11826/The Utah Disturbance

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The Utah Disturbance
Date of Scene: 29 June 2022
Location: High desert twenty miles West of Logan, Utah.
Synopsis: A cowboy falls out of the sky.
Cast of Characters: Blaine Colt, Peggy Carter, Achilles, Bobbi Morse, Aldrif Odinsdottir




Blaine Colt has posed:
Utah. A patch of high desert West of the city of Logan.

For a week now, there's been something of a 'disturbance' happening outside of the city famous for housing the State University. Press have already had a field day speculating as to the meaning behind the shifting blue and white amorphous ball that appeared twenty feet in the air around one in the morning on June 22nd. It's run the whole gamut from 'blessing of god' to 'clear indicator of the end of days'. People are gettin' real antsy about that last one.

Four days ago, SHIELD agents established a perimter and pushed the press and other on-lookers back. Nobody's allowed within ten miles of the thing now without the proper clearance.

For seven days, the shifting portal-like oddity has displayed no sign of changes. Until now.

Peggy Carter has posed:
When the news came that the portal was changing, Peggy put the quickest team possible together (whomever she could scramble on a last minute notice) and they took to the sky. The QuinJet from NYC to Utah is only about an hour, everyone's been handed mission briefings. She doesn't care if any of them were protesting that a 8 month pregnant Peggy Carter shouldn't even be ON a QuinJet, much less flying one. She was the one certified, so here they are.

"We're two minutes from touch down. Make certain tac suits are on, ICERs are loaded. Remember, shoot to knock out, not to kill. If whatever comes out of that portal is too much to handle, you retreat right back here and we use the big weapons and wait for back up, understood?" Peggy calls from her pilot seat. She's not planning on leaving the Jet, strapped in and ready to go as she is. "I'll be monitoring your comms. Call if you need me."

Achilles has posed:
    Tactical gear might make Angelo look like a modern day operative. He might look like your average... okay above average, late twenties to early thirties adult male. Only in his eyes does his age start to really show. His ICER sidearm has been checked three times, and a couple flashbangs have their hooks attached to his belt.

    He reaches up to adjust the comm attached to his right ear. Complete with tactical camera to give his own viewpoint to the command post in the jet.

    No words need be spoken here and now, but he does give a tiny little side-eye towards Bobbi. They never really managed to conclude their sparring match. So there was no ending to satisfy either of them... maybe later. He smirks a bit before focusing his attention back on Peggy.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Representing the nerds and geeks in the science department is one Dr. Bobbi Morse. Although her specialty of biochemistry isn't exactly the most useful discipline for investigating the phenomenon as noted by initial observations. But here she is, in her Mockingbird rig, checking her gear over.

"Roger, Carter." She informs Peggy, streeeetching to the left and then the right to get her tactical loadout loosened up just enough not to impede her should she have to go badass. Angelo is given a grin at his side-eye as she straightens up, and a wink as if she could read his mind.

"Stay frosty, kids." She tells the other two, as if they weren't exponentially older than her with more experience if you count outside SHIELD. "We get through this without any issue, I'll treat you all to some of that semi-sentient pudding that Foster discovered in the cafeteria!" Pause. "Except you, Chief. Not sure two living things inside you is a good idea."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    So this is Angela's first mission. She finally gets to taste combat with her new teammates in SHIELD, and see if they were worthy warriors to fight with. As was asked of her, she's dressed in a SHIELD uniform, but has eschewed the armor in favor of freedom of movement. Still, she finds the uniform tight, and she spent the whole flight, fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably in it, occasionally picking at it to pull it off her skin.

    She also refused to take an ICER, on the excuse were cowards weapons that required little in the way of skill. Instead strapped across her hips is Xiphos, the Sword of Stars. She absolutely refused to come on the mission without it, but promised to only use it should the need arise. Also on her person are the Blades of Ichor which can, despite their name, be formed into the shape of any weapon she so desired. In this way, she can form them into twin batons for less than lethal battle.

    "I do not get cold," she informs Bobbi, completely misunderstanding the idiom. "I can fly in the deepest reaches of space and not feel a thing." She scowls at the mention of the pudding. "Is it custom for SHIELD agents to eat the living? I know this not to be true for most Midgardians."

Blaine Colt has posed:
A SHIELD agent runs out towards the approaching QuinJet and begins waving it in to its destination.

The landing zone is about fifty yards out from the taped-off square surrounding the circle. Along the pathway there are a few FEMA trailers that have been rolled out into the desert for long-term study of the anomaly; lab space, bathrooms, and barracks, all thrown together at the drop of a hat.

Doctor Gabriel Jones is informed of the arrival and steps out of his trailer, clutching an overlarge tablet against his body and walking with no shortage of haste towards the landing Jet. "Chief Carter. Doctor Morse," he offers in greeting to her, before passing Peggy the tablet.

"The anomaly began releasing small waves of kinetic energy at 0200 hours," he explains, looking to the others that have landed.

"Every two hours, another pulse. Then it was every one hour. Now, it's every fifteen minutes. We've tried taking measurements, but it's bricking everything we try to use, ma'am," he explains, leading the team to the cordon. The shifting ball of energy wobbles around in the air, pulsing and looking all-around...well actually kind of pleasant to look at. That is until another pulse of kinetic force bounds off of it in a sphere. It's not gonna put anybody on the ground, but it will blow back some hair and scatter some papers around.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The landing is expertly smooth, Peggy really is quite good at this, and a moment later she's opening the hatch for their contact on the ground to start the briefing. Peggy unstraps from her seat enough that she can swivel around in her chair to face all of them without having to get up. Bobbi just gets a good smirk from the woman about the comment on two living things inside of her, but it's better than someone telling her she should be here. Besides, they had work to do.

"Alright, well, this is the first encounter team we have for tonight. Morse, you're in charge. Position your people as you see fit. The science team on the ground should be protected, only half of them are combatants, but they'll be your second line. It looks like we don't have much time so all of you get out there and get ready for... well, it's SHIELD. So, anything. Thank you for the information, Doctor. All of you, roll out! Ask Jones your questions on the way if you have them!"

Achilles has posed:
    It should be noted, with his ability to survive far more than anyone has a right to survive, Angelo volunteered to carry that tactical camera. "So, operation human shield for the nerd herd. Gotcha." he says in that barely accented voice of his.

    He gives a little salute and then turns to follow Bobbi out down the ramp. But his eyes flicker towards Angela. He can't help but be aware of her views on firearms. After all, the woman is not shy about sharing her views and opinions about... anything... and everything. He tried giving his own views on it, but he knows better than to try again. Instead, he keeps his weapons stowed, just in case. After all, his Hephaestus-forged gear is available at a mental command, so he doesn't need to start off being super duper obvious about it.

    So he is just following Bobbi's lead for now and doing what he is told. However, the kinetic pulse makes his eyes narrow a bit, and he reaches up to lower the protective goggles down over his eyes, just in case. Debris could be a problem with such pulses.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
Of the two Level 7's, May is the responsible one that would tell Peggy not to go into the field. Spoil sport. Bobbi is the fun one! As long as Carter doesn't pop she has no problem with a little field work. "Slang, Angela. And we usually kill our food first, yeah, but that pudding is unkillable."

Then: "Pity we don't have the superhuman astrophysics prodigy with us right now." Bobbi mutters over the coms to Peggy, sotto voce, "But I'm sure Dr. Foster is a little burnt out on potential wormholes to other dimensions after her last little picnic. We'll have to make do with the demigods that don't have postdoctoral education." Oh, SHIELD. Remember when super soldiers were all the rage?

"Jones. Good job on the initial response. I'll be running the field op. Chief Carter is strictly support." Yoink. She takes the tablet before he can hand it over, and scrolls through as she and the team are led towards the anomaly. "Mmm. Very good job. Have you noticed any patterns to the acceleration of the pulse? Are they getting quicker at a steady rate, or randomly?"

To her team, Bobbi adds, "Agent Tampambulos, be prepared to run defense on the scientists. Agent Angela, be prepared to take point." Putting the more violent in a position she can slaughter things if nastiness erupts, and taking advantage of Angelo's defensive capabilities with his Hep-Gear. Plus, Angela's the most sturdy and best meat shield for poor fragile super soldiers with batons. Following Angelo's lead, Bobbi checks her goggles, turning on the head's up display to feed information to Peggy in her nest.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    Angela hops out of the QuinJet landing lightly on her feet. She strides forward to take point, one hand on the hilt of Xiphos as she ponders the strange ball of energy, her white eyes narrowing. "It doesn't seem like much," she muses. When the pulse of kinetic energy breezes by her, her hair flutters in the wind, but strangely, her twin ribbons do not.

    "Oh?" Angela says, turning to Bobbi when she explains about the idiom. "What does it mean?" And when Bobbi explains the pudding her amusement is more shown by the wiggling of her ribbons than the barely there smirk. "An unkillable dessert. Midgard is, indeed, full of strange wonders."

Blaine Colt has posed:
Doctor Gabriel takes up a post near Bobbi and leans down to pick up the sun hat that was knocked from his head by the last burst of energy. "Yes, ma'am. It's a pleasure to see you again, Doctor Morse." At her question, he takes his hat off and fans at himself a bit. "It's been a steady increase since 0400. The first two pulses were even spaced, but each subsequent one has been shorter. The pulses themselves have gotten stronger, too. First one was barely noticeable."

"If you need anything, I'll be in the lab, trying to fix the seismograph. This thing /really/ doesn't like being measured," Dr. Jones says, clearly overtired from a night of study. He stops for a moment and turns back to the group. "I don't know if this will help at all, but...the pet theory around the office right now is time travel. I don't lend that much credence, but...it's the desert. Weird shit happens in the desert," he says, exhaling sharply and grumbling as he walks back to the lab trailer. It's much less hot in there.

The sphere is beginning to play havoc. Something is wrong. Or right? It's growing impossibly large before snapping back down to barely visible. One moment it's shaped like a man, the next it's a swirling, maelstrom of beautiful blues and whites. And now red. And...blonde?

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Good luck with your equipment, Doctor." Peggy calls to Jones as he takes his leave down the ramp. She then looks to the rest of her team, giving a bittersweet smile as she watches their backs go. She'll be back in the field soon enough. "Comms are open. Report in anything you see as soon as you can." There is a little part of Peggy that's dying not to be in the action, but at least she'll watch from afar. She turns back around, striking up what computer readings she can get on the Quin Jet to observe the action.

Achilles has posed:
    Giving a nod to Bobbi, Angelo maneuvers himself to basically be the human meat sponge body shield and whatever other analogies you want to come up with for a guy who gets shot, stabbed, and otherwise beat on so that others don't.

    "Time travel you say." he says over comms. "So if the theory is correct, do we think we are going to be visited by a super advanced future person, or someone I might have met in the past?" over comms. He's pretty sure that the people on the comms right now are all aware of his whole... super secret past life.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Frosty means calm. 'Stay frosty' means stay calm." Bobbi informs Angela with a hint of amusement at the Hunter of Heven's literalness. To Peggy, Bobbi adds, "I'll feed you visuals from my goggles; I've already set them to SHIELD standard frequency so the 'jet could record.

The revelation that time travel is the primary theory makes Bobbi groan and rub her temples. "Time travel. Now I really wish Dr. Foster was here. Or FitzSimmons. Pretty sure they get off on this timey-wimey bullshit." Sotto voce to Peggy, "I'm biochemist." Her moment of self pity over, Bobbi speaks up louder. "Okay. Possible temporal anomaly... Standard protocol for that: No touching, keep your distance, and prepare for containment if there's any specimens that escape."

And then the sphere is growing, taking on the form of a man-figure. "Looks like we got someone coming through." She draws her sidearm, having been a dutiful little agent and packed the ICER, and points it towards the form. "Hold positions, and prepare for non-lethal containment, kids." Kids. As if she isn't the youngest agent in the field today by an exponential amount. But there are benefits to rank, and one of them is treating eons old demigods like greenies so nyah. "Chief, you getting this? Any readings?"

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    As the portal resolves itself into a blonde person, the redheaded huntress steps forward to meet it, stopping about halfway between the team and the figure. Angela stands there, feet apart and arms folded, making an imposing figure, but hasn't drawn her weapons yet. SHIELD wishes to resolve this peacefully if possible. She can do peaceful. There have been many times when she simply cowed the target of her hunt to submission.

    "Halt," she tells the figure. "Stay frosty. Announce yourself and your intentions." See? She's picking up the lingo.

Blaine Colt has posed:
Whatever's happening is happening right now.

The floating figure is crushed back into a ball of light and then it just...stops. Suspended in mid-air, even the swirling marble-esque markings on its surface have come to a halt. It's a hauntingly pretty kind of thing. Like a peaceful little planet that just got lost in Utah on its way to its orbit.

It hangs there motionless for about thirty seconds before it explodes in a flash of light. Every bit of electronic equipment in the area immediately goes haywire; either blowing fuses, becoming engulfed in smoke, or just powering down under the sheer volume of electromagnetic disturbance.

The kinetic side of the pulse is the strongest its been, too. The wave causes the trailers nearby to rock just shy of tipping, tables and chairs are blown free, and even Peggy's QuinJet lurches back slightly on its landing gear.

From the center of the corona of light, a scream can be heard. Blood-curdling in nature.

When the light fades and the dust settles, there's a lone man lying on his back in the sand with smoke rising from his strangely antiquated-looking clothing.

His face is bloody from a severe-looking cut over his left eyebrow and he has myriad bruises visible on his face and other exposed skin. But, it doesn't take a trained eye to note that his chest is rising and falling. This ol' cowboy's still kickin'.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Report!" Peggy calls across the comms as her sensor array starts to go crazy on the quinjet. Gods, she wishes she was on the ground with them!

Achilles has posed:
    Leaning into the kinetic pulse, Angelo does his best to break the wave, so to speak. To force it to break around him, and to shield those behind him from it. He's not superhumanly strong. But he is about as strong as a human can be. He spies the shape forming, and then collapsing to the ground. His hand does not go for a weapon however, as the guy he sees doesn't really look like a threat.

    When the pulse has passed, he takes a step or two closer. "Looks like a man. From the look of him, I'd estimate we are -not- looking at a traveler from the future. More like mid 19th century American." he states. "He looks incapacitated. Should I approach or remain with the science team?"

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Dammit, I said hold position." Bobbi growls at Angela, taking a few steps to the side with her ICER raised to keep the coalescing cowboy (heh, alliteration) within her line of sight. She's an excellent marksman, but not the best.

Then there is an EMP pulse, and Bobbi swears in Mandarin briefly as she drops the ICER. One hand goes up to her goggles to fiddle with a few buttons while the other draws one of her batons.

To Carter: "It appears that Dr. Jones was right on it being some sort of temporal anomaly. EMP pulse fried most of my tech; ICER is down and rebooting my goggles so you can get eyes on. Preparing to engage close quarters."

"Huh." She eloquently responds to Angelo, twirling her baton as she consider the prone man. To her agents: "Tampambulos, I assume you have enough field medic experience to assess until I can get my tech rebooted. Go ahead. Angela, I want you ready to move if he proves hostile. Just remember: Non-Lethal."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    Angela tenses when the person she had seen doesn't step out. Instead the ball contracts and with a scream explodes outward. The huntress is unmoved by the explosion, remaining standing where others would fall, only to rest her hand on the handle of Xiphos, ready to draw it. If that was a scream of pain, then one might be chased by an enemy. If it was a scream of war, then war they shall find.

    When the light and explosion reveals that it's only a man, laying broken and bruised on the ground, does Angela seem to relax, her ribbons going from agitated twitching to slow flowing motions. "I believe this man is in need of medical attention," she calls out behind her, unmoving from the spot, remaining wary in case others should appear.

Blaine Colt has posed:
Convulsing a touch, Blaine manages to roll over to his side and cough before he throws up the contents of his stomach into the sand. Another sputtering cough follows.

Blaine can't hear a damn thing going on and his eyesight is swimming with pulsing black splotches as he tries to get his bearings. He shudders a touch and through sheer power of will presses himself up into a kneeling position, clutching at his head and groaning loudly.

"Kaaaang," he moans. "Kang, you son of a /bitch/..." His own voice echoes through his head like it's coming from the bottom of an oil drum.

"Figured...figured you for yellow, Kang..." he continues, eyes opening a touch and spying Angelo move a few steps closer. "Didn't think you had another round in you," Colt says, spitting some blood onto the ground in front of him.

His shoulders rise and fall and he sits back as far as he can, ignoring the pain caused from leaning back on his spurs. There's plenty of other pains to focus on right now, after all.

"Good you brought backup this time. Means it'll be even," Blaine says, staggering up to his feet.

Spying the twirling baton, Kid Colt's hand is like a flash of lightning. It ought not be possible for a regular human being to move like that.

In a moment, one of Blaine's holstered Colt's is leveled at Bobbi's weapon and a crack echoes through the valley as he spears a bullet towards it. Angelo's the closer and less-blurry threat, though. So the next five bullets *PAKOW* towards him.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy is listening, but she doesn't interrupt the fight that seemingly is starting. "You all have ICERS for a reason..." Peggy advises across the comms, just an edge of worry in her voice, but she thinks her team has it. She winces at the bark of weapons over the comm units. That's loud. They have medical back up if they need. She doesn't need to run out. She takes a deep breath and waits.

Achilles has posed:
    "Oh by the g.." begins Angelo. He spotted the hand moving, and he knew what it meant. His left arm comes up and his willpower begins the process of summoning his shield to his left forearm. His other hand, as fast as he really is, is not quite as fast as the gunfighter who just got to his feet. The shield is growing magically from its inner-bracer size to covering his arm. But it's not fast enough... four of the five shots hit him center mass.... the fifth deflects off of his shield.

    He staggers back a step, then two.. and goes to one knee as he coughs up a bit of blood. "Damnit." he mutters. Not dying does not mean it doesn't hurt. His skin is very tough... but four shots right near one another does get one through his augmented flesh. He doesn't fall over, and now has his round bronze and tin shield up in the way of followup shots. "Ow." he mutters. Now his ICER is in his hand, but it's pretty much useless thanks to the EMP.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
You win some, you lose some. While this isn't the worst field op Bobbi has run in her career, it isn't exactly the swimming success she's use to.

Pew pew.

Her baton is hit and goes tumbling out of her hand, and she is momentarily taken by surprise. "Shit. He's awake, armed, and hostile. Tampambulos has taken damage but is still on his feet. Angela and I are engaging." She draws her second baton, keeping it close to her body to prevent a second disarming as she moves to engage.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    Angela has no idea what this man is talking about. Kang? Who is this Kang? Must be the man who had injured this strange human.

    Blane's speed catches her by surprise though. He's fast, but she's faster. She's already there by the time the sixth bullet leaves the gun, and she curses herself for relaxing and thinking this man less dangerous than he is. A sloppy, rookie mistake. Xiphos lashes out and cleaves the six gun in twain, and almost the same moment it lashes out again to snap his gunbelts off his person.

    The third time it lashes out it's as if she intends to decapitate him, but it stop short, the point hovering just less than an inch under the man's chin. With it, Angela tips the man's head up so she can get a better look at his face. "Do not move," she tells him, in a stern voice, white eyes narrowing. "State your name and your intent."

Blaine Colt has posed:
Angela might think she's the quickest hand in the West, but Blaine's got that other six iron in his hand well before she gets ahold of his gunbelt. As her blade reaches his neck, the barrel of his gun reaches hers, a soft click sounding as the hammer is popped back.

The rate of his breathing has skyrocketed. He can't keep doing this. He made his Pa a promise, though. Made a promise to die on his feet. Didn't anticipate he'd have to fight a time traveling warlord, though.

Blaine stares at Angela for what feels like an eternity, her face still partially blurry under the dancing black splotches.

"Name's...Kid Colt," he manages to utter before he's tipping over backwards, his head striking the ground harshly and knocking him out cold.

Achilles has posed:
    Slowly rising to his feet, Angelo dismisses the shield when he notices the confrontation between Blaine and Angela. He spits a glob of blood onto the ground and steps forward a bit. "Anyone else coming through?" he asks in a hoarse voice. But by the time he finishes the question, he's pretty much healed up.

    "Damn. It's gonna hurt even more to have to get the bullet removed from my lung." he mutters as he holsters his ICER and then holds out his hand... the glinting celestial bronze spearhead growing into his grip and pointing at the kid. "Kid Colt huh?" he asks. "How about we all lower our weapons and talk. Civilized." And of course, he has that barely there accent of an Englishman who is about three paragraphs away from losing the accent.

    He even demonstrates his intention by lowering his spear and causing both it, and his spear, to retreat into storage in the never-really-explained bracers that he wears. . . just in time for the kid to pass out instead. "Or I guess that works too."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
"Can we investigate some mimosas in Sant-Tropez for once?" Bobbi asks over the comms, "Maybe experiment with tanning lotions? I hear it's lovely this time of year, and I'm sure I have a SHIELD issued bikini somewhere." Sarcasm and snark? Sign of stress for anyone that knows the Mockingbird well. Bobbi is right there after Angela's take-down, zip ties ready to hog tie the cowboy. Yee (and I can't stress this enough) haw.

Once hog-tied, Bobbi checks for pulse and then lifts one eyelid. "He's out cold but alive." She checks him over quickly and with the sort of offhand precision that comes from being the youngest Level 7 in SHIELD history. "Tampambulos, get back to the 'Jet and reassure Carter you aren't on death's door. Angela, can you carry this 'Kid Colt' back? I'll secure his gear." She glances towards Angelo, "I think he's the temporal anomaly. I don't know 'Kang' off the top of my head, but we'll check SHIELD database. Chief, ma'am, prepare the 'jet for takeoff? I propose we get him contained at the Triskelion ASAP."

She glances over at the other two. "And we're getting full post-op medical evals. No bitching. Angelo, you need those bullets extracted and we all need to be tested for possible exposure to radiation." Especially the pregnant woman, although she doesn't say anything about that. Instead, she bends over to secure the pistol pieces in a specimen bag pulled from out of seemingly thin air.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    There's the barest hint of a smile when she hears the cocking of the gun's hammer underneath her jaw. The speed of this one sets her blood aflame. Finally! A worthy foe. The disappointment is real, however, when Kid Colt teeters over unconscious, her ribbons sagging sadly.

    Still. It could be a ruse. With her sword still pointing at his throat she waits for Bobbi to arrive and only sheathes it once the man is hogtied and relieved of his weapon. "Disappointing," she says. "I was hoping for more of a fight."

    She nods at Bobbi and easily picks up Kid Colt with one hand and slings him over a shoulder. "What is a mimosa," she asks as they walk back to the QuinJet. "Is it some kind of animal?"

Blaine Colt has posed:
By virtue of being very much unconscious after an absolute 132-year long battering by Kang the Conqueror, Kid Colt offers no resistance to being dragged to the QuinJet. He's not even that heavy, only clocking in at a pretty lean 180.

He utters a soft groan as he's deposited on the floor of the Jet, but that's about it.

Dr. Gabriel Jones, smart man that he is, stayed hunkered down in the trailer after it was nearly flipped over. Now that things are settled again, he's coordinating efforts to begin studying any trace amounts of energy that might still be present and available for research. Weird shit happens in the desert.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I'll be certain the next time something explodes on a beach to assign you there, Morse." Peggy's clipped voice chimes over the comms, a touch of worry behind it but she's not giving any frantic orders. "I'm readying engines for take off. Get aboard as soon as you can and we can get him into SHIELD containment properly. I want continuous readings taken on him. I don't need that anomaly going EMP while we are mid flight, even if he does LOOK like a man." Peggy begins powering up the engines again, doing all her pre-flight checks as she waits for the crew to get boack aboard.

Her dark eyes turn a moment as the others start pouring in, "Tampambulous? How are you doing and do you need another set of hands to keep your insides in? Morse...what sort of readings are we getting off of him now? Angela, well... Good to have your assistance. At ease." Once she's gone through her greeting, she moves to shut the hatch so they can properly take off

Achilles has posed:
    Turning, Angelo heads for the plane. He's moving fine. But every breath he takes rattles just a bit. No big deal, just a hunk of lead inside his right lung. He coughs once or twice as he boards the craft and just shrugs, "I mean... I just need a volunteer with a sharp blade to surgically remove a bullet from my lung. You know what they say, whatever doesn't kill you..."

    That said, he sits down and reaches to put his fingers through the holes in his tactical suit's top. "I go through more shirts." he mutters...

Bobbi Morse has posed:
The first thing Bobbi does when she gets onto the QuinJet is to close the cockpit off from the cargo hold with an containment field. "My goggles are back up. He's leaking tachyons like he drank the water in Mexico." Bobbi nods at Angela towards the floor, and shakes her head sadly at Angelo. "Full medical eval, big guy." She tells him, "We've been exposed, and not in the fun way."

She leans down to check him over. "Whoever this 'Kid Colt' is, he's in rough shape. I think he's stable, but I'd still like a medical eval and maybe Foster to poke at him to make sure the residual tachyon radiation isn't permanent." She sets the gun down in it's bag, a touch ruefully, "Maybe restore the antique." Beat. "Mimosa is the drink of heroes, Angela. Champagne with a bit of orange juice and other stuff." She eyes Carter. "Although it can be made without alcohol for some people."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"As much as I like you, Angelo, I don't think I'm the one you want clawing around in your lungs. Lets get you back to an expert, along with our... Anomaly here." Peggy gives Colt one last, long look and then she's spinning around in her chair again. She buckles into the restraints and finishes her pre-flight checks. Within a minute, the group can feel the ship gently shaking and moving off the ground, gravity gently changing as they take off to shoot back across the country.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    Once inside the QuinJet, Angela sets Kid Colt down where instructed and steps back to stand out of the way of the other team members. She nods once to Peggy, acknowledging her praise and settles herself in for the flight back.

    "Ah," she says to Bobbi. "It would seem there wouldn't be much investigation involved." Her white eyes narrow, "Unless by 'investigation' you mean 'ingestion?'" See? She's learning!