Green Around the Collar

February 09, 2018:

Bruce Banner doesn't ask for much; just a calm, quiet work space and his lab kept in order. Unfortunately Rocket didn't get that memo.

The Triskelion, NYC


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

While yes, Doctor Banner has been at the Stark Tower on and off for the past month, he still had his private access lab at SHIELD. The fact that it is barred with extremely high security and an excessive amount of warnings about not going in there probably just makes it more interesting to some. And besides, it has been vacant for the last week.

No more, though, as Bruce approaches the main door and keys in, sighing, and dragging a little low cart after him. He needed a few things, of course. Mostly, he was getting somewhere, and he needed a little break from the 'intensity' of the tower. And the guilt trip. The tower is one massive guilt trip lately, whenever he uses the elevator and it grinds to hell around a certain floor bracket where the doors were torn off and the elevator shaft slightly reorganized. But none of that is here! Bruce lets himself into the lab and reaches for the lights.

If there's anything that SHIELD should have come to learn about their recent alien employment, it's that high security and locked doors mean absolutely nothing to someone who had quite the extensive criminal history outside of Earth. Rocket Raccoon has escaped a multitude of acclaimed secure prisons in the vast galaxy beyond, intended to keep people in. And if he could get out of high security, then he most certainly can get in.

Of course, it may seem like a major affront to whomever's inner sanctum that he might have invaded. It only took a few times before employees of SHIELD had stopped staring and finally began to try responding to the fact that a bipedal raccoonoid and a walking tree were stealing furniture and equipment from right in front of them. At least most of those things had simply been reappropriated to be used in the hangarspace allotted the Guardians. It's rather confusing to come across what looks like a lounge or living room area set up beside one of the quinjets, and while the sofa is definitely IKEA-make, the coffee table has had a previous life in the lounge on the third floor of SHIELD office spaces.

The door to Bruce's lab is all locked up tight as it should be, but doors aren't the only ways for someone who's only, what? Two- three feet high? to get in. The grate hanging open on the far ceiling is rather telling. …as are the sounds of…something- not the hum of electronics or lights, but these sounds cease abruptly once the door's opened. Someone's…been moving things around, apparently. A few pieces of equipment have been moved from tables and set aside on the floor, and there's a box full of pieces that have likely been removed from something or another.

Bruce takes it in stride. He sort of has to. He looks at the lab with an exhausted manner. Somebody was in here, or IS in here, changing the lab space, and he had important research in progress. Not that he's not used to his lab space being flung in all directions and he doesn't remember doing it. That's sort of his life. He walks in and starts to …clean up things immediately in his way in front of him so that he can walk through, after flipping all the lights on, with a low sigh. And so, Bruce is now putting things back onto the tables, with a dismayed slow attitude, but ends up walking back to the refrigerator at the left side of the rear, to open it and pull out one of his iced teas from the lower shelf.

At least his refreshments have been left untouched. Any beers or the like would have definitely have been misplaced otherwise. There might be a beer can sitting innocently on the edge of a table, brought along to help speed work along and since been emptied.

Bruce might get the feeling that he's being watched. It's a sense that doesn't last long, probably because the one doing the watching has turned back to pull one last component that comes out with a swift little click. There's a swish of movement as Rocket darts back for the box of other bits that he's collected, except that it's one of the things that's been moved onto a table.

If there is beer, it didn't come from inside this lab originally. Bruce isn't the most fun when drinking. Nobody likes an angry drunk, really. Best to just avoid the whole situation. Bruce could write novels on attempts to avoid certain situations, and the failures that come from it, though!

"Hey," Bruce says, sighing. "Please don't take anything, I've barely gotten the equipment that I do have. I'm trying to work on a project that will save lives in the city. Unless you'd like to help out, I need the parts." A pause. "Also, please come out?" He asks, relatively gently. He has no idea who or what is doing this, but it doesn't seem very agent-like: he will assume this could be just about anything, and the mellow approach is pretty much his default.

…this is by far the strangest reaction that Rocket's ever had to being close to caught red-handed. Truthfully the little Guardian doesn't know very much about the guy, only vaguely remembering him in passing that one day when reporters swarmed the front of headquarters. He did strike Rocket as a bit of an odd one though.

"Huh, so this ain't a storage room?" Such are the words that first come out of the raccoonoid's mouth as he slips out from around one of the tables, twiddling with a circuit board in his long-fingered hands. No reason to react like he'd been caught in the act of doing something wrong, because as to his knowledge, no one had been using any of this stuff so it clearly must be up for grabs.

"No. This is the lab that can suddenly turn into a war zone where everything is crushed into paste," Bruce says, with a low dismayed voice. "That's why it's locked and there are warnings." He is so SAD about it, too, there is absolutely no 'kidding' on the scientist's face. More like that he's dismayed not only is he given a bad lab but was given the one that randomly explodes into pieces all the time. Really a bad deal.

"Has anything already walked out of here? I just need to know what to re-order," Bruce says, trying to just stay calm, and drink his drink.

Rocket eyes the piece in his hands as though suddenly expecting it to explode or fall apart after Bruce's claims. He looks back at the man, furry brow knitting as he takes a good look at him. "Now that is just pitiful," he mutters. Someone got shorted when they were passing out the buckets of self-esteem.

"Oh, I thought they just stuck those signs up 'cuz this is where all the good stuff's bein' stashed." He looks around, giving everything a fresh appraisal with the lights on. "I mean, the stuff still works."

Tossing the board into the box of other components that he finds at the edge of another counter, Rocket turns back towards Bruce, folding his arms. "Eh… the thingy in the corner miiiight have been gutted earlier," he admits. The guy hadn't outright accused him of thievery yet, not that Rocket is going to readily admit to it. "So um, what all was that about life-saving research?"

Bruce crosses to one of his long tables with the array of test equipment he'd been using. And just …deflates. So many things torn apart and missing. The setback causes anxiety. Which rapidly morphs into more dangerous emotions. Just…. REALLY?

"This was supposed to just be a quick trip. I can't endanger all of the Triskelion," Bruce vents quietly. The frustration spikes, and he suddenly hurls the iced tea glass container across the room. There's an excessive amount of sudden force in it, way out of whack with the mild scientist as it crashes onto the wall. Bruce hangs onto the table in front of him with both hands, bent over a little bit, seeking it to ground himself. Ground ground ground.

Is there green? Yeah, some around the wrists and hands, and cheeks. Not that that means anything to Rocket, of course. "The only… ONLY thing I have asked is that my space is respected," Bruce smolders.

Aw hell.

The quiet is seriously jarring against the sudden aggression as that glass goes flying. Rocket cringes as it goes crashing against the wall, his tail bushing out like a startled cat's.

"Whoa, whoa- heya Doc, calm down!" he sputters, hands out and waving in front of him in a placating manner. "It's nothin' that can't be fixed, right? Anyway, I was just answering a question. Quite frankly, if you'd come in two minutes later, you'd have a lot more parts to put an order in for."

Green, is that green? Why is he green? Terrans don't turn green unless they're sick. Oh flark is this guy sick'r somethin'? Maybe that's why he's got some isolated crappy lab space. Clearly it needs to be labeled better!

There is something VERY clearly wrong with Bruce. In no manner, particularly arrival or … well, anything else, is Hulk subtle or overlookable. There's no hiding this problem quietly in a closet. The awful green mutation fluxes and pulses horribly with the launching higher heartbeat from the stress. The comment about a few minutes later doesn't really help, beyond that Bruce turns his head to give a death glower from dark eyes at Rocket that suggest he might like to put his body against the concrete wall in the same manner that the drink was thrown.

Bruce is trying to ground, though. Sort of. "Are you accomplished at repairing, or just making enormous messes?" Bruce questions, darkly.

He thought he was being helpful, pointing out that he hadn't been able to get clear with that box of components. Clearly this Banner guy is off his rocker! What was it about the quiet ones..?

The look shot his way is a startling 180 compared to the meek and dejected manner that the man had earlier shown. Rocket takes a step back as though the very expression held physical force to it.

"Hey! I don't make messes! Nothin's broken 'cept the glass on the wall- that's a goner. This stuff? Easily repairable. Terran equipment's a piece a'cake."

Yeah, not only is there a force of interest in pasting Rocket, but a clear indication that doing so might be entirely enjoyable for the ragebeast.

"How long might that take?" Bruce asks, voice dropping to reasonable again, except that it's covered in barbs and offers severe tire damage socially as a reward for an incorrect answer. Which is such a weird turn from the scientist that was vaguely unhappy about having to reorder a few parts. But, well, Rocket has now started to look into the window of the other side of Banner that gets massive warnings (and his own MEMO!) and a lab away from everyone else.

Obviously he doesn't work well with others. Something Rocket may understand to some degree, really.

And people say he's got anger issues. Rocket gets the senses that he's standing amidst pins and needles here, those more instinctive animal senses raising all sorts of warnings as he eyes Bruce in the manner of a cornered beast. The question here seems to be more as to which is the cornered one here? If ever there was a potentially volatile mix, this would be it.

At least one of them seems to be able to have a better handle on things. Rocket may do some foolish things, but he's no idiot. He just makes poor life choices on occasion.

"Not too long," he assures, and he means it. The components hadn't been too difficult to remove, and Rocket's good at what he does, and careful about it. Probably because he'd figured you never know when you might need something else. "By th' end of the day at most."

There are certain things that Bruce is still … coherent enough to do. One of them is to slam a hand on a warning toggle button he'd set up towards the front of the room, setting off a silent alarm there. Because he's barely hanging onto things, and better to warn everyone about a FALSE one than to suddenly appear in the middle of things.

"Do it," Bruce flatly answers the short furred character that has made a total mess of his lab, and starts to very carefully… walk outside, apparently. "I need a minute." Or sixty. Maybe more than that of minutes. He's reeking of physical stress, and green warning signs visually pulse down balled up fists and clenched jaw.

Bruce's lab is in a very heavily secured, out of the way zone away from other labs. There are warnings all over it. A memo went out to not even be noisy near it. And now Bruce is going outside of it, in a proper stomp of frustration.

Rocket wouldn't be surprised if the fur at the back of his neck were standing on end. He feels like he's on the precipice of clearly dangerous territory and just narrowly evaded something terrible. Maybe. Even with Bruce stepping towards the door, the Guardian doesn't feel that that threat has passed.

He gives the doctor a wide berth, grabbing the box of components he's liberated from the various equipment in the lab. "Sure, yeah. Take yer time." Yeesh.

"So when the pizza is on a bagel, you can have pizza anytime."

With this new food discovery made of two New York food groups combined, there is a dramatic pause, then a bite.

Steve Rogers gives a large frown.

"This tastes like cardboard and tomato sauce."

Suddenly, from the SHIELD rec room, warnings blare. A SHIELD agent moves toward the panel as Roger moves to get his shield. While he's in civilian clothes, all he needs is trademark symbol and he's good to go. "Banner's lab," the man states toward the Man Out of Time.

"Jumpin Jehosaphat, that's not good," Steve replies, looking around to all that might be gathered. "We need that surrounding area evaced, I'll see if I can contain the situation, but last thing we need right now is strangers with guns walking around there."

That said, Steve makes his way toward the elevator, only to see that the door is closing and it's already going up. The next one is all the way at the bottom. "Figures," he mutters to himself before tearing into the Fire Exit and trying to make his way down the stairs.

The alert is sent across the Triskelion as well as alerts across various smart devices. Peggy Carter is already in the building and moving toward the labs for a completely unrelated reason when the alarm sounds.

A hand grabs at her phone to see the 'Green Alert' text as well as strict instructions as to what that means.

However, she is already there: a stranger with a gun. Not that her gun is unholstered. Instead, she makes her way to Banner's lab with the proper training and caution. She has not actually encountered Banner or seen his stress reactions. All she knows is that there is a danger set loose upon the building and that she can help.

Leaning against the wall in the corner of the hallway by the lab, she peeks around it to see a frustrated Banner illuminated by green flashing lights. "Dr. Banner? It's Agent Carter. I know we haven't met yet, but I'm here to check in on you. Is everything alright?"

Bruce kind of wanders a little bit away from the lab door and sits right, um, wherever that is. Just outside the lab, he got absolutely nowhere, really. Pavement, grass? Hallway? He isn't even taking in any of it. Just breathing, trying to not let the ramp of emotional flame stoke up further than it already is. But he's still inordinately frustrated over everything. He sinks to sit on his butt, knees up, and stretches his arms out over the knees, as if making up his own yoga mushed pose to sit in while he works through trying to soothe and maintain some awareness. He finally sets his hands on the ground on either side of him, head bent to rest against raised knees. Breathing. Yep. Breeeathing. The lab doesn't matter, right. But he promised Tony. And he can't even get a simple thing from a lab without problems. WHY BOTHER ANYMORE?

The green edges in, feasting on that frustration and burning it into anger, and Bruce is starting to lose his shirt as it peels off down the side of bulging shoulder-blade and the side of now-heaving barrel chest. Some things just never change, and shirt loss is one of them.

Does he notice Peggy? Actually, yes. He slants his eyes sideways at her. The look is dark and full of terrors. But Bruce isn't gone yet. Just on the way out. "I don't want to do this here," he growls rebelliously, as if challenging her to disagree.

Box clutched to his chest, Rocket edges back towards the door to peer out after Bruce. Just what the hell is going on with the guy? And has he been exposed to something that he might have to get shots for?

The little Guardian ducks back in when he sees the green-tinged man settle himself not far down in the hallway, ears perking as someone has come to intercept him. That's good, right? Rocket glances back at the lab. Maybe he should get cracking at putting this stuff back together in the meantime.

Peggy has no idea what it is that caused this Code Green. She has arrived into a situation and so she approaches it as best she can:

"You don't have to," she tells Bruce as calmly as she can. Despite her inner worry and tenseness, it actually does come out as soothing. She is a woman who has spent a lot of her adult life assimilating to situations as they arise.

She has never dealt with either Banner or the Hulk. She has read the information on him available, of course, but this is her first engagement. Knowing that his triggers involve anger, she tries to shift his focus elsewhere. "You can control yourself Dr. Banner. You had the presence of mind to alert us, follow that through. Focus on that."

The fire door slams open and Steve finds that there is Banner's lab and Peggy out there with the not-quite-big guy. He fights the initial response to charge out there and make sure Carter is safe, but he knows that there is a very real change that his presence could hurt this peace making situation. He does notice Rocket, frowning faintly as he has a faint idea on what might have set off Banner.

"No, I can't," Bruce says heavily to Peggy, an angry mix of tightly packed frustration and unhealthy smear of self-loathing, like the worst bagel and schmear, possibly worse than Steve's snack. "Not anymore," Bruce says, with a darkness. Well, at any rate, HE believes he can't maintain and stay calm, so without him believing it? They may be really out of luck. His last catastrophe shattered his esteem. And now there's Hulk problems.

Yet he does fight. Not very successfully, but he does. He suddenly pushes to his feet and leans on the wall, walking AWAY from Peggy's corner a few steps, and trying to just not look at the lab (or its occupant) or anything else for right now; he's not aware of Steve either.

This is normal, to those that have seen him shift: he often tries to get some distance away, to not harm others, and to delay to give them some time to run. The next two steps are heavier, and the slam of hand and wrist out against the wall makes a loud crunch and small crater in the wall. He turns on the wall fully, and slams the other fist into it as well, the impact crunching some of his own fingers, but they turn green immediately and snap back into place. Inside the lab some of the wall is blown in, but that's probably the least of the incoming items to repair later. A feral growled expression of rage tumbles out, wordless.

On the upside, he isn't blocking the lab doorway zone anymore?

Arriving from the stairwell a few moments after Steve but far more quietly, Agent May steps into the hall and looks at the others in a quick evaluating glance. Carter, seems fine. Rogers, already looks like he's ready to defend Carter. Banner… and there's the Code Green. She's not yet aware of Rocket's presence in the lab, and she steps toward the greening Bruce cautiously.

"Dr. Banner." She's hoping to get his attention, and maybe she can get him to stop and think and maybe calm down.

A brow is arched as May moves into the situation. The hero in civilian clothes moves toward the side to let the woman pass through, his hand still loosely on his shield as he waits to see how it all plays out. He intentionally keeps himself about twenty to thirty feet from the group, far enough away to not seem like he's ganging up, but close enough to intercede if necessary. Should the Strongest Avenger look toward the blond warrior, he'll merely nod toward Peggy and May, clearly deferring their wisdom for the time being.

From her place in the hallway, Peggy watches Bruce with concerned interest. A Code Green is not anything she should take lightly, however she doesn't wish to try and shoot him - even with ICERs - due to the rage that might trigger. Perhaps he can still pull himself out of this.

Steve's entrance is not met with surprise, but she glances back at him. Her reply, as requested is quiet. "I'm not sure. I responded to a Code Green. Dr. Banner is in the hallway and seems to be changing. I'm trying to calm him down, but it doesn't seem to be working."

As May steps into the hallway, she gives a distressed look, but does not stop her. Sudden movements can be read as attacks. However, she readies herself. Things do not seem to be turning in their favor.

"Is there anyone else on this floor?" she asks both Steve and May. They may know better. "Can we make sure they've cleared from the Code Warning?"

"I want… my lab… in ORDER," Bruce thunders, adding another shove into the wall, that does exactly the opposite of what he's saying he wants. There's no real LOGIC to mindless rage, though, of course. He doesn't continue to bulk, though, he puts his face into the crumpled up wall, mutinous look against the perfectly calm people around him masked by said rubble.

Bruce is fighting, though, or he'd already be ripping the place apart. He breathes against the wall, forehead on it, in clouds of swirling dusty debris from the start of the tantrum. He turns his head a small amount when May calls out to him, taking in all three of the agents now without too much reaction. He specifically does stare at Steve. Which overall is a good sign. Recognition is great.

"Surrounding area has been cleared as far as I know," Rogers replies softly toward Peggy. The unsaid afterthought is that the whole building would need to be evacuated if they really wanted to be safe.

Low cut sneakers move across the floor to take a few steps forward. The jeans, white tee shirt, and blue and white flannel top seem to suggest a day at the park rather than dealing with one of the World's Strongest, but thankfully, the shield on his back is there and ready for action at a moment's notice.

"It'll be fine, Bruce, just need a little time, you know everyone here is doing their best," he offers with a warm smile. "Just what teamwork is all about."

Oookay, then. May doesn't invade Bruce's personal space, showing him- and Hulk- respect for their wishes. "I'll go see what I can do, then." She turns and heads back toward the others. And yes she just turned her back on the Hulk, another wordless show of trust.

Steve answers Peggy about the floor being cleared. "I'll see what I can do about his lab," She tells Carter before stepping toward and into the lab itself and taking a moment to see what's happened there.

Of all the people who responded, Peggy knows she is not the best one. She has little interaction with Banner. However, she remains calm and steps out from the corner just slightly. It's within easy diving distance, of course.

"We'll put it back the way it was," she tells Bruce. "What happened?" She can't help but ask what it is that brought him to this state. It's in her investigative nature.

"You're okay Dr. Banner. It'll be okay." As May moves toward the lab, she stays where she is. Steve moves into another lab and she remains in the hallway with him.

"We can just talk about it. It's alright." The spy attempts to be as soothing as she can be in this situation.

Bruce actually shies a little from Steve's assessment. Which is the opposite of an angry response. So things chill out a little more. There's some visual drop in the green as well, though the mood is… very tense, obviously.

The lab is something of a mess. It was being pillaged for parts. 'Somebody' has taken apart a lot of the equipment and put pieces of all kinds of things into some boxes that are resting on the floor. The boxes have things like circuit boards and so forth in them, salvaged from the no-longer-functional equipment in the lab. There is a big smear on the far all where someone threw a glass bottle of tea and it shattered. And there's a little cart near the door with some other things on it.

"I don't-" Bruce begins, trying to moderate his tone. "Have a team." A pause. "or a working lab." Grumbleeeee. "I just… needed to come get some of my equipment for my project with Tony." Peggy asked what happened, so there it is, to an extent. He was blocked on doing that item. Bruce tries to focus on his own talking. It seems to be decently helpful. Because he turns around, back to the wall, and then slides down it to sit. And less green. It's pretty obvious, since his shirt is in tatters, that the green reduced. "I'm … sorry," Bruce says, seemingly mostly to Peggy saying that it is okay or will be all right. Some disbelief there, but he's mellowing.

'What happened' happens to peer around the doorway of the lab once again. It's really hard to work on things when there's all this racket going on just outside. Of course, he might have been the one to set off this whole odd chain of events, but it hadn't been on purpose!

"Err…how we doin' out here?" Rocket asks, likely an odd sight for anyone who hasn't already been aware that Phil "Deadeye" Coulson has hired aliens as freelancers. The bipedal raccoonoid is dressed in blue and black, padded here and there, armored across the shoulders. In his disturbingly humanlike hands he has a screwdriver, fastidiously fastening two pieces of equipment together, likely to be replaced in whatever he may have gutted it from.

It…probably isn't too difficult to figure out what happened in this picture.

Seeing all of Bruce's equipment in various stages of completely gutted makes her inwardly VERY glad she's not prone to Hulking out. And then the culprit speaks up and she crosses her arms, leveling a VERY unimpressed stare at the raccoonoid.

"WE are going to put every last machine in this lab back to the way it was when you first walked in here. Or you and I will have a very serious discussion." Actually, she plans to have that discussion with Rocket anyway, but semantics.

"Hey, if you are working with people to make the world a better place, then you're on a team. Either way, it'll get worked out, Bruce," Steve replies, taking another step forward. "Just take a beep breath and it's just that easy." To illustrate his point, the Super Soldier gives a couple of deep breaths and Roger's own body seems to relax as it seems that everything is going well. A nod of confidence is given toward Peggy, clearly to encourage her for doing her part to ensure this situation didn't get out of hand.

As talking seems to be working, Peggy keeps it up. While Steve and May explore the labs, she stays in the hallway. She doesn't attempt to encroach on Banner's space. Instead, she stays where she is. "It's alright, Doctor Banner."

Peggy gives Bruce a reassuring smile. "We'll figure this out." She has nothing to give Bruce to cover himself, but she looks about for a lab coat or something. They're on a science wing, surely there must be some somewhere. Not finding one on immediate scanning, she focuses back on Bruce. Rocket's emergence is met with a very singular and disapproving frown. Of course. A flick of her eyes is given to May and Steve. Maybe it's best to not let Banner see the raccoon right now.

May's reassurances are met with a nod. "We'll put everything back. You can tell us exactly where it all goes."

Bruce Banner responds positively to his friend Steve. Knowing people helps tone Bruce back, it appears. Though the breathing thing at first gets a little bit of a stare as if deciding if Steve is making fun of him and his heavy Hulk breathing…. but then lets that slide, and stands up. "Yeah. I… can. But, let's … get away from the lab a minute," Bruce says, first to Peggy then to Steve, deciding to try to let that anger with the situation go for a little bit. He has no shirt, but hey, the place is pretty empty now, nobody's going to see anyhow. He's not paying too much attention, and will go where guided, for the most part, just working to calm down, with whoever wants the super FUN responsibility of talking the Hulk for a walk for a little. The green is gone … for now. So walking Bruce? That's an easy task, actually.

Bruce's a mellow guy, after all.

Oh, great. Here come the looks.

Rocket looks back at the women as they turn their looks of disapproval his way, throwing them a shrug and a mouthed 'what??' Seeing as how somehow they've managed to get a handle on Bruce, he decides it's probably better he waits until the guy's out of earshot before he starts to make any complaints. Just a hunch.

At least the doctor doesn't look so green around the edges anymore. Rocket's been around plenty of green-skinned people, but usually they don't change colors like that.

If the girls want to talk, then there's only one obvious place the Guardian will be, and he turns to slip back into the lab to resume his work. He'd told Bruce he'd put things back together and he'd make good on that, if perhaps out of some odd pity for the man that he'd spoken to before glass and peace had been shattered.

May promptly moves to follow Rocket into that lab, not trusting that he's honestly going in there to put things back to rights. "I have a few questions," she calls after the raccoonoid. "First off, tell me your name and your security clearance." She suspects she knows who this is, but she wants confirmation.

She's also making a quick mental note to find out what all equipment this lab had as of this morning so she can requisition replacements for anything that can't be rebuilt.

As Steve and Bruce walk off to discuss and avert disaster, Peggy straightens and lets out a large breath of air. That was quite a tense situation. Then, her eyes focus specifically on Rocket Raccoon. Following, very belatedly, after May, she enters the lab.

"What the hell happened?" she asks the furry creature.

May's questions are also met and she pauses, allowing Rocket to answer those. They're good ones.

"Oh, here we go," Rocket mutters as May and Peggy trail him inside, rolling his eyes as he makes his way around to the side where he could insert the parts he'd just finished joining together. Funny how it always takes longer to put things back together than take it apart, but for the most part things seemed rather intuitive in where what went, at least to him. But then he's poked his way around way more complicated structures, and at least these things aren't wired to explode, so he can practically do all this with his eyes closed. Not that anyone might want him to.

"Name's Rocket," he replies, knowing full well he likely doesn't have clearance to this place, but then he hadn't exactly come in through the door. The grate from the vent in the ceiling hangs open, perhaps not nearly so curiously.

"Shouldn't that be my question?" he asks, rounding on Peggy with a scowl. "What's up with that guy? He sick or somethin'? All quiet sad sack one moment an' in the next he's breakin' stuff. I told him I'd fix everything!"

May spends a moment verifying with Operations that Rocket has clearance to be in the building — the ventilation grate pretty well confirms for her that he's at least in a room beyond his clearance level. And then he rants about Bruce. Bad choice.

"Rocket, Dr. Banner has very specific requirements for his work, and you violated requirement number one. Now, tell me where I can start helping you put everything back together."

"Yeah, in case you didn't catch it, I have no idea what requirements this guy has. He looked perfectly fine the last time I saw him!" Rocket huffs, turning back to things, letting the scolding slide off like water on wax paper.

"I told you I got it. This stuff won't take me long. You'll wanna get a replacement for the machine over there in the corner though, 'cuz none'a those parts are here anymore." Not that he'll explain where those parts have gone nor when they'd disappeared. Rocket's already setting to work, although after seeing neither of the two moving, he grumbles and gets to his feet, walking over to grab the box of parts he'd filched, and begins to wander about the lab, sorting through the pieces and setting various components beside whatever machines and computers he'd taken them from.

"You gals'll have'ta get your own tools but there, happy? Now we can have a repair party. Whoop-de-flarkin'-doo."

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