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Forge has acquired some weird weapons. And boy howdy are they weird. It looks like he's setting up a marksmakship display of some sort in a large clearing here in central Park. Three devices are set up on wooden posts, clamped securely into place. 500 yards away from each is a target.
The weapons are weird in appearance, that much is visible. One is black, and looks like a very futuristic rifle, complete with glowing blue bulbous barrel. One is a weird, shifting green, in shape and appearnace much like a lava lamp. The third? Well who can tell? It's not even SHAPED like a gun, or anything like one. It's some sort of black squarish box.
The steady tapping rhythm of running shoes on asphalt is a metronomic source of zen for the blond man in t-shirt and sweatpants. A day without a meeting? Almost unheard of for Steve and it leaves his mind working at a hundred miles an hour without respite. A nice ten-mile jog is sure to take the worst of the edge off and allow him to sit still for at least a few hours today.
The meandering path takes him past this clearing, where there are few people to interrupt, and as he spies Forge at his work, his wheat-gold brows knit. He comes to a slower pace and then an eventual halt, pausing with his hands on his hips. This looks…like something SHIELD either does know about or needs to be aware of post-haste. He's in no form of disguise as he walks over towards the man, hailing him with upraised hand.
"Hello. Those are…something different," he finally says as he closes on Forge. "You authorized to have those?"
Dead Girl, on the other hand, is just being lazy. As one does when they're dead. Sometimes, for the sake of comfort and quiet, she'll even bury herself in a shallow grave in Central Park.
Why? Just because. She's dead and she really likes the quiet of being underground, sometimes.
But there's all this tromping around up there and it's getting in the way of her "Meditation".
"Man!" Comes the voice from under the ground as Dead Girl's clawed hands shoot out of the earth, the living dead shambling out of their grave! Oh no!
Forge looks up from clamping the black box in place, and smiles. "I sure am, officer. A well regulated militia, being necessary to teh security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infronged. I'm also working with the government on it anyway." He twists one more time, then steps back with his hands on his hips. "I don't know what these things do." Then looking over to Dead Girl. "I don't think she's a good test subject though, except in a movie."
Color Steve dubious. He pulls thinned lips to one side and folds his arms. "What branch of the government?" he asks Forge, genuinely curious despite himself. The rifle with the aqua-hued barrel looks like a doozy. A certain Mister Barnes would probably salivate to get his hands on it.
The sudden appearance of a hand from beneath the turf of Central Park is cause for the Captain to hiss between his teeth and take a serum-boosted step back or two. With hands up, palms out, he stares at the emerging young woman. "Oh…right," he breathes, his memory supplying him with a name and face to go with the lurid blue skin. His voice rises to a normal conversational pitch, as if he'd never been startled. "You're Dead Girl. Times Square, I remember you. Yes, probably not a good test subject," he adds in agreement with Forge.
"You guys are making so much noise!" Dead Girl says, as she puts hands on her hips- shaking a leg to get some dirt out from her jeans. "I was *resting* here?" she asks, still frowning as she stares at both Steve and Forge as if they'd intruded into something.
But, then her eyes are on the weird things Forge has, "Oooh. ARe you improving your pool cue?"
Forge blinks. "If you think I'm waking the dead now, what's going to happen when I fire these things off?" When Steve asks what branch of government, he nods, walks over to the black box, looks at it, and slaps his palm on the top. It lets out a harsh whine, and a red jet shoots out of the front face, shooting through the air and slapping into the target, leaving a smoking black spot. "I'm sorry I can't hear you over the loud weapons, could you ask again?" he asks loudly.
"…pool cue?" Steve echoes to himself, glancing from Dead Girl to the guy with the guns. He then watches Forge walk over to the squared model of weaponry. A wince for the sound it makes and he wiggles a finger in one ear, grimacing. "I asked what branch of government is allowing you permission to fire these weapons in a public location," he repeats himself more loudly for Forge's benefit. With folded arms, it appears that the Captain is going to stand there and observe every single shot, like as not taking note of each and happy to report back to SHIELD with his observations.
"Woah." Dead Girl says, "That made some kind of black spot over there. Is it an ink gun?" she asks, eyes narrowing a bit. "Yeah, do you think you should be firing these things in the middle of Central Park?" she wonders, agreeing with Steve there. "I mean, isn't there a less… I don't know.. people-filled place?"
Forge leans forward and squints. "No, it looks singed. It's some sort of … heat weapon. That could be useful. Very accurately aimed, it appears. Though with this shiape, I can't tell where the sight is supposed to be looking." He glances at Steve, and chuckles. No weapon firing, he repeats "I'm sorry it's very hard to hear you over the sounds of the firing range. I need you to speak more loudly, expecially when I'm wearing ear protection." He then gets a very happy grin on his face, as he walks over to the second weapon. "This field is pretty empty. I can see where I'm firing. We're fine." He then walks up to the lava lamp, and starts trying to figure out how to fire this one.
"Oh. Heat weapon. Right." Dead Girl says, nodding quietly, "Why do you have a heat weapon, again?" she wonders next with eyebrows narrowing together. "It seems, I don't know, a little… Yeah, why do you have a heat weapon?"
Forge glances at Steve, since the questioning seems to have been taken over. With a smile, he looks back at the weapon, and continues to search. "I bought it. Well, I bought everything the guy had. He didn't know what to make of them either. Got a good deal." He blinks when his finger accidentally trips a hidden trigger, and the lava lamp beeps. As it beeps, there's a SPLORT as a fountain of green comes out of it. Same glowing color as the lamp itself. For 20 yards, there's an oozing pile of goop in front of the lava lamp. "Now this one, this one is spraying.. well not ink but… something messy."
"Yeah…" Dead Girl says as she looks over at the stuff that's there on the ground now- green. She pokes it with a stick, just to see what happens. "I don't know if I can trust this stuff, Forge." she notes, "I mean, it's prettttty nasty."
Forge sniffs. "Well it doesn't smell so bad." But it seems to be hardening. When it's poked with a stick, some of it congeals onto the tip of the stick. Jiggling like jell-o. "I wouldn't eat that."
"You know I don't eat food." Dead Girl replies with a little smile, grinning and shaking her head as she touches the end of the stick with a finger- just to see what happens to flesh. Curious. She must touch it.
Forge leans forward to msell again, finding it's pretty… plain. And when touched… it jiggles. "I'm not sure this one is a weapon, unless it's meant to encase a target." He reaches forward, and tries to tear at it. It stretches instead of tearing.
"Yeah, it feels like gelatin." Dead Girl says as she frowns a little, "Weird. Maybe it's like a non-lethal thing? I guess, maybe. At least, if you shot it at peoples' feet and not on their face." she says as she pops one of her claws to try and cut into the material on the stick. Could it be cut?
"What do you think the other one's do?"
Forge watches as she trise to CUT it now. It will cut. It's not some super substance. But it's tougher than jell-o, to be sure. "It's advanced. But very odd." Stepping over to the black gun with the bulbous tip. "This one? Icould never have guessed what those two do. This one could do anything. Maybe it fires cats."
"Yeah, for sure. Super advanced." DG says as she looks over to the black gold. "I hope it doesn't fire cats. Cats are really, really nice!" she notes, "I love cats!" she nods sagely.
"Do you think it's deadly? Bad?" She wonders.
Forge hums. "Only one way to find out." This one's easy to fire at least. Gripping the weapon, though not lifting it from its perch, he pulls the trigger. This one… does not make a loud noise like the others. It's nearly silent. There's just a 'whist' sound, and 'thock' as a six inch rail sticks into the target. "Nice." he nods.
"Oh. That seems really unpleasant." Dead Girl notes, pointing at the spoke that's sticking into a target. "I bet that would be really bad to someone who was.. organic." she notes, with a bit of frown. "What sort of people do you hang out with that you can buy weapons like these?"
Forge looks at the rail, and smiles."Very effective. That almost seems like a normal weapon." He then turns around, facing away from the targets. "I know a guy. It loks like this is the one I'm going to build on, for my own experiments. should be anice, safe weapon." As he says this, the rail falls off of the target, and distinegrates in a blue puff of light.
"Why do you need to imbed a big piece of metal into another person?" Dead Girl wonders, next, eyebrows knitting together. "Why would anyone need to do that. Haven't you heard, man, make love not war!" she exclaims, "Peace, Love, Dope!" she goes on, dressed as a hippie as she is it's sort of to be expected.
"I mean, people will get hurt with that thing!"
All the while, off to one side, Steve has been silently watching — calculating — and now he has a small notepad in hand as well as click-pen. He glances from short-hand to gun one and now to gun two, the one spewing some form of rapid-gelantinizing liquid. Wouldn't Fitz love to get his hands on that one. The third gun is grounds to give him pause in his note-taking and he frowns.
"And what was the name of the guy you bought this all from? What did he look like?" he asks of Forge, pen waiting overtop a fresh page of paper.
Forge turns around to start unfastening each weapon from their stands. As he does so, a pigeon flies and lands on the pile of goop. It pecks, and takes off, seemingly unharmed. "Well, that settles that," he grunts as the blue railgun is hefted, and now he starts unfastening the lava lamp. "Lady, the reason to put a hunk of metal into another guy, is that the other guy is trying to put a hunk of metal into you first." He raises the metallic hand briefly, to emphasize the point. Steve gets his attention again. "Listen sparky, Not only does the government know who I am, who I work for, and who I bought this from, but when I asked point blank if they'd stop me, they said no."
Dead Girl looks over her shoulder, then back to Forge. Then to Captain America, and back to FOrge. And back and forth. Eyebrows knit together. "Well, I don't use a gun." she notes, "And I can get things done!" she says, as she tries to pose heroically!
A bit of dirt falls out of her hair. "See! You can help people!"
Although, DEad Girl hadn't actually done anything.
"That's all well and good, civilian, but that doesn't answer my question nor does it tell me who to call if you end up cuffed behind a desk in an interrogation room," the Captain informs Forge in an even, understanding tone of voice. He glances over at Dead Girl and gives her a small smile. "You're singular for that, m'am, and don't let anyone tell you that you're inferior for it. Guns should be the last resort."
Forge snickers at Dead Girl. "Must be nice." But now as he goes to the third and final weapon, which is much smaller, lighter, and easier to unfasten, he addresses Steve. His tone is soft, and even. His face is slightly quirked though. "I am a civilian now. But I served my country overseas. I lost my hand doing it. I now build weapons to stock the Arsenal of Democracy, as they said in my parents' day." All this he recites gently, as though they're plain, ordinary facts. Arms full, he turns to face Steve. "So are you from Parks and Recreation or something?"
"Yeah, but in the defense of using a gun, I can also like control corpses and turn into a ghost and summon the dead and stuff, so, you know. I can understand why some people might want a gun, but you know, philosophically it seems like it be better to hug it out." Dead Girl says, "Still, getting hugs is kinda hard when you're living-impaired, but you know, kids still hug me. And cats. And dogs. So, I've really got it going in the hug department."
She beams wide, "I'm not inferior to anyone, man! I am woman, hear me roar!" she giggles out, still there.
"Hey! Do you want to see what that thing would do to a person?" DEad Girl wonders over to Forge. "You could shoot me with it."
Steve gives Dead Girl a silent, surprised look. Oh my. That's…not a set of metahuman abilities he's heard of before. With a small shake of his head, he looks back to Forge again and sets his jaw a touch.
"I'm Captain Steve Rogers. I would think that my reputation and intentions precede me based on that. It was nice to have relative anonymity for a few minutes there, however," he digresses ruefully. "I'm aware of the weaponry. What I don't know, and would appreciate, is knowing where it came from. It shouldn't be in the hands of the general public." He holds up a hand and adds, "You have experience in weapons handling, I can tell. Also, please, don't shoot her," he's sure to add, giving Dead Girl a glance of dubious concern.
Forge looks at Dead Girl with a pained grimace, momentarily. "You may be dead, but I'm not shooting you with these, anyway. They've barely been tested. And if you think hugs would stop the Red Army, well, you're more optimstic than I, miss." Steve gets a chuckle. "Captain Steve Rogers. Alright. So you know where I'm coming from." He steps forward, slowly, coming close enough to mutter to Steve "Well, one of the agents of SHIELD anonymously came to me, followed me to my source, and asked me to help. I suggest your left hand and your right should get to know each other, and coordinate a bit better. I'll be filing a report as soon as I know where to file it."
"No, really, I've been shot before- it's not a big deal!" Dead Girl says, still grinning, "I'll be fine, really." she assures the other two. "I'll just sort of.. come back, you know! Like.. regenerate and stuff." she says, "Won't even hurt." she continues.
Dead Girl shrugs, "Hey, it's your choice, I guess. I mean, I think it be fun to see what they could do." Dead Girl remarks as she goes to stand in front of one of the targets. The one with the singe mark- exploring a little deeper. "Wow, this thing got hot."
"All the more reason not to shoot you with it, m'am," Steve calls out to Dead Girl, honestly concerned at her blase approach to acting as living (non-living?) target for this odd weaponry. He tilts his head, squinting, as he listens to Forge's explanantion and nods. The notebook is shut with a decisive snap and then he allows himself a small, rather conspiratorial smile for a flash of a second.
"I don't go shaking her hand without good reason," he murmurs back to Forge. He holds up the small notepad briefly as he continues quietly, "Your report will accompany these to our next debriefing. Put them in a manila folder and deliver it to the counter of the White Crane laundrymat in Chinatown. Tell them you've got a weather report and then march on out. Don't linger. We'll get it." And by 'we', he means SHIELD and those privy to said information.
Forge smiles. "Alright Steve. Good to meet you. Name's Forge, in case you had any doubt left." he says aloud. "I'd shake your hand but… I'd rather not risk dropping any of these." Hearing Dead Girl. "I would not touch that if I were you. There could be any number of chemical reactions going on in there. Can you come back fromb eing dissolved in acid?"
"Yeah, I've been disolved in acid before." DEad Girl replies, nodding quietly, "At least once. I used lye, layed in it. Then, after that, meriaric acid- you know, like they used to clean pools. Just kinda layed in it a while and then I was, you know, jelly and whatnot for a while.The acid evaporated and my muck was left over, and then I came back." she says, "Just reformed. I feel like I could have reformed quicker, you know, if I'd been more into it, but I was sort of in a dark place at waking up dead."
"I'd rather you don't drop them as well, so don't mind not shaking my hand. I'd hate to see the squarish one misfire," he replies to Forge, having been properly introduced now. Steve looks around the man towards Dead Girl again and begins to meander over to her.
"I can respect a drive to succeed, especially staying alive." He offers the undead young woman a hand to shake instead, having slipped the notepad and pen back into the pocket of his sweatpants along with his other hand. "Steve Rogers, once more and just in case. I don't know if I got your name last time. Come on, no need to linger over here."
"Aw, man. I wanted to get shot by weird science fiction weapons. You know, to say I've done it." Dead Girl says as she takes Steve's hand and smiles, "It's Dead Girl." she replies then, "Or DG. A lot of people are calling me that, these days." she says as she wanders away from the target range.. "Man, the only exciting thing that happens to me is ghosts bothering me all day. That's why I buried myself, you know, ghosts won't bother you if they think you're a murder victim in the ground."
Forge nods. "Well, with the introductions done, excuse me as I take these back to my car. They're not that heavy, but again… I do not wish to drop them." And with a nod to each of them, he quietly walks through the grass, in the general directionof where he parked. Messes and disaster left behind him.