1244/Schwerpunkt

Schwerpunkt
Date of Scene:	02 July 2017
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	A premonition prompts Sam and Dean Winchester to race to the aid of James Barnes. They're able to save Claire Temple, but Hydra gets their Soldier back.
Cast of Characters:	Winter Soldier, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Claire Temple
Tinyplot:	Tayaniye

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Winter Soldier has posed:
After what happened to him in that rescue of Claire and Mercy from terrifying forces, the Winter Soldier turned even more reclusive than usual. He had ensured Claire got to safety-- it was his entire reason for even getting involved-- but after that he just... disappeared. Gone almost before Claire could turn around to say anything substantive to him.

All in all, that wasn't surprising, considering what it was he saw in those awful visions.

He had stayed in intermittent contact with her, though he'd refused to come out or tell her anything more than brief remarks on where he was. Each time, it's a different hide or bolthole in the city. Some of them were even the safehouses Natasha had provided him with. He had checked one out solely for the purpose of testing out how trustworthy she was.

Seeing as he wasn't immediately recaptured, it seemed that she was above board.

Today Claire finally insisted hard enough that he reluctantly agreed to let her come to where he was to drop things off. Paranoid as he was, however, he directed her to a dead drop where she could find the address, instead of actually sending it to her over the phone.

The ultimate destination is a quiet section of Brooklyn directly east of Prospect Park, one of the many empty condos that are owned by wealthy overseas personages who don't actually /live/ there... though the Soldier's actual instructions were that he would meet her on the fringes of the park, due to aforementioned paranoia. He's there waiting, dressed nondescriptly, leaning against one of the gates into the park proper.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Today Sam Winchester hadn't really given the Winter Soldier as much thought as he had on other days. He had actually gone to some second hand stores. To get stuff. For his /room/. At the apartment that he is now sharing with Dean. It was really exciting. And after he got his room set up just right, he went back out for groceries, since he wasn't really sure about this 'beer, Siracha, and pie' set up he saw going in Dean's fridge. Rounding that out a bit seemed good to him. He'd had two bags in his arms when his eyes had suddenly widened.

His large body had crashed into the doorframe and he'd dropped a bag. A tomato split as it rolled out and hit the dirt. His teeth had gritted and he'd grabbed his head. He'd been forcing visions for several days after moving into the apartment, trying to protect the soldier; even meeting with him a third time and sharing an actual conversation about, something he'd told Dean about. But this one comes on him like a freight train.

He suffers through it, putting out a hand, then gasps, "Dean! Dean, we gotta go."

He'd focused in, zeroed in on the address, and had stumbled down the stairs into the Impala, the vision-migraine pounding hard enough that he knew he sure as Hell wasn't going to drive. That's going to have to be Dean's job, as it so often is.

Along the way, he'd explained as best he could.

"I think Barnes' torturers are about to catch up with him."

But the visions aren't much clearer than that.

Dean Winchester has posed:
Hey! Don't knock his diet. Dean looks pretty damn good for cheap food and beer. Granted- Sam would be the better cook hands down, so he didn't complain. Of course; the two brothers living together again, the shenanigans of annoyance would likely begin. Such as... Dean planning pranks. Whipcream and ma-

Dean about launched off the couch when Sam barrels in with a vision, knocking his beer over in the process as a single leap over the coffee table closes the distance. He kneels down next to his brother, taking his hand to let him know he's there: "Hey, Sam..." There is clear worry in his voice.

Though that tone. He doesn't even question it. Sometimes- they give each other shit. Other times, they know better. He grabs his keys and throws on his coat, pulling the groceries inside and out of the way before helping Sam up to his feet, putting an arm around his shoulders to help him along towards the car.

Opening the passenger door to the Impala, he helps the taller one in before shutting him in and sliding across the hood to spin and get in the driver side. Can you tell they are used to having to go. Fast. ?

"We going into a world of shit, or what?"

But he will go where Sam points him.

Winter Soldier has posed:
When the Winchesters arrive at the scene, it is already one of controlled chaos.

There are people there who are ostensibly authorities, shuttling confused civilians away from the sounds of obvious conflict in the park just past its gates. The area around the Ocean Avenue entrance to the park is rapidly being cleared of people.

Whether these people are /actually/ officers or not is up for debate, but the heavily-armed SWAT teams just barely visible in the park, all closing in on what is no doubt the focal point of the wayward Winter Soldier, are probably NOT actual SWAT teams.

The sudden report of gunfire cuts the air. It's hopefully not from any of the SWAT teams and instead from the asset they're trying to recapture, but it's hard to say until they can get closer.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Oh yeah," Sam grunts, reaching to load up his ICER pistol one handed, all by virtue of sort of sticking the clip between his knees and pushing the strange blue capsules in, then slamming it into the gun. "A /world/ of shit. Gonna call someone else too."

He calls Claire, gritting out the details without saying how he got them. He gets voicemail. It'll have to do. Maybe she'll get there with some people in time to help more, maybe not. He realizes he forgot to get a number from Natasha. Damn it.

At least, by the time they get there, Sam is functional. The ringing pain has faded along with the last of the vision. He stares at the chaos, then looks to Dean, then gets out of the car. They both pose as fake authorities all the time. Takes one to know one. Outnumbered? Well. That happens a lot too. He'll move towards the source of the trouble /with/ Dean, but raises his pistol to begin aiming even before their enemies are fully in sight, mouth set into a grim, tight line, ready to find a target.

It's a really crappy time to be the one-armed wonder.

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean eyes the ICER that Sam is messing with as if it is some Alien... thing. He has his own gun. His real 'big boy' gun.

Dean parks the Impala somewhat close to the chaos, but far enough away that hopefully it won't get crushed by something flying. Hopefully.

Getting out when Sam does, pocketing his keys, making a slight face at the shitstorm they are walking into. "You picked a hell of a guy to fight for. Next time, pick one without an army trying to kill his ass when -we- want to get to him."

Dean is surveying the chaos as best he can as they near the edge of it, gun up and at the ready, but remaining mostly behind cover- using cars or whatever he can as they get closer. A way in without painting massive targets on their foreheads before they even get in would be a good way to go.

And then, one of the cars in the chaos? A really big wheeled truck. Like. You have to use the sidestep to get into it kind of big. He grins instantly, glancing over at Sam. "Care to go for a ride?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
Speaking of something flying... as Sam and Dean work their way closer to the gate and to the sounds of fighting, one of the ostensible SWAT officers-- clearly less fortunate than the rest-- goes flying straight out the gate, his body flung by someone clearly extremely angry and extremely hard-pressed.

He hits the side of a parked car, caving it in, and collapses straight to the ground facedown. He might be dead. The appalled officers trying to usher away civilians don't have time to stop and check, because the highly agitated tourist group they're trying to corral gets even more agitated at this sight, requiring them to devote their attention.

They turn away from the hidden Winchesters.

It's a good distraction to give them time to do something.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Let's do it," Sam says, sliding into the vehicle and content to go with Dean's plan. He'd widened his eyes as the person had come flying towards them, and adds grimly, "But let's /hurry/."

The taller but younger Winchester does not choose the passenger front seat though, but the driver's back; he can't /shoot/ out of the window of the passenger side because of arm placement. He rolls down the window of the back though, and is ready to shoot as soon as Dean's rolling drive puts them in contact with a viable target, ready to do so even while they're still rolling, seamlessly moving into a partnership as if they never stopped working together at all.

The extra armoring is a nice touch on this plan, given the whole outnumbered, outgunned thing. Though Barnes looks like he's good for any ten people.

Dean Winchester has posed:
"Right." Dean climbs into the driver's seat of the big truck, laying in the seat so he can hotwire the thing since he couldn't find keys readily accessible- and he's not putting his head up to check the visor. Not in this shitstorm.

After a few tries, the engine roars to life. He takes instant action of hopping up properly, gun having to be put in his lap so he can put the thing in gear and slam on the gas. A big truck like this? Monster truck was instantly the thing in mind.

As such- since they have no better way in, he drives that thing through the crowd of fake authorities- either they move out of the way or not (if not- they are stupid), to break through their line to drive more towards where the Winter Soldier is. And probably getting lit up at the same time.

But hopefully the idea gets them inside- in one piece. And close enough to the Soldier to give him some cover- or backup.

Winter Soldier has posed:
A monster truck is way out of the pay grade of the people posing as police and other types of authorities, outside-- the instant they see that crap bearing down on them, they get the hell out of the way. The conveyance bears the two Winchesters into the breach with little incident, gravel spraying as they head down the path to where the Winter Soldier is being assailed on all sides by SWAT(?) officers

Interestingly, though they're all heavily armored, few of them are using actual lethal weapons. It's clear their intention is to try to wear the stray Winter Soldier down and incapacitate him, for transport back to whatever hell he lives in.

The conveyance they seem to mean to transport him back in? One of the two armored vehicles sitting in wait beyond the chaos.

The Winter Soldier does look about good for any ten people by himself-- especially with how FURIOUS he looks-- but the trouble is that there are multiple tens of people, all coming at him from various angles. The heavy armor the men are using, and their proximity to him, keeps his guns and heavier ordnance from being terribly effective, and so he's resorted to absolute blunt brute force. Courtesy of his left arm, he's pretty good at that.

He's also visibly slowing down, however. He's been hit multiple times already and enough of those sedatives are finding purchase. He's still pissed enough that he hits another few assailants with sufficient force to shatter bone and send them flying towards the truck as it barrels in. The bodies hit and roll over the hood.

This causes the Soldier to notice the truck. A 'what the f...' expression flicks over his features, but he doesn't /complain/. Especially since the reason he's so pissed off is now also visible to the Winchesters, right in the midst of this fiasco...

The Russian forces-- many of them also Hydra plants-- notice the truck too. Some of them detach from the melee to open fire at the vehicle, and they're definitely using lethal methods /now/.

Claire Temple has posed:
The answer becomes quickly obvious why ringing Claire Temple goes straight to voicemail.

She's already here.

Her head is already turned in the direction that last man was thrown clear across the park -- and mulched into that car. Her eyes flare widen to their whites.

A very familiar nurse occupies a pinpoint eye of this storm, and only because the metal-armed assassin assures her so, moving in a constant, blurring path to ensure their assailants never touch her. Partitioned off in the relative cover of a park bench, and perimetered away by the interposing body of the Soldier, she hunkers down into a half-crouch, trying to keep low among the traded bullets.

Her backpack shouldered off, she's got one hand disappeared down into it -- probably looking for her own gun. As if that will mean /anything/ here, but she needs to do /something/, something to HELP, because from where she is, Claire is helpless -- helpless to watch as Bucky Barnes faces off and fights off too many men to count. And he's slowing.

It might be left to her --

-- until that monster truck breaks through the line and rolls in. Unsure from her vantage who or what it can even be, all Claire can do is hope.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam had started firing ICER shots the moment they got close, but he doesn't get long. Bullets start peppering the truck. He lets out a sharp exhale and ducks, eyes widening. He waits for the spray to pause, then pops out and shoots again. It's not that this is entirely unfamiliar, really...it happens...but most monsters are usually more claw-and-teeth-and-telekinesis than they are bullets.

He grits his teeth and pops up again, firing off more shots. And spotting the trucks where they want to take the soldier. And the nurse.

They have a safe haven, if they can get to it. They need to know.

"Yasha! Claire! Get in! Let's get out of here!"

Shit. That was almost his head. He ducks down again as a bullet takes him down. He's already almost out of shots, the ICER nearly needs a reload. He has his back-up Beretta (yes, Dean, his /big boy gun/), but this is insane. They can't really fight this battle. They need to get those two out of here and /roll/ is what they need to do.

In the meantime...trucks, meant to take the soldier away. Shooting is getting increasingly futile from his perspective, but maybe he can...

He takes a deep breath, raises his hand a little, concentrates, and tries to use his telekinesis to re-direct some of the bullets flying for them towards the tires of the armored vehicles, if only to buy them some more time.

Dean Winchester has posed:
"Oh fuck me, next time you drive!" Dean curses as they literally drive into a hail of bullets. He ducks down, having to let the truck come to a stop, but he was careful not to overshoot.

He remains down, popping up to fire through the now broken window thanks to the gunfire- his own desert eagle packing a nice enough wallop of its own, but still doesn't do well against an ARMY.

Down again, but he curses colorfully as one bullet punches through the driverside door and into his thigh. "Lets get this show on the road, Sam! Now!" he barks. He will do what he has to, to save his brother. Any hellfire argument later be damned. No one is worth saving that fucking bad to risk sacrificing his brother.

Winter Soldier has posed:
The thing about body armor is, it's body armor. It's got chinks, areas of the vulnerable human body it doesn't protect. And the Winter Soldier is as much known for knifework as he is for hitting shots.

As people draw closer to the center of the conflict, it becomes obvious his weaponized left arm is not the only thing being used. He's working with his knife in his right hand remorselessly, gouging eyes, slashing faces, slipping the blade into spots where he knows kevlar falters with necessary joints and gaps. His right arm is splattered red to the elbow from the result of his work.

It's vicious, but then he is a vicious creature, and doubly so to keep any hands from being laid on the nurse behind him.

His head snaps over towards Sam when that familiar voice calls out. So do the heads of many of the agents trying to bring the Soldier in, and gunfire sprays the side of the truck. The brothers' return fire does take down some men, who fall stricken from precision-placed rounds that found their mark between the armor, and that telekinetic redirection sends the bullets flipping around to slam into the tires of the armored vehicles. Some of them glance off, but more than enough do hit. The trouble is, they're run-flat tires--

The Winter Soldier doesn't seem to disagree with Dean in terms of whether he's worth risking anyone else present. He doesn't remember much about himself, but in these frenzied moments, more of his true nature floats to the surface than might have otherwise, in less visceral circumstances... and while he's fully aware of the hell to which he'll return, James Barnes would not feel his freedom worth having if bought with others' blood.

Slamming his metal fist into the head of a man hard enough to snap his neck and twist his head around a sickening one-eighty degrees, he reaches the park bench, grabs Claire, and HUSTLES her towards the car. He shoves her before him, guarding her with his body, keeping it between her, Sam, Dean, and the massed assailants.

This makes it easy for the fired shackle to catch him by the left arm. They came prepared, clearly: there's a sort of winch and firing mechanism set up in one of the armored cars, a winch connected to a heavy-duty chain, connected to the clamp now sealed around his metal wrist. It's built specifically to resist his pull strength.

"Get her the fuck out of here!" It's the first time he's spoken in this entire engagement, and that alone lends his demand some extra weight, even as the winch yanks and drags him back across the ground.

Claire Temple has posed:
There's no time to even ask herself why, how, or /what in the hell/ --

But of the two men in that truck, Claire sure recognizes Sam Winchester. Her face guts open with a heartstopping look of /relief/.

Questions come later; only what flickers over her eyes is complicit agreement as Sam makes that shout, and turns a wild glance back for Bucky. Even now, to watch him move arrests her in place, because even in the weeks she's come to known him, and has been reminded ample times of his unparalleled lethality, /this/ is something else. This is a man built by hands to face off against an army.

Within moments, he's back at her side, though her eyes take a moment too long to process the way someone's /head/ did an impossible three-sixty. Claire has never seen anything like that in her years of trauma care.

But there's no time, and grabbed up, she doesn't have any argument against the way Bucky forces her to MOVE. She forgets her backpack behind. No time to shoulder back up its weight. Keeping her head down, Claire runs in a mad sprint, trusting without a glance back that Bucky is at her six; sure that, even in these breakneck moments, she can feel his presence close by. This is good. The truck comes in close, even as she winces, hearing and feeling both the ring of too-close bullets ricocheting off Bucky's upraised metal arm.

"LET'S --" she tries to say breathlessly as she gets within arm's reach of the truck, but something has snapped around Bucky's arm, and Claire whirls desperately in time to see him /dragged back by a chain/.

"JAMES!" she shrieks, recoiling. It may take a Winchester to haul her back and in, because by the tensing of her muscles and the fire in her eyes, she's going to go after him.

Sam Winchester has posed:
She's going to get a Winchester hauling her back in. Sam all but kicks the door open, braving bullets as he obeys the soldier's command. He shoots the man one empathy-filled look, but even he can see that this...this is a sucky situation that they may not be able to solve. Saving Claire may be as good as it gets, and it's a worthy goal. He already knows Dean isn't going to put up with this shit much longer. He hadn't even thought about military tires.

He grits his teeth. Bullets ping off his jacket, and he sends up a silent thanks to May. He hopes Dean is wearing his stuff too.

One broad arm wraps around Claire Temple, pulling her back into the car. He slams the door behind him, his broad body turning to push her into the seat, to use his own body as a shield now. He tenses, more than expecting her to fight him on this, holding her tightly as he grits his teeth and gives his consent to Dean...not that he really thinks Dean was even /about/ to wait around for it.

"Go," he growls, all of that /anger/ inside of him bubbling to the surface once more, angry that they're going to have to leave James Barnes behind. The Winchesters may routinely punch above their weight class, but this is a bit much. And there's just nothing that can be done.

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean's wearing his jacket, sure. But next time someone tell may about PANTS. Below the waist parts are important too! Like thighs. That F***ing hurt.

"Get the f-" He is about to try to get the metal-armed soldier to get into the truck until he hears that sound. "Ah fuck." He doesn't like failing in a task, but he can't wait around any longer. Who they came to save, they are going to need a lot more help in doing so at this point. But they at least get to save the girl.

"Sam keep her down and hold on!" Dean sits back up, tossing his gun in the passenger seat as he puts both hands on the wheel. One last glance is given to Bucky. Pained. He really wanted Sam to be able to save his childhood hero, but... It will be done. Just not now. They won't live to enjoy the aftermath.

Planting a foot on the gas, they send a rain of dirt off the massive tires before they launch off across- to the other side from where they came in. And whatever is between them and the open road.

Winter Soldier has posed:
The Winter Soldier can't pull free of the chain, but he certainly makes an attempt. He pulls so hard, at one point, that the armored vehicle rocks slightly on its tires.

Ultimately it isn't enough. Especially as more sedative is shot into him. He goes limp, but before he is wholly lost from sight, handled roughly into the vehicle and secured down within it, his eyes turn to Sam, Dean... to Claire.

There is no anger or betrayal. No pleading to be helped against what he knows are impossible odds. There's only a straining to see that they get away safely, before the armored vehicle's door slides and slams shut.

At the least, the Winchesters, with Claire safely in tow, are not pursued nor blocked off. Not this time.