SHIELD where technically he isn't even supposed to be considered an agent what with the Avengers aspect of his life and the fact that he sort of just kept on doing things for SHIELD even after having been supposedly promoted. Similar to Cap's situation most likely.
But qualification day to Clint is sort of like his own sort of holiday. Where he shows up at the range wearing a white towel over his shoulders and a large white pointy hat that he got from a New Year's party. He walks in once people start gathering, and he offers his blessings with solemnity.
"Praise and accuracy be unto you," He makes the sign of the Bow and Arrow by touching both shoulders with his hands, then his heart with both hands, then pulling them apart as if to 'fire' an invisible bow in those hands with a silent 'pew' in his holy thoughts.
He wanders down the range, offering this blessing to those who are amenable, and then steps up to the offered buffet of delights. "Praise and Accuracy be unto you, my son." He offers to Jeriah making the holy sequence of the bow and arrow once again. "Nice to see you getting into the spirit of St. Barton's Day."

Jemma has been through the routine so many times in the last few months. Since her accident, she's been training regularly. It had paid off the other too - hitting Steve five out of six times at distance. It's a pity she's just not consistent.

"You know that Agent May is going to give you the look." she's saying to Jeriah as Clint appears. "Agent Bar… Sorry, Saint Barton, today, isn't it?"

Agent May arrives promptly at 0630, actually just in time to see Barton doing … whatever he just did. Seriously? She near-silently follows Barton, mostly to see how long it takes for him to even realize she's there. She's betting at least a few more seconds.

The table of snacks gets a considering look, and then she proves Jemma right, focusing on Jeriah. At least she hasn't crossed her arms?

Yet, anyway.

"SHIELD made me be here. I need breakfast. It seemed rude not to share." Jeriah responds to Jemma. He cracks a smile when Clint shows up as the Apostle of Accuracy. Patron Saint of the Impossible Shot.

"It's not the high holy food of pizza, I know, Clint. But I'm glad you approve of it. Want some?" Because this is absolutely what it's there for. That and to slow up the line.

"You're all here bright and early, I might add. Did you all come here to qual or was there a meeting notice I missed somewhere?"

May gets a look over Clint's shoulder but Jeriah doesn't actually greet her yet. Mostly because he sort of wants to know how long she's going to stand there silently and whether or not she likes her bagels with lox or just cream cheese.

The gesture of the bow is granted unto Jemma, "Peace and full focus be with you, my daughter." He seems to be rather in character, at least for the moment even as he scoops up a donut with a good amount of chocolate and sprinkles, basically perfection in the Platonian ideal of sugar. He takes a bite and chews for a time, some chocolate smearing on his upper lip and a hint in his mustache. He wipes it away. "Thank you, Jeriah London. May your slugs be accurate and your reloads alacritous."
"The Blessed Lady May of the Deliberate Punches fully endorses St. Barton's Day." He looks between the two of them, "She's right behind me isn't she?"
Lo, he turned to face the considerable wrath, and he smiled, for it was good. "Sister May. So good of you to join us in our celebration."

"Hello Agent May." Jemma greets the other agent with a bright, sunny, smile. The flat look just made her day. "Yes, yes, she is, Saint Barton."

"I came because I have to qualify again, Jeriah." the biochem sighs. "They've got me on more frequent assessement until they're sure of my implants." Which might be a while given everything that's going on. Jemma takes a bagel with cream cheese. "I'd kill for a english muffin right about now."

Of course she's right behind Barton, where else would she be at this exact moment?

She nods a hello to Jemma and Jeriah, and waits to see exactly what Clint plans to do next. You know, since there's a breakfast spread slowing everything down and she has to wait to get her own recerts completed.

And no, she doesn't want a bagel at all, and there's no tea. Pass.

"Agent May." Jeriah says.

"London…" One of the range officers comes over with a sheet of paper. "Your groupings are immaculate. But you also completely destroyed the target."

"It's a plasma gun." Jeriah says with a chuckle. "Be glad my groupings are that good. Means I don't have to destroy TWO targets."

"Fair." The Range officer mutters. "Barton you're exempt as per usual though if you want to show off - I mean qualify - you're welcome to. If you don't maybe you could watch one of these two do theirs? Simmons, May, I can take you when ever you like. Since SOMEONE brought a breakfast buffet with him and it's slowing things up."

In fairness a few of the RO's are taking advantage of it too.

"Tell you what Jemma. You beat May's score I'll make sure you get some English muffins FROM England." Jeriah says. Knowing exactly how unlikely that is.

May and Clint might both feel something slightly… odd. Actually what it REALLY feels like is being looped in with Emma Frost. Someone using telepathy in the vicinity.

"Just handing out the morning's blessings," Clint says as another agent passes by and he gets a sign of the bow, "Bless you, my son."
The agent looks confused.
But, to be fair, some of the older agents who have seen Clint do this before do smirk a bit. Whether it's at the antics or the man himself, how can say? But Barton continues on with his towel and pointy hat still perfectly set.
"To be fair though, nice spread." He gives a nod toward Jeriah and then adds for Jemma and May's benefit. "And, it is early. Or… very late. Since I haven't slept yet."
"Technically." He adds.
"Bless you, sister." Barton gives the sign of the bow to an older agent who steps by, and she smirks back at him.
"So you all runnin' the gauntlet of the Nato/Warsaw Pact equipment package, or the SHIELD regulation gear?"
But that's the moment when the Range Officer comes by and is presented with a cherubic smile offered by the good Saint Barton. "You enjoy my thanks, my son. But I shall be here and pass along my good fortune to those who accept my blessing. And the good Clinton into their life as their savior. With a nominal admissions fee."
He looks at the others, "At least before I go take a nap. Mebbe."

"Late night, Barton." Jemma glances at the Agent. "Stake out or something else keep you up all night?" there's the blush, right on cue. Jemma's hopeless.

"Me, I'm using SHIELD regulation gear. It will be enough if I'm competent with that. My preferred weapon is my brain." Because of it is but that leaves her open for all sorts of snarking from Jeriah.

"You're on, Jeriah. If I can beat Mays score, you get English muffins FROM England. Not the ones they call muffins here." beat "I'm ready. When you are." She says to the RO, stepping up to him.

Why are some of the other agents scattering a bit?

Yeah, the Saint Barton schtick isn't a new one. May nods to the range officer and steps over as well, pulling her sidearm and offering it to the man to verify. No ICER today, this pistol's the real deal.

"And if I beat my own previous score, London?" If he's going to be tossing out wagers, she's not about to let him off easy.

Clint's admitting that he's not slept yet is equally unsurprising, but unlike Simmons, she doesn't bother to try and guess the archer's reasons. He'll either fess up on his own, or it's mission related and she doesn't need to know.

"Mmmm, what is it you want Agent May? Tea perhaps?" Jeriah says with a chuckle as Jemma steps up to the firing line. May's RO verifies her weapon and hands it back. "Okay you're ready to go."

The targets pop up and stand mutely ready. It's a simple qualification. This is proficiency not any of the advanced marksmanship quals. It shouldn't be a problem for either agent but for obvious reasons they get competitive.

"Just standard issue stuff, Agent Barton." The senior RO says to him. "We considered running the advanced qual but with the meal ticket here I'm kind of glad we didn't."

"… Barton and May. They're senior agents. They'll know a lot more about this sort of thing than Simmons. I say it's worth the risk. We should try it."

Did anyone else hear that? Clint and May and Jemma certainly did.

"Alright but if I get caught it's your ass, just remember that."

That sounded like it came from someone nearby. As if someone were within five or six feet having a conversation but there's no one IN that range but the RO.

A sniff is given to Jemma's impugning his night time activities and he holds up an open hand to her, "I excommunicate you from the Church of Hawkeye. May you forever find solace only in the arms of The Unholy Wade of Wilson." But then he does /yaaaaawn/ a bit which puts a bit of a kibosh on his schtick, one hand coming up and stifling it a little.
"But, yeah just late night. Tough time sleeping." And working.
Though a haze comes over him, a hint of confusion as he frowns and drops character, pulling the towel off his shoulders and sweeping the pointy hat off to toss it on the table near the food. He shoots a glance at Jemma and May, eyebrow quirking as he asks a silent question that they may or may not get.

Jemma steps up after her weapon checked. It's a pistol as well, not just her ICER. "I shall have to find another altar to worship at, Saint Barton." She tosses her shoulder.

Taking a stance, the biochem lines her weapon up and takes aim. Just as her finger is squeezing the trigger, she hears that voice. Jeriah, did you say something? she asks before turning to look at May and Barton. "Did either of you say something?"

London's stakes are accepted. "I would accept tea. Golden Imperial Yunnan, first flush." May hasn't stepped up to her shooting lane yet, so Clint's eyebrow-question is not missed. It's understood and she offers a slight nod back, subtly (to perhaps everyone but Barton) going on the alert and scanning the area with a quick and nonchalant-seeming glance at Jeriah and then Simmons.

"I did not," she tells Jemma and appears to be turning to step up to her firing lane. If there IS someone else in the room about to try something, they might want to stop and consider that she's holding a loaded firearm in her hands at the moment.

Jemma at this point feels a familiar intrusion into her systems. That's not Jeriah who shakes his head at her silent question. No he had not said anything.

"Something wrong?" Jeriah says quietly.

No one here that May or Clint can see is acting strangely but… no wait that's not true. There's an agent that just came in and is hanging out by the door. It's not that he's isolated and near the exit, but more the way he keeps glancing around.

"Alright. Here we go. Let's see what you folks have…"

Memories start floating up a little bit. Bad ones. Days that the mission went very wrong. If the senior agents have any kind of anti-manipulation training, deliberately evoking traumatic memories is often a cover for going after something else.

Jemma meanwhile feels someone try to access her only to be roughly evicted by Jeriah who is still on the lookout for that sort of thing. He goes on the alert too. "Something's wrong."

Clint, for the moment, is availing himself of a few handguns on the table. He makes a cursory show of checking them, gauging their load by the weight, chambering a round in one and slipping it into his jacket then starts to examine a couple of others. Over his shoulder he asks people, "Who was tasked to break these down last? They need a talking to."
Whether or not that they really do is anyone's guess, but for now Clint is advancing that idea.
Then there's a surge of memories in the archer's thoughts and his brow furrows knitting together obstinately. Unfortunately the memories trigger that reflection in the long time agent, and triggers the reaction he tends to have which is rarely flight and more fight.
He turns and makes the choice to act, likely taking the repercussions on himself in case he's mistaken. He allows for that possibility instead of shooting for the kill by simply bringing up the pistol and letting it bark twice as he sends two rounds down range into the agent near the door. Instead he shoots traight at the man's left foot and right leg.

Jemma has a raft of 'things gone wrong' in her memories, the largest and most horrifying is the accident that left her like this. Jeriah gets those, again, each and every one in techni-colour. Jemma can't help it as she tries to clear her mind.

That's made more difficult by the intrusion into her systems.

And Clint firing that weapon.

GET OUT Poor Jeriah might cop some of that as Jemma imagines a steel door closing on her mind as the intrusion abruptly stops. Was that you, Jeriah? Who stopped them?

The biochem is trembling slightly.

The instant that disembodied voice speaks up again and memories start surfacing, May reaches into her jacket and presses the small zippo-sized object, activating the broad spectrum jamming device. It was never designed to cover an area the size of a shooting range, but it should be enough to isolate Jeriah, Jemma, Clint, and herself from whatever is going on…. if the external sources are using frequencies that can be blocked. If they're not, they're about to get either a highly displeased senior agent, or a full-on Bahrain-level reaction.

She also, very intentionally, starts thinking in every asian language she knows, switching between Cantonese, Japanese, Tagalog, and others almost every few seconds.

The twin shots startle everyone in the range, including the target who is hit twice. He goes down clutching his wounded leg - he can't reach the foot - and screaming something bloody awful. Everyone just stares at Clint.

The psychic attack immediately stops though. The last thing everyone hears is "Shit. I got made."

"Ow ow ow ow ow." That seems to be the only thing the wounded man is capable of saying right now.

"I stopped them, well I kicked them out Jemma." Jeriah looks at the man Clint has just shot. "Things just got a bunch more interesting today, though."

Stepping forward while keeping the pistol level on the downed agent, Clint Barton moves toward the man still keeping that firing stance and only pauses once he's within ten feet of the fellow. Sideways to one of the other agents he snaps quickly, "Secure him."
Then the other way to another agent, Hawkeye's voice is sharp and severe as he growls. "Stop the bleeding." But he doesn't lower the gun at all, though he does casually draw another from behind the small of his back, the one he had already chambered a round. He thumbs the hammer and turns presenting what to some might be recognized as a full 360 degree transitional stance…
Which, to most gunmen would be considered nonsense. But with Hawkeye is very dangerous.
Then, he finally addresses the fallen agent. "Hey buddy." He keeps the gun level with the downed man's forehead. "Have you accepted Hawkeye as your own personal savior?"

Jemma starts at Hawkeyes growl and grabs the towel the man laid on the table, hurrying over. Thank you… I'm sorry if you got the brunt of those memories. That's to Jeriah as she moves.

"Let me see your leg." Jemma says to the downed agent, getting a good look at his face and automatically sharing the data with the hacker soldier Check the SHIELD files, see who this is. "I'll stop the bleeding and get you to medical, where you'll be held under guard. We'll call a telepath in as well."

"Um…" The wounded agent looks up at Clint and the gun that he is holding. Getting medical attention from Jemma is good of course but that gun kind of demands attention.

"Bless me father for I have sinned?"

Jeriah behind them snorts. That's going to be a very interesting interrogation. But it's going to have to wait. For now, the agent is moved, once Jemma has him stabilized.

So that later he can be asked very, very pointed questions.

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