Training Camp

March 11, 2018:

A Marvelous Dynamic Duo… back together again.

The Triskelion



NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

"You know I hate these things," Steve states toward his partner, the top half his face concealed by a large helmet with oversized black glasses that block all sight. At least for a moment before the VR kicks in. While Steve knows that he's roughly twenty to thirty feet from Sam Wilson, the VR tells them differently. While they are really in a room on advanced treadmills so they can 'walk freely', it appears they are behind a food truck equipped with assault rifles and pistols..

"Hogan's Alley is a lot better. It's a real town, don't you know. Last I heard, the restaurant they have there still actually serves food. Hogan's Alley we could jump around, here we can only 'run and crouch'."

As Cap complains about how training exercises should be run, the model continues to fill in the gaps with sight and sound. The setting is some sort of battlefield in a war torn town, with Cap dressed as a 'normal SHIELD' agent. Clearly this is meant to practice understanding conventional warfare and to practice it, something Rogers feels is important despite the fact he slings shields more than bullets. For Wilson, it might just feel like a demotion since he won't have the trademark wings.

As computer gives the mission parameters, Steve only gives it half attention, perhaps his way of protesting this as 'training hours'. "I could go for something after this," he muses as he tilts his VR . "Thai?"

"You'll get used to 'em. Think of it as Pinball. And you're the ball."

Sam's response to Steve is more quippy than it probably should be at this juncture. He looks to be more relaxed in his VR Goggles. He may have one or two of these at home. Gifts. From people. Friends. And stuff.

"Never been there. But it sounds like I should pack a ten gallon hat and change my name to Hopalong when we go." Sam's just assuming that they're going to be visiting Hogan's Alley at some point soon.

Speaking of soon, Sam's Avatar looks just like him. It might not be as sexy but it definitely has Sam's likeness all the way down to a virtual science. Street clothed and rocking a pair of aviator sunglasses, the Sam Avatar is locked and loaded as it comes up alongside of SHIELD Steve.

"I can do Thai. I can definitely do Thai." Sam almost groans at his next thought. "… Just no more shawarma. /Please/."

"But I feel like when you know someone you should visit. And considering they were willing to feed me after you know, New York City was almost ended by an alien invasion, I figure I owe those people are least the common curtsey of occasional patronage."

As SHIELD Steve speaks to Sam, Wilson will likely notice that there are odd things about Cap's image. His chest has really pointy man nipples that seem like something out of a PS1 Lara Croft game. The tech people are likely trying to see if he notices. At the moment, Steve doesn't.

As the mission is cleared to start, Cap moves around the food truck, his rifle up and checking out the left side, making sure there isn't anything hostile before moving on to the next point of cover. His eyes scan up just as they do to the ground. Wilson's technical expertise with aerial units of all sorts has reminded Cap of the importance that modern warfare is anything but linear.

"Though speaking foreign foods, good to have you back with us. I heard you been keeping yourself busy as of late."

"Man, when you can fly as fly as I fly, they send you all over the map. It's good to be back where I belong." Sam's sends his response to Steve without even looking in his direction. Instead, he's focused on moving along with Steve, his own rifle up and rady to check the opposite angles that Steve doesn't check. The key element for Sam 'Falcon' Wilson is to always watch the back of Steve 'Captain America' Rogers. Whether in VR or anything else.

There's a reason why he's the Wingman.

"And hey, listen, I'm all for edible loyalty. I hit the same food truck for dogs every time I'm in Brooklyn. But. There's edible loyalty and then there's personal investments in local shawarma establishments. Guess which one you are."

Sam rolls his eyes but also manages to hold in a snicker at the sight of Steve Croft. He doesn't snitch though. Not yet. He's getting internal giggles from this.

"I miss anything good? Dangerous? Any redhead femme fatales mention me while I was away?"

Wilson can hear Rogers softly repeat the phrase as if trying to understand it through chunking it piece by piece. "Hrm.. 'Fly. As fly. As I fl-' Ah."

As if on cue, bogeys start appearing out of the woodwork, trying a coordinated assault. Roger, aware that he can't leap over a car and charge, falls back toward a large raised concrete planter, the dirt and man made stone a far better cover than the light metal of the food truck. After a few small bursts, Steve reloads, making sure that his shots are concert with Wilson's or covering a reload. Considering the teamwork between the two and their previous military history, the conversation doesn't need to be of tactics for standard operations. Instead, they can talk of others things.

"Well, Bucky Barnes is now working with the good guys. He was found, rescued from HYDRA and doing his own missions. I heard he was captured by Wakanda, released from Wakanda shortly after I got there, and then turned into a demon bear." There is a brief pause as he flicks the gun to single shot, lines up a bead on a would be sniper and takes the shot.

"He got better from what I've seen. Went to Genosha, seems like that is a cluster-fudge down there. It's sad that people can't learn from their mistakes and stop trying to profit off under protected subgroups of humanity."

It's like a dance. A dance of choreographed clockwork. The way that Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson take down hostiles and have each others back. If one's about to stop shooting, the other one switches angles for cover and it goes back the other way. No shots are wasted even if they do miss. It's all about taking out the enemies while having normal conversations with close friends.

"So, ol' Tin Armed Man has finally come around?" This is the only moment where Sam isn't in the middle of shooting for survival or cover. He shrugs just lightly but nods his head. "You must be relieved. I am. Hitting that guy hurt like hell."

Sam tries to keep things light even though they are both in a virtual fight for their virtual lives. He's more interested in talking to his buddy than he is the mission. "… What the hell is a Genosha?" Obviously, even Sam Wilson has heard legendary tales of Wakanda. He hasn't been keeping tabs on the most recent developments of mutant kind, though.

"Did you just say cluster-/fudge/? I don't know why I'm surprised. I shouldn't be. And yet…" Sam grins and returns to taking shots at random virtual villains. Even Sam's not going to touch a 'demon bear' mention. Too weird.

"Yeah" is all Cap concludes on talk of Bucky, the American Hero not too sure how he feels about the nickname on the arm. After all, it's (kinda) his fault that Bucky has that arm in the first place. But the matter is not brought up, as Steve is all too skilled in focusing on what's important and right now, it's the (training) mission. As the cover begins to crumble with concentrated fire and the group begins to fan around the two, Steve gives a nod toward more tactically sound cover using a large statue of a cow. Once given the blessing by Sam or a better suggestion is given, the man moves and continues fire, covering himself and Sam as they continue on.

"Genosha's an island nation. One part Cuba, one part North Korea. It's a newer nation, trying to make it's mark and build itself up using a mutant workforce. UN has given it some light sanctions, but nothing to really impact their economy. But the mutant groups, both ill and good have gotten involved with it, which means that the Avengers might be asked to deal with the situation or the groups in question." A couple of bursts are given and a pair of advancing AIs are taken down. "Hope it doesn't come to that."

A glance is given toward Sam. "Hey, soldiers in World War II had just as bad a cause of Marine Mouth then as they did now. Just glad it didn't rub off on me." Steve pulls back behind cover to reload. A quick inventory of ammo is given. Looks like they might be getting the classic 'using whatever they can get their hands on' at this point. The exercise is supposed to be five to ten minutes of sustained fighting to show the importance of ammo conservation, shot placement, and train SHIELD agents to fight overwhelming odds. It might go on a bit longer than normal, but the fact that the two elite warriors are making light of this exercise might have a small part to play in that.

"So, how about yourself? Anything new and exciting or work being work?"


Sam doesn't even want to think about going into this Genosha and having to fight some crazy mutants. He's not racist but mutants are a whole different thing than he's had to deal with. And he's had to deal with some crazy stuff flying around with Captain America. Nazi Zombies? Never. Again.


"The longer we stay out of mutant affairs, the better. We don't need anymore wars." Sam's rifle is out and instead of discarding it, he lets it hang from his shoulder and switches to his pistol, which packs a bigger punch but fires at a much slower rate. He shifts his aim for headshots while he's clearly trying to make some headway in a different, but still visible, direction than Steve. Sam's going for some ammo. They had to have taken out enough Enemy AIs by now.

"Nothing exciting on my end. I mean, Redwing got some upgrades. I think they gave me that instead of a raise." Sam sounds playfully annoyed since he's pretty sure SHIELD listening in on this training mission. Sam's caught by surprise for a moment before headshotting some foolish AI that got too close, snatches their rifle on their way down and sends it through the air in Steve's direction. He'll pick one up for himself in a second.

"I've gotta' get out more. All this action and adventure's reminding me of how old I'm getting." Sam pauses with a grin. "Not as old as /some/ people I know but…"

"You're only as old as you feel," Cap replies and with that, he moves into action.

As Sam moves toward the pistol and Steve tries to run and gun, the kill count slows. This means the fire fight intensifies as the bullets fly. Sensing blood in the water, groups of AI combatants pop out like gophers from a Chuck E. Cheese game and soon Steve is taken down. It isn't long after that Wilson is over whelmed himself. Of course, between the two of them, the amount slain is through the roof. Of course, the fact they went down at all was because they weren't allowed to use the most of the things that make them Avengers, but that is a tale for another time.

As SHIELD operatives move to take off the gear and tabulate the scores (or marvel at them), Steve looks toward Falcon, now with his own eyes and his chest back to his normal attire. "Not looking for a war, trust me on that, Sam," Rogers begins. "Problem is that in my experience, when someone evil is gunning for a group just because they are different, it will get worse unless the right people get involved."

"Hey. You need me, I'm there. You don't even have to say the word."

Sam makes sure that's even more clear than it always has been. He feels a strange sense of needing to validate his partnership with Captain America every once in a while. Maybe because of Bucky. Maybe because it's Captain Freaking America. Either way, Sam likes to make things known just so that everybody knows where he stands. And that standing location is often next to Steve Rogers. "I always got ya' back."

Sam heads over to meet Steve, once all this stupid training equipment is off and offers him a steady and serious hand on the shoulder. His lips are as somber as they need to be for this to make sense and to have the impact that he wants it to. "And I want you to know that one of these people gave you video game heroine chest. Don't let them get away with it. It was hilarious but also disturbing." Sam finally grins. "I can't unsee it, man."

"I appreciate that and your honest opinion. I really do," Steve offers as he moves to pat Sam on the shoulder in return, not knowing what is about to follow.

Lips thin into narrow lines. Like roaches fleeing the light, most of the SHIELD tech people flee. An overweight gentleman with a large beard merely stands there and just gives a firm nod. He gives no f***s, clearly. Perhaps it why SHIELD nabbed him in the first place. In response, Steve merely offers, "It's fine, I don't care if people try and ska me."

"Either way, I'm glad you're back state-side. I feel like there are so many things going on right now and I can only scratch the surface of a lot of them. I help with the public, dangers to the world are put on hold. I stay out of the public light, kids turns to reality stars and athletes. I know there are few good ball players and TV stars that want the next generation to raise up right, but so many just care about bottom dollar to keep their 'brand' going. No point in fighting for a better world if the next generation isn't ready to manage it."

"You should run for President. You know that, right? And I swear this is not just me trying to get into the White House as your VP. But I'm just saying."

Sam looks slightly impressed at the SHIELD Coder not giving any of the Fs and then returns his attention back to Steve. "Yeah, it's good to be home. Now we can do both. We can kick terrorists in the ass and give speeches to next generation. Especially me. Since I know their Hashtag Lingo." Sam even does the '#' symbol with his fingers when he says that. "Cuz you show up at a college graduation talking about 'getting ska'd', you're gonna' end up on the Twitter as a Drank Me Me." He has probably gotten all of that wrong but he doesn't care. Steve doesn't know if he did or not so.

"Which Thai restaurant? I need to know if I should even bring my wallet."

"I was thinking One More Thai on Clinton Street," comes the short reply as Steve moves to get all this things together, throwing on his leather jacket. The Man Out of Time looks toward Sam with a firm intensity, as if trying to understnad a foreign language. "And no one says 'You got ska'ed anymore'? Keeping up is hard. People still say 'Totes my goats', right?"

Sam 'The Falcon' Wilson has a leather jacket too, which he's throwing on. His aviator shades are tossed on right after it, which only leads to making his big grin all the more fun-loving and jovial. He's just happy to be hanging with his friend again.

He throws an arm around Steve's shoulders and just grins, "Only the coolest people." He pins his keys around his finger. He must've gotten SHIELD to get him a new car. Or give him one of theirs. Same difference. "Let's roll, my goats."

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