notapilot: (f: best reason to be in the game)
 The plan is simple, replace the targeting chips on the three helicarriers before they engage the rogue AI and it targets innocent people who happen to be a threat to HYDRA's plans; instead, the new chips will target the helicarriers and thus eliminate the problem for them. The complex part is all the personal at the Triskelion and on those helicarriers, many of whom are secretly (well, maybe not so secretly now) HYDRA agents. The trick was figuring out who were hostile targets and who were friendly.

"Hey Cap, how are we to know the good guys from the bad?" Sam asks as they run along the tarmac. The EXO-7 suit checks out and Sam is ready to fly.

"Easy. The bad guys are shooting at us." Cap replies.
notapilot: (S: You need help?)
It had been a good run, though Sam was disappointed not to have run into Steve. He was probably out saving the world or something. Still breathing heavily, Sam opened the fridge, grabbed his jug of OJ, and was just about to drink when the doorbell rang.

Sighing, Sam put the OJ back, closed the fridge, and answered to door to find Steve and that cute redhead who had picked him up the other after their run.

"We have no where else to go," Steve says tersely before Sam even has time to wonder how they knew where he lived.

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us." The redhead said.

When put like that, Sam didn't even have to think about it. "Not everyone..." He said, stepping aside to let them in. Once they passed him, he checked both ends of his street and then the skies above for bogies. All clear.

VA Meeting

Nov. 7th, 2014 08:55 am
notapilot: (s: you don't have to carry everything)
Jessica, one of Sam's longest attendees, was just raising her hand to speak when Sam noticed Steve at the doorway at the side of the hall. He kept his focus on Jessica but gave a little head nod so Steve would know he'd been seen. Steve didn't seem to want to make a fuss, so Sam kept quiet about it. Plus, this was the veterans time, not his.

"The thing is," Jessica said, bringing Sam's full attention back to her, "I think it's getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED."

Sam could hear the worry in her voice and see it reflected in the eyes of many of the other veterans present. "Some stuff you leave there," he replied, "other stuff you bring back. It's our job to figure out how we'll carry it. Is it gonna be a big steamer trunk or an overnight bag? Hard to say. But I can tell you one thing, we've all been trained in how to not only carry our kit, but to pack it as well. We can carry the extra stuff when we need to, but we also know how to repack it don't we? So we all need to take a good, honest look at what we are carrying and decide how best to pack it."

Several heads nodded in understanding and Sam spared himself a small smile. "Looks like that's it for time. As always, if anyone wants to talk with me one-on-one, I'm available any time."
notapilot: (S: running man)
The barest hint of dawn is touching the white marble of the National Mall as Sam runs along the reflecting pool. He loves getting out this early, when the walkways and streets are nearly deserted and he can be alone with his thoughts; especially on days packed with back to back sessions. He also loves the history of the town, history so thick you can breath it in, though what else would you expect from the epicenter of America? Here, even the most jaded can believe in the dream of America. Here, you can feel the potential and responsibility of the true American Dream.

At least he can. Your milage may vary.


notapilot: (Default)
Sam Wilson

December 2016

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