6887/Wait, We're Headed Where

Wait, We're Headed Where
Date of Scene:	13 March 2019
Location:	Haleyville, Alabama
Synopsis:	Steve is treated to some good ol' fashioned Southern food and hospitality at Zinda's event in Alabama.
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, Captain America

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Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Haleyville Alabama, population less than four thousand. Originally a brewing town that never really recovered from Prohibition, and most famously? Well good lord "Home of The Heroic Zinda Blake" is emblazoned on the town's entrance. Theres two bars and three resturaunts, and only one of them doesn't have a Blackhawk or Zinda theme to go with it. A town built around a main street lined with ancient hand painted shop windows, and red brick buildings. Nevermind the statue of Zinda over there(with a substantially longer skirt), or the "International Zinda Blake memorial Museum", or the gift shops. I mean hey it's a small town hanging on any way they can right?

    It's a rare thing, where the accents are thick as the muddy rivers and everyone seems to have been issued a similar rusted out pickup truck at birth. Today is a bit of local flavor, the town fair. Celebrating the end of winter and the start of the unending terrible heat to come otherwise known as summer. Theres terrible live music, and tons of little food stalls sprinkled around. The atmosphere is, relaxed and well seeing as it's two in the afternoon which means it's obviously five o'clock somewhere? Yeah theres a pretty awesome amount of alcohol circulating around, alcohol and apparently chewing tobacco.

    The town had invited everyone, because it always had. Going back to 46', It invited every lost hero (as Z herself was lost at the time). How the invitation actually got to Steve, well goodness knows but it did. Zinda of course, well she doesn't need much of an invitation at all really. This is her home town after all righto? So much so that Steve, well unless he's actually in costume may as well be just another guy it seems out here.

    Zinda's signed autographs and done her piece, and folks here are nice enough to give her some space. So she snags a bench under a tree she's fairly certain was here back when she left in 38', and a solo cup full of "Definitely not water" to nibble at her favorite home town treats. Lots of fried chicken of course, and corn bread, and pie. Heck she isn't even in uniform. Jeans, a comfortable old black T-shirt and that familar bomber jacket. The very picture of, at home as it were.

Captain America has posed:
An email managed to get the invitation to the man after the paper version sat untouched in a pile on his desk. No doubt it'll be found far after the event ends and he has some time to sit and rifle through the pile. Expect a wince. Regardless, given the rare ability to attend rather than need to politely decline, the Captain himself is present in the small town of Haleyville, Alabama.

"...and I thought I had no privacy," he mutters to himself as he squints through the windshield of his rented car. Having driven over from the nearest bigger city, Steve departs from his vehicle and beeps the locks. Then, with hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, he gets to meandering up the sidewalk. His travels take him past one of the restaurants and the statue -- he decides while it's a compliment, it's an awkward one -- and then he espies the woman herself.

"Impressed you found yourself some space." His voice is loud enough to carry to Zinda on his way over to the bench. "What'd you have to do, pay people off?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    And well a familar voice, Zinda pauses mid sip to peer after Steve over the rim of that solo cup. "What in the Sam Hell are you doin down here in Haleyville, you damned Yankee?"She smiles, rising to offer Steve a hug, because well why the hell not? "Goodness gracious, ain't this a surprise. Ya'll get lost on the way to someplace?"Folks seem, well uninterested thankfully. No camera flashes, no smart phones..

    "Aww shucks like a quarter of these folk are Kin, ain't no big thing. I'm just a local girl like anyone else, and we're mighty big on being polite down'ere ya'know?"Nodding off towards some of the stalls with a grin. "You eaten yet, mind?"

Captain America has posed:
"Not lost," Steve replies as he returns the hug, not hesitant to whump Zinda a few times between the shoulder-blades lightly as he does. "Got an invitation, had some free time, thought I'd see what the whole shindig entailed." He glances over at the stalls and considers them. An inhale is test of the air and man, he'd be a liar if he said that the fried chicken doesn't smell amazing.

"Haven't eaten yet. Just got in. Parked down the street." He thumbs towards the rented vehicle out of sight and down the way. The Captain asks Zinda with a small grin, "You've got a favorite, I'd guess?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Well hell you should've called, I'd have flown you down myself. Never would've expected ya'll by, don't get many visitors down'ere."The town's far from perfect of course, the poverty of rural Alabama is pretty plain on the drive in but the crowd seems downright tame. Folks move out of the way as Zinda leads on, and excuse themselves politely. "It's nice of you to drop by Steve, I usually have to do these things by myself."And well She takes care of Steve. She overpays for the fried chicken, the BBQ ribs, the brisket, the corn bread, the apple cobbler, the suspiciously not ATF approved beer and well thats just the first course. Which she's all too willing to load Steve up on.

    "A favorite, well the cornbread and the Fried chicken there from my third cousin? Thems pretty serious affairs, traditional blake recipe mind you so I won't be toleratin you not gettin as much as you can squeeze past yer ribs young man."And well, surprise! Her table, her chow all left unmolested as she circles back around, settling in with a grin. "If you thought you were gettin out've this place without stuffin yourself like a spring piglet, ya'll were sorely Mistaken."Theres a wink there, as she retakes her drink with a humm. "Have you get you one of my T-shirt, oughta be good for a chuckle."

Captain America has posed:
The one-shouldered shrug dismisses the kind offer by Zinda. "I know how public appearances go. You were probably busy enough. I don't mind flying first class." Who doesn't? He's a broad-shouldered duckling behind Zinda as she escorts him to the food stalls. It's a heft weighting of food plates spread across his forearms after they've left and returned to the bench. Steve lays out his own spread and takes a minute to appreciate it all. A soft whistle leaves him. Memories crowd him about how much //less// he had not so long ago, respectively-speaking.

Zinda's history as to the food itself has him glancing up and brings him back to the present. It crowds in around them with the sounds of happy conversations, vehicles and games sounding off, and he smiles to hear that he's expected to eat all of the platings before him. "Challenge accepted, Zinda. You watch all this disappear," he replies, pointing in a broad circle at the steaming food. "Won't even make a dent on this." The finger shifts to include his torso. "I'll swap you for one of mine, if you're talking propoganda. See if the locals mind that you're repping me instead." A grin and he tucks into the friend chicken. There's a hum of contentment and silent thumbs-up.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Well I do a thing up in Oshkosh once a year too, trying to help girls get their Pilot's license yeah? That one is a zoo every year, lots of folks with no manners yeah? Down here, well this is as bad as it gets. I mean if it's my birthday or something I'll get every Tom, Dick and Harry coming up to wish my a happy birthday which gets old but outside've that mess?"Theres an amicable shrug there as she lets her gaze meander some. "You want me to show up at one of yours, sure. Generally my best smile and an "aw shucks" and everyone is wooing, it's a terrible curse really."Southern charm wielded like a twelve pound sledge hammer, obviously.

    "I mean the old farmstead isn't too far from here, usually just walk from the air strip down to town. Maybe hitch a ride if the weather's bad, talk about the weather and how the peach trees are lookin this year."THeres a little smile at that as she returns to her own beer. "I'm just a country girl at the end of the day, and country folk ain't changed so much. Same problems, same solutions. Seems like the city folk are the ones who changed the most, well and the Germans."

Captain America has posed:
"That doesn't sound too bad all in all," Steve comments as to the volunteering done and to the birthday wishes. He places aside the empty drumstick and begins working on the coleslaw after sipping at his beer. Apparently content to let Zinda talk, he simply listens and enjoys the food. It's delightful: for once, there's no concern about cleaning out half of the fridge because his caloric needs are higher than the standard human.

"Mmm, city folks haven't changed much either. It might be busier up north in New York City, but the hustle and bustle hasn't changed. We're still self-sufficient and savvy. Still aiming to get someplace yesterday. Most of the time, we get there." The Captain shrugs. "I don't mind some quiet. That's why I'm down here for a short time. It's slower."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "It's relaxed, because fussin never makes nothin go faster."Theres a humm after that. "I wonder how much of that is because everyone has their own plot down here, see I thought about this plenty. You got this land that'll continue after you, this part of you that can't die. So you ain't never rushin, the time scale is all stretched out. I mean everyone is livin on land that goes back to before the civil war around here, same families generally."

    "Though I had to teach folk how to brew again, cuz the brewin part had been lost somewhere in the sixties."Theres a pause there before clearing her throat. "Whiskey I mean, backyard distillery stuff not beer you know? That and pickled sausages, everyone forgot how to make pickled sausages."And well a shake of her head, before she tucks in to nibble after that cornbread. "Any of your old neighborhood still around?"

Captain America has posed:
Zinda gets a knowing smile at her brewing anecdote. The coleslaw's gone now and it's on to the cornbread, sure to disappear in quiet appreciation. He sips again at his beer and licks his lips. It's an interesting flavor, absolutely local and likely not to be found elsewhere.

"The buildings are, in Brooklyn. Some of the old restaurants and bakeries are still around. Some are even kept by relatives of the original owners. There's a sandwich shop still run by the granddaughter of the man who used to make me up half a turkey and mayo on rye when I had the money for it. I like to step in every now and then for one of their meatball subs when I'm in the neighorhood. Otherwise, things have changed, like everything does with the time."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "I really thought after the war we'd have settled up with the Russkies, and been friends with the Chinese. I mean christ I know some boys who flew in the Tigers, ya'know?"Theres a little sigh at that, as she props her elbows up on the table before resting her chin against interlaced fingers. "Only other folks who had any female combat fliers outside the Hawks was Russia, always thought after things ended we were gonna have some dinner somewhere and me and the girls would be friends. Get all these things sorted out, get after things together as women you know?"

    "Air force doesn't seem much different than the Army air corps, bomber mafia still runs things as near as I can tell. All these drones and nonsense to boot, and christ. As if we needed to make pullin triggers any more convient than we already had."She muses for a moment, before finally leaning back to score a pack of smokes to shake one loose and light. A rare after dinner treat, mind. "Confession time, I wanna dogfight a drone in the worst way possible. Well, all of them would be just fine honestly."

Captain America has posed:
"I don't think you'd be the only one who wants to see if you can out-maneuver a drone." Steve looks thoughtful as he tap-taps his plastic fork against the pile of mashed potatoes next to be tackled. "You know, if you really wanted to, you might want to see if you can get hold of Stark. He'd have access to extra drones. Who knows -- somebody in military R&D might appreciate what feedback you give, if you manage to shoot one down." 'Manage'. That's the word of choice along with a mild smirk of challenge.

"Either that or Danvers. Captain Danvers. She probably has connections you could use," the soldier adds before he tucks into the potatoes. Mmm, garlicy.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Stark no, I have a fairly strong impression I'm liable to swing on the man if he's anything like his progenitors."Zinda's fairly serious, see you can tell because she used a big word and actually made an effort to suppress that accent a little. Side effect of having flown with the Hawks, incidentally. "I ain't inclined to give them no more data bout it neither. If it isn't worth dying for, it shouldn't be worth killing for. If you can smite folks with impunity, then I got a real problem taking them as a serious military threat."

    "Seems to me you get too comfortable doing that, makes it too clean and convient. Makes it trivial to take life, halfway round the world for some sort've political play. That's wrong, and I ain't about that mess."Theres an almost snort there as she puffs at that cigarette. "As for Major Danvers, yeah I'd like to meet her just ain't gotten round to it yet."

Captain America has posed:
"She's been hanging around the mansion lately. You call ahead and I'm sure a time can be scheduled to talk with Carol. Well, either that or Alpha Flight. You've got the gumption, you can make it happen." Steve continues working steadily through the food on his plates. He's emptied one beer cup and moves on to the next, not phased.

"So you mentioned peach trees. Is that what the area's famous for? Or is the brewing?" The man glances back over his shoulder towards the town as a whole. "Seems like you're missing out if you haven't brewed peach whiskey," he points out.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Peaches are the in thing, because Georgia lost it's farming tax exemptions some years back."Theres a shrug there, as she lifts a hand to comb through those curls "Back when I was little it was all Corn in a jar, and cotton."

    "I'll drop by the mansion sooner or later, probably this week if that works out? Will call ahead either way, or send a letter."which probably doesn't sound quite so antiquarian in present company."I'd love to meet her though, I heard somethin bout her being a fan anyway. Ought to be neighborly at the least."