10873/On a Dual Mindset of Mayhem

On a Dual Mindset of Mayhem
Date of Scene:	23 April 2022
Location:	Main Foyer: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Mary Jane Watson and Red Sonja greet their fellow members of SHIELD rather creepily in ways only Sonja can provide.
Cast of Characters:	Mary Jane Watson, Jessica Drew, Jane Foster, Blackagar Boltagon, Michael Erickson

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Mary Jane Watson has posed:
In one of the side rooms in the Triskelion, the maze of corridors and spaces, Mary Jane Watson is carefully unwrapping a very large and thick cloth on the ground. From there, she's going to slowly and carefully unload numerous weapons upon it. A battleaxe, several throwing blades, an old shield made out of animal hide and hardened leather thick enough it might almost be rust.. And almost reverently a large, ancient looking greatsword. Everything carefully laid out, Mary Jane Watson, wearing basic SHIELD fatigues, would take out a micro-scanner, starting to sweep it over each weapon, looking for chips in the surface.

Jessica Drew has posed:
A tingling sensation fed by the rumor of a new agent in the Trisk lures Jess out of the office she is sharing along the modern and anonymous corridors of the Trisk to an equally anonymous door. Experience has taught the agent to listen to her "tingles", a reasonably new-found sense gifted to her by Terrigen exposure meeting headlong with spider mutations.

The door is ajar, inviting the agent to open it wider.

"Well," she says baldly, staring, gaze moving between the weapons being laid out on the floor and the woman in SHIELD fatigues. "Um, hi, am I interrupting anything?" She taps the nametag on the breast of her dress jacket. "I'm Agent Drew, and you must be the woman I heard about."

Jane Foster has posed:
"It's this way," Jane explains for the benefit of one of SHIELD's consultants. "The markings, I should warn you, are faint. I doubt it forms a complete sentence, given the surface deterioration." While she speaks, her fingers execute smooth motions in a steady accompaniment too timed and nuanced to be anything but another form of communication. The astrophysicist looks as hale as she always does, her hair pulled back into a loose French braid and her outfit distinctly not SHIELD standard. Then again, forcing her into a SHIELD jacket even on a mission tends to be difficult. Her cachet for the agency lies as much in her public-facing persona as her scientific knowledge. Many of their collective enemies don't know of her double life as astrophysics laureate and 'spy person.' Much less that she's seconded through WAND and SWORD because Peggy Carter thinks sleep is for the birds.

She might be heard from a distance. Something's going to snag her attention sooner or later; a familiar longevity hovering in the air, that uncanny valley knowledge borrowed from hanging off the branches of Yggdrasil for nine turns of the moon, not days. "We can at least discount certain origins this way." Blackagar won't have trouble getting into anonymous hallways en route to a private WAND-signed vault where information on an 0-8-4 of interest awaits. Jane's hall pass sees to that... though he's the one who has to scan it, since the scanners still spaz out over her. One beeps plaintively when she waves her hand repeatedly over the reader. BEEEEEEEEEEEP.

Dead giveaway it's her, the target hated by technology. It's right by MJ and Jess' door, loud and blip-blippy. It invites her to pause, eavesdropping on redhead and raveonette.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Walking alongside of Jane is the dark haired 'Consultant' / Ambassador that has been seen at times throughout the Triskelion. The strong and literal silent type, Blackagar's steps easily keep pace as his own hands move in response to the sign language that Jane is utilizing along with her words. The movements are distinctly different than American Sign, although as they make their way forward and others can be seen he shifts to the more common form of sign language should others desire to pick it up.

~If the markings are Kree, I should be able to read it. If not I may still have insight into their origin,~ his hands move to respond. Stopping at the beeping door, a dark eyebrow lifts without a look of surprise but more of amusement. He is about to sign something further but his hand instead lifts and gently taps Jane on the shoulder, an incline of his head down the hallway towards the presence of Jessica and Mary Jane.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Jessica having made enough noise to just be someone curious and wandering by, gets a polite nod from Mary Jane, "Ma'am." She would offer while looking over the weapons she had laid out. Going to put down the scanner and evaluate Jessica.
    ~She's soft. She's not alert. Someone coming up from behind could gut her.~ Mary Jane would look very faintly irritated, lips going along silently, mouthing her conversation even though it was purely in her head. <<And here's about as safe as anywhere.>> ~Safety is an illusion. An enemy can attack you anywhere at anytime. You are most vulnerable where you think yourself at lowest risk.~
    Mary Jane's lips having soundlessly been going along with the conversation.
    "Just looking over these before I would clean them." She would point at the array of weapons laid out. "And see if I needed to take any of them over to a forge to work on." Then she would go very, very tense as Sonja would warn her. <<We have outsiders>> Mary Jane's hand sliding down over towards one of the throwing knives..

Jessica Drew has posed:
Home schooled by maniacs, is one version of Jessica's history, rarely shared because she is overly sensitive to the secret agent trope of a tragic background. Socialization was not a large part of the curriculum, consequently she has had to learn the little social fictions of pretending not to notice when someone is being strange.

Head tilted to one side, dark eyebrows drawn together, she manages a fairly safe approach, "How is moving in going for you? There are a lot of old weapon buffs around here that will drool over those," she observes stepping into the room.

Jane Foster has posed:
~I have my suspicions about the markings. These were gathered in the early 80s in a Project Azorian-style scenario.~ Translating 'Azorian' is a bit of a challenge, but she certainly manages to achieve that with a little work. The conversation in its silent aspect halts with Blackagar's tap, though it might not be entirely needed. She can 'see' Jess and MJ to some degree, albeit through a nimbus surrounding each of them only visible to her.

"Agent Drew?" No time like the present to let that cat out of the bag. "Agent Watson? I hope we're not missing out on something too entertaining?" Her voice is lifted for them to wave her off, the astrophysicist happy to move on with Blackagar in tow. She lightly adds a frisson of movements for his sake. ~I don't wish to intrude on their privacy if they are working on something. At this hour, it could be anything. I'm sure black and white photographs, colour photographs, and a carefully preserved puzzle from Hell are far better ways to spend a Friday than dancing.~

She grins.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
A slow tilt from Blackagar's head occurs as his attention does divert to the two in the hallway, the display of antiquity rolled out catches his eyes. But something further pulls his attention and he looks at Jane directly, hands moving very slowly in the American styled. ~Would you be so kind as to make introductions? There is something here I am uncertain of.~

As the words finish, a smile dons his expression and the blue eyed Inhuman starts down the hall towards them, lifting a hand in silent greeting, motioning towards them with a sudden flurry of 'speaking' and then looking back towards Jane, as if expecting her to translate.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Weapon twirled up and over in hand, Mary Jane Watson holds the throwing knife in her hand, ready to launch it as soon as the watcher approaches, circling predatorily. She can't get exactly 'where' Blackgar and Jane are; only by Sonja's experience and awareness is she ever aware anyone is outside. She would slowly circle, waiting.
    "Thanks." Acting like seh hadn't noticed anything at all in the sense that Sonja assumed they were under observation. "They're donations from one of the museums. I suppose you could call them family heirlooms."
    In her head Sonja gives a bark of laughter. As it would be revealed to after a few moments on the approach Blackagar and Jane Foster would come into view and Mary Jane would smile, "Agent Foster." Going to put down the throwing knife. ~You should be able to identify someone approaching that you're fluent with~ A reproach.

Jessica Drew has posed:
From casual conversation to full blown alert is highly unusual inside the safe haven of the Triskelion. Watson's suddenly hefting the weapon over her head hits every alarm button that Jess owns, doubled by the presence of someone that her spider senses read as alien. She only knows him from photos.

Jessica mirrors the woman's crouch and then straightens, red-faced, as Agent Foster and Boltagar appear behind her.

"Um, right. That's lovely?" She hedges, still dealing with the surge of adrenaline.

Relieved, she greets Jane, "Agent Foster! Come in. You seem to know...." She gestures at Mary Jane. "Agent Watson, is it?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Interesting; ancient weapons, among other things. The keen stirring of curiosity brightens Jane's face. She cannot hide that, nor does she see a need to. Scientists gonna science, all right? "Of course. Let's go be friendly," she confirms, words and ASL aligning in equal partnership so one is essentially a reflection of the other. A secondary job, if the whole stargazing or spycraft thing doesn't pan out, could be an interpreter.

But for some very present reason, she doesn't go straight into the room where MJ and Jess are. Rather, she shifts unconsciously toward Blackagar, for a moment staring up above her head with a fixed intensity. Almost like she's staring at the sky, save the sky is several floors of steel and concrete and glass away. She signs slower, torn between passing on and staying put until the normalization of relations thaws out a clear and present danger. A blink and miss it moment.

"Evening!" The cheeriness is back, returning that smile. Totally aware of the throwing knife, redlined to a jittery high. It probably won't help the Spider senses going off. Her pulse is a mad thing. "May I introduce you to Blackagar Boltagon? He's a consultant with expertise aligned with SWORD." She stands aside for him, though not terribly far. "And a diplomatic affiliate for one of the hidden peoples and nations. This is Agent Jessica Drew -- one of my frequent companions on various things we can't talk about." She nods to the woman welcoming them in, and then the redhead. "And, Agent Mary Jane Watson. I'm sure she may look familiar from magazines and other media."

Her shoulders still remain tense, notched back a little. If anyone actually had wings around here, they'd probably instantly recognize the posture.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Being introduced, Blackagar motions to himself in a way to indicate he's who Jane is talking about. He is about to start his hands moving but then snaps his fingers as if remembering something and pulls from his pocket the cell phone and starts tapping on it. Shortly after, the distinct voice of Siri begins to speak as it takes his words and gives them voice. 'Good Day. I am pleased to meet you both. I apologize but your presence drew my attention.'

Looking down, he starts tapping in the next part of his message, then when finished looks up again as it is read out once more. 'Have you been feeling well?' The vagueness of the message is cleared up a bit when his blue eyes look to Jessica and a patient smile touches the corners of his lips.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
They're safe, there's no threat here. Mary Jane is smouldering just a bit inside. <<You had to go and freak everyone including our friend>> Yes, she's reasonably sure that Sonja considers Jane, whom helped the two integrate together, a friend. "Sorry. Pleased to meet you, Blackagar Boltagon." Her posture going a little more relaxed as she would look sheepish and apologetic.
    Hopefully that little incident being one immediately mutually forgotten as there's a sense of apology in Mary Jane's mindscape from Sonja that the redhead considers settled within herself. The look given to Jane of apology is from both of them, if it could be made out. And to Jessica as well, for her having gone to full 'danger' mode over nothing. Body language now molded to something rather lower key, radiating a gentler, more socially outgoing persona.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    There's a man walking down the corridor outside, wearing a gray suit and a pair of orange-foam headphones that look as though they belong to an original vintage Walkman from the early 1980s. Which is of course what they're attached to, because the man is Michael Erickson, and he is often the old man in a given room. Except for, you know, this one.

    Entering the room, he pauses, seeing a woman with a sword, and then the surrounding superhumans with whom he is acquainted (and the Black Bolt, with whom he is not.) Precious little chance of the redhead going Chainsaw Mary on anyone, so she must be friendly. Or at least contained. He leans against the doorway, then, squinting faintly at the group, and waves wordlessly as the tinny sound of a woman's voice emits whisper-quiet from the cheap, well-worn foam pads, a language from a galaxy away. Shi'ar books on tape?

Jessica Drew has posed:
Wary but remembering the socialization laying a veneer over her earlier life, Jessica steps back with what she hopes is a smile. She wills the sides of her mouth upward and takes a deep breath, turning her attention to the man accompanying Jane, "Nice to meet you." She taps her badge, "Agent Drew."

With a nod to Jane, she waves a hand at the weapons, "They feel old, don't they?" She looks a question at both the scientist and Watson then sees Michael. The forced smile blooms into a grin. "Agent Erickson, just in time. Come in. Do you know everyone?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"All hail the joys of technology," says Jane, happy not only for the advantages of Siri and her ilk, but the book on cassette. She actually might recognize what Michael has specifically stuck to his side, though she certainly cannot hear the Shi'ar that he listens to, if such a thing is in fact the case. "You certainly have quite the collection of weapons in there. I might stay out in the hall rather than crowd in too close to them."

Nothing says SHIELD like too many agents and operatives squashed into a room, waiting on someone to answer questions about the relics or artifacts in question. Especially if they come with forms in triplicate. SHIELD loves its forms. "Good evening, Agent Erickson, we're having a nice little tete-a-tete. I should have brought coffee for everyone." She remains settled on her heels, not quite rooted, ready to shift aside to let anyone past.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar's gaze remains on the pair for a few more moments before the arrival of Erickson has him looking up to that arrival as well, a polite nod being given before he taps into the text-to-voice app and let's the robotic tone read out. 'Good evening.' After he sends it, there's a somewhat knowing look given to Jane. Without any exaggeration of his hands in signing, just a lingering gaze before his attention shifts back.

'You must forgive me. I do not often cross paths with the non Inhuman Shield Agents. It is a pleasure.' But once again his attention has fallen to Jessica, studying her for longer moments than the others.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Things have relaxed a bit more and the edge has gone off Mary Jane's face, "Nice to meet you all." The redhead's normal chipper tone would be in full force as she's putting out a bright smile. "Looking forwards to getting to know those of you I haven't met before at length. Even if I'm not going to be working with you in the field it's still nice to make friends."
    <<Good to know one's comrades like you>> ~Exactly~ <<It makes them less likely to abandon you to the carrion when the tide turns in battle>> ~Okay, we still have a bit to work on the whole 'friends' bit>> Mary Jane's mental tone going to full amusement now.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    A bit like a housecat, Michael looks over the group once more, blinking languidly at the rest before pushing off the door frame and walking over to stand next to Jessica. "I haven't had the pleasure, no," he says, taking off his headphones and letting them dangle about his neck as he dips a hand inside his suit jacket to snap off the recording. A nod, then, to Blackagar and Mary Jane. "Michael Erickson," he offers. "Agent candidate. But I also run the S.C.A.R. initiative operating under SWORD's umbrella." Whatever that means. "It's good to meet you two."

Jessica Drew has posed:
The pressure of Boltagar's gaze attracts Jessica's attention. Her green eyes shift sideways as she passes him to join Erickson.

"Space," she says, the smile still lingering as she nudges Michael. Not above watching television to catch up with her peers' weird cultural references, she adds, "Ah, the final frontier. I can say this much, we have another horizon in SHIELD." She points upward.

The hackles on her neck flatten at last. Jess adjusts her pants at the sides of the knee and joins Jane, crouching to look closer at what has been laid out. "Oooooold."

Jane Foster has posed:
Let there be no obvious signs of trouble, because Jane truly doesn't wish to kick the nest any harder than it already has been. "Sooner or later, we all end up working together." Her assurance for Mary Jane comes readily. "Your skills at least apply to most missions. Jumping in makes all the difference." Fingers go to her braid unconsciously to check it hasn't come undone for whatever reason when Jess draws nearer, and she nods to the weaponry that's set out in fascinating form. The various bits and pieces no doubt need more than a passing gloss. "As you said, it also helps to have people set to the same odd schedule and need to run out of the door at the drop of a hat."

Oh, the woes of phones going off. They all know it. "Has it become an immediate horizon of late, or is that just a result of the latest budget approvals?"

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
As Erickson is introduced, Blackagar's gaze shifts towards the man, a studious look is given him and the attention that he had levelled on others is in turn given there. The consideration lasts for a moment before the Inhuman glances to Jane and he signs towards her before he taps on the phone to speak for him. 'I would like to perhaps grab coffee with you sometime.' When he phrases it, his eyes are on Erickson. 'If you have the time of course before I return home.' A small dip of Blackagar's head in consideration.

Looking back towards Jane, he lifts an eyebrow, questioning in his expression. 'You did not tell me of the Space division.'

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would nod over, "The sword is her's. The axe is from the same era as her. Hyborean. She says that the notches are indicative of it." She would point to a slow groove where metal met shaft. "Forged metal was rare so when it broke it'd just be quickly patched up. Any sort of well constructed blade could be hard to come by and fetch a large price. Meant craftsmanship wasn't always good."

Happy for the change of topic. "The greatsword is her's. I'm not sure how attached she is to it." A memory stirs of the blade being used to cleave through a horde, blood going in every direction, bodies split apart by the dozen. "Without knowing exactly how long ago the Hyborean era was it's possibly more than ten thousand years old." She's still not sure how the blade ende dup in the museum in hte first place.
    As Jane would elaborate, she would smile, "Then I look forwards to getting to know you when we all go out and work in the field on whatever occasion." She would nod to Michael as he would introduce himself. "Agent Watson." The dynamics of SWORD's sub-department umbrella being lost on her. A quick reminder on military etiquette to not call Michael 'Sir' given the man's far more formal bearing than her own thoughts.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Formal indeed - but Michael's martial manner is not so absolute that it precludes him from resting a hand on Jessica's shoulder as he stands there. "Space, the final frontier," he echoes, smirking now. "If you do not count all the dimensions and sorcerous realities. But as a material frontier, it does well enough. Long past time since humanity made its mark and joined the intergalactic community." Spoken as a man with experience on the matter. "I am pleased to meet you both, Agent Watson. And you, sir. I will be pleased to sup with you whenever you would like." He might not know anything about the Black Bolt, but he knows a man who has Questions and has Experience In Things when he sees one.

    His attention, then, strays to the weapons on the table. "Relics," he observes. "I am ignorant of much of ancient human history. But certainly, they are interesting specimens. Reminds me a bit of the ceremonial arms of the Acklar warrior-queens, really. The same arms, patched and rebuilt over millenia through their matriarchal bloodlines. Ships of Theseus, every one."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Boltagar's shift in gaze confuses Jessica for a moment. She briefly touches Michael's hand, her eyes darting between the two men before she points to herself, making sure Boltagar has caught the gesture. "Me?" Covering her surprise and hoping she has understood, "Why, of course."

Without any information on Watson's background, Jessica's confusion grows with every word she says. Watson's smile only serves to underscore it.

Softly, to Jane, looking straight ahead at the weapons, "Hers?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Hyborean era means... something, at any rate, to someone. Probably vestiges of history snatched up in the record, pinned down in references. It's easy to be fuzzy on when that exactly was, MJ's descriptions giving at least a few baselines to go off of. "Something pre-Iron Age would fetch a staggering price in its time," Jane murmurs, a tad distant. Lines on her brow form and smooth away in thought. "Don't let Fitz too close to that unless you want as precise a carbon date as he can give you. It's a proper test for him." A lighter air accompanies the comments, no real cruelty there at all. Leopold Fitz is devoted to his craft. and not especially unkind. Nothing to fear!

All the same, she's more perceptive than merely admiring sharp axes, pointy swords, the shield, and other metal bits or bobs. Blackagar's expression nets a quirked smile, one a touch too easygoing to be purely professional. "Possible points of interest to chat about," she asides to Jess, "though not something to drag you away for now. He moves in mysterious ways." There's a reason the Furiae assemble at a speakeasy for karaoke, and she's one of them. Humming the chorus for that U2 song is one of them. Somewhere Jemma and Daisy are perking up, promise. "Blackagar, we /should/ properly invite people for some kind of socializing though, yes?"

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
At Janes suggestion of doing some kind of proper socializing, the man simply provides a nod. After some short typing the sound of Siri's voice rises up again. 'Yes, we should. I am certain we could convince people to join for a dinner gathering at some point.' He offers a small smile and a nod of agreement towards the scientist. Looking back towards the others, he taps again shortly. 'Hopefully soon we can gather for conversation and sharing of insects.'

A frown appears, looking down, Blackagar rolls his eyes. Tap tap tap. 'Apologies. Sharing of Insights.' Looking to Jane he smiles thinly but then inclines his head in the direction they had originally been heading. 'To the work at hand?'

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
The references that Michael is making fly over Mary Jane's head, and hse presumes it's an alien thing (she may presume right or wrong). "The weapon is her's, the axe is from her era though I'm not sure she really likes it. THe balance is off a bit and the metal's too dull even with it having gone to a smith a few times. The knives she rather likes, but they're only a few centuries old." There would be a litlte more amusement then as Jessica would speak up.
    "Uh.. I'm Agent Watson. I'm currently possessed by the spirit of a distant ancestor of mine from approximately ten thousand years ago or more named Sonja. Everyone called her Red Sonja." Mary Jane's green eyes would flicker and roll up into her sockets dramatically as she would go to pose. Body language fully changing. Where was once more outgoing, relaxed and expressive girl in her early twenties was now that of someone on edge. Stalking. Evaluating. Looking at each person in the room to see where they would break quickly and easily. A half formed sneer going up on her lips, expression completely against that what she had but a few moments before.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Ahhh...." Michael's about to say more, but then Mary Jane explains herself and her shared essence - and then, of course, her entire character has changed. Standing straight again, he tucks his hands behind his back, watching Mary Jane now as she apparently is possessed of a new mind. Blandly interested, or perhaps that's simply a facade. A good one, though. Convincingly ambivalent.

    But his hand goes back to Jessica's shoulder. And, perhaps, one might notice the faint, subtle shift that puts him just slightly in front of her.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Straightening, Jessica steps closer to Michael, her hands at her sides. After a glance at him, she nods pleasantly to Boltagar, "That would be fun. I know Agent Foster is a wonderful cook, as is Michael. We can invite you, too."

This polite little passage of pleasantries is completely eclipsed by the total change in Mary Jane's demeanor. Spider senses clamor for immediate attention, telling her that she is in the presence of a predator. She steps forward so that both she and Michael are even, her gaze fixed on Mary Jane with an odd mixture of barely concealed horror and wonder.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Don't let the Smithsonian or the AMNH hear about a ten thousand year old sword, let alone one in that condition. Most of them are rusted artifacts at best." Jane waves her hand slightly. She addresses Jess' compliment by dodging it with the expertise of a martial artist. There shall be no compliment here! "A wonderful cook if you haven't dealt with my field meals. Blackagar's skills far exceed my own. He's studied quite intently." The lightest hint of mischief incinerates any innocence that might be held in that conversation, the flame pinched out in a heartbeat when MJ's stance shifts into something older, saucier, and considerably harder. Forged in a darker time, of a sort.

"Hello, Red Sonja." A little bit deadpan in the delivery, it's her cover for a jolt of radiating unease. Not quite fear, but then, this is a woman who builds wormholes. For /fun/. Fear is a constant, dry-mouthed and jittery, for someone lacking coffee. "Now where were you when the ice giants got impatient and started hunting humans in Central Park in the morning?" she asks dryly. One way to answer fear. "In fairness, she'd do better than I did, sitting on the sidelines trying to negotiate peace. But as Blackagar reminds me, we do need to finish up a bit of work. Let's catch up soon, shall we?

She offers the taller, silent Midnight King her arm. Because if it's time to jet out of there quickly, he's the one to do it.

She's the only mortal woman in the room, technically. And probably knows it.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
A small, almost embarrassed expression forms at the compliment from Jane in regards to his cooking, but Blackagar does nod slightly acquiescing that the statement is true. 'You sell yourself short in your skills in the kitchen.' He informs Jane politely. The explanations of Ancestors, other topics, well those certain draw a darkening of his brow in consideration, but before being drawn into it, there is a nod of agreement towards the woman and he takes the offered arm. As he does, the phone is placed into his pocket and sign language resumes, directed towards the woman as they aim to finish the tasks that had originally brought them here.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja would look about the room, going to casually grab her greatsword up and go to maneuver the heavy thing over with one hand the likes of which normally would take a strong person two. She would effortlessly weave it over into a combat position that no matter the species, no matter the era, no matter the time ro place would be the same. Weapon at ease, ready to attack.
    "I am Red Sonja. From a time and a place that you would cower to see. Where humanity's struggle for survival against everythign in a world which existed solely to slaughter them and they catered to tehir base, desperate hedonism to make the emptiness feel less ruled. It was a time where the strong ruled, and the weak were enslaved." She would grin sadistically.
    "But it is also a time better past and not remembered." Mary Jane's influence on things. "And one better abandoned to whence it came."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "A time that rises and falls time and again," Michael points out. "My people conquered many such worlds, Red Sonja. I know your kind." He smiles, then. It's a smile that suggest that he might kill and eat her should she attempt to try such behavior here. "This world is different. We assume, of course, that you will conduct yourself in accordance with the manners of the day." Cool, calm. Polite. Inhuman, his words and tone that of a predator as well. The hawk facing off with the cat.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja would smirk, "I know your kind. They play at being soldiers, occasionally thinking digging their hands into the dirt makes them glory. There is no glory in war or combat. Only carnage. Only thsoe few moments where in brutality one finds freedom. Before the blade strikes them in the back and they die. There will always be thigns such as that. No matter what planet, what time, or what species."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I assure you," he says, his smile a white blade. "You do not know /me/. Nor do I know you - simply your kind. All the same, warriors must call one another out, would you not agree? So that one might not feel that they are...alone." Alone. That would be a way to describe it. More likely that they know that they cannot act however they felt, and that the strictures of civilization are to be observed - with blades, if need be. In a strange way, his words are meant to be friendly. Simply, in this moment, spoken through that predatory lens.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
And Red Sonja is circling towards Michael, grinning, "I like this one. He has spunk. In my time, I might have given him my personal attention before skewering him on the battlefield. He might have even survived long enough to face me a second time." Circling him over like a bird of prey, even without her weapon raised, stalking around as if looking for weak points.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael does not really react - or perhaps he reacts without obvious sign, standing there in his casual way, hands still tucked behind his back. As if she were no threat to him. Arrogance? Possibly. "Your confidence is considerable," he observes. "You are, I assume, used to being the greater power in the room."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja would circle and smirk, "I do not presume. I am." The way she would twirl the blade over, despite being in the hands of the model/actress would be creepy to most, perhaps.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Then I would gently suggest, my lady, that you might wish to reconsider your position in the modern day. Compared to many times in this planets history, these modern days sees many walking the earth that are unto gods." A beat. "Sometimes literally."

    Michael smiles, then. "If you wish any information on these times, of course, I would be pleased to point you in the proper directions. Assuming your connection with Agent Watson does not provide it through her own experiences. I know that some methods of possession are this way."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Ther'es another rolling up of the eyes in the skull as the body language would change again, the posture shift to the more relaxed, mild manner of Mary Jane. There's a bit of a stumble with the heavier weight of the sword, and an 'oof'. "Watch it Tiger. Gettign a bit over the top there.>" As the two would switch roles.
    "I'm sorry, she can uh.. Be this way sometimes. Often. I think it means she's impressed by you but don't" ~HAH~ "quote me on that."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well." Michael chuckles, squinting still at the woman as she apparently makes the shift back to her original identity. "One assumes she does not wish to harm you. If so, I'm sure we can find someone to expel her from your body over time. But in the meantime..." Michael pauses. "I am pleased to meet you, Agent. If I can be of assistance, please. You have yet to ask."

    Just one more member of SHIELD's Weird Brigade. One time, it was just a human-centered intelligence agency! Imagine. How times have changed.