12767/I Aten't Dead

I Aten't Dead
Date of Scene:	13 September 2022
Location:	R and D Labs: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Having suffered catastrophic damage, the Raptor to which Michael is bound is nonetheless drawn out of the Atlantic self-healing; after being taken to the Triskelion, Nat, Jane and Jessica come to see what's up. Turns out he isn't dead, and has quite a lot to report on...
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Jane Foster, Natasha Romanoff, Jessica Drew

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    They brought him in fused to a chunk of a U-Boat, the biggest barnacle of all the others latched on to German metal doomed during the Second World War. Ten feet of black metal and rusted, chunky detritus, a big chunk of the sub's torpedo room peeled away once American depth charges struck their fatal blows, the wreckage is contained in a tank of bulletproof Lexan and filled with seawater kept deep-Atlantic cold to try and replicate the conditions down there save for the lighting. Never know what could be precipitating the process, after all.

    As for the man himself, the gleaming red of his muscle-structure armor has suffered what must have been a horrific wound. The majority of the torso has now been sealed, and the jointed black snakes of what could be entrails that spilled from the once-cavernous wound remain embedded in the metal like pinworms under human skin - moving, slowly, pulsing with some mockery of life.

    Is it him? Something else? Whatever it is, it is gruesome.

Jane Foster has posed:
"A U-boat." Jane Foster is many things, a skeptic not entirely among them. When the news reaches her ears, pretty fast given the methods, she scowls at the unfortunate agent delivering her the details. "What are you waiting for? Get a naval expert in here immediately. Call someone and start scouring the blueprints we obtained from the OSS. Wake up Perkins; we want chemical and spectrometry arrays of the water and any loose debris. Plus... Barton, somewhere, looking out for something about to detonate. An EOD team on standby, and relay it to Fitz, Kasparova, Antonin, and Meyers."

With a rather finicky array of suggestions, the astrophysicist deals with being shunted into some kind of hazmat suit, plumbed by a few chemical baths, and rendered somewhat biologically inert to face the horror from the heavens. Going through the motions and wasting valuable time when the xenobiological compounds probably can't affect her, a creature as inert as helium, but you never know. Maybe the Nazis found a heliumovore.

The devices around her don't like her. Per usual, they flicker and suffer. Such is life. <<Comms check.>> Crackling; no fun. <<Do we have a 3D model in progress for Simmons? You /know/ she's going to ask.>>

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff is there while they're doing recovery over. Watching over at the things being brought up. "The torpedos will hvae rusted through by now. They won't have withstood the depths for this long. The primers and detonators will have long since gone off, even if they were perfectly sealed in." She speaks from the perspective of someone that seems to know an awful lot about German torpedoes from life experience.
    She's just watching along and sitting while the recovery and analysis crews go through things. "I'm impressed that after reentry and crashing and impalement on -that- he's not been crushed under the pressure. We'll have to increase our assessment on what the suit is capable of." She seems fascinated, in a morbid sort of way. Of someone that has seen a great many bodies over with it. She starts bringing up records of what they have of how the suit works.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Their ship was going sub-orbital when the other Raptor appeared. Sitting in the gunnery seat of the tiny X-men spacecraft, Jessica had watched Michael and his opponent ram each other like two ancient ships at sea though at supersonic speeds. They had streaked across her HUD screen, which whited out with the energy output and dissolved into a few blips falling to the sea.

Only Jess and a few others knew that one suit contained Michael's consciousness while his body resided elsewhere, married to an AI entity. It hadn't lessened the shock, watching the armor fall into the sea. She had never quite understood the relationship between the armor and owner, only that it bestowed tremendous power if given full access to its complex suite of abilities, allowing them to become avatars of war.

Despite her role managing Michael as an asset, she had not been given clearance to visit and was locked out of the room. Pleading works at times.A

An overworked tech dressed her in the hazmat suit that, even with its fancy bells and whistles, makes her feel breathless. Once inside, she whistles in disbelief at what the suit has encrusted itself to. Technicians and scientist bustle around her while she gapes and tries to insinuate herself closer to the horror of the suit.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    There is no life in the suit that slowly feeds upon the wreckage to which it is tethered; even as they watch, the thing's 'guts' slither deeper and deeper into the drowned hulk, working whatever strange processes exist there. As the three women stand there, possessed of very different emotions seeing the remnants draped across the submarine's shattered nose, something begins to happen when Jessica comes into view.

    Slowly, surely, the v-slit visor set into its red face, framed as it is with gleaming silver trim and crest, begins to flicker to life. A dim violet glow emits from the material there - as does the stone in its chest, whatever purpose it too has a total mystery to the technicians thus far. In this short period, they can tell three things: it's some kind of biomechanoid machine, not armor, /extremely/ well-protected against anything south of military-grade artillery, and it has no room for a biological operator within it. The details are lost in the bewildering complexity of the thing, whatever it is. In this moment, however, what it /is/ that is important, of course, is /alive/.

    The machine's head turns slowly on its neck of metallic mock-sinew, extending, slowly, from its shoulders. Views each in turn. A sound emits from the thing that is not speech but a long and gutteral string of sounds that should come from a very cranky computer, not the man they know. Cold inquiry, but feeble.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
There is a look of fascination over on Natasha's face as she would watch over at the machine and the remnants of the man inside of it. She's detatched from this emotionally and finds the dichotomy fascinating. "There's enough present to form syllables." Simmons is going to love this! This is the part of Natasha that is what one would call 'no bedside manner'.
    She's watching through the scopes and the team that's working through analysis on sensors. "Structurally intact through all of that." She would tap over at her cheek. More useful information that they didn't have and profiles to be updated.
    Just a man had to be nearly completely crippled, perhaps even killed for them to get it was all.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Unless your name is on a suit, everyone looks more or less the same, posture, and body shape made anonymous under the heavy protective plastic and the helmet. Across from her, she recognizes several of the scientists called in to watch, measure and theorize on the machine's slow digestion of the submarine. Jess snorts to herself, of course, it would be a U-boat that was being eaten, macabre and fitting, considering Michael's interactions with the Chief.

All the heads in the room turn like puppets on the same string when the machine vocalizes. Several of the techs check monitors to reassure themselves that every movement and sound is being recorded.

Jessica has no intention of leaving the room unless forced to leave. Her vigil has nothing scientific about it. It is what any agent would do for a partner.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    It's just in time to miss the fireworks that Jane is called away, missing the thing as it cranes its head serpent-like to peer at the two women through the tank. It stares at Jessica for a long moment, then Natasha, and then Jessica again - recognizing them, clearly, the dim violet light in its glowing surfaces flaring as it does so. And then, when it spends another moment staring at Jessica, a length of gray, rubbery 'intestine' lashes out of from beneath the submarine's skin, tipped with a gleaming diamondine point - which it drives, with almost imperceptible speed, toward the thick surface of the Lexan enclosure. Given what it does to the yet-heavy steel of the submarine's hull, the armored plastic might not actually give it any resistance.

    But something does hold it back, millimeters from the tank wall. And it hovers there.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
There's another tap over as Natasha goes to take her fingers to her comm <<You have to work over on your body language, Agent Drew. You're standing out a bit much with your posturing. In the future, evaluate how the other personnel around are carrying themselves and the eqiupment to make sure your better match.>> Another click a moment later and the sound of some buttons being pressed.
    <<And it does look like the filing system is having a few errors in personnel assignments. I'll have to handle re-entering the data manually. Give me a few moments to make sure the tabs are correct.>>
    Now this is fascinating. Even as Natasha ever-so-subtly gives Jess the 'it's fine' signal to join her, she goes to watch at the exchange as the suit goes to lash out. Just what -is- going on here?

Jessica Drew has posed:
Michael and the armor have become a sea creature cohabiting a bit of the cold Atlantic behind the lexan wall of an aquarium. Standing to the side so as not to block the scientist's view, Jess is close enough to touch the tank, mesmerized by the slow undulations of the umbilicals connecting ancient technology to futuristic technology. The machine turns to look at her, she is certain.

Then, Jess startles slightly at the com voice breaking into her busy thinking and she turns her head to look at the voice's owner. Biting her bottom lip hard to keep a glare off her face, she gives Agent Romanoff a thumb's up.

Her attention on the other Agent, she barely catches the flash of movement reaching hard for her. Spider senses flush her system with adrenaline, reading the gesture as aggressive. That was no tender recognition of his handler if the force of the impact was any indication.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    As Jessica walks, the armor's head follows, its tendril held still at bay - its entire body is otherwise rigid, only the v-shape of its 'eye' showing any life. And then...new motion fills the thing; the tendrils pull away from the sub, retracting within its damaged shape. The body begins to move, first stiffly, then with increasing fluidity as it slides off the side of the wreckage to land upon the bottom of the tank. Metal feet thump softly upon the tank floor as it now walks to the wall, and the suit seems far more animate as it continues to gaze upon the two women there. When the voice comes again, it is not a chittering basso-profundo computer sound, it is that of the armor's usual master.

    << Open up the tank, you two, >> Michael's voice says as it radiates from within the tank, every inch of the machine's body serving as an annunciating surface. << I'm getting out. >>

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would go to consider a moment. Protocols.. They definitely call for keeping it sealed. But in this situation where if they don't open it then Michael will just break his way out of it. She gives a look over to Jessica. Deferring to the other woman that knows him much better and has far more experience with him.
    Her hansd keyed over and ready to enter an override code. But leaving the decision to Jessica as to whether it's the right one to make or not.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"You can hear us, I take it?" Jess asks with an edge to her voice, a remnant of the adrenaline surge the tap on the tank produced. She watches the machine warily, "Have you made the switch back to the here, Michael?"

Making this call is many levels above her security level, but she does know the man as his handler and more. "Talk to me. Tell us what has happened, I think that we need some knowledge of what is going on, in order to make a decision." She hikes her eyebrows in question at Natasha and flares her hands.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    A faint grunt of exasperation leaves the machine, and a faint mutter of something that Jessica may recognize as one of the many curses among his people that he sometimes used - if not, perhaps, the translation. << The machine was heavily damaged in the fight, >> he replies. << I was cut off from it while it went through the self-repair cycle but it's gotten to the point I can reconnect again. Look, if you want me to switch, I can, but I'm going to need someone to haul me out. The shock from the cold water is going to be rough in transition. >>

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would nod over at Michael and speak, the sound being carried through, "Areyou safe in your current condition then if we allow teh transition out?" That's her query. She's trusting Jessica's judgement. Yes, Jessica does not have the clearance or authorization for this. Technically, Natasha doesn't either. Just a 'Special Agent override' tends to bypass most protocols and the bureaucracy will look the other way.
    Jessica is Michael's handler. She knows him beyond anyone else in SHIELD. Natasha trusts her judgement.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Surprised that one of the head scientists has not intervened, the agent pauses, "Look, none of us know this machine well or its processes. Just tell us what you need. Just out of the tank and then the suit will release you now that it is repaired? Is that correct?"

Speaking loud enough to be heard by everyone in the lab, she raises her hand to call attention to herself, "The person talking to us is our Shi'ar asset. I saw his transition into the machine. Take my word on the safety of letting him out of the tank."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    << 'Agent Erickson' will do, thank you, >> Michael replies faux-waspishly as he makes his way toward the center of the tank, looking up at the hatch and awaiting its unsealing. << It was just the nature of the weapon. Damned near destroyed the unit's systems, but if I hadn't soaked up the beam it would have annihilated your aircraft. >>

    So there's that, at least. << We're going to need to talk about that, too. Clearly, the Raptors are in the pocket of the Prodigal. >> A beat. << Ready when you are, everyone. >>

    Though not entirely pleased with the removal of such an exotic subject, the technicians do as requested - and, soon enough, Michael's armored body levitates out of the tank, streaimng with the cold water as if they were the leavings of the Lethe. A fist-sized hole, the remainder of the wound, gushes water out onto the floor as he lowers onto it in front of the tank. A flash of violet light is a momentarily blinding strobe, and then, as if released from a magical prison, the very dry and very unharmed Agent Erickson stands there in the gray suit worn day before.

    "Well," he says then, brushing at his lapels. "THAT was an adventure, wasn't it now?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
The Prodigal and the Raptors? INterstellar politics and fascists. Vastly oversimplifying things and no doubt overstating it. Natasha rubs at her temples. "Lovely. Can you move or will you need suppot in doing so?" She would look over at Michael.
    "Or will you need to remain here for awhile until your body stabilizes some more? If so I can have for some more extensive medical treatment sent in. However, the three of us are going to have to undergo a full decontamination and detox of the area first." That was just being paranoid, but he had just been shot down from space, hit the bottom of the ocean and fused to a WW2 U-Boat and then come out of the tank. Better safe than sorry.

Jessica Drew has posed:
The machine levitating out of the tank is yet another display of Shi'ar technology. A frightening prospect if the Empire elects to throw its weight behind the pretender to the throne.

"Quite," Jess replies tersely, her British accent giving the word a bite. "You, Agent Erickson, will be fed, watered, examined and debriefed on what happened as well as your take on the current political and strategic situation."

She glances down, consulting her thoughts. "Thank you for that remarkable display of heroism." More softly, "I thought we had lost you. I'll see you on the other side."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I need to write an extensive report." Michael takes a deep breath, sucking air in between his teeth in a very human gesture, and then clicking his teeth together in a very inhuman one. Were he a bird, it would make sense, this clicking of a nonexistent beak. "Right. I'm fine, both of you - the armor and I do not exist in the same space, we...swap places. Quantum linked, or some similar mechanism. When the armor is here, I am somewhere else. That's another matter entirely, though."

    Jessica gets a faint smile. "I'm afraid that when it's damaged, I'm not - takes a bit of the nobility from the sacrifice, given it's not permanent. All the same, the x-ray flash could have cooked every one of you in that plane. Couldn't have that." That said, he nods to her command. "Of course, ma'am. I'll see you then."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would nod at Michael. "Very well. We'll go through decontamination to be safe and then you can be set asidew ith something to transcribe your report and send it in. Then a higher officer will be dispatched for you to make a more extensive debrief to on the subject. Congratulations, Agent Erickson. You've survived one thing and you'll be thrown into another. But first.. You'll need to go through the bureaucracy."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess considers him a long moment, head tilted to one side. She shakes her head, a smile ghosting the corner of her lips. "Then you can be commended on some very quick thinking. None of us knew what we were facing. We would have been cooked in a flash of radiation and never known what hit us between one breath and the next."

She consults Natasha with a glance, "I may be included in some of the debriefing."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "We don't have a lot of time for bureaucracy." Michael looks between both women, shaking his head. "I assume that the Ambassador was killed - which means that the Empire is going to be back, and possibly very angry. I'll need to prepare a dossier on the Prodigal and what I believe the potential political situation may well be now in the Empire. Things aren't nearly so settled as we are led to believe. Especially if the Raptors are allying themselves now with her." Another look between the two of them, and he frowns. "We could possibly have the beginnings of a civil war on our hands. I don't think I need to tell you what that means for my home galaxy, certainly this one."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would nod over at Jessica, "Yes, you're assigned as his intermediary and translator." Wait, Michael's English was perfectly good. "And you have authorization to ensure that if need be protocols can be adjusted given the gravity of the situation and ensure that those whom need the information have access to it."