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Central Park- New York City, NY
What happens when two SHIELD agents, both named Sam, both fly, and both like to run their mouth a bit and talk some game?
Central Park starts to get very concerned. That is exactly what..
Sam Wilson, better known to the papers as the Falcon, was waiting for Guthrie to show up, or Guthrie and Guthrie as it were. On the gauntlet on his forearm perched a raptor, the bird not the dinosaur, and he stroked a finger across the top of her head. "Yeah, I know. He may whoop up on us but we're gonna make him work for it."
Cannonball walks, with Jeb, into the area, though his face is a little red, and his hair is a total jumble. He's wearing something loosely military; a jacket, a pair of boots and thick pants, and some goggles. "Work fer what? I aint gonna break a sweat." He challenges the tech that Falcon is rocking!
Jeb is used to being a tagalong brother, but when Sam said that he was going to race another Sam at flying, of course Jeb wanted to come along and support his brother. He's a great audience. "Yeah! You can't beat Sammy!" Jeb pipes up, adorable little brother for show, leaning his shoulder against his brother's for a moment.
Falcon looked to Guthrie and pointed two fingers at him with a thoughtful expression, "See, even your brother knows you can't meat me, Guthrie. We can stop now if you like." The grin widened flashing his pearly whites offering a hand out to Other Sam, "Glad you could show up man. You do this and Shuri and Stark might wanna be talkin to you." He turned to Jeb offering that hand without the bird of prey on it to the younger Guthrie. "Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you." So many Sam's. He offered, "This is Redwing. She'll be referee today."
Cannonball rubs a few fingers across his chin. "Yeah, that'd be better'n' bartendin' few sure. Lord knows I could use a decent enough job, knows what I'm best at." Sam chuckles and reaches over to clamp a hand on Jeb's shoulder. "Jeb here will always have my back, I'm afraid. So, where we racin' to? Michigan?" He grins.
"Ah wasn't supportin' you, Mister Falcon, Ah was supportin' /my/ Sam." Jeb says and takes the hand offered to him, shaking it happily. He looks at the bird on Sam's shoulder. "Whoa, do you know, my other brother can fly too!" Bragging about Jay as easily as he brags about Sam. "And either /one/ of them could kick your butt at it too!"
Falcon considered Sam's offering and looked that a ways, "It's a hell of a place. Got one of my guys lives out there. Runs a bar out there he's pretty proud of. We could hit em up." The likelihood of them leaving Jeb standing here while they had beers in another state were incredibly low though. Jeb rolling up the attitude brought an arch of an eyebrow, "Kid, we just met. It's generally customary to say hi before bringing all your guns to bear and talking some flak."
Cannonball waggles his brows. "Hi. So…to the statue of liberty and back? Jeb can impartially say who wins." Though honestly, just flying with another person at speed will be nice. Jay isn't known for his incredible speed, after all. He's kinda hoping the magical tech wings have some zip.
Jeb shakes his head, but bashfully ducks his head at being admonished. "Well, when you're challenging my brother, it's a different story, then Ah gotta bring all the guns." He insists with a small smile. "Yeah, Ah'll be fair. If you win, you win, but you won't because Sam real fast." He agrees to be the one who watches.
Falcon didn't seem overly offended though offered in an objective tone, "Still, word of advice? Manners always count. Especially if you're going to go talk some smack because then you get the moral highground. Also, can turn a real friendly situation kinda ugly if people don't know you. But nice to meet you, Jeb." He looked up and out out over the harbour, "Round the torch and back to the fountain?" He paused and in a perfectly deadpan look, and not without reason asked, "If we do that will the torch and the fountain remain in tact?" Yes because Cannonball got that name for a reason. Looking to Jeb he asked, "Keep an eye on her while we run maneuvers?"
Cannonball clears his throat. "I'll…give her a wide berth. Uh…maybe that green patch past the fountain to be safe though." Flying…he tends not to hit stuff on purpose, but…/landing/ is another issue
Jebediah is still getting lectured, by some older guy who isn't his dad and isn't his brother and isn't someone he even knows, so he steps back and away from Sam, the falcon one and doesn't say anythin' beyond, "Sorry /sir/." Making it a point to prove he /is/ polite. He said /sir/. But now he's properly cowed and far less excited than he was when he got here for this race. "Your bird? They're really smart. I'll watch her but I bet she ain't need it." He says quietly now.
Falcon dipped his head in an amicable nod and thoughtful tone, "Good of you to think the goldfish." And not leaving them bereft of a home by exploding hunks of fountain everywhere. He looked to Redwing and she seemed to understand just fine, "You gonna hang out with Jeb while we go do this?" Seemed so. The bird spread her tawny wings and hopped from Sam's arm to Jeb's shoulder looking him over as birds do. Sliding his goggles down he grinned to his teammate and slapped the release button on his chest and those vibranium wings click-click-click-click unfolded into an impressive span. A dial alter he brought the rest of the suit powered up. "Hang on. Let me clear us a flight path."
Sam watches Jeb take over being falcon-nanny and nods to his brother. "Don't lose her, could use this job."
"Nerd." Sam says to Sam, in regards to him filing a flight path, but the critique seems to be amiable, with a dimpled grin on the man's cheeks. While Wilson click click clicks, Sam starts to glow on his lower half as he builds up the energy to blast off. "On yer mark…get set…" but he waits until Falcon is done nerdily following protocol to actually say 'go'.
Jeb perks up when there is a bird on his shoulder, reaching up slowly to rub her head the way that he had watched Sam do it earlier, but as far as bird petting goes, Jeb has some experience with feathers, given that he's helped Jay with his many a time before. He knows which way to pet. "Give him hell, Sam… /my/ Sam." He corrects lest Falcon Sam think he's being rooted for.
Falcon was following protocol, and by protocol what he meant was getting all of the damn pigeons to clear out. Neatly like a force of nature on their own agreement they parted and stopped flying through that meridian. Wilson crouched getting ready for launch, a bit of a smile. Redwing squawked a bit up on Jeb's shoulder but was happily distracted being adored for the moment. "Go!" The sprint was immediate- one two, launch! and the micro thrusters were already roaring pushing 1,000 pounds of thrust against the ground creating a wicked downdraft as he was thrown forward into the air like a fighter jet.