Another Day in SHIELD Medical

October 13, 2014:

Another day in SHIELD Medical means yet more unexpectedly funny hi-jinks.

The Triskelion - New York City

The Headquarters, Armory and Fortress of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics division is, for the most part, an unassailable tower in the midst of the diplomatic sprawl that is Midtown East. The primary intelligence clearing houses and most of SHIELD's senior leadership are all housed hear, along with a veritable army of agents and staff to keep the place running, the world spinning and the weirdness at bay.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

OH MY GOD! SHIELD Medical! Darcy is getting about DONE with Medical. The only thing that's keeping Darcy sane is the fact that Fitz blushes at the funniest things. For reals. Like the fact that it took an hour for someone to bring her a smock or something after her shower in the decontamination unit, but now she doesn't have her make up on. Or her phoen to play with. OR her iPOD. She's got to poke at the Man in Black for that soon.

Laying flat on her back on her SHIELD med cot, feet dangling off one side, head off hte other, arms limp and loose.

"Noooooooooooooo boooooody knows…. the trobules I've seen…" Yeah. Darcy can't sing. Even showers fail to make her voice sound nice.


Right next door to SHIELD medical, separated by panels of glass and a doorway, is the science lab where FitzSimmons often call home. In that room, Leopold Fitz is working on the mechanics behind a micro-spectral analyzer, complete with a pair of particle goggles strapped over his face. He may not be the bio-chem expert here, but his engineering prowess helps to glean the information his research partner needs.

"Okay, Jemma, I've isolated the tertiary compound here, I'll zap it over to your workstation, and… what the… bloody…"

Off come the goggles, and he turns to stare at Darcy in the other room. "… hell is that horrible sound?"


Apparently, people walking around wearing only towels is the ideal way to keep attention focused elsewhere while in Medical. May is not going to complain about that. Instead, she took the opportunity to sneak out (as well as one can sneak with one knee wrapped that tightly in an Ace bandage), get to her quarters to shower and change clothes, and maybe sneak BACK into Medical with no one the wiser. The only real hurdle: the glass-panelled walls of the science lab that Simmons and Fitz usually claim. Maybe if she walks by as if everything is normal…


Right across from Fitz, but focused on an entirely different object - a large screen where her hands swish and and expand to inspect different bonds and chemical compounds. She may not be the engineering guru, but she certainly knows how to work the visual screen to the best of its abilities. She's not wearing the goggles, but she is wearing her normal SHIELD lab coat. The goggles are most likely in one of the pockets.

"Thanks Fitz," she says in a distracted manner. As the tertiary compound is zapped over, she takes a step back, allowing the whole thing to snap into a zoomed out picture of what looks like multiple balloons held together by string. "This is fascinating. Look at this, it's like some of these compounds have orbital hybridization in their bonding. I can't even imagine the resonance needed in order to keep them stable." Then, of course, she's distracted by Darcy and her singing and Fitz calling attention to it.

"Oh. Dear. I'm…I'm not sure. But, look, there's Agent May," she gestures, waving to the agent. Perhaps Jemma doesn't know that May is not supposed to be out or that she's forgotten with all the science on her mind.


Agent Triplett tends to wander when he's not out and about on a mission where he's punching people in the face, snipering or something else as equally cinematic and visually stimulating. And his wandering around the HQ at this point has him wandering in the general direction of the science lab. Not for any particular reason. Nope. Not one reason at all. He's just a wandering, beer in hand, with the occasional Sip and Step combination. Granted, when he notices a collective of movement from various options in the area, he finds a reason to Stop and Sip. In which he his attention is taken by Darcy's Singing, FitzSimmons' Sciencing and May's Sneaking all at once. He's trained to notice that much at once. So what does he do about it all?

The ol' Sip & Smile. Followed by a raising of the beer bottle up in greetings to anyone that may be paying attention to the wandering agent. Amused.


May's entrance pulls Darcy's head up from the dangle position. "You're a little short for a stormtrooper," she quips at her SO before she shoves herself up toward sit- "Hey! No fair. You got to go HOME for a change of clothes?"


Fitz just shakes his head incredulously at Darcy, before coming around the table to inspect Simmons' work. "Well, I've never seen anything like that before," he agrees, before his attention is drawn toward Agent May. He smiles and raises his hand, fingers waggling in a goofy little wave of greeting.

He continues to eye May for a moment while leaning closer to Jemma. "Is that a bandage around her knee? Was… she involved in the Gotham thing?" Which means… was she really allowed to leave and come back?

He scratches his head in confusion.

Eyes are then drawn over toward Specialist Triplett, and he absolutely gawks. "Simmons!" He nudges her thrice. "Is that… is that even allowed? He's got… he's got…"

A beer. Yes, Antoine has a beer, and Leo looks positively jealous.


Melinda May is putting rather a lot of her concentration into walking as normally as possible despite the bandage and the lingering ache under her kneecap, but she's trained to notice just as much as Triplett. Possibly more. Thus when the recruit stops — okay, we'll be polite and call it singing — and sits up, she pulls the drawstring backpack-like pouch from her shoulder and lobs it at the young woman. She's the kid's SO, she has to remember things like this. "I have quarters on base," is her only explanation as to why she got to 'go home'.

A sidelong glance toward FItzSimmons proves she noticed them but didn't get her wish of going unnoticed herself. But then Fitz's gawking in another direction has her turning further to notice Trip. In Medical. With a BEER. And if the change in her expression is any indication, it's not typically allowed.

Melinda May just shakes her head.


As May enters the Medical Bay again, something pings at the back of Simmons' mind. "Oh! Wait!" Just as Fitz is moving closer, she's exclaiming, "I just saw her medical file! It was with Miss Lewis', no she should not be out and about!" She takes a quick step forward and then looks to Fitz, "Perhaps you should tell her. I've, you know, got the chemical bonds to investigate."

The other disturbance of Trip with a beer is met with a raised eye as she studies the other SHIELD agent with a bit of a quirked eyebrow before quickly looking back at her studies. "Oh, well, I'm sure he knows what he's doing," she says in a bit of a rush. "Perhaps it's a Field Agent thing." By her speech, it seems she did not see May's face in reaction to the beer.


Rules. Sometimes, Trip forgets the rules okay? He's used to being out in the field, not wandering around the base with nothing to punch. Somewhere in the middle of the beer raising adventure he notices May's expression and holds up a finger, with a nod to show that he understands exactly what he just did wrong. And he's walking off and out of view, guzzling the damn thing.

When he returns, a moment later, he's lacking such beer bottleness and wearing a grin that is some kind of combination between 'My Bad' and 'That Was Worth It. Kind Of.' He strides right on up to the Tech Twins and proceeds to get his lean on to the glass. Fingerprints be damned. "So." His eyes travel from Simmons to Fitz to Simmons to Simmons to the gadgetry being worked on to Fi— Simmons. "What you guys workin' on? Need an extra pair of idle hands?" He's talking to both of them. Really. Honest. No, seriously, he is.


"OHmygod, you have a beer!?" Darcy very unfortunately turned her attention from bag-flinging May to beer-toting Trip. She roll-flops to her stomach on the med-cot, reaching a hand out for the beer as if she were a drying gal in teh desert… and the bag smacks her in the head and she oofs, goes to flop to her back but misses the bed and falls off the back side with a squeak and a scramble and yanks the sheet down on top of her.

"May! I've got a concussion here!" she sasses, because she must have a death wish to speak to the Cavalry like that, as she pushes herself up to her feet. "And who's the hotness with the- where'd the beer go? Please tell me you ddn't party-foul! I will never be able to forgive you." That last was to Trip. Honest.


Fitz darts his eyes back to Simmons. "Wot?" he hisses. "Are you cracked? You…" Beat. "You're serious, aren't you." Yeah, she's not budging from her research.


Leo emerges from R&D and enters medical through the glass door. He eyes Tripp dubiously, utilizing tact to withhold comment, considering the mission he's been tasked with, and even manages not to stare at Darcy's antics. Instead, he comes right up to Agent May, stops, and scratched his head.

"Uh, Agent May. Hello there, so, uh, Simmons and I, we… well, she…"

Blank stare in effect.


Natasha enters medical for her physical, or so the orders said she had to take one. She carries a black box, roughly lunch box sized, but in the design of those metal suitcases. She reports her readiness to a technician and makes her way to a bed.

The rest of the room is given a once over. May, Widow knows. Fitz-Simmons, she reviewed when she was given a night-night gun to field test. Thre others she is unfamiliar with. May gets a look, then her leg gets a look, and finally a frown back to the face of the other senior agent.

As a pleasant young doctor approaches her, Natasha unfastens the the clasps on her mini-case, "Greeting Agent.. Re-dacted?" He offers, "You are not cleared." She replies, and adds a "Hello." She offers though and opens the case so he can see the pistol, magazine, and silencer. "We will make this quick." He offers. Natasha just nods. the pistol is lifted the silencer is twisted into locking position. the slide is locked back and the magazine is slapped into position before fifteen seconds. The release on the slide is placed. The young doctor taps his pen on his chin. "I-I think you .. pass." The young man stammers. Widow just smiles. "Thank you."


Melinda May says, “Then catch it next time." Did May just imply that she'd be throwing objects at Lewis again in the future? You bet your beehive she did. And, there are shoes in that bag along with a change of clothes. Trip merely gets a reprieve from her disapproval when the beer very quickly disappears. Then Fitz is there trying to NOT look like he's getting all up in her grill (that's how that phrase goes, yes?) and of course failing miserably.

She's about to try and get a coherent explanation out of the engineer when Romanoff shows up and … that is NOT a standard medical check. The frown is returned in kind. Yes, this is one of those silent conversations ongoing. Don't like the knee? Deal with it or allow a REAL physical.


Simmons watches as Fitz goes out to confront May and takes a deep breath. She didn't think that would actually work. "Make sure to remind her about her blood work!" she calls, now a bit more confident since she isn't the one that has to remind May about said blood work. "We need a follow up!" Her own attention glances up toward the new Agent entering the room curiously before her attention is grabbed by Trip.

"Well, we're working on the blood work we received from Miss Lewis and Agent May. One was dosed with quite a nasty bit of hallucinogenics and the other was…spit upon? I believe? " She glances at the file and then nods. Yes, spit upon. "Do you happen to know anything about covalent bonds or the more rarer form of orbital hybridization?" She's seriously asking, not attempting to chase him off. "I also believe Fitz was admiring your beer." At that, she smiles, shyly attempting a joke.


"It was not a party foul! It's on the counter out there!" Trip's distracted by Darcy just long enough to send that through the door with Fitz (whether she can hear it or not) and then he's being asked a series of definite scary questions from the BioChem Mistress and he blocks it all with a smile. "The only bond ringing any bells right now is James." That's a joke, but he's hoping the smile will help Simmons understand that. "Orbital Hybridization eludes me as well. I think I missed that episode of Big Bang Theory." Another joke, even as he's moving in the general direction of wherever those sterilized gloves may be. If he's going to be in here, he's going to help.

"Let's go back to the spit. Spit I understand. Spit makes sense." Trip works on pulling on a pair of gloves. "I've got a stash I keep nearby for emergencies. You can tell him I'll share. I'm a sharer." Pause. "Wait, he's over 21, right?" Not a burn, Fitz! Just a uh… another joke. Smile.


"DIBS!" Cloths be damned. Darcy is going for the beer on the counter out.. "WHERE?!" bare feet and hands scaramble on the floor and the bed and it's a really good thing Simmons took the IV out. And nothing else matters.


Suddenly, Fitz seems to find his stones. "Simmons says we need a blood sample. And she says you can't leave medical again like that." Beat. "I mean, with all due respect, sir. Simmons said. And I… I totally respect her logic, and, really, she's quite brilliant, and I promise your blood will be safe on her hands. Er, in her hands."

Fitz is, by now, quite red in the face.

The young scientists eyes briefly dash over toward Natasha. Then they flick over toward Darcy. They track the junior agent's movements for but a second, and it becomes quite obvious by the twisting and turning of his mouth that he's trying desperately not to grin.

He hides it by clearing his throat.

"So, I'll just…" He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and back toward the R&D room. "… go and grab Simmons. She's good with needles, and stuff."

And with that, Fitz performs an about face and is headed back to the lab with quick footsteps.


Natasha stands up, May's leg is given another look, but she simply greets the woman as she starts past her, "Agent May." Darcy is given a brief appraisal as well. Triplette is sized up as a field agent, far to casual for HQ, too fit and relaxed for geek. Simmons is sized up, a little more of an enigma, then she opens her mouth, geek tech.

It is Leopold she moves up to, trying to incept his retreat. "The accelerant is light in this, Professor. The silencer reduces range too much." She says, spinning it around in her hand, barrel down to offer the handle to Fitz. Sure, increasing the accelerant much more is likely to defeat the 'non-lethal' intent, but that is not as important to Natasha.

Then Darcy makes her dash for the door. Natasha spins about likely retaining the pistol for a moment and tries to lace her arm with Darcy's to basically do a dance twirl to reverse the young patient's direction back towards her bed. "Is this what happened to you, Agent May?" She guesses as she picked up enough to get that May and darcy are here for somewhat like incidents.


Melinda May returns her focus to Fitz in time for him to explain that he's there because Simmons sent him. She tolerates the rambling but then Darcy tries to make a break for Trip's beer and … Natasha very neatly deflects the recruit back to her bed. "The Joker," is all the explanation she offers to the Russian. That's likely more than enough. She then moves to follow Fitz back over toward Simmons to allow the follow up bloodwork. Though if Trip thinks he's going to be allowed to do the blood draw…


Trips jokes earn him a genuine smile from Simmons. She's worked with enough people who were not as smart as her or as Fitz that she won't judge them for not know what she's talking about. After all, she has Fitz to talk shop with. "I doubt that it was on the Big Bang Theory, so I don't think you missed much," she grins. And then, she attempts another joke, blushing though she does it. Most of her jokes tend to deal with complex science theory. "You'll share your spit? That is incredibly generous of you, Agent…" she trails off, realizing she hasn't been formally introduced to the Field Agent.

The introduction is slightly shortened, however, as Jemma notices Darcy starting to scramble about for beer. "Oh good heavens," she sighs exasperatedly, "Just a moment," she gives Trip a smile and raises one finger, "I have to go deal with a crazy person," she explains softly with a bit of a trill. Then, she hurries through the glass doors of the R&D into the Medical Bay - making poor Fitz do another about turn as she does so. As she passes him, she gives him a bit of a look, one that speaks volumes of 'get it together, Fitz!' and then she's on to deal with the Darcy. "Miss Lewis!" she says in her sternest doctor voice. "You cannot have beer while in the Medical Bay and you must stay in your bed while you recover! Just think what would happen if you fell and hurt yourself. You'd just be forced to stay here all the longer. Might I get a bit of assistance?" she asks, glancing about at the able bodied Romanoff and Trip to make sure that Darcy stays where she's meant.

"Agent May, I will be with you in just a moment for that blood work. Don't worry, I wouldn't let Fitz take your blood. You know how heavy handed he can be in that area." And she wouldn't dream of making Trip do it.


"… Triplett. Just uh—" And then she's gone. "Call me Trip." There's no sigh, just an amused smile as he watches Simmons go. He listens in to what's going on over there and is already making a move to follow. His gloves are all on and what not by the time the ruckus is going on and he's not about to just stand around in the science lab, by himself, with Orbital Covalent Bondization. Nope. That's not going to happen.

By the time such shenanigans have happened, Trip is right there in the medical area with everyone else and he's wagging a finger in Darcy's direction, as if he didn't just tell her where the beer was, smiling the whole time. "Tsk. Shameless." He hears all kind of chitter-chatter about blood work and he holds a gloved hand up. "I'll do it." Yes, Trip is ready to stand up and risk his life by taking blood from Agent May. He might also be able to take the punch if it messes it up. Okay, that's a lie. He'll be knocked out. But at least he's chivalrous? He wiggles the fingers on both of those gloved hands. "Idle hands, remember?" Nobody read his file, did they? Medical training! Gosh!


Step into my parlor, said the Widow to the Darce. And Natasha very neatly turns Darcy around… who continues her forward momentum into the med bed, trips on her barefeet, and once more flops to the floor. Her rump's cushioned enough to take it, but she sprawls out to her back anyway, because the view is awesome from down here with her red-framed hipster glasses Fitz gave her which she is absolutely not giving back ever. Her head lolls toward Simmons.

"Will you give me spounge baths?" Darce asks, because nothing else seems even remotely inappropriate as that. And, well… if Simmons blushes anything like Fitz, this has to be worth it.

And then Trip's offering to take May's blood and Darcy laughs. She kicks her feet up onto the side of the medbed, getting comfy on the floor, and smiles over at him brightly.

"Dude… I want to see this. Ninja Nanny's gonna kick your ass so hard, Next Tuesday's gonna look like a blur as you whoosh righ ton by!"


Handgun distraction! Fitz looks directly at Natasha, then down at her weapon. Most guys would probably be oogling over something else, but to Fitz, the pistol is far more interesting than the pistons. His eyes go wide, and the gears promptly begin spinning; not to mention he's grateful for the distraction from giving May an order. If one could even call it that.

"Please," he quips, "give me something challenging." He reaches for the gun, but then it's gone, and Natasha is rehearsing a number with Darcy. His hand points to the gun, then to Natasha, at which point the 'pistons' catch up with him.

"Soo ummm, about that sidearm." He follows Natasha, leaving May in the good care of Simmons and Triplett; except that Simmons goes whirling past him, causing him to spin about and completely lose his pace. So he stands there, slack jawed, and watches.

When Simmons asks for help, he shoots her a dirty look. They have their own secret language, and in this case, it's 'Oh, toss it Simmons, I can handle this!'

He casts a big grin toward Darcy. "I really should have brought restraints." After that, he follows along, intent on staying close to Natasha. "So, anyway, the problem isn't your accelerant. It's the silencer. How many times have you replaced it or had it serviced? See, you're probably dealing with a micro fracture, or a variant in the molecular stability of the steel alloy due to residue that simply won't come off with a standard cleaning kit." He folds his arms proudly. "Fortunately, I've been working on a few things. I'll have you shooting farther, with more accuracy and punch than you've ever dreamed of." He waggles his eyebrows at Natasha, then sticks out a hand. "Leo. Really, just call me Leo. Doctor Fitz sounds funny, and so does Professor. Even though both apply."

Hey, if Jemma can oogle over Tripp, Leo deserves to hit on Sexy and Ginger. Of course, Natasha probably did nothing to deserve this, but that's what we call collateral damage.


Natasha did not mean to put Darcy on the floor. On the other hand, Natasha didn't really mean not to put her there either. Her eyes watch the young woman tumble, and she is about to start for her. But, the woman seems fine. And laying there casually in that state, Natasha upgrades her from junior CSI to future field agent."

Triplette, is noted a little more. He wants to stick May with a needle, the man must have nerves of steel. Field Agent, definately. Still, it is Fitz that is speaking her language, ballistics. "I see. I was issued it for field testing. I don't even like Glocks, Pro.." she aborts it as she this time surrenders the weapon to Fitz. "Leo." The eye waggle gets a grow raise from Natasha. For a second, she considers letting it stand and just playing at shop talking. Might as well test his clearance though. "Agent Romanoff, but you can call me, Natasha."


Melinda May just stops and stands where she is while watching Darcy prove she's only graceful on roller skates, and everyone else dash about for various reasons. Fitz's attempt to mack on Romanoff draws a briefly quirked eyebrow, but she will consider this impromptu training mission #3: When to and when to NOT turn on the charm. Leading this training session, Agent Romanoff. Trip's offer to draw the blood sample earns him a VERY intense evaluating stare. There's really only one person outside of recognized Medical staff that May allows near her person for anything involving blood, and Coulson isn't here right now. So go ahead, Agent Triplett, give it a try. "I can wait," is what she says aloud, though.


"Ah, thank you Agent Triplett," Simmons tells Trip with a smile and nods to May. "It would be incredibly helpful." Since now one of the other people dosed is now on the floor. "I just need two vials worth. That should be enough to continue the tests." She correctly assumes he wouldn't offer to help with that particular task unless he was truly able to do it. Especially if the donor in question is one Agent Melinda May.

As Darcy sprawls, Jemma crouches down next to her. There is certainly a blush to her cheeks, but it is hard to tell if that is due to comment or not. "Miss Lewis, don't you think you'd be more comfortable on the bed? And if you'd like I'll be sure to send in a nice strapping young lad to take your temperature for you and check your vitals. Of course, you'll have to behave." Though not normally one to carrot and stick a patient, she can see arguing with Darcy is most likely useless.

From her position, she looks up to see Fitz waggle his eyebrows at Natasha and just rolls her eyes. If he can see her, their unspoken language yells, 'Really Fitz?' They're talking engineering and so she doesn't have much to add about the gun. However, what she can say is, "Yes, and Fitz is very good at fixing fractures. I've also been developing a cleaner that targets dirt and other particles down to a molecular level. If you'd like, I'll be sure to outfit you with one of the prototypes."


Right. So this is the part where things get a little bit hairy. There's all sorts of chatter being tossed around and Trip is geeking out on the inside. But at the same time, he's preparing to get the shenanigans needed that he can get his ass whooped by Agent May for coming near her with a needle? Wait, oh, that's why she's looking at him like that. He doesn't even get close enough to the weapon of violence before he's realizing that he'd rather not have to eat through a straw for the next few months.

"Ah, yeah, maybe you better handle it, Simmons." Trip makes a big show of forceful shaking of his hand. "I did just drink that beer." In two quick snaps, those gloves are off his hands. "I'm sure it's against regulation for me to be handling anything of importance right now. Impaired judgment. Unsteady hand. Any other excuse I can think of."

Agent May gets a nod and then Trip is moving to just get his lean against the wall on. Safer. More observant. Better view. Ahem.


"Can it be Leo? He's offered restraints and everything," Darcy replies to Jemma, smiling ever so sweetly. And everyone' gong ot believe it, dammit! She even bats her lashes. See? Innocent. Like apple pie. (No one think of that movie "American Pie"…. too late!)

"Actually, I try really hard not to think, usually. It's just not needed when running rubber bands to and fro and from and whither. Something. But actually, I'm good down here. Floor's nice and chill, aren't you floor? See? Floor says yes. I'll hang down here for a while, until lthings stop spinning," she addss, patting the floor next to her hip and cross her legs at the ankles… up on the side of the medbed.

"Good call, Beertiful," she winks at Trip.


The moment 'Glocks' comes out of Natasha's mouth, Leo's face scrunches up. "Ugh. Civilian designs. You clearly deserve so much better."

Fitz accepts the pistol in hand, inspecting it with an expression that pushes a needle toward boredom. There wasn't a single item manufactured by Glock that might impress him. The thing is, he's got enough clearance to recognize a legendary name when he hears one, and this is when a lesson is presented.

Fitz's eyes graaaaaadually rise from the weapon to the presenter. He opens his mouth to say something, but it just hangs there, while his pale skin grows redder by the moment. "I… N… Natasha. Right." He's about two seconds away from having some sort of malfunction.

Insert another remark from Darcy about restraints.

The engineer suddenly retreats to his real safe place. "Give me five minutes and I'll have this puppy purring like a Widow. I, I mean, like a cat. Or maybe a souped up 'Vette." Just keep going, Fitz. "But I'd much rather develop something custom for you! I just need a few pieces of information. Range records, ballistics preferences, a full physical to determine muscle reflex and weight to balance ratio." He lowers the gun to his side, and plants the other hand on his hip, striking a pose. "Custom design," he repeats.

Simmons' offer? Casually ignored, cause he knows exactly what she's up to, the bloody cock blocker.

"Five minutes," he repeats, then turns and books it for the lab. Man's got work to do!


Triplette gets one more upgrade, experienced Field Agent, he knows when to abort a mission. Darcy: may not survive training. Natasha though is paying partial attention to the rest of the room. Simmons however gets more notice when she speaks to Romanoff directly, "Thank you, Doctor Simmons. That would be quite helpful." The bullet was developed by both after all, so she looked up the young woman as well.

It is the material designer though for now that has her attention. The lips part into a more sly smile as she notes the young scientists reaction. "That would be excellent, Leo. If you could make a load out for the Marakov, that would be excellent. I keep them for nostalgia, mostly." she says willing to follow or not with Fitzy. The looks between the two scientists though get a little of her interest.


Melinda May figures that there will be no blood drawn in the next few minutes, so she — of course still very careful to hide any trace of a limp — walks over toward the lab and claims one of the chairs there to sit and take the pressure off of her knee. Though she'll deny it with a VERY loud glare if anyone mentions it.


Simmons gives Trip a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Chicken. But, then, she can't really blame him. She sent Fitz to go talk to May in her stead just a few minutes earlier, so she can't really judge him for backing off and not challenging when May gives her opinion. "Of course," she acquiesces gracefully, standing up and leaving Darcy to remain on the floor. "It can only be Fitz if he agrees to it." She's not sending a lamb into the slaughter. But, something tells her that he won't have to think very long about helping Simmons take care of Miss Lewis. "Or perhaps Agent Trip would be able to help. He seemed to believe himself capable enough to take Agent May's blood, I'm sure he can check your pulse." And did she just insinuate that he was a strapping young man? Possibly.

As she moves back toward May, she restrains herself from shaking her head at Fitz and his puppy dog eagerness at helping Natasha. In fact, she can't help but smile ruefully at it even as he darts off to the lab. "Go on," she tells Natasha. "He's the best at what he does. If you'd like the best gun scientifically available that is custom fitted to your abilities, he can certainly make it for you. I'll be sure to include my cleaner." Despite the urging, she also keeps a close eye on Natasha. She's Field and from what she can garner from the woman, dangerous. And Fitz is, well, he's a trusting puppy. She is, of course, friendly toward Natasha, but also a bit protective of her research partner.

That taken care of, she moves toward May, gathering up a needle and vials. She gives May a bit of a reassuring smile, eyes drifting to the knee but not actually commenting on it. Not yet, at least. She holds up an alcohol swab. "It'll be just a pinch."


"I can check pulses. Easy." Trip makes no mention of anything else, before he's shifting positions to move down towards Darcy. This also gets him out of getting kicked by May range. At least for a little bit. Immediately, he takes a look at the watch on his arm and he's reaching out those strapping young man hands of his to grab the wrist of Darcy, whilst he's got his eyes on his watch. They are only there for a moment, before he's looking back over towards Simmons, y'know in case she's paying attention to him and he offers a quick, "Old School." explanation as to why he's pulse checking like such.

But then his eyes are right back down to Darcy, complete with a smile. One of those strapping young man smiles. "What do they have you on, anyway?" He's just assuming she's not normally this insane. It has to be the drugs. Right?


WRONG! Drugs landed her here, but she's been clean for at least 12 hours now. "No idea. Ask the Science Heads. I'm just bored out of my mind and am ready to go back to my broom closet and all those paperclips. I miss all of my paperclips. Even the little ones," Darcy says to Trip smiling at him. He's a good substitute for Leo, since she got what she wnated OUT of the scientist, which was him running for it.

"Will I ever dance again?" she adds with a pout.


Once inside the lab, Fitz is rummaging about to collect the gear he needs. So begins the meticulous (and surprisingly expeditious) disassembling of Natasha's Glock, though when he gets down to the innards, that's when he gets…


The silencer is set aside, and then the firing mechanism lifted. He pries at it, then juts out his lower lip and BASHES it into the table two, then three, then four times, until the assembly simply falls apart.

"Bloody… cheap American manufacturing!"

Next come a set of very large goggles, and a very small plasma torch.



Natasha makes to follow Fitz, but she angles by May, another look to that leg, then a look to Simmons. She gives may a second look, and this time adds a comment, "Well, you know what they say:" the words changing to Manderin -Is the leg all right?- But when speaks again, back to English to add a false translation, "May, you live in interesting times." The subtle shift in meaning of the well known phrase that is a curse in truth, to telling May something closer to 'be more careful.'

Romanoff only holds for a moment to see if May replie. Then a nod and she is off to track down Fitz. If that is how he is adjusting the Glock, there will be no touching her Marakovs. Her hand reaches to a pocket for her shades to cover her eyes while he brings out the heavy machinary. "Do you require assistance?"


-Minor sprain,- May replies to Romanoff also in Mandrin, then fake-translates as well with, "I always have." She returns the nod, then stays seated and takes the time to roll up one sleeve while Simmons gathers the stuff to start the blood draw. She's still wary of the biochemist, but as the current tech on duty is known for being about as gentle as Fitz is being with that Glock, she'll take her chances.


From her position at May's side, Simmons rolls up May's sleeve and then rubs a quick blot of alcohol over her skin. She rubs a doctor's thumb over near the inside of the elbow in an attempt to find the vein and then quickly jabs the needle. In moments, blood wells out of the needle and into the vial. Though technically a biochemist and not strictly a medical doctor, she is quite good at finding the vein on her first try. And at extracting blood as harmlessly as possible.

"So, you did not get drugged, but you did get spit on," she tells May, eyes watching as the vial to ensure that she switches it without losing a drop. "How are you feeling? Dizziness, confusion, light headed? Any pain?" It's a roundabout way to get to the state of her body, but she's doing it in quite the doctor fashion.


"We'll make sure you're Footloosin' again in no time." Trip just makes a mental note of the pulse taking so he can help Simmons record it later. He's then turning his attention from Darcy and letting his brain get his ponder on. "How long ago was all this? She still seems pretty gone. I can't believe we don't have an anti-something stashed away somewhere." Just musing aloud about chemical shenanigans. Trip, honestly, don't know jack about what the medical resources that SHIELD has available. But they know superhumans. Surely, they've got a healing power asset they can call.


"Ohmygod, you guys are worse than Jane, I swear to Jesus. I've been fine for HOURS! I'm just bored… and I can feel the supply requests piling up. Seriously. It's like a disturbance inthe Force, the amount of paperwork that's stacking up on my desk, right now. and I still haven't checked my emails. May! Don't kick my butt! I'm stick in medical and can't read my training schedule," Darcy whines at the end, eyes closed, like a teenager. Seriously. Thre's likely a whold department shut down by now due to a storage of staples!


The buzzing ceases for a moment. "Nnnnoononono noo!" he answers. "No. Just wait." The plasma torch comes out again, then a pair of plier tongs. It's difficult to tell just what Fitz is doing, for his methods are anything but conventional.

"Don't worry," he asides, without looking away from the weapon. "I won't do this with the vintage one. Gotta have respect where it's due."

Once the pieces are put back together, Fitz retrieves a handheld device, which begins firing a grid of blue beams at the firing assembly. He grins ruefully at the results, then does the same with the barrel, the clip, even the handle. Readings come through onto a tablet, and he scrolls through the impossibly long series of digits with swipe after swipe of his finger.

Overkill? Ab-so-fucking-lutely.


Natasha leans against the door frame to Fitz's wortkshop. There is a smile as he responds to her unspoken concerns. For now Natasha is just watching the young man work though. "I am certain you know what you are doing, Leo." She states to sooth his concerns a little bit as she watches the calibration. It never hurts to get in good with R & D.


Melinda May watches the vial fill, and answers Simmons' questions as deadpan as always. She's seated in a chair just inside FitzSimmons' lab, one knee snugly wrapped in an Ace bandage. "Not anymore. Symptoms lasted about four hours." Symptoms, from what the preliminary report says was skin exposure to two droplets of Joker's blood on one cheek. And he SPIT at her. She's damn lucky if that tiny an amount affected her to that degree.


Passing the doors, passing the doors… three, two, one. Hawkeye does a sliding stop in front of the door of R&D, and pressing a hand on the side, swings half of his body in. He's got a ball-cap on, or at least a billed cap with a Jagermeister logo on the top (Stag-horns are the give-away), a grey hoodie that is over a pair of blue jeans and sneakers.

"Heya, Fitz," Hawkeye greets, and then moves to the looked-for person. His erstwhile, on again, off again partner. "Hey 'Tash… did you still want to hit Oktoberfest in Queens? I think the Oompa Band goes on in about a half hour, and man… that tuba."


Right by May is Simmons as she draws her blood. It doesn't take very long and once the vials are filled, she quickly caps them and pulls out the needle, immediately applying pressure to the injection site. With one hand, she sets the vials into a container shelf. Once that is finished, she puts a small cotton ball right by her elbow and then puts a band-aid over it. It's black. Just so May can't complain. "Don't take that off for at least an hour," she scolds, knowing that she really can't tell her what she can or can't do, but feels as if she has to try.

Hearing the effects and the small dosage she was given makes Simmons frown all the more. "This guy…he's incredibly dangerous if even small amounts of his blood on skin contact is able to affect people for hours afterward." It's certainly something to puzzle over. "I know I can't really tell you to take it easy, but you really should. Especially after being drugged. I'll be sure you'll be reading my report."

As Hawkeye streaks past she blinks and looks back to May. "I…you know? Some times it may be better not to ask?"


Trip pauses to check his phone in the midst of all this shenanigans and that's when he's hopping up to his feet. "Duty calls." This is him showing his phone around to those that are near enough to check it out. Looks like the Field Agent gets to go back into the Field! Where things make sense! And it must not be anything too important because the Senior Agents probably don't get the same text. Not that anyone else would be getting a text from Garrett anyway.

And with that Trip is off to go punch some random mooks in the face! Guest Star style!


From the floor, Darcy watches things. She laces her fingers over her stomach and then finally shivers. "Cold floor is cold," she states to no one in particular and pushes herself up to get back on her bed. Field reports be damned. Darcy's going to never get hurt again, becasue Medical is boring!


Without really looking at anyone directly, Fitz snaps a finger and answers Natasha with, "Smart woman!"

The pieces are taken to the other side of the lab, each part going into different machines. One doesn't want to be bored with their names or what exactly they do, but there is a great deal of buzzing, glowing, hissing and clanking, during which Leo smiles brightly to the passing Clint. "Cheers, mate!"

After a few moments, the parts come out, and are reassembled with the same precision and expedience that was displayed earlier. He inspects the re-assembled Glock with a proud look, and offers it to Natasha, handle first, barrel to the floor.

"Shiny," he quips, before standing back, folding his arms, and expectedly waiting for praise.

You see… one has never held a more finely tuned Glock than Natasha Romanoff now holds in her hand.


Natasha looks back as she hears Clint approaching and then moves to the side a bit so he can offer his greeting to Fitz. "He is fixing a pistol for field testing for me, just a moment." Natasha offers to Barton in reply to the question.

When Leopold gets back over though. She takes the pistol. The mag is dropped, and tucked under her arm. then she checks the chamber. Really inspectng the action to make sure it wasn't negatively affected. The magazine is re-inserted till she can put it all back in her box. "Thank you, Leo.. Oh, you know Clint?" She asks and makes eye contact with Hawkeye before looking back to the creator of the first worthwhile Glock, maybe "Would you like to come with us Leo? It will be fun." she ooffers with a bright smile.

"Won't argue that," she tells the biochemist, regarding the Joker. When Barton arrives, she looks at him, then remains quiet as he and Romanoff discuss… stuff. But, when the latter invites Fitz along, her eyebrows draw together in a faint frown. "Go with you where?"


"That's… that's a Glock." Clint sounds almost, no… he sounds insulted. "You're giving her a Glock? What the hell is wrong with you?" His voice rises in mock, theatric indignation. He, himself, carries a Beretta. As a holdout only.

Though now, Hawkeye nods in Fitz' direction. "Yeah, we met last night." The rest of 'Tash's words begin to sink in, and his jaw drops slowly, staring at her as she makes the invite.

Once it's done, there's a soft, hissed "'Tash…" before he twists around, a smile playing upon his lips with an almost painfully forced happy, welcoming sound. "Yeah. It'll be fun." Beat. "Twenty five minutes."

To answer Agent May, however, Clint chimes up such that his voice can carry. "Queens. Oktoberfest, hosted by Jagermeister." That is given with a point to his ball-cap. "Oompa band is on in 24 minutes." But who's counting?


Hard to argue that the Joker is dangerous. Simmons looks back at the others and the invitation given to both Natasha and Fitz from Clint. There's a raised eyebrow and then she picks up the vials of blood and the cast offs to put in the biohazard bin. Setting the blood down safely on one of the counters, she returns to Darcy in an attempt to finally get her off the floor.

"Ready for a spot of bed, now, Miss Lewis? You can go home in the morning, I think. After tonight's observation. Just to make sure there's no other bits of nasty lurking about in your blood stream." Though she's not as strapping or strong as Trip, she can certainly pull Darcy up from the floor if the other woman agrees to be something other than dead weight.


Yeah, Darcy is helpful as Simmons pulls he roff the floor, smiling lightly. "Oh good. Please say you're givingme a doctor's note for work?" And then the discussion of Oktoberfest is over heard and Darcy whines, high in her nose, like a puppy, "OH, can you clear me in twenty? I promise I'll be extra good!"


Well, that wasn't what he expected! Fitz can't help but pout for a moment, casting a stormy look Simmons' way. There's a smirk in there somewhere; in FitzSimmons non-telepathy, it means, 'just wait until she actually shoots it'.

"Sure, no problem," he answers, turning back to Natasha. "Chamber's been coated with a biolithium non-decaying alloy, so the rounds encounter a resistance factor of one ten-thousandth per pound of pressure, which would be a world record if SHIELD designs were public domain." A grin is flashed Clint's way. "The Rolls Royce of Glocks."

Now, when the offer to accompany 'Hawkeye' and 'Black Widow' to Oktoberfest is brought up, Leo's eyes light right up. "Well, I… only if Agent May lets me off duty early." Beat. "And only if Simmons can come!"

He throws one of those 'please!!' looks at Simmons. Because really, he's gonna need her if he's hanging out with the Big Dawgs.

As far as Darcy being released? Fitz is quite content to let the bus run over Simmons on that one.


Melinda May looks at all of the others. Oktoberfest is SO not her bag, and she's honestly a bit perturbed by Lewis' penchant for binge drinking. She nods to Simmons and Fitz, giving them the okay to go with Barton and Romanoff, then stands and heads for the main desk at the entrance to Medical. She returns a few minutes later to plop a tablet on Darcy's stomach and settle into a chair nearby. She's not cleared to leave either.


Natasha nods to fitz, was that a faint look of disappointment that the young man wanted to bring his partner? Oh well, the look she gives Gemma has none of it in place. "Sounds great, we have to get going though. Grab your stuff, Dr. Simmons." She adds since Barton is doubling as a count down like it is launch time for the ball on New Years.

A nod to May as she gives her okay, "I wil take care of them." and she looks to Darcy, "Next year." She states in a friendly fashion then goes for the case for the Glock - Night - Night gun.


Ooofing loudly at the tablet dropped on her, Darcy pouts then smiles and nods at Natasha. "Sounds awesome! Let's all promise to not get blown up by whacked out clowns before then, okay?" she asks, settling more comfortably on the bed and starting to look at the tablet May gave her. What is?


English. That was English, he knows it, but Clint didn't quite follow everything Fitz had to say. Something about resistance, and for bullets? Not a bad thing. Too bad, though, he shoots arrows, so at the end of the day, it's still a Glock.

Fitz' excitement to go with the pair gains an exhaled sigh from the archer. Brows rise in a silent, 'Really?' expression before the 'smile' returns. If no one else could see it, Clint caught the fleeting expression. "Oh, hey… sure. The more the merrier." Stepping just to the outside of the door, Clint pulls his phone and tap-tap-taps on the screen. After a moment of hunting and pecking, he hits 'send', and looks satisfied as he puts his phone back. "Twenty-two minutes. If we waste any more time, I'm taking a quin." Hooray for VTOL!


The tablet is… just a tablet. Now Darcy can stop whining about not being able to check her email or listen to music or something.

"Just Jemma," Jemma tells Natasha at being called 'Dr. Simmons'. Much like her counterpart, she's not the best at titles. With another roll of her eyes she starts to label and package everything so that it's not put in a place she won't be able to find it later. "Of course, of course, who am I to say no to an oompa band?" She is, after all, dressed in plaid and a sweater. Close enough for Octoberfest.

"Miss Lewis, you rest until tomorrow, then you should be fine to leave." To May, she doesn't sound quite so stern but she gives a businesslike nod. "I'll be sure to have your results to you tomorrow. Depending on complexity, of course."


To the Oompa band! Natasha breaks down the gun and slips it into the case. She will grab a coat on the way there from her car. "Okay, lets go Clint." She says and looks to Jemma, a little foot tap as she waits on the techno types. Then off to the booze.. Um, Ethnic Bavarian Arts and Cultural Festival.


Melinda May says, “We'll be here," May says to Simmons. She waits for the others to depart (finally), then shifts her chair so she can prop her feet up on a rail along the bottom of Darcy's bed. And there's a wince, now that people are leaving and she's sitting mostly facing away from the door.”


Noting the wince, Darcy swallows faintly. She settles back quietly, and turns her attention to the tablet to check her facebook. Because that's more important than company emails!


A breath is hissed and a soft 'Yes!' sounds from Clint as he turns around and begins to walk quickly towards the elevator and down, giving a quick fingerwiggle to those in medical. That's you, May and Darcy.

"Kate's going to meet us there," comes conversationally, only to lower, "Hope she gets the big steins." Clint's ready to go!


"So…. bum knee?" Darcy offers to May softly, eyes drifting from tablet to ACE Bandage. "You need RICE."


When Clint announces that Kate will meet them at the place, Natasha pulls ut one of the Makarovs and shoot him in the foot. Then she does it again, only this time she aims for the little toe. The next fantasy is about the other foot.

Natasha just nods and smiles, as she waits to move as a group to the door. "Good evening, May.. You are welcome to come if you want?" She will refuse, Widow assumes, but Natasha is offering sincerely. Then out the door with the group.


"Not cleared yet," is May's reply to Romanoff, and a perfectly honest excuse for avoiding the annoying crowds and the oompah music. Once they're all out the door, she answers Darcy's sort-of question. "A kid in a cape and mask bashed my knee with a bo staff." She doesn't mention that she retaliated with the equivalent of a Widow's Bite and a leg sweep to knock him on his butt.

No, May is not going to sneak Darcy out to Oktoberfest. Next year.


"Shit! Tuxedo Mask did that?" Darcy's eyes are wide as she peers at May. "Damn…. boy's got balls."

"He got hit by the same toxins you did," May tells Darcy. "And that clown basically sicced him on me." Another thing she's keeping to herself: that Joker called her a ninja to make Robin attack her.

Darcy's fault, which she's not going to take credit for. "He did? …oh my god. I hope he's okay," she says, worry and concern more than evident in her voice and features.


Melinda May doesn't say it, but she also hopes that the kid is okay. He packs a heck of a whallop with that staff. "No way to know. Refused to let us bring him to Medical."


"I could dress up like Clown Girl again and wander the streets until he finds me?" Darcy offers. Even she know that's a bad idea.


Melinda May levels a VERY disapproving looks at Darcy. That has got to be one of the DUMBER ideas she's heard in a while. "No. Coulson has our reports, it'll be dealt with."


"He seems to know them, at the very least. Said there's an agreement with Gotham…" Silent for a moment, Darcy pokes at hte tablet some. "…You're going to be okay, though?"


Melinda May nods. "The bruise looks a lot uglier than it actually is." Used to be, back in the day when she was closer to Darcy's current age, this kind of injury would only sideline her for a day or so. Not anymore.


"Still… If that tore the ACL, that's… weeks at least," Darcy says, looking over from her tablet as if she were an expert in these things.


"I know. THey've already tested for that. It's fine. What's Facebook saying today?" Yes, May is fully aware of what Darcy's up to with that tablet.


"That Oktoberfest is AWESOME," Darcy laments, glad to hear that May's knee isn't so bad.

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