2020-03-10 - Laugh Track


Why do Shay, Jeriah, Steve and Jemma end up in an episode of 'Leave It To Beaver?'

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Tue Mar 10 05:16:59 2020
Location: Brooklyn

Related Logs


Theme Song




There are… powers beyond those in this plane of existance. Akah Ma'at is a good example of this. Existing not where things are regularly thought of as being but existing all the same and holding secrets from a bygone age. Not all such curiosities are so… nice. And while most of them can be safely ignored - as they're only a problem for dimensional travelers whom are likely bump into them - others are more active. And ONE of them has taken an interest in a rather diverse group of people.

There's a flash and in an instant four people are transported from whatever they were doing to a police station, one that is LITERALLY sepia toned. Everyone is dressed like they're in an episode of Leave it to Beaver, though any weapons they had on hand might be oddly present, and while everyone definitely remembers everything there is a rather odd - but not irresistible - urge to act the part.

Jeriah is in Army tans and blinking. He's got an 'OSS' armband on his uniform. Why exactly the HELL he would be in a police station under these circumstances is utterly beyond him but he finds himself saying 'Detective Hol should be back this way I think.' There's a large German shepherd - a VERY large German shepherd - at his side.

Jemma had been working on an experiment in her lab when she was transported. Her one good eye blinks as she looks around.

The skirt and blouse she'd been wearing is now an authenticate '40s outfit and she looks around in confusion before her eyes light on Jeriah.

One good eye? She's wearing a patch on her left eye, and there are deep, puckered scars on the right side of her face. Gloves cover both of her hands.

Her left hand rests on the German Shepherds head. "Then lead on, Seargant London. Time is wasting." Her british is even more pronounced.

"Arrived as soon as I could." A heavier Brooklyn-Gaelic accent floats in before the man himself follows. Steve had been delivering a file to the laboratory on a thumbdrive regarding pertinent information to Jemma's task at hand. Now it's a yellow manila folder sandwiched about paperwork, this tucked beneath the arm of his distressed leather motorcycle jacket. Marbled brown and black with age, artfully so and through use, his golden hair's sleekly combed to control. Boots still clump as he approaches Jemma and Sergeant London.

"Got everything we need right here," says the Captain as he showcases the manila folder from beneath his arm. There's still confusion as well on his face, but the tension in his jaw means Steve's just going to bull through it like he always does.

Shayera had just been leaving the clinic, getting a final checkup on her wing. She blinked, and now she's standing in a strangely laid out office. Brick. Windows. No computers. The stench of tobacco. And what the HELL is she wearing?! She looks down at the closely-fitted two piece dress she's wearing, the gloves covering her hands, the moderately-heeled shoes, then turns to…

"Where the blue blazes are my—" she stops and looks both completely baffled and totally irate. "That is NOT what I just said." She turns again, and now can see that fastened to the shoulders of her dress in imitation of a fur stole are 'wings' a matched pair of grey-tipped white feather stoles. "Someone is going to die for this," she mutters as angrily as she feels. She doesn't even have her mace with her.

Jeriah meets Jemma's eyes and then Steve's. He doesn't say anything, just moves back toward where Shayera is almost on autopilot. Like he's been there a hundred times though he's never seen the inside of this police station - oddly neat and rather peaceful police station - in his life. Everyone here is smiling, like it's a lovely day, and he knows for a fact that cops just aren't like that.

They arrive just in time to hear Shay's outburst and the dog trots ahead of Jemma to greet Shay like it knows her. It manages to cut in front of the 'OSS' trooper and trip him, causing him to sort of stumble into Shay's office.

And that's when an unseen chorus of people laugh. Jeriah stops.

"Was that just a florid laugh track?" He blinks. "Not florid, festering. No, not festering, fetid." His jaw sets and he taeks a breath. "Fudge."

He DOES look a bit frustrated. "What in the…" Grumble, grumble, grumble. And then, without knowing why he says.

"Detective Hol, nice to see you again. Captain Rodgers, you remember him right, has the file on Roxxon that you asked for and Doctor Simmons is here to clear up any questions you may have."

The file that Steve has, whatever it was SUPPOSED to be carrying, is now an file on Roxxon Energy, which IS a real company, but the details of the file are a catalogue of shady dealings, illicit contacts with Nazi's and Russians, and a complete profile on their regional VP who is, it seems, a real heel. Heel? Jerk. Wretch. Blockhead. Reprobate

Grrrrrrrr. Dang it!

Jemma reaches out to stabilise Jeriah with her right hand, unable to close her fingers in the glove. To Jeriah it will feel … cool… and sort of lifeless - like a dolls arm or something similar.

The laughter has her glancing around. "What in heck is going on here?" Heck? Her fingers touch her lips in consternation. That is not what she said.

"Feel free to ask Dectective Hol. The information we've gained from the Roxxon files is quite extensive."

Even Steve reaches out to make sure that Sergeant London doesn't bite the dust, but it seems like Miss Jemma has the situation under control. He nods agreement with the sergeant. "Yep, I remember Detective Hol. Couldn't forget her if I tried."

There's a wee little titter from the laugh track and the Captain looks around himself again, bewildered. Still, he follows the group into the office in question.

"Excuse me, Detective, these are the Roxxon files you wanted to reference 'nd go over." Flicking the manila folder open, the man frowns down at them before uttering an absolutely beleaguered sigh.

"Well…gosh 'nd golly, this picture here." And he taptaps a finger at the cut-out portrait of the main suspect in question paperclipped to the top of the page. "This is Nazi guy 've been watching lately."

Cue rimshot.

Cue laugh track.

Shay turns again quickly to look at the HUGE dog and then Jeriah stumbling into the room with Jemma and Steve following. The honestly disturbing disembodied laughter has her looking around again. "What the horseradish is going on?" And then, for no reason she can fully determine, she steps over to look at the picture in the file that Steve is still holding, tossing another glare around the room at the laughter.

"Zemo. That… piece of trash. Does this file say where we can find him?" Yes, she just very deliberately changed what she was going to say so it wouldn't get changed against her will. She also gives Jeriah and Jemma a very pointed look. Do THEY have any idea what's going on?

Jeriah shakes his head as if to say 'no'. No he doesn't have any idea what's going on either. He's about to try to communicate something beyond the 'script' they're all apparently reading from when - as these things do - it gets worse.

The door opens at the end of the large room full of desks which Shayera's office is connected to and two mildly arguing voices step through.

"Nay ye cannae say tha! I'll put ANY of Scotland's union teams up against yer maple leafs!"

"Oh I won't have that…"

The people to whom the two voices belong are respectively dressed in the uniform of the London Metropolitan Police - better known as Scottland Yard - and the bright red dress uniform of the RCMP. The faces of both are familiar. VERY familiar. And the Scottish one has a shine on his fairly tight pants for some reason.

"Detective Hol! Captain Rodgers! And Doctor Simmons!" The Mountie says. "You requested international cooperation and by Jove it's here. Captain Matthew Faring at your service. Or Captain Canada as they called me during the war. And may I introduce Special Constable Angus McFife of Scottland Yard."

Jeriah just looks up and groans quietly.

"So!" McFife says. "Do we know what ne'erdo'ell is responsible for all this?"

"Oh my." Jemma looks at the file and nods. "Baron Zemo, that's him. That geezer has had many going for a burton in his time." Jemma blinks and touches her lips again. She's not entirely sure what it is she just said.

"But if we get weaving, we have a lea—— " Her words die off as she stares at the Special Constable trousers, shakes herself and moves just a little closer to Jeriah "Did you request assistance?" She sotte voca's.

She's going to leave it to Shayera to greet them. Though she does look about the office with interest. What is going on here?

"Definitely Zemo," the Captain confirms. He does give Jemma a concerned side-glance and then the true-blues slide to Jeriah and the Detective. "Showed the information to another soldier in my unit 'nd he confirmed it. Said the man's a mean sonnuva…"

Steve peters out at the arrival of the others, shiny pants and maple leaf and all.

"…gun. Can't help but agree. Captain Faring, Constable McFife, welcome to the good ol' U-S of A." Okay, even as the super-soldier's glancing over at Shayera, he's frowning. What the fork?

What the ever lovin' fork indeed. Shayera looks at the two men just arrived, and lacking the understanding of the RCMP uniform, she merely looks at them suspiciously for a moment before stepping over to offer them each a handshake. "Welcome, gentlemen. You're to be part of the task force being send to track down a Nazi war criminal by the name of Baron Zemo. This is London, Simmons, and Rogers. And I'm Detective Hol."

She finds herself returning to the desk in the room, picking up a cigarette and lighter, then stops herself with a frown. No. Just no.

"Glad to be here Captain." Faring says. Jeriah wonders if that's actually his name or if it's just 'in the script.' "Anything to help our southern neighbor."

"Nazi." Angus shakes his head. "Had my fill of that during the war. No place for a man like that in today's world. Do we have a lead, lads?"

"We do." Jeriah says almost automatically, railing internally as his dog comes back to sit by him. "Captain Rodger's information and Detective Hol's investigation make it pretty clear that Roxxon intends to utilize the old subway tunnels under their newest refinery to provide something to Zemo. OSS hasn't been able to determine exactly what but we think it may be related to atomics."

No, he can't even say 'nuclear'. While this SHOULD be bad news, serious news, Angus and Matthew just smile and nod. "We'll don'tcha worry lad. We'll get him and no mistake. I presume Doctor Simmons has some idea of how to track it? All I need to know is when do we spring our track."

Jeriah in the mean time reaches down and picks up a pencil and pad from Shay's desk and scribbles on it for a moment, then nods and writes Looks like I can write on this. What the HECK has happened and how do we get out of this Andy Griffith nightmare? Also, why is the world sepia toned and how in blazes is that man's pants that shiny?

Then he pauses, tries to write another word under 'heck' but it just comes out as 'fudge'. He scowls, scribbles both words out and sets the pad down.

Jemma just sighs internally at the whole situation, drawing her attention back from the examination of the area. No clues here as to what's going on. Maybe they're in the framework that she and Jeriah have been working on - no, that can't be right. She doesn't remember hooking up that.

"What, oh, yes. And I do remind, Constable, that there are lasses here as well." Those shiny pants draw another look before Jemma offers a faint smile to Steve and Shayera.

"I can track the atomics, yes. It's new technology and experimental. It's also a little dangerous, as there's radiation to consider."

"Wouldn't trust anybody else to track 'em with atomics involved." Steve gives a big beaming smile practically radiating hope and wholesome goodness like a megawattage bulb. Even as he then turns to peer at Jeriah's writing, the expression falls like melting snowmelt from a branch. He takes up the pen and makes to write upon the pad as well:

I have no idea, but the fact that we can do this makes me think we can still influence things to break the simulation.

He then sets the writing utensil aside and rubs at the back of his neck. This is so incredibly awkward, all of this!

Shayera glances at all of the scribbling on the pad, but doesn't add anything to it. Yet. "How much time do you need to get set up to track the atomics, M- DOCTOR Simmons?" She grates out Jemma's title, quite clearly forcing herself to say it instead of whatever this weird sepia-toned place wanted her to say.

Steve's megawatt smile only gets a flat look from her and she catches herself reaching for the cigarette again, slamming the disgusting thing back onto the desk with enough force to crush it and scatter the tobacco shreds everywhere. "The sooner we can start the tracking, the better. I want this dealt with yesterday."

Maybe that's the secret to getting out of this insanity. Solve the problem.

"Can't say for the doc, but we can be ready to move just about whenever we can get a fix on the place. OSS can coordinate with the NYPD and anyway we promised to keep you in the loop. Once we find them we'll be all over them like stink on a polecat."

The laugh track goes and Jeriah mentally facepalms. COME ON! That wasn't even a good joke!!

"That's the spirit!" Captain Canada says as he slaps Jeriah on the back. "We always get our man."

Very quietly Jeriah says "Don't touch me."

"Sorry." The canadian whispers.

"Aye, and very fine lookin' lasses if I may say." The Constable bows toward Jemma getting another laugh from the unseen audience.

"Oh. Jemma and I were goin' down to the diner if you folks wanted to join us."

WHY is Jeriah saying that? And 'diner?' Oy.

"Best shoo fly pie outside amish country."

Jemma just blinks at the colloquialisms. It was difficult enough coming to terms with current day slang, now she's translating for olden time talk. "I'm ready to go once we get the vehicle from HQ. It's got all the equipment we will need."

"Why thank you, Captain Rogers. I'm just doing my job. For King and country and all that." King. There hasn't been a King since … the second war world.

The constable draws a blush, in a typical british fashion, the laugh track has her looking around.

"That's right." She beams at the other two. "Got to look after my man." Why is she talking like that. 'Her man'. It's like they're back in the 50's.

"Might as well eat some food before we get tracking. Hard to do on an empty stomach. More likely to track somebody's pie to their windowsill if your stomach's rather than anything atomic," notes the Captain. "Zemo's probably not going to be going around stealing those 'nd pilfering 'em through underground tunnels."

This laugh track is the worst. Steve does his absolute best to stare right down the barrel of any camera, The Office-style.

What the FUCK is 'shoo fly pie'? Shayera is completely sure she does NOT want to know. And yet, she finds herself nodding and stepping toward the others again. "Sure. I could use a cup of jo— coffee." She clenches her hands into fists and closes her eyes for a few seconds, fighting the urge to just SCREAM. No, she couldn't. She's tasted the stuff. Once. She HATED it.

Then she finds herself stepping over to Steve and hooking a hand though his arm and leaning against him just a bit. "Lead the way, London." She offers the blond man an apologetic look for just sauntering all up into his personal space then glares across the room. Whoever is behind this is going to PAY.

Jeriah does indeed lead the way and as he does a big, brassy piece of music starts playing. "Will our intrepid heroes get dinner and a show? Tune in next time for our next episode of 'Life, Liberty and Apple Pie!'

There's another flash and all four of them are at a middle eastern restaurant with an order of schwarma in front of them. The proprietor looks shocked and then stares, shrugs and turns to keep cleaning the cups.

Jeriah pats himself to make sure that his clothes are back and no obvious bits of him are missing and then takes a deep breath.

"Okay. What the actual fuck?!"


As the voice over starts, Jemma looks around. She couldn't see anything in the room that would be causing this. They *must* be in a simulation, gone wrong, right?

Uh no.

She blinks as there's schwarma in front of her and her left eye starts functioning again - in its way.

"Jeriah!" She manages to admonish him for the language anyway. "I would tend to agree though. Did you all have the same experience just then?" It's a valid question.

Given Steve is a gentleman, he allows himself only a little flicker of surprise on his features when suddenly, the Detective is on his arm. Gallant as always, he tucks his fist against his sternum to keep her anchor present even as he glances at the others.

"Shoo fly pie it is." As the others look about, so does he, still fairly wide-eyed and then WHABAM:

There's a steaming plate of food before himself and he's back in his regular gear, all this at the drop of a hat. Or the push of a channel button, perhaps? Regardless, he blinks at Jeriah's outburst. "Man's not wrong," is all the Captain says at first, apparently content to let that expletive slide given he feels about the same way in regards to the whole affair. "If you're talking seeing the world through sepia-tinted glasses 'nd feeling like I had to smile at everything 'nd saying some one-liners that even Barnes wouldn't tolerate? Then yes."

The voiceover makes NO sense to her whatsoever, so her only reaction to it is a scowl. Then Shayera flinches at the flash, getting a little twinge of pain from her nearly-healed wing. She looks around, then over her shoulder at one of her wings before all but lunging out of her chair. Stepping away from the fragile (to her) table, she storms over to the side wall of the restaurant, clearly made of original red clay brick, and punches the wall hard enough to chip off a few bits of said red clay.

"Loll, kits armastav, s%<u00f5>nniku neelamine, n%<u00f5>ela torkimine! Kui ma sind leian, siis SOOVITAD, et sa oleksid surnud!" she snarls at the wall in her native language.

She huffs a few times, very obviously struggling to rein in her temper, then she turns back to the others. "Someone is going to fucking DIE for this."

Jeriah sort of leans to get away from the very literally ruffled feathers that Shayera has spread out before she storms off. The proprietor stares and looks at Jeriah who makes a 'it will be alright' motion. The man looks dubious but doesn't say anything.

"I think we all did. I've got a network connection again. Standby." Jemma alone can see him rush through data at speeds that beggar the imagination.

"Okay… this is weird. I just tried to pull up data on Roxxon and cross reference it with criminal databases. There WAS an investigation by the SSR in the years after the war but it never came to anything. It did involve something nuclear…" Feels good to be able to say that word again. "Was…"

The hacker struggles to put things into words for a moment. "Were we seeing a record? It sounded like a TV show." Beat. "And… are we going to be whisked away for the next 'episode' at some point?"

"I am, Steve." Jemma frowns, getting snippets of the records that Jeriah is reviewing. She shakes her head at the questions, watching Shayera as the woman punches the wall. "Could we have some tea, please?" She asks the proprietor handing him her card that says SHIELD.

"I don't know Jeriah. But I want to get all four of us into the lab for some tests. Make sure we weren't dosed with pshchotropics or something. How much time has gone by, by the way."

"Shayera, won't you sit? There'll be tea in a moment." She invites, trying to get the woman to calm down.

Shayera's reaction does have the Captain placing his hands upon the table as if he were about to rise. However, he turns his attention back to Jeriah and to Jemma as information he doesn't know about comes to light.

"After the war…?" he echoes more quietly, brows tightly knitted. "Wasn't around for that, but…" Peggy was, the man thinks to himself with a sharp pang in his heart. "«Mo dhia», no wonder everything looked familiar. That wasn't long at all after the war had ended." He briefly squints at the ceiling as if to swiftly pray for some deitic patience.

"'nd that episode might happen whether we like or not, but…already on call with a Valkyrie, so 'm getting used to it. Rather still get cleared for any drugs, yes, so blood tests as soon as we get back to the Triskelion," the Captain agrees. "If it's a drug, it's a helluva thing. Barely anything can touch me."

Shayera stands there and fumes for another minute or so before finally returning to the table and reversing a chair to sit back down. "Whatever that was, it was not any sort of telepathic attack. That I would recognize." She's been trained to recognize that sort of thing, even if there's never really any way short of her armor to actually stop that kind of attack. She has every intention of living in her armor for the foreseeable future. It's not like she's not done that before.

"Fine," she sighs. "I'll go with you as well to rule out drugs." She really does not like the thought of that at all, especially considering how she usually reacts to things very differently from Grounders.

"Almost no time at all, Jemma. Five minutes." Which at least means their days haven't been too disrupted though now they need a few cabs to get back to where they were going.

At length, Jeriah nods and slides out of his seat, standing up. "1948 to 1952, Cap. So yeah. Right after the war." That's why everything had seemed so familiar. That's why Jeriah had an OSS badge. That's why Jemma had sounded like… actually…

"Jemma why DID you sound like you were from a screening of Oliver Twist?" All that… weird slang she was spouting off.

"We should get going. I'll ask around SHIELD, maybe someone will have some ideas if we rule out drugs." They probably will, Jemma knows, but he isn't going to like the answers he get.

"I'll keep you all in the loop. Shall we go, then? Get this over with and get back to our day?"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License