Lockdown: Slaughter Swamp

February 28, 2015:

S.H.I.E.L.D. attempts to discern the connection between Fracture and the Winter Soldier with a good ol' fashioned group interrogation; it doesn't go quite as planned.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Satellite Detention Facility, Slaughter Swamp

Slaughter Swamp: Where discerning Gothamites go to hide the bodies.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Four bare, impact resistant walls, a ceiling, and a floor. A table, some chairs, a microphone, a clump of exposed wires in one corner where a camera was removed for security purposes. Prisoners on one side, SHIELD agents on the other.

It's an interrogation room; there are many like it in SHIELD's Slaughter Swamp detention facility, but this one is Fracture and the Winter Soldier's.

She was captured two weeks ago after a brutal mass slaying and a hard-fought battle in a warehouse; he was caught a few days ago after following what turned out to be some, if not outright bad, outdated intelligence on the facility.

It's the first time they've been in the same room since his capture, but he isn't saying much of anything. His right arm is shackled behind him, to the chair; the other is missing. Even though he isn't talking, he at least appears to be listening - or perhaps simply concentrating - intently.


"It's giving off a signal of some kind," Agent Fred Danielson mutters into an ear piece, studying the monitors of a wall-dominating scanner while his fingers fly across its console's keys; it doesn't look too unlike a CAT machine, but there's a metal arm sitting in the middle instead of a human body. "Heavily encrypted, with a constantly shifting frequency… every time I get it cracked and start to jam it, the damn thing gets away from me."

2- and 3-dimensional models of the Winter Soldier's arm, all rendered with varying layers of depth and detail rotate across the monitors while data streams along its borders. All of this information is transmitted to a room near the interrogation for the benefit of Agent/Dr Jemma Simmons and a number of other SHIELD employees with varying levels of scientific acumen.

"Like trying to grapple an eel in tub of Vaseline," Fred adds, frowning at the read-outs. He's so engrossed in information that he doesn't see a metal pinky twitch in the scanner, nor does he hear metallic scraping from within the machine over the persisting whine of its operation as the cybernetic limb spasms. "Anyway, I'll keep running scans; if I see anything, I'll let you know, and vice versa."

A couple seconds later, when the models begin refreshing, Fred sees that their pinkies are all raised, and the aberration deepens his frown.

"Hey, guys, I think I— "

Unfortunately, by that point, the arm has skittered out of the scanner and worked its way close enough to Agent Danielson to grab one of his ankles, squeeze, and—


Agent Danielson's badly electrocuted body collapses in a twitching heap as the arm skitters towards the console to scale it. It needs to find its way to a vent, and from there, to Fracture and the Winter Soldier's interrogation room; this means climbing anything it possibly can to work its way up.

Bobbi Morse was released from the medical wing of the Triskelion only yesterday, after a battery of testing to ensure the lifesaving serums she was injected with a week ago are working properly. They're working more than properly, turning her into the equivalent of Captain America in the physical sense. Her left wrist still bears a cast from a rapidly healing break inflicted by Domino, but other than that she looks amazingly healthy. Even her skin has that super model glow most people spend thousands on cosmetics to achieve and her hair looks like a damned Pantene commercial.

She currently has a carbon rod electrode shoved down the gap in her wrist cast, borrowed from the lab techs in the Swamp, using it to scratch at the constant itching of the plaster immobilizer on her skin. She's just arrived from follow up scans by the science division, so she's in sweat pants and a SHIELD-logo tee, with her hair up in a ponytail. "Oh my God, this stuff fixed even my eyesight, you'd think it'd suppress itching too!" No such luck, Morse.

She looks at the scans of the Soldier's arm with a frown. She's a biochemist, so she somewhat grasps the parts of it intended to interface with the assassin's human body, but the mechanical and computerized components are well beyond her. She is returning to itching at her cast bound wrist when Agent Danielson gets electrocuted by the disembodied escapee. "What the hell!?" She shouts, rushing after the scuttling metal arm, and overshooting it by a long margin as she forgets she's now a bit more 'super' than she used to be.

Her eyes were pressed forward, hair a mess. The icy blues look almost deadened from her time here at SHIELD. All work and no play makes Veruca a very, very angry girl. Perhaps there may have been a little twinkle within her eye as she saw that the Winter Soldier had managed to get himself captured as well. And yet, he only had but an arm.

Veruca's getup was possibly a bit worse, magnetized shackles against the table and the floor, the table itself that she's bound to bolted and welded to the floor. She remains seated in the chair, her jaw tensing every now and then, a slow gaze soon turned towards Winter and a slight smirk draws upon her lips.

"Dumb ass."

Discontent against villains? Probably! Either way, it felt like the right moment to say it.

Falcon stands near the back of the scanner room, arms crossed over his chest. He feels out of place, despite his familiarity with most of the people here. He has only worked with SHIELD on a freelance basis, and this isn't the sort of dark op he is accustomed to. Still, given the prisoners' enhancements, this falls under the JL:A's aegis, and Nick Fury — in his reputedly infinite wisdom — called for Falcon. Still, apart from a few warm greetings for the most familiar faces, he has spent most of his time here quiet, retreating behind the impassive front his mask and uniform presents.

The sudden attack by the Winter Soldier's prosthetic limb changes all of that. He's caught flat-footed, and hesitates too long before raising one gauntlet to aim a talon grapple at the escaping limb. He swears, then rushes to Danielson's side and kneels next to him, feeling for a pulse. With immediate medical attention, the agent should recover just fine, but in the meantime, that arm is undoubtedly going to cause havoc. "Somebody call an alert. We've got to keep that thing away from its owner," he says through gritted teeth. The arm could aid in an escape or, worse, act as one of the spy world's famous hollow teeth — perhaps with collateral damage.


"And you said she'd be using a rubber hose." Paul says dryly, not looking over at Sara as they watch the prisoners from outside the room. "I told you, that's so 70s. Eelectricity is still the way to go and doesn't leave marks." Pause. "Unless you use too high a voltage. A telepath would probably be even better." Too bad they don't have one. He studies the two prisoners a moment then says "Since SHIELD isn't part of the US, they don't need to follow Miranda. Most of the European nations, including the Union, have some equivalent but I couldn't find one for the UN."

There are some things that SHIELD does that Sara needs training on. Jumping out of planes, for example. Spy craft that goes beyond undercover work. Fancy new equipment. But interrogation rooms? Sara has been a detective for eight years, and a cop for ten. Interrogation rooms, she knows.

Which probably explains why she's checking her watch as she stands outside the interrogation room that contains Veruca and the Winter Soldier, arms crossed loosely over her chest. The actual suit thing is a little unusual, but hey, trade-offs. "The guy is missing an arm," she points out to Paul. "I heard they've actually got it over in medical. You really think being able to knock him around is going to make that much of a difference in him talking?"

Melinda May enters the interrogation room bookended by two burly security types, though anyone trained to look will undoubtedly recognize that she's got at least two weapons concealed under her leather-looking jacket. She stops out of arms' reach of both people and stares at them for several long seconds each. It would be nice if one of them started spilling their guts without her having to actually ask questions, but she suspects they're both made of sterner stuff. Finally, she asks, "What were the objectives that Hydra gave you?" just as Falcon's calling for an alert over in the CAT scan suite.

Simmons is safely closeted in that other room, peering intently at the monitors, a small frown furrowing her brow. Thoroughly engrossed in the readings, paying the other scientifc types murmured discussion half a mind, she tilts her head as the pinkies are raised "Ah, Agent Danielson…" she says at the same time the man is zapped. "Agent Danielson, are you there?" She's not sure what just happened and looks to the video feed from the CAT Scan suite.


"You might have a point," the Winter Soldier flatly murmurs without returning Veruca's glance. "This could have gone better."

Melinda and her escort are in his field of vision as they enter, but his eyes don't shift towards them, either— nor do they try to get a glimpse of what lies beyond the door. His focus is almost entirely on a point just a few feet in front of him as information streams into his brain from elsewhere in the facility: muffled sounds, his fingers dancing over metal and briefly grippling flesh, vibrations…

It's almost as if his arm is still attached to his body instead of frantically skittering around a lab.

He does, however, answer Melinda's question with a slight cock of his head: "Who?"

Meanwhile, the Soldier's disembodied limb is trying to do what could best be described as armkour around the lab as Falcon's grapple line and Bobbi's whole body fly it. While Bobbi resets herself and Falcon makes sure Danielson isn't dead, it races up to the console, scratches against it for a moment in search of purchase, then circles away so that it can plant its palm flat against the ground. Inhumanly strong fingers flex down and forward, steel bands shift and sigh against one another, and the whole thing launches into an end over end flip that lands it on the keys.

Jemma gets a burst of activity as the arm flops against the keys while it props itself back up: wildly spinning and zooming models, changing fonts, half a dozen different new analyses being initiated all at once, and so on.

Once it does manage to prop itself up again, its fingers splay across the keys as it prepares to launch itself further upwards in search of higher ground.


"Crap!" Mockingbird exclaims as she avoids slamming into the far wall of the lab by running a few steps up it and flipping backwards, landing in a crouch. "Ok, that was kind of neat, but still, crap!" She rushes after the errant metal arm again, moving to try and block it's path to the door and triggering her comlink. "Sam, can you cut it off, it might be trying to get to its owner!" Or maybe explode at the heart of the Swamp. Which would be bad. This is not a good situation at all. "Agent May, the guy's metal arm is loose! I repeat, the arm is loose! We have an agent down! Any volatile targets in this base?!"

"Could have. But we thrive on chaos."

Veruca's voice cuts off as Agent May enters the room, her head tilting slightly as she recognizes the woman from the night in the park. She had pretty eyes, that one. One that would look better stuffed and primed upon her mantle.

"Oh. It's you." Veruca murmurs dryly, her fingers clenching and unclenching as she stares at the wall behind May and past the two men. She even checks her binds, feet stuck to the flore as she closes her eyes to release a calming breath. As Winter answers, her eyes open and shoot into his direction, a slight shrug of her shoulders given as she decides to be the one to play cool.

"Hydra.. you say?" She asks, sitting up in her chair as much as she's allowed, her body leaning forward upon the table to see if she could gain a reflection of herself to look right into..

"Isn't that a big lizard do-dad with five heads? You know.. cut off one and another grows in it's place?" She sniffs just a little, chin turning so that a shoulder could lift that she could wipe her nose upon to stifle the tickle felt. "Nikogda ne slyshal o nikh."

Once he's sure Danielson isn't giving up the ghost, Sam leaps up from his crouch, sprinting to flank the arm. "On it," he tells Bobbi. No matter which way the thing goes, it will have to contend with one of them.

As he runs, he raises his arm, takes aim, and fires the talon this time. With the Winter Soldier's metal limb occupied at the console, he has time to line up a decent shot. The mangetic clamps at the ends of the snare won't hurt when it comes to catching a metallic arm, either.

He also does his part to call in the cavalry — not The Cavalry, the metaphorical one. "Falcon to Watchtower. We've got a runaway prosthetic. Yes, you heard that right. If you've got someone in the neighborhood, we might need the support soon."


Paul glances down at this communicator as it displays an alert in the science labs. Being a recruit, they get some toys. Being a recruit, they weren't told about the arm being examined at the same time Winter Soldier was. "Well, just like EI. Always something going wrong."


"But you know what the good part is?" Sara replies to Paul with a faint smile, lifting her right hand as tendrils of Witchblade start to curl around her fingers, forming a gauntlet. "Nobody here is going to pitch a fit when something weird shows up on the camera feeds." She moves toward the door to the interrogation room, taking up a spot that should block it from the outside as well as the inside if needed.

"This is Rogers. I got your message, Sam, I can be there in five minutes." Out on the streets, Steve gives his brand new bike some extra gas and he begins to weave in and out of traffic across the great bridge between Gotham and Metropolis. At one point he even goes up on the raised shoulder once traffic was too tight.


Melinda May does NOT appreciate smart alec remarks. She gets enough of them from allies. And then she hears Mockingbird's words and rushes toward the one-armed man, mentally dismissing the strange words from Veruca for the moment. "Look at me," She demands of the Winter Soldier while reaching into one pocket. If he doesn't turn to look at her, she's going to jab him in the neck with the tranquilizer dart she pilfered from Barton's arrowhead collection.

The video feed from the CAT scan suite and the alerts through the comlinks, paint the picture and Simmons frowns at the gibberish appearing on her screens. "Well that's not useful at all." She murmurs "I could really use Fitz, right about now… there may be a way to disable the arm" Glancing to see if any of the other sciencey types might have an answer, she worries her bottom lip as she quickly reviews the data they've gathered.


The Winter Soldier hears the demand but doesn't jump to obey it; he's too busy concentrating. So busy, in fact, that he doesn't register the dart that May's drawing from her pocket.

Things aren't going too hot in the lab; he's a little busy.

The cyborg zombie arm is mid-flip when Sam's cables attach to its surface; it sort of hangs in the air for a second before falling, bouncing off of the edge of the console, and hitting the ground. While it doesn't waste any time in trying to work itself up onto its fingers again, it's still snared, still under the Falcon's power; there's only so much that it can realistically do, at this point.

"Is that a story? The creature with the heads? I have not met any multi-headed creatures, if that's what you were wondering." the Winter Soldier says as his eyes finally slide towards May's. Even then, though, he's basically looking right through here, still more focused on the lab than the interrogation room— very focused, even. Enough that his brow furrows as he looks 'at' the Cavalry.

Back in the lab, the Winter Soldier's arm lets out a rapidly building whine— the same one that preceded Danielson's electrocution. Sure enough, energy crackles along the length of the arm as a charge builds, rather than explode with electric fury, all that comes after a brief build-up is a few wisps of smoke hissing out from between the metal bands.

The Winter Soldier's eyes briefly widen as he feels something go wrong, but since he's both a professional and has had most of the humanity conditioned out of him, he resumes staring at May in short enough order instead of freaking out about it.


Mockingbird's head moves, eyes tracking the motions of the cybernetic arm with a mind of its own. When it gets snared and starts charging up, she grimaces at the thought it might zap her like it did Danielson, or blow up with everyone in this confined space, but she's an agent, dammit, and she really can't back out now. She dives to cover it with her body, in the hopes of absorbing any blast. Fortunately, whatever it was trying to do just peters out.

"We can pick up the control signal, at least," a tech informs Jemma without looking up from her screen or breaking the rhythm of her typing. "We… might even be able to extrapolate the pattern he's using to keep it encrypted, hijack it… but I don't know how long that'll be good for. A couple of seconds? Maybe a minute?"

Despite her uncertainty, she's already working her way through the necessary code, because she, too, is a professional.

There. That was all she needed. The reflection in the metal table that slowly moves as soon as she sees it, her own face forming into the surface as it slowly splits into one… two… three.. four..

They should have kept her locked up in the box.

She leans back now, obvious strain upon her features, her gaze gone to the two men left at the door, whipping and snapping towards Winter and May as she lets out a little sigh of reprieve. "Oh for the love of god. Stab him already." Veruca hisses.

But yet, a sinister thing occurs, fingers slowly appear from the middle of the table, wriggling as if she were pulling herself from a thick mass, forearms produced and planted hard upon the table with a loud slap against the surface. Veruca (1) slowly pulls herself from the reflection, her back arching as it snaps with the bend, followed by the arms as she sinks then pushes herself up with enough strength to land upon the table at a crouch.

"He doesn't need to look at you, but you need to look at me.." The copy launches herself from the table, her aim true.. whether or not May could avoid being smashed into the wall as the copy flings herself from the position in which she previously stood is up to her…

"Get us out of here!" Veruca hisses to the visages left within the table.. as one by one, those faces disappear, while the real Veruca's attention is split and divided to send the others into various points of facility with reflective surfaces to look for that damned arm.

Sam is all set to take a shock for his troubles when the arm seems to short out. He glances sidelong at Bobbi as she dives over the potential grenade, but he doesn't seem ready to celebrate a victory just because she doesn't blow up. "Don't think you're gonna punk us, Thing," he warns the ensnared arm. "I'm having Uncle Fester put you back in the box." He thumbs his communicator on and says, "Need a containment team in the scanning bay — fast." He's not giving the arm an inch of leeway until he's sure it's 'dead,' and he's not calling Cap off, either. This whole mess just screams vintage evil super science, and few people know that scene as well as Steve Rogers, even if Nick Fury didn't seem to want him on this assignment.


"True enough." Paul agrees. With Sara playing guard on the door to the interogation room, he shifts position to better cover the one out to the hallway. "So, prison break? Or pure coincidence?" As if he thinks there's a chance in hell of it being the latter. He idly reaches up to straighten the Rapture under his shirt but there's no indication of any demonic or supernatural forces at play so he doesn't shift. The conversation in the other room does not seem to be following the script which gets him to look over at the monitor. "Shit. We are allowed to shoot escaping prisoners, right?" he asks his partner, drawing his sidearm and taking the safety off. "Is the paperwork as bad?"

Sara glances into the room at Paul's question, jaw setting in a grim line. "I'm willing to find out," she replies to her partner, slapping a communicator. "We're having some issues in interrogation right now, Sam. Looks like any power dampeners going on here may not be fully functional. May, you want back up in there, or you want this door to stay shut?"

There's a difference between real, wet-behind-the-ears SHIELD recruits and people who've been in law enforcement for a decade. Sara isn't opening that door until she's got a better idea of what's going on. The Witchblade, though, is already hungry for combat, armor crawling over the agent and a wicked, curved short-blade appearing in one gauntleted hand.

Melinda May does indeed stab the tranquilizer dart into the WInter Soldier's neck, just before Veruca leaps off the table at her. Wait, what? That's enough of an oddity that Lady Redundant Woman's duplicate does indeed manage to slam into her, but May is nothing if not able to roll with the punches. While the momentum is more than enough to send them both at the nearby wall, May manages to pivot on the way there so the Veruca number 2 is the one to hit the wall, not her. "No one leaves this room," May half-snarls at the duplicate though she means the words for Pezzini. She then aims an elbow at the duplicate's head. "Not without my say-so."

"Do it. Anytime that we can buy the others will be worth it." Simmons is still reviewing her own data when Sams request comes through. With Agent Danielson down, the containment team will need assistance, she's sure. Pointing to three of the others in the room with her "You three, with me, we'll go and help with the containment." and she's hurrying out the door towards the CAT Scan suite.


Cap nearly leaps off the bike as he sprints towards the building in question—he wasn't sure what was going on, but if Sam had called about it, it was important.

He bypasses all of the security protocols to burst into the room with Bobbi and Falcon. He stops, breathing just a hint harder than he normally would as his eyes scan the room. The blues turn into a peer at the both of them. "What's going on." To Bobbi, "You look good for a dead woman." His head tilts slowly, "Back to the first question. What's going on?"


"Hkk— "

The Winter Soldier's body stiffens when the dart goes in and the veins in his neck bulge. His eyes grow wide, unfocused; it's quickly becoming impossible to track the deluge of information coming from his arm, thanks to the fog settling over his senses.

He imagines himself making a fist as his eyes begin to droop; his hand remains slack in its cuff.

Smoke pumps out of the Soldier's arm as the mechanisms within whirr and buzz to life once again, quickly filling the air around Bobbi. Crackling electricity warns of a building charge, but this time, rather than fizzling out, it just builds and builds, seemingly ignorant of the fact that something's wrong with it. A metal band pops and peels partway off of the whole, exposing a core of moving parts surrounded by a scintillating corona of energy; it soons begins expanding, joining with what's dancing along the limb to become an electric halo around it as the whole thing begins vibrating ominously.

If Mockingbird is still covering it in the hopes of putting her serum to the test and protecting the others in the lab, she might just get her wish.

In the observation room, the frantically typing tech murmurs, "I just… need…" Brief silence beyond the sound of keystrokes, and then: "Okay, compiling, and…"

Back in the lab, the metal arm's vibrations grow wild as the energy surging within and around it suddenly reaches a critical mass. The Winter Soldier's last, desperate remote command to the limb is interrupted by the enterprising tech, turning what was meant to be the controlled application of the limb's compromised EMP generator into a brief but brilliant explosion of arcing electricity that plunges large swaths of the facility into darkness; it's followed by a number of significantly smaller pops and blasts within the limb its components catastrophically fail due to over-exertion.

Although they're black, there are still plenty of perfectly reflective monitors in there.

When it's all over, the limb is more more of a vaguely arm-shaped lump of peeled back metal strips and sparking wires than a functional prosthetic.

In the interrogation room, the Winter Soldier slumps in his chair, conscious but only just.


"I hear you're partially to thank for that Cap, so thanks," Bobbi calls out to Steve. "A hand with the hand here?" she asks, on the floor and trying to wrestle with the Winter Soldier's arm. "I swear to God if this thing tries to grope me, I'm going to pull all its innards out." When it starts looking like it's going to blow, she tries to pick it up and throw it into the corner of the room furthest from the occupants.

Veruca nearly got a face full of May elbow, but she was quick as well. The slam against the wall rousing her from a near victory, but shifting her head to the side so that her elbow could be planted into the wall. "Wanna fucking bet?" Veruca snaps out, grasping May's shoulder to give her the ol' heavy ho, attempting to create distance in between her and Winter. "Snap out of it, don't make her do all the work!" Veruca (1) snaps out in regards to the real one, who remained magnetized to the chair, yet her chest heaving from her exertion.

While (3) and (2) traverse the halls of the hidden compound, (4) manages to spy the sight of Captain, who made a dash into the room afar. She was going to guess on this one, for if big bad with the shield was there? Maybe his arm.. or somebody worth killing. So she picks up in a run, zig-zagging her way into the hall so that once she enters the room, the speed and the momentum should be enough to shoulder check the super-soldier into a wall, if she's lucky enough.

"We're not going to make it."
"Yes we are."
"If she's struggling to make a portal, we have to pull back."
"You just want to get dark and hotly mysterious out of here."
"Bitch, we're taken."

The two clones double back, heading towards the interrogation room just to get near..

As Steve runs in, Sam realizes that all he can see is Bobbi laying on the ground, with a cable from his wingsuit gauntlet running under her. Cap needs information to make sense of the tableau. Nonetheless, Falcon's response starts with: "Arms race." He couldn't help it! He quickly continues, "Robot prosthetic trying to get back to the guy we pulled it off of. Zapped one of the SHIELD guys but good." He flicks his head to indicate Danielson, who is moaning as he returns to consciousness on the floor beneath his station.

There's not much he can do as the arm starts to reach critical mass, but when Bobbi flings it away from them, he swings in front of her, back to the blast, and fully extends his wings. They're designed for flying, to be sure, but make a helpful improvisational shield in situations like this: like many a fictional action star, Falcon can protect himself from an explosion by turning his back to it.

Unfortunately, this isn't the kind of explosion he anticipated. The massive electrical discharge scrapes fingers of lightning across the metal wings and their housing, turning delicate components within to ash. The don't do much good for the man wearing the jetpack either.

When the energy fueling the discharge is finally spent, Sam staggers forward to one knee, wings dead, arm reaching forward for support. "Ow," he says, understating the situation a little. After taking a few painful breaths, he looks up at Steve and Bobbi. "My comms are fried, but it sounded like Sara, May, and Paul are having trouble in the interrogation room. They may need a hand." Frustratingly, he's in no condition to follow and help. Still, he reaches back with a shaky finger and points at the charred lump that was the Winter Soldier's arm. "Not that one."

Sam's going to be okay.


"No one leaves the room." Paul repeats. "That doesn't expressly forbid us from opening the door and firing in." It's more a musing than a real suggestion. "Or even going in ourselves and closing it behind us. We're in a top secret spy facility. You'd think they'd have interogation rooms with knock out gas able to be pumped in in case of break outs. At the very least, why didn't they blindfold her? You can get a good one for less than forty bucks in any leather store.he very least, why didn't they blindfold her? You can get a good one for less than forty bucks in any leather store." He keeps his eyes on the door out, trusting his partner to cover the one to the interogation room.

The lights go out, and Sara armors up, a blade in her right hand and a gun in her left, a low glow in the palm of each hand putting some light into the observation room. "Secure facility," she echoes her partner, watching the area around them. "Which means that thing probably locks in an emergency like a power outage. We don't open the door, there's nowhere for them to escape to." There's also nowhere for May to escape to, but that's why she asked in the first place.

"Yeah, we did what we could," Steve says absently to Bobbi, even while making his way towards the arm and looking to block the blast with his shield. But that's before he gets nailed from behind by one of Veruca's copies. The strike hits him square in the back, toppling him, and sends his shield sliding toward the wall.

Oh, the ol' heave ho, eh? Okay, we can play it that way. Veruca (1) does in fact get to heave May a bit further from the now-groggy one-armed man, but May puts her Aikido skills to use and follows through on the momentum to grab the duplicate by one arm in an attempt to flip her over and slam her into the ground. If this works — and May's starting to think it might not and she'll have to up the ante — she'll punch Veruca (1) in the throat after putting her down to make her stay down. The sudden loss of power and lighting isn't really a concern right now, but if it lasts for more than a few seconds she'll have that to deal with as well.

Just a Jemma steps into the hallway, the building goes dark, and she stops to look back into the room "What happened?" she asks the enterprising tech "Did you block the signal?" The other three scientists, are just behind her. "We'll just wait here till the emergency lighting comes back on."


The interrogation room is only dark for a handful of seconds before the facility's emergency systems kicks in; along with the sounds of violence as Veruca (1) and May struggle, harsh, wet pops and thrashing noises fill the room.

As the lights come back on, the Winter Soldier is on his feet and the chair is on its side with the cuffs still dangling from it. His one hand hangs at an entirely unnatural angle as he— well, would be running, if he wasn't drugged up to his cold, dead eyeballs; it would probably be more accurate to say that he's shambling towards May and Veruca (1) like a drunken movie monster, at this point.

Awkward gait or not, though, he still tries to crack May's jaw or knee - depending on whether she's standing or grappling, by that point - with a snap kick meant to even the odds somewhat.

"Need… key… disengage," he slurs as he swings.

"I…" the tech stares at her rebooting screen once the lights come up, dumbfounded. "I did, but something must've gone catastrophically wrong." Beat. "Or— catastrophically right; it was good code. Maybe there was a kill-switch, or some kind of interference, or conflict…"

Meanwhile, in the lab, the Winter Solder's arm smolders.


"Sam!" Bobby yells. When he proves to be ok, she moves to protect Cap, settling into a defensive posture. She doesn't have her staves or her guns on her, but she was a hell of a martial artist even before getting upgraded with the super soldier serum. She blinks as the lights come back on and there's a copy of the woman in the interrogation room there. "What the hell!?" she exclaims.

The shoulder check was true, and it sent Cap flying, much to Veruca's happiness. She doesn't stop there, bending to grasp the shield straps that he drops, tugging it upright and… thinking the better of it. With a quick chuck and a toss aside, she turns towards the smouldering arm, attempting to reach and pick it up, drawing her hand back to hiss and..

Oh wait. Someone swore!

"It's not what it looks like!" Veruca (4) calls out towards Bobbi, immediately standing with her fingers aloft, her gaze shooting up towards the ceiling as the powers soon flicker off and on. "Okay. It's totally what it looks like."

And without another word, she bears down with whatever pain she'll face with the smoldering and broken arm by scooping it up, and bolting towards the shimmer of the examination table with a leap and a twist /into/ it's surface.

Meanwhile, the other too stand outside the door, both fists ajar, shaking it thrice, both ending up with their fingers spread in V motion.
"Okay. We're never going to get out here. We share the same brain, so of course we're going to pick the same thing."
"I think we should quit playing."
"Yeah. Asshole grandpa is going to have our heads."
"Not if we never tell him what happened."

Veruca (2) moves to the door, drawing back a foot to slam it straight into the middle, taking it off the hinges, hoping that it'll fly and knock down whomevers behind it. Veruca (3) rushes in there after, both clones coming face to face with Paul and Sara.

With enough chaos going on outside, Veruca (1) flips upon the floor, her hand striking out to try to grab for May's arm, hoping to use the tug and pull to lift herself upon her shoulders to wrap her legs around May to keep her still. Hopefully!

The original (cause this is starting to confuse the typist), wriggles her thumbs around, attempting to mash them together within the binds to break bones so that she could slip her fingers through the steel grip. She watches Bucky as he stands.. drunkenly, her nose wrinkling soon as the two thumbs /snap/.

"Totally unattractive!" She hollars out towards Bucky, whilst snatching her hands from the grasp of the metal.

"You don't know that for sure." Paul points out. But then the power comes back on and he nods approvingly. Back up emergency generators. It seemed logical SHIELD would have them here but really, bureaucracies? Never assume. Another advantage of not being a rookie is that you know not to stand directly in front of doors. It's a very good way of getting shot; more than once some perp emptied a clip through a door when the cops came calling. The edge does clip him though and knocks the gun out of his hand. That arm's going to hurt later. "Sara!" he calls and reaches for Veruca 3's arm to try to use her own momentum to slam her into the wall she's already heading toward.


"I see it," Sara calls back to Paul. Sadly, clones are not the weirdest thing she's ever dealt with. This week. The blade in her right hand disappears, all the better to take up a solid, two-handed shooting stance as she takes aim on Veruca (2) and fires off two quick shots at center mass. She doesn't move away from the door to interrogation, trusting in the armor to protect her from anything in front or behind. It's probably a fair assumption, given the amount of twisted, barbed metal that's gone into it. She doesn't look like a nice person.

Steve uses Bobbi's cover as a way to get his feet and gather up his shield. By the time he pivots on his foot, staying low and bringing the shield back up, he's missed most of the exciting part. He spies Falcon and then looks up to Morse, wondering if she can shed light on any of this.

Melinda May is in the middle trying to shake Veruca (1)'s grip from her arm when the lights come back up to reveal the Winter Soldier RIGHT THERE. She doesn't have time to get clear with Veruca(1) still holding her arm, so the one-armed man manages to get a kick in on her. Either it was the luckiest miss in the world or he's a frickin' badass even looped out on horse tranquilizers, because his kick catches her squarely on the jaw and she's knocked completely out of the fight. She'll be up again and with an impressive bruise on the side of her face in about a minute or so, but that'll likely be too late.

Simmons isn't going anywhere… ushering the scientists back into the room, she frowns as she looks at the video feeds. "Are you picking up anything, now?"


The Winter Soldier stumbles backwards from May after only barely managing to plant his foot solidly on the ground following that kick. He 'catches' himself by thumping against the edge of the table and leaning/sinking back so that his elbow is propped up on it; whether he's lucky or a badass, it's definitely clear that he's hanging onto lucidity by a few threads at this point.

A confused, "What?" is the only response he can muster to her shout as he lolls his head towards her. A moment of squinting later, and he elects to turn his attention towards the door while grimacing and forcing himself to stand up straight.

"Sewer… lines…" he slurs as he takes a deliberate step, then pauses until the room isn't spinning so badly. "Gotta… get… access… escape… Captain…" Another careful step; if allowed, he intends to slog his way through the only escape route he can think of as best as he can until his body gives out on him.

"No, I— I think it's down," the technician with Simmons states, shaking her head as she squints at the fresh scroll of information across her monitor.. "Nothing so far" After sighing, she turns towards Jemma and pushes a hand through red and black hair, offering the doctor a weak and short-lived smile. "I mean— technically, I intercepted and shut it right the hell down, but I'm not sure how I'm gonna… explain it, yet. Maybe exactly like that."


Bobbi scoops up Danielson and slings one of Sam's arms across her shoulders. "Arm belongs to a guy in interrogation. I think they're breaking out," she informs Cap. "I'm getting these two to medical help." She rushes out, trusting in Steve to handle the rest.


Paul catches the clone rightly, swinging her right into the wall where she shatters into pieces. The other copy catches two right into the chest, shattering just as the same as the other one. So much for that!

With Veruca out of her binds, she glances towards her feet, attempting to tug them free but.. no dice. "Don't go that way!" She snaps towards Winter, the other copy gathering herself up from the ground as she loops herself beneath the arm of the staggering Bucky.

"The other one is out of the building. She's waiting for us."
"Table then?"
"While you're still shackled?"
"I'll live."

The clone lightly pets Bucky's hair, frowning at the sight of the disarry. "Oh honey pie we're going to take such good care of you! We're going to do your hair, your nails.. all of that goo-.."
"Cut it out and get him out of here!"

With no more words, the clone drops and pushes Bucky upon the table, as the original places her hand upon the surface, the metal creating a loud creak as it drops the body through with a loud *FWOMP!*

The clone follows there after, and soon does the original. Where they currently reside, is anyones guess.

Okay. Paul has to pause as the clones shatter. That, he was just not expecting. "We don't need to fill out paperwork for that do we?" Glancing back to the monitor, he says "Shit." It shows the interrogation room starting to empty. Getting empty. Almost empty. Empty except for May. "Forty bucks." he notes. A forty buck blindfold and none of this would have happened. Well, except for the arm. But they'd still have them. "They didn't come through the door at least."

"I was more worried about them trying to May as a hostage to get out, personally," Sara drawls back to Paul. It's like they're their own clone comedy show. Slowly, she lowers her gun, looking back into the interrogation room. "Agent May," she calls back in, now that power is running again. "Is it really clear in there, or you want us to keep the doors closed until someone can scan and make sure no one's stepping out past us?"

Melinda May starts moving again after Bucky and the Verucas are gone, taking a probably nerve-wracking moment to reply to Pezzini as she looks around the now completely vacant room. "They're gone." She touches one hand to her jaw and winces. "I want you two to secure the rest of the building, get any casualities you find to Medical." Damn, did that kick knock a tooth loose? Nat had BETTER find that man first, or she'll tear him to pieces before the Widow can get her hooks on him.

"Like that sounds fine to me" Simmons looks at the technician. "That was good work, I think." The biochemist isn't keen to have the sciency types out in the halls, the fact that everyone has gone comms dark is a concern. The video feeds from the CAT Scan Suite, gives a good indication of what goes on. "This is Agent Simmons, is assistance required?"


"Yes Ma'am." Paul agrees. Pause. "Agent May, you're to report to medical along with the other casualties on the orders of Agent May. Since you're able to walk, please comply while we secure the building and look for other wounded. Manning out." He gives Sara a quick smirk then motions toward the door with his head. "So that was a total fuckup. The Captain would be riding our asses right now if we'd screwed up that badly."

"On it," Sara nods to May, Witchblade retracting again until it's just the gauntlet on her lower arm as she moves away from the door. "I'm not sure what they were hoping for with keeping them both in the same room," she mutters to her partner, shaking her head as she moves toward the hallway to start the process of clearing the building. "Up side, I'm pretty sure no one is going to blame us for this one," she points out.

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