12348/One Small Step for Man, One Border Crossing for Alienkind

One Small Step for Man, One Border Crossing for Alienkind
Date of Scene:	08 August 2022
Location:	Battery Park City
Synopsis:	Plotting on a matter of Asgardian troubles.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Stephen Strange

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Jane Foster has posed:
Morning comes, as it will, in the soft cadences of sunrise through grey skies and humidity bursting into heavy rain. The occasional cloudbursts and thunderstorms that wash over New York in August tend to be short-lived and furious. The gutters overflow, people worry about their basements and travel plans. Life goes on.

Jane is from a climate wetter than New York, at least usually. It's no skin off her nose to pull out an umbrella and make her way to the southern end of Manhattan, though after a few subway rides, she prefers to walk. Too humid. Her coat is open, a light thing resistant to the wet. It may not be de rigueur to phone the Sorcerer Supreme, and he has more important things to do. Admittedly, so does she in some ways. But a meeting by phone, even if that means contacting Wong, is a fair thing to do. Even if it means leaving a message inscribed on a brick or with a serpent or something. He probably gets a lot of calls and hers don't exactly filter easily past the first line of defence, do they?

"This is Doctor Jane Foster," begins the message, "and I'm hoping we could meet briefly to discuss developments in the project proposed by our friend."

Stephen Strange has posed:
Funny enough, it does not take long at all for a response to come back to Jane. Of course, the number that calls back is unlisted (more like Unknown) but the voice that is on the other end is familiar and most definitely not Wong. And...somehow, left straight to voicemail. Not even a ring. How courteous of Strange.

"I have received your message, Doctor Foster, and we can certainly meet to discuss details of our mutual friend's project. Please feel free to propose a time and location of your choosing." The message continues, leaving a phone number for Jane to use, should she desire to, and the promise that her call would be answered....at any time.

It isn't like Stephen sleeps that much anyways.

Stephen himself is also out and about. Yes, there is life outside of the Sanctum, and there is wardrobe selections that do not require red cloaks, much to the cloak's chagrin. Presently, a light rain coat, a brillant blue with a hood, a pair of sensible walking shoes that seem water resistant enough, a pair of equally sensible pants, and an umbrella....that is not open, but nevertheless is carried. Despite the wet weather, it would seem that Strange himself is rather dry. The cell phone that was used to make the call residing comfortably in the pocket of the jacket as Stephen just...walks. With no general purpose.

Walking for the sake of walking. Hey, it has been known to happen.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Would you be free this morning? I'm on the south side of Battery Park, making sure New Jersey doesn't have any notions of getting uppity." You can't trust New Jersey, you really can't. Jane has memories of meeting Staten Island once upon a time, and Dane's confounded expression. Therein lies a certain dry amusement as she spots the low slopes of the island clinging to the Jersey Shore like it wants nothing to do with Manhattan, or the city proper. "I can be here all morning; it's a good spot for a stroll, and fairly quiet on account of the weather."

Truth, that. She chooses to leave the destination unknown as she roams the pathway, blue umbrella over her shoulder, Inhuman relic at her throat under her coat, and an even more ancient, terrifying prism of power focused on her wrist. Terrestrial ties to a woman who should be walking the Underworld or soaring through Valhalla's branches after an asshole squirrel. Don't believe the stories; Ratatoskr is absolutely an arse.

Where may they meet, it's a stretch past the fountain constructed of glass or the memorial to victims of war, though not too far beyond. The tip of Manhattan juts into the confluence of the rivers, which makes the park rather symbolically perfect for their tasks, for what they represent. He probably spots her before she spots him, but maybe not; it can be a near thing, a certain matter of a canny eye used to sussing out deep space objects capturing sight of the man in blue. Maybe it's a hunch. She waves, anyway.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"I am free presently. I can come to you. I will be there shortly"

It is a short conversation. But, truth be told, it really doesn't need to be any longer. Regardless of where in the world Strange was at, he could be in Battery Park at the drop of a hat. Not that one would want to drop a hat in the damp weather, not without needing to clean said hat later, but it really is the principle of the thing.

Besides, one really cannot have enough eyes on New Jersey. Two more would be welcomed.

A flick of the wrist and a lazy turn of the fingers and Strange walks out of Greenwich Village...and into Battery Park proper, with nary a pause to his step. The glass fountain is regardless with a wry grin...amusement found in introducing water to an already moist environment. Still, there is a bit more of a walk to complete, towards the particularly unusual configuration of energies up ahead. The Inhuman trinket might have escaped notice. But...not the bauble that resides upon the good doctor Foster's wrist. That...Strange can identify easily and has before.

Plus, there's the wave. So, yes, target acquired. A nod of the head and tip of the fingers back indicate that yes, the man in blue is indeed the *other* good doctor.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane doesn't need much time to wander through the rain-soaked paths, avoiding the puddles where necessary. Some are deep enough to float boats in, and not just children's toys. The East River meets the Hudson in a sullen flow, polluted by the weight of so many years of occupation. To her right, a staccato skyline triumphantly aims to seize God's kingdom. To the left, bridges and New Jersey.

She watches a freighter slowly embark for shores unknown and tugs clustering around it like remoras. The umbrella turns languidly in her fingers, pattering rain soft against the stretched nylon. The familiar indulgence from growing up in Washington State, the years at Boston's MIT, all collide to a familiar comfort like a fuzzy sweater. Even in summer, it brings good thoughts. Thus, Doctor Strange will find the wayward soul in a content mood.

"I hope you tipped your Uber driver," she quips. A smile rises for his approach. "I assumed you hadn't heard from our mutual friend about his project. It seems right to invite tyou into our confidences, since you might be intrigued to collect a few artifacts."

Stephen Strange has posed:
The comment about Uber does bring a small, wry grin to the sorcerer's expression. "Most Ubers do not want to get this close to Jersey." Oh, the doctor comes with jokes today, even if given with a perfectly straight face. "I was merely in the neighborhood. It was a simple walk." Well...yes, he is not wrong. He did walk, with just a little assistance.

Then, as he joins the astrophysicist, Strange offers an answer for her question. "I have not, actually, heard of much. I am aware of the concept as we had previously discussed. I do assume that those certain key artifacts are either obtained or in the process thereof. Did we need assistance in procuring said keys? Or, is this more a request for storage of said items?"

Not wasting any time, it would seem.

Jane Foster has posed:
"They must live in Jersey, since I can't see how anyone in that job affords rent in this city. But a concern for another time. We all know the cost of living is atrocious." So says a woman living with a king in the Dakota, the first luxury apartment since Rome or Byzantium. How she keeps a straight face... but then, how do they all? She tilts her umbrella to avoid getting water on the good doctor. That would be most unkind, as she falls into step with Doctor Strange.

"For one, you're invited to come along with us. It merely requires a time and place. Our previous activities brought along Ms. Croft and Ms. Zatara. Are you familiar with either? They came to Alfheim, the home to the light elves. Not the same as the Otherworld or other fae realms, but one of them, I'm given to understand." The corner of her mouth lifts at the smudge of familiarity. "Asgard and Vanaheim were already secured. There are plans coming together for Nidavellir. However, two realms probably demand consideration and frankly, your aid. Svartalfheim, home of the dark elves. Muspelheim, where dwell the fire giants. Oh, and I'm sure the walk through Niflheim will be absolutely /lovely/ without Hela on the throne. Or with her on it. She has a bone to pick with the both of us, though especially you. Plans laid in Mexico and Haiti going awry, if I recall."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"I could only imagine the price for a decent apartment in New York." True, Stephen could only imagine. "I haven't necessarily needed to worry about rent for some time. One of the perks of the position, you see." Yes, prime real estate in New York can be yours, if you are willing to defend the realm of Earth from all mystical and most non-mystical threats. The least that one can do.

The tilting of the umbrella is appreciated, though seemingly unwarranted. For, as Stephen join Jane, the raindrops seem to bend around the pair. Oh, it is still raining, but the pattering of raindrops on waterproof stretched fabric dissipate as the two walk together. A nice little trick, if that. It would explain why the umbrella of Strange's is closed, not open.

An invitation to come along? An interesting endeavor. The realms that need a little assistance? "Ah, yes, I would imagine that those three would be a touch difficult, for anyone. As long as we do not need to use the Black Bifrost to travel, I will be inclined to assist. I have travelled the Black Bifrost once before. I...do not recommend the experience." The reason why Strange had that pleasure is not gotten into. "And yes, I am well aware of exactly what opinion Hela has of me. I am quite positive that my presence would be rather...irksome to her, regardless if she is ruling Niflheim or not. That...was a nasty bit of business." A bit of business that may or may not be fully resolved. Not that Stephen mentions that.

"However, yes...I do suppose I can pencil in a couple excursions to the other realms." Again, tone seems perfectly flat and genuine. But the expression? With that slight smirk? Yes, Stephen is teasing, but only slightly.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Believe me, it's enough to make your eyes water. Students living six to a two bedroom apartment going for $4,000 à month around Washington Square Park. Remember when that place used to have a bad reputation back in the Eighties?" When she was the tender age of, say, four. The stories are famous though, New York before it got cleaned up. New York before the heroes moved in and took over the task of cleaning up streets and images, before mayors looked like Wilson Fisk. Her smile fades away as she glances at the water, staring at the freighter a little too long. Squinting isn't a good look for anyone, but she can barely make out the name carved above the red, rust-proofed hull where it vanishes into blotchy grey letters.

A ship won't do well in the storms brewing off the Atlantic, one that's marked for their apparent doom. Not something she can rush out to fix, only make note of, and hope the affairs of the psychopomps are in order so she isn't rescuing some unfortunate Lithuanian sailor when his heart gives out, he goes overboard, or gets clonked on the head by a pipe he didn't see. Death stalks the living in so many varied ways. Perks of the position.

"Lady Sif and Thor have both done very well helping us acquire different items. It was a close scrape in Asgard, but done well. Diplomacy can be used in the brighter realms, often to great advantage." Her dark eyes narrow slightly as she turns back to consider the Sorcerer Supreme. "The same cannot be said for Muspelheim or Svartalfheim. The latter home is a place of corruption, pain, and torment; yet we must find something with a suitable resonance to link it to Earth without introducing a host of maladies. A quarantined sickness, like a vaccine we've rendered inert. A poison we've taken the teeth from. I'm almost thinking of it like polio or smallpox, aren't I? We risk the danger of inviting too much interest there, but I'm not sure anyone has found an ideal option other than..." Her teeth grit a bit. "Bringing back someone's severed limb seems common in their stories. Mount it under the door, that's supposed to be like a horse shoe. Alternately..."

A grim look turns thoughtful. "A horse shoe from the Wild Hunt? Nail it to the door. Travel between realms, without the Black Bifrost. That's a bastardization of the rainbow bridge, and I'm shocked anyone would travel by it. Why would you?" The look is one of mild horror.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Just a nod is given as answer about Washington Square Park. The student living? That goes without commentary. As long as there are universities and colleges, there will be students trying to game the rental system any way they can.

And...while Strange may not be tuned in exactly to the weather patterns of the earth and the apparent impending doom of a certain ship in the Atlantic, he is keeping tabs on other possible incursions. None fortunately needing his precise attention at the moment. Still...there might be just the slightest air of distraction to the sorcerer. But only just..as if he is parsing information a half a second slower than normal.

Thor and Sif being helpful? That is good to hear. But artifacts to claim from the three dangerous realms? Yes, that will be the tricky part. "I would imagine asking nicely is not going to help. And yes, a detached appendage would be rather appropriate, though again, it may attract too much attention. However..." The idea of a horseshoe intrigues Strange, even as Jane brings it up.

"A horse shoe would work. Perhaps from the singular stag that has trodden the Black Bifrost."

Which...brings up the discussion of the reason Strange has rode that particular rollercoaster. "Suffice it to say, it was not necessarily a welcomed interaction. A foolish person decided to jump into the Bifrost and I, being the sentimental sort that I am, followed after him. Mostly to save him from himself. Needless to say, I ended up within the realms of the Underworld and I highly recommend to not take that particular pathway."

Jane Foster has posed:
Student living off campus is crazy. Seriously, how does anyone afford New York? The city being affordable at all is more unbelievable than a Kryptonian.

Doctor Strange worries about the things stepping through the dimensions and the balance of magic. A dead Valkyrie worries about birthday presents for someone in her life with a special day, one that might involve grandiose gestures or just a tray of baklava at home. Something that she can settle on, though she stares off to the rivers meeting the harbour again. "I was thinking something that we could try to acquire with minimal bloodshed. The Wild Hunt isn't friendly and neither are the dark elves. I don't know of any tokens of friendship that ever existed between them or Midgard that we'd even want to involve. Something that keeps to the trails seems appropriate, though with my luck, we're going to find a bloody were-elk." Do they have were-elk? Probably. "I'll certainly consider it."

She doesn't look askance long at Doctor Strange when he admits to travelling into the Underworld. Only long enough to say, "Getting in is never the problem. It's getting out, no matter which way you choose."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Yes. Getting out was indeed tricky. Though, now that you brought it up, I owe favors to a trinity. Or at least two of the three. And there is the pomegranate that is now on display within the Sanctum. Should you ever see that." Hints of what Stephen may have encountered...hints that he does not elaborate on. "Nevertheless, it is a long and interesting story that shall be saved for another time."

On to the topic at hand. "Oh, I would prefer that there is as little bloodshed as possible. Even on the best of circumstances, those realms are just a perceived slight away from all-out war. Discretion is absolutely paramount. Something I would imagine is not necessarily an aspect our mutual friend can easily harness." Not that it is Thor's fault at all. It is hard to be stealthy with all that armor and lightning. "If violence is necessary, then we are going to certainly want the extra firepower. But...the lower the profile the better."

A low profile....from a man that flies around with a sentient cloak. Yeah, like Strange can talk.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane takes a slow, thoughtful breath. "I know the old story about eating pomegranate arils. You do that and you end up confined to the Underworld for six months after being carried off as a partner of the Greek gods. Olympian gods? I'd suspect it's a great way to get a vacation plan, but that's pretty permanent." No, she's not going to eat the arils. That might turn out badly.

Her umbrella rests against her shoulder and slides along the curve, somewhere between neck and midpoint where it won't bean anyone with a point. Discretion is hardly an easy task to manage. "Maybe that's it. Stealth and cover of darkness, transportation, a passage through the night. If we can pluck something from the Wild Hunt, which does tend to come our way, would it mystically make sense to lock it down to only going by that path and not any other? This isn't my strong suit. I am a creature of facts and details, so rarely anything that feels creative in the way great storytellers manage."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Then you understand my adversion in regards to the pomegranate. Although, Persephone was rather understandable of the situation." Because, who else would Strange have gotten a pomegranate from in the Underworld.

Strange's own umbrella taps the ground as the two walk, providing minor punctuation to the conversation. "Yes. Exactly. You do see my particular points in the matter. The less obvious we are with our dealings within those realms, the better." The question about guidance does warrant a consideration. Once that prompts Stephen to tap the tip of the umbrella on the ground in a rhythmic cadence. "A guided..." *tap* "...pathway for our..." *tap* "...quarry to travel on." *tap* "A rather inspired idea." *tap* *tap*

The umbrella is snatched up as Stephen continues. "If we are set in having our horse shoe or whatever have the energies of the Black Bifrost within it, then that would be the way to do it. Granted, any mystical intervention may gather attention...but if it will shorten our excursion and maximize our efforts, I don't see why that would not work."

An appreciative glance is given Jane's way. "Facts and details may you be comprised of...but there is creativity even in facts. Magic is merely the creative interpretation of these facts."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Pomegranates are lovely but, frankly, there are easier fruit to eat." The dark-eyed astrophysicist slips her umbrella back, staring again at the sweep of city and maneuvering neatly around the fringes of a puddle. "That leaves Niflheim and Jotunheim that I know of, Muspelheim being something bound to be a risk one way or the other. Much of it /is/ dangerous, and you would probably be a rather welcome person to bring along. Black Bifrost or not. My greater concern, in the end, is that this proves something safe and wisely made. It won't help anyone if it ends up being a terrible risk." Her shoulders rise and fall, gracefully executing that shrug.

Her hands spread once she reaches a turn, twisting the umbrella around easily enough. "I shouldn't keep you from the work surely piling up but is there anything else you would like aid with? Anything to do?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Yet again, we are of similar mindsets, Doctor Foster. It is certainly my desire that this overall venture prove to be fruitful and, indeed, wisely made. All magic carries a risk. That is just the nature of it. However, if this is done correctly, the risks should be mitigated." Still...the risk is there, and Strange knows it. "When the excursion to the less, err, friendly realms is at hand, do feel free to reach out. Barring any unforeseen emergencies, I should be able to accompany the selected group." A pause..."you know, for moral support."

A flutter of a wink, just enough to be seen. Yes, Stephen knows just what sort of support he would be should he go.

However, it is the next question that catches Stephen off guard. "I do have to admit that it is rare that I am asked if I need any assistance. Quite often...in fact almost always...it is quite the reverse. What can I do for the person, be it training or protection or whatnot. It is a refreshing experience to be asked if I need assistance." A soft chuckle escapes from the former surgeon. And, when he continues to speak to Jane, it is with a genuine smile. "Though appreciated, I do believe I will be able to handle what tasks come my way. Besides, I am sure there are other duties that you have pressing upon you that regrettably no amount of medical or mystical knowledge will be of a benefit for you. Though, I do promise to keep you in mind if anything were to indeed pop up that would benefit your interaction." As a confirmation, the smartphone that sits in that blue jacket makes an appearance, with Jane's contact info displayed. "I do have your number..."

Not that Stephen actually *needs* it. Still, it is only proper. Phone first before making any surprise appearances.