14141/Discordants: DANGER ZONE!

Discordants: DANGER ZONE!
Date of Scene:	16 February 2023
Location:	Interview Room: Triskelion
Synopsis:	The Dark Elf Attack upon the Triskelion is foiled, but not without loss.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Natasha Romanoff, T'Challa, Carin Taylor, Zatanna Zatara, Daisy Johnson, Jane Foster, Nick Fury, Vintridr

---

Thor has posed:
    Outside the walls of the Triskelion...

    There was a ripple in the air, a faint shimmer against the sun at its height. Barely noticeable from the ground, but against the skyline from the cockpit of a patrolling F-22 Raptor it stood out in that moment, briefly, but there.
    (( Lobster you see that? ))
    The voice on the comms to his wingman was strong as Lt. Jay Jablonski pulled the oxygen mask over his face so he could be heard easier, the roar of the engine muting as he sealed the helmet.
    (( Negative, Snorlax. I've got nothin'. What do you have eyes on? ))
    Suddenly there was a sudden burst of illumination, then a white hot flare of engines as six blazes of energy surge into life, abruptly hurtling across the sky. Six dagger shapes curved and edged seemingly filled with malice as they abruptly accelerated to a supersonic speeds and beyond.
    (( Holy shit! Triskelion Actual, Triskelion Actual, This is Raptor patrol 7. We've got incoming, I've got six bogeys incoming. ))
    The Raptor's engines flared as it broke to the left, winging over and starting a sharp turn as it quickly moved to try and close with those targets, afterburners kicking in once he got the vector and his wingman joining him only a few seconds behind.
    Then the voice of Triskelion actual came on the line.
    (( Raptor 7, repeat your last for Triskelion Actual. ))
    (( Triskelion Actual, this is Raptor 7. I've got eyes on a weapons launch. Nothing on scopes. We've got six bogeys incoming burning hot. Looks like... cruise missiles. I think. We're moving to intercept. ))
    The two jets fell in behind the cruise missiles, their otherworldly engines burning like white hot shooting stars. The HUD floating in front of his eyes obstinately refused to lock onto... anything. Though the pip for his guns at least worked.
    (( Lobster grab the ones at 188. I got 145. Super sonic. Did you see that? ))
    The fighters broke formation, Lobster turning to the side to follow a group of three that veered off. The jets roared across the skyline, their engines struggling to keep pace as they surged faster and faster. Then the voice of the Comms officer was heard crackling onto their frequency.
    (( Iron curtain is up, Raptor. Keep to 12 clicks clear. ))
    On the HUDS of the two jets the display flared to life showing that sphere of missile denial appear around the Triskelion ahead of them. Snorlax responded on the frequency.
    (( Roger that. ))
    Abruptly two of the missiles flare back, airbrakes firing as they decelerate, blister turrets pop out of the sides and suddenly the air is alive between the jets and the missiles.
    (( Taking fire. ))
    The two Raptors twist and turn, evading much of the fire, though something wicked and sharp embeds hard into Lt. Jablonski's cockpit. Scowling he lines up the shot, then triggers a full burst from his jet's guns. Rounds pepper along the back of the missile, seeming to impact into nothing... then abruptly a light flares around the missile as rounds start to hit into the metal, slamming home until the missile explodes in a rush of flame and fury.
    Snorlax banks to the right, around the explosion, trying to bring himself back into line with the farther targets.
    (( Splash one. ))
    Another explosion was seen off to the side as Lobster does his part, a missile bursting into flames, which is when Lt. Jablonski looked at that ominous graphic on his HUD that displays Triskelion's missile denial area. And the cruise missiles were already inside it.
    Turrets had deployed on the roof and along the sides in strategic points of the building. The people within will hear the sudden roar and thumping churn of weapons fire. Heavy caliber weapons fire emitting from the building.
    (( Triskelion Actual two down, breaking off. Good luck. ))
    Those four missiles duck and weave, surging up and down, twisting around as the streams of lead and explosive rounds cause the sky to light up. Another missile explodes in flight, wreckage trailing down into the water below. Then another loses its life, its systems sud

Thor has posed:
    Then another loses its life, its systems suddenly taking catastrophic damage causing its payload to explode heavily in a purple haze in that daytime sky.
    But the other two...
    One _slams_ hard into the rooftop and the explosion... is staggering. The entire building shakes as many of those turrets are abruptly taken off line, showing flat lines on the data for the SHIELD teams. Then the last missile _crashes_ into the side of the building. But no explosion.
    All through the SHIELD building, the alarms had sounded as soon as the weapons started firing. The light had gone to an emergency red, sirens were heard. Then that impact in the fifth floor a breach was detected as the missile slammed home.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Alarms go off over along the Triskelion. There's barely any time before the missiles hit, and sirens are going off. Natasha Romanova had been over in the survival room, training right when the alarms warning of impact went off. The lights in there flicker as she would barely have time to brace herself as the building shook, things in the training area collapsing and then emergency lightning flickering on. Natasha quickly gets up to her feet, moving to start helping anyone over in the area that had been taken down or injured. Nothing serious. Seventy five seconds, and everyone that she could rapidly see was mobile and not in need of extensive aid.
    She goes to flick to her comm, moving to rapidly frequency scroll to find one of the emergency bands. <<Romanoff here.>> Rattling off her location and status. She doesn't bother adding anything more before racing along towards the primarily targeted area where the cluster of higher ranking personnel with the VIP were. She's moving to grab a heavy weapon en route.
    Because an airstrike is almost always just the softening up phase. That means that it's virtually guaranteed there will be a followup assault coming in shortly. And that gives them barely any time to fortify bfeore they get hit, as far as she's concerned.
    All the missiles have to do is give the Dark Elfs cover and then start massively infiltrating by portals again while everyone is disoriented and spread out. She goes to racea long smoothly, adding in. <<Suggest all personnel ready to repel infiltrators>> One hundred and fifteen seconds after impact.

T'Challa has posed:
On the computers T'Challa is able to tract this as it is Shields base though he was still worries as those missles sure looked like it was getting closer. "Incomming" he says as he braces himself for impact. A lot of shaking later T'Challa says something he shouldn't translate in Xhosa. Standing up he reports they have been hit twice, and one of the ordiances hasn't exploded. "We need to get eyes on what they are shooting at us." he says as he gets his suit on hoping his tech could disarm it. He looks back at the other Shield agents in the room, "Damage reports when you get them..." then stops with a sigh. "Sorry.. I forgot this is not my place." it was shield after all the instincts just kicking in.

As he walks out he grabs one of the ID's of a shield agent that is on this floor with him with a "Sorry.. I will return it I promise." and walks to the window to look down from the fifth floor. "Good luck.. Stay focused and do what they trained you to do." T'Challa says to the others before he leaves out the window to use his claws and climb over towards where it looks like a missle hit, and didn't go off.

Carin Taylor has posed:
    Everything happens in slow motion. Carin is freshly dressed from a shower, towel in her hand, wicking water off of her hair when the mixture of sirens and cannon fire fill ... everything. It's all just echoing thuds this far down but the booms rattle her senses. She freezes for a half second, feeling the beat of her heart, the time between the bursts, and is already dressed and geared up before the dropped towel can hit the floor.

    "No no no no nonononononono..." her lips move but there's no sound, the mantra largely in her head as she zips out of her shared room and up the stairs. Flight after flight, to get closer to danger despite her instincts telling her to hunker down and stay down. In those same moments, she yells at herself mentally to shut it, this is her home. The rumble of the first missile slamming into the roof is heard--and felt--and brings her skidding to a stop.

    Then the second impact makes her frown when there's no explosion. She has her comms on, hears what's said, reports coming in. Romanoff. <<T-Taylor here. Tell me where I'm needed.>>

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Missiles raining destruction are not magical, even if their owners are. The mage isn't privy to SHIELD's built-in defense systems. If she had time, she could perhaps read the tactical displays and understand what has appeared in New York skies. But, she feels the threat and T'Challa's words confirm it.

Sapphire eyes fixed on Hubert, whose people are trying to murder, no matter the collateral damage, the mistress of magic poses him a burning question, "Are you ready?"



The connection between them remains tenuous and dangerous, though they have left the hive mind. Her last perception of the mind lingers - cold rage and murderous intent. Zatanna instinctively reaches across the table for the Dark Elve's hands, taking them into an iron grip,

"!dleihS"

She squeezes them till her fingers are bloodless then swims into his dark chaos. A dome of protection shimmers into existence around the interrogation room.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Well, shit." That's Daisy, being eloquent about their whole situation. A missile strike, at SHIELD. Of all the things she could had imagined! But Daisy is no wilting flower, she is already on the move when those missiles are seen incoming on their tracking devices.

<< To all personnel, need backup on the fifth floor. Possible svartalfar incursion. VIP needing protection and extraction. >> Short and to the point!

Because they really don't have time for much more. Daisy feels that oncoming rush of vibrations before the impacts hit, her tuned senses feeling those explosions going off. But more worryingly, the one that actually crashes INTO the floor they are in now. She only has time to say to T'Challa, "Wait..., there's another--" before that impact is felt on the room they are in, consoles exploding and a wall fracturing from the multiple explosions in the building.

Her hands immediately go up to absorb some of that vibrational impact, joining forces with Zatanna in protecting them from the worst of it.

<< One missile on the top floor that didn't explode. Possible soldier attack incoming. >>

Jane Foster has posed:
One of the women observing a dark elf interrogation happened to bring along some toys just in case things got interesting. If anyone dares to call black hole generators or an Asgardian crown prince's hallowed weapon 'toys.' Jane never would. The hammer is already in hand, and the only reason she waits to execute the anticipated transition demanded by Nick Fury is partly because her mind is reeling from disconnection with the dark elf hive, and what affects the mind, so goes the body. Those are the breaks of being freed by happenstance from the Underworld and violating all laws written by the ancients.

<<Mjolnir, time to keep the civilians safe. If you will?>> The soft-spoken request to the beloved uru hammer, the emblem of a friend, is asked -- and if it does not respond, then so mote it be. One can only hope to be worthy to provide protection to those fighting for their lives against enemies of terrible malice and technological prowess. The comms for her kick on simply enough with a touch. "Priority on keeping Tannenburg safe. Repeat, secure him. We promised." Good luck getting through Zatanna, but you never know. And sometimes, firepower needs to be amplified more than it is, as she hunts for an open window, an exit, or frankly one she will /make/ if she must to hurl herself into the void outside the fifth floor tower. Because, at this point, gravity is no issue.

The woman becomes Aesir, shedding her mortality, a spiralling whistle piercing the void.

It takes roughly ten seconds for a response to be found in kind; a white pegasus, interrupted in a thrilling discourse on the development of Vanir philosophical strategies on the field of war with a group of like-minded individuals, comes through a shimmering mirage. Enter Mr. Horse, majestic white wings out of every little girl's dreams tucked to his sides as he veers sharply to find his person or favourite target.

Nick Fury has posed:
The moment the communications officer received the message regarding incoming cruise-type missiles from source or sources unknown, Director Nick Fury is on the move. Klaxons begin sounding in every section of the Triskelion, complete with the message of 'Defense stations, this is not a drill, I repeat, this is NOT a drill' in his calm, cool, take-no-shit tone. That sets in motion the 'Iron Curtain' around the Triskelion, the weapons turrets upon the top of the ramparts *wrrrrrr* into motion.

The main control room is Fury's command station, it's there he stands in his dark SHIELD 'uniform', his single eye staring, piercing a hole into the fabric of reality to see if he could even begin to discern what sort of enemy would be engaging. Then again, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together and come up with a 'who' and a 'why' so quickly. The moment the bogeys appeared, no worries T'Challa, SHIELD had eyes in the skies, and if their sensors in various frequencies of light and sound could pick it up, they would. That whole 'incursion from outer space' is still on its learning curve. Getting there, but...

At the warning, the Director sends another message out over the coms, and it's ominous in its meaning, "Brace for impact."

The entire building shakes on its foundation, and what clear lights had been on, they go out and red lights blink on, both as a message that the power is shifting to generator, and that they are all truly at battle stations. Fury is able to keep his feet, but barely. He has to put a hand out to steady himself even as debris and concrete fall from the ceiling in response to insult. Klaxons blare through the corridors, demanding attention, calling out their warnings that there's been not only an attack, but a breach.

"Get Tac-team Bravo out on that second," Fury isn't calling it a 'dud', and he continues, "I need demolitions there, with alpha-spec shielding. Now. Move it out."

"Yes, sir." is given in a quick staccato.

Spinning around now, fury is back on the radio, this time calling down to the Fifth floor. "We may have incoming to your location. I'm sending everything I have between them and you, but we're gonna have to cut this party short and take what party favors we have."

Shit, indeed.

Vintridr has posed:
    Manning the Triskelion's anti-air defenses is normally not the most exciting task, albeit a crucially important one. As such, it tends to draw people who can maintain a constant vigil in the face of boredom and still be ready to react quickly in a crisis.

    Agent Derek Winters never really aspired to the fame and excitement of a field agent, although unbeknownst to him his superiors had taken notice of his reliability and his ability to focus under pressure during recent crises and drills and had recommended him for promotion to field work.

    That promotion is going to be posthumous, however; he'd taken personal control of Defense Turret four and managed to nail the missile headed directly for the administrative center -- but doing so meant the turret couldn't traverse back swiftly enough to save itself and the next missile had hit it square on.

    He'd had just enough time to see the missile grow impossibly large through the viewport, a loud crashing noise, confusion... And then, a sudden silence.

    Blinking his eyes in the sudden gloom -- wasn't it barely past noon just now? -- he looks around at the rubble surrounding him, then down at his body, which seems to be glowing faintly. He's still trying to figure out what this means when he notices his body, partly buried in the wreckage he's standing next to.

"... Oh."

    "Indeed," comes a voice in response. A woman's voice, solemn and formal... Yet somehow not unkind.

    Derek turns to face the armored woman striding towards him across - and seemingly through - the rubble. He's not ignorant, and ever since Thor first walked openly across the Triskelion certain mythologies have gotten a lot more commonly read; it doesn't take him long to connect the dots. "... Seriously? Me?"

    Vintridr inclines her head. "You fought with courage; you fulfilled your duty even though it cost your life."

    She holds out one hand, the gems set into her armor glowing with their inner light as she makes the formal offer. "Derek Winters, the gates of Valhalla stand open to you. Come and take your place where the brave live forever."

    Derek reaches out to take the hand, hearing the call of the Halls of the Brave, but then hesitates. "... Wait, you work for Thor, don't you?"

    Vintridr blinks. This isn't usually part of the script. "What of it?" she asks.

    "He's right here on the premises when those missiles came in. He may need your help."

    "... And if I were to do so, your comrades would have another ally in their current struggle." Derek does his best to look innocent. Vin holds his gaze for a moment, then smiles. "Clever. Very well."

    Derek grins and takes her hand --

    ... And Vin takes a moment to get her bearings as she slips out of that liminal space between seconds and fully into the here-and-now.

Thor has posed:
    Upon the roof, Vintridr sees the way to guiding Agent Winters to his rest, yet when she looks around at her surroundings she will see the mayhem the Svartalfar have wrought. The fires alight, the wreckage of the top and lower floors, the damage and the fallen. It is a dark day indeed.
     Keyed into the SHIELD emergency comms a voice is heard, (( Sec station Charlie 5, we're taking fire. We have intr-- ))
    The comm goes dead abruptly, but for those in the security net data feeds they'll see the station wide warning go out as the entire feed goes red and the warning displays. INTRUDER WARNING! General Quarters! Guards and those with electronic equipment and on the secure shield cell network will get the warnings as well, all popping up, all vibrating at the same time.
    T'Challa is able to slip through the window and what greets his eyes is mayhem. The kinetic power of the missile that impacted near them but did not explode has done good damage to the building. While above he can see the hint of flames and smoke from the damaged turrets. Yet at least he has eyes on the missile's rear portion, sticking out of the building like a dagger thrust home into the back of one's victim.
    As Natasha rushes through the area she is greeted with the sight of people recovering, and she does her share to help people get ambulatory again. The comms are alive and active, people chiming in quickly with their status, asking for information, locations, areas needing address. Carin's voice joins and Triskelion Actual does a good job of letting people know as quickly as they can their best points to evac to, while security teams and meta-operatives are told.
    (( We have intruders on the 5th floor. 5th floor. Security teams to checkpoint Charlie 5. ))
    In the interrogation room, eldritch power flares to life as Zatanna's shield and Daisy's power serve to weaken the impact of that missile, rendering the room to a slight shiver while they can _see_ outside the shield the mayhem and havoc inflicted as parts of the building's superstructure are sent flying past them, creating an almost Swiss cheese effect in parts of the hallways and rooms. Though it lends safe enough harbor for Jane to make that transition, to become the manifestation of her soul complete with winged horse and the surge of legendary power.
    On the comms, Fury's voice is that cold precision that is needed. His steady delivery of orders are given, and one can almost feel the way people had been edging toward panic even slightly... are brought back into line and focusing on the task at hand. So much must be done, so many fires must be addressed, some literal. Boots and soldiers snap to at his orders, and the response of SHIELD to this intrusion is going to be... a very strong one.
    On the spot on the fifth floor, however, the local force allocation is... a bit more unbalanced. For out in the halls, and through the gaps in the walls the heroes can see what looks like a surging black carapaced carpet. Thousands of... scarabs for lack of a better word, mechanical, small, chittering, clattering, surging forth along the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Slightly larger drones can be seen hovering in the air, rushing forth, assaulting the remaining survivors at Checkpoint Charlie with blurringly fast blasts of energy and blades. While amongst those drones, three armored figures move amongst them, coordinating the attack.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Going through the comms chatter, Natasha Romanova goes to tap once more <<En route to fifth floor>> Giving her locationa nd her ETA. The other agents can take care of themselves sector by sector based upon orders. One has to prioritize. That's why Fury delegates and gives instructions. That's why htey have the chain of command.
    Getting close to the nearest way up, Natasha goes to fire a grappling gun and heading towards the nearest access point to the fifth floor interview room.
    She's readying the heavy assault weapon she has with her. Expecting portals to be popping up soon enough to swarm the area. She goes to pull a hood on over her head as soon as she arrives over on the floor. She doesn't have camo mesh with her, but it still lets her blend into the background more effectively than not. THe assault weapon she moves to rapidly load up with Titanium SABOT rounds that have the outer casing designed to detonate upon penetration with some nasty internal fragmentation munitions that would erupt like a hollowpoint. Presuming that the gun can actually penetrate the magical beings this time she might be able to take down some of them.
    Weapon ready, she slows her pace, ready to lend cover to the extraction of the VIP or to ambush when the first wave of attackers come through.

T'Challa has posed:
As T'Challa looks down at it, and makes his way over the the hind end of the missle as he gets closer he connects the the shield frequency (This is Black Panther. I am approaching unexploded missle) hearing about more incoming and intruders he turns on his stealth before approaching. If they landed unless it was a suicide mission they would need an exit, and while they might be zelots they are going to want their person back if not dead. That didn't mean a back-up plan incase they were stopped so other then tell anyone what he thought it was he approached to look into the hole it made hoping he could find either an access point, door, as it would give him a place to access with his own technology.

Hearing about intruders makes T'Challa kept an eye on the 'missle' (I hear you Nat.. I am on the outside it looks like a Flying lady is out here too.) as he had seen the lady, and the horse she didn't ride in on. Though she was out there keeping cover for more incoming shots he had to go back into the building to investigate the thing that crashed in so would be out of sight once again.

Carin Taylor has posed:
    Despite the crisis manifest on the fifth floor, Carin is everywhere but there. Almost literally. She can't be in more than one place at once, but the way she zips around, one could be forgiven for thinking she could--and is--in more than once place at once. The pale, nimble speedster is doing everything within her power to help, short of actively engaging in combat.

    What she /is/ doing is putting out fires, the literal ones. Her wetware patches into what parts of the building network someone of her rank has access to, and she prioritizes the zones needing immediate attention. Immediate attention that comes in the form of her running circles around flames with a fire extinguisher in her hands.

    Other moments between the seconds are ... not always expected. A blur of motion as a piece of the floor above comes down, the people underneath forcibly yanked to safety. Time spent checking entire rooms for injured in seconds that would take others much longer as she around.

    But every moment spent paused in lifting, carrying, helping, is a moment not spent elsewhere. None would ever consider any of her time /wasted/ but even when one measures their perceptions in the ticking of nanoseconds, each and every one counts. <<First and second floors clear. Third floor fires extinguished. Damaged wings sealed off. How big of a hazard is fourth?>> she asks, already on the stairs.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Hubert's purple eyes darken, boring into Zatanna's gaze. In a voice deep with sonic undertones, "They are coming. They will kill us all if we do not act now."

Zatanna tightens the grip on her erstwhile enemy's hand and leans forward, eyes blazing, "How? What have they sent?" Though the mage cannot yet see the scraping and clicking scarabs scrabbling through the wreckage, the black miasma emanating from them turns her stomach. Their magic, akin to the Dark Elves, sends tendrils seeking for their target.

"Blind them! They cannot see through your light. Let go of my hands, and I will do what I can. Use your power, mage."

Sitting back, glad to be freed of contact with his darkness, Zatanna exhales slowly to rid herself of the unclean shadows clinging to her.

".seye sti dnilb dna ssenkrad eht kees ,thgiL"

Points of intense ball lightning bounce along the corridor ceiling, searching for darkness.

Hubert gives her a comfortless nod.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
That Mr. Horse is here is .., surprising. Or is it? The figure Daisy glimpses outside is familiar, "Thor..?" no, not Thor. Someone else, but very similar. She blinks once, but no time to focus on it because she has to make sure the room doesn't turn into rubble! Their protections hold though even if most of the rooms around that particular interview room get either fractured or broken by the powerful impact.

But the worst of it all? The gall of these svartalfar, coming here to the heart of SHIELD, daring attack it's core.

Daring to attack her family.

"It's time to show them the mistake they made in coming here.." her voice burning with anger. "Mr. Horse please help us. Let none attack that man." she nods in Hubert's direction.

And while her anger is good fuel for what is to come as her powers get amp'ed the more emotional she gets she also isn't the 'green' agent of the past, not rushing headlong into a fight. Besides, she heard Fury announcing Tac teams are being sent. And there's Natasha too. So instead she remains near the dark elf they are meant to protect, "We should expect trickery out of them, careful.." and so she expands her own senses, trying to sense for unseen approaches towards Hubert!

Save the dark elf, save the world?

Jane Foster has posed:
No further incoming bogeys rip through the skies. Jane -- subject to the taller, blonde glow up -- hovers close to where the missile ripped through the building in anticipation of any follow-up from visible or unseen forces. Her gaze flicks across the heavens, gloved hand tightening around the hammer, undoubtedly searching for a target. Even hearing her is odd, her voice glazed by Asgardian speech and very different from its speech patterns. But the comms are there: <I cannot perceive further objects within restricted airspace. They may have withdrawn. Typical dark elf strategy.> The contempt for such tactics drips strongly enough to be a river, even if she could concede the strategy is a viable one. <Stargazer advancing from behind.>

The uru mallet might just oblige the battle-cry in her spirit, hastening the rotation of her arm to build up Mjolnir's speed in that classic, storm-dancing spin that Thor wove into the symphony of Aesir resistance against giants, trolls, and dark elves.

The drones might not care that a rather tall woman descends roughly parallel to the gaping hole in the Triskelion's fifth floor. In the time she needed to run a basic survey of the sky, they no doubt have advanced on the checkpoint fighting for their lives. Zatanna's ball lightning joins the rattle of gunfire, flashes brightening the corridor.

"For Asgard!" Two words that probably raise no spirits, but they might draw the interest of the controllers if they remotely have any intelligence beyond basic programming. The whirlwind throw sends Mjolnir ahead of her in that propelled zigzag to strike the targets that it might wish. She storms after it, using the walls to leap from point to point, headed for one of the scarab controllers. Time to spin and catch, to throw back vengeance and hammer the dark elves' artifice from behind while the Black Panther unleashes whatever he will from the front. The presence of another Valkyrie in the field is there in the blitz, and her cry may be just intended for Vintridr to follow rather than a river of blood.

Mr. Horse, on his part, follows Daisy's request and interposes himself as a battlesteed can. Nothing like sharp hooves and sharp wit to prove himself useful.

Nick Fury has posed:
As much as the Director would love to join the fray, and he really and truly does, he knows that the orchestration is a great deal more necessary and requires his time and attention. It's not only the building that is up, but his //people//. That, right there, is the more important, even if he really, really doesn't want to be relegated back to the hell that was Delaware. (Useless state if there ever was one.)

Status reports are coming in from all sectors, the fevered pitches just below a panic, but as he addresses each and every one of them in turn, giving them his attention, the response is invariably a more controlled, decisive, 'Yes sir'. It means a lot to most of the rank and file that their Director doesn't run to ground when battles are on their doorstep.

"Cafeteria is for the wounded overflow," is passed on to Medical Control, even if they don't really //need// to hear it. All it does is give them permission to break out the specialty equipment needed, and take the resources required in order to use it for as long as is needed.

Natasha's report as to location and intention is received with a quick, curt, obviously unseen nod. She may not see it, but there is no question that the Director has full faith in the Black Widow, and her abilities. Fury is pacing now in the command center, each of his officers helping get the others that were blown off their feet, and re-righting chairs. Checkpoint Charlie has been overrun, and those enroute should have heard the news via coms. In order to stir them, to bolster their morale and resolve, his next words are instead over the coms, "Heavy hitters are in this fight, too. You're not alone. We're gonna kick some pointy-eared elf ass."

When the coms light with T'Challa's message, Nick turns around to //stare// in the direction that he knows in which the missile is lodged. "There are going to be bogies coming from there, You ready for that, your Majesty?" It's a question that is asked perhaps a little harshly, but the reality is such that while this isn't cosmic level, memories of wrongs are held in spans of millennia. He tempers his words only with the last three words, "Just be careful."

The next report has Fury turning around again to face front, his expression thoughtful before he allows himself just a hint of a smile. Everyone, EVERYONE has a part to play in this. The smile, of course, is short lived, and he'd deny it was there if any had the guts to call him on it. "Patch into frequency seven seven tac four one zero, Agent." There, she'll be able to hear radio traffic there. Fires, yes. Entire sections of walls fallen, though most of the personnel had fallen back and had gone to General Quarters. "If clear, you are to head to the cafeteria to help shore up the medical teams." Nothing like having a speedster deliver not only patients but life-saving devices and items to the staff. This will mean less loss of life than without her aid.

Daisy's soft but no less heated anger is an echo of Nick's own seething rage; how it's played out is just a difference in degree as opposed to kind.

"Status report of our guest. I have no intention of playing babysitter to a cat." He promised!!

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr is, of course, not patched into SHIELD emergency channels, so she simply plays by ear -- heading for the sound of fighting.

    She likewise has no pass for the internal security doors, but there are several convenient holes in the outer structure so that's less of a problem than it might otherwise be.

    She hops up to the hole and looks out over the courtyard, eyes narrowing as she recognizes the composition of a standard Svartalfar heavy kill team.

    She takes a moment to contemplate. None of her weapons are going to be quite as effective against the scarab swarm as the defenders' automatic weapons will be, but the killer drones are another matter.

    The larger drones are only mostly autonomous -- once they've designated a target they will coordinate with one another to focus and outflank it if possible, but they lack the sentience needed for wider strategic awareness, and they do tend to hyperfocus, especially if their target is being hard to track.

    One of them is just about to ambush T'Challa when four and a half feet of Asgardian 'steel' cut into it, slicing through its armor without slowing down.

    Vin withdraws her blade and plants her foot into its side, kicking it out through the wall before its self destruct can engage to take her with it.

    She gives T'Challa a glance. "Do you have communications with the defenders? Inform them that this is a standard Svartalfr heavy kill team -- likely composition of three operatives, about twenty of these heavier drones, and a semi-autonomous scarab swarm, under the operatives' control. They'll be after a specific target, but standard doctrine is to cause as much casualties in the process as can be managed."

    "The scarabs' main danger is their numbers - they're individually fragile but swarm by the thousands. These drones can be taken out with most anti-vehicle weapons, but if we're to stop this assault we need to find and eliminate the operatives."

Thor has posed:
    At the checkpoint there's the rattling sound of gunfire, then screams at points as a scarab leaps onto the side of a SHIELD agent's helmet and then abruptly explodes, taking the soldier down. That checkpoint is overrun, one of the floating drones slashing past the metal barrier with a blaze of energy, then spinning and peppering the other agents who are hunkered down behind cover.
    Near the interrogation room there's the first sounds of chittering as some of those scarabs are seen crawling quickly over the walls and the floor, some almost cartwheeling across the ceiling as their sharp little legs carry them. Natasha gets her first sight line on them, small monstrosities about the size of her hand, surging forth like an ebony tide.
    Outside the building T'Challa and Jane can see the missile and as the Black Panther gets near he can see through the structural damage of the building, the way the nose cone of the vehicle had opened and likely spilled forth its payload of intrusion drones and operatives. He can see some of the firefight going on down the hall toward Checkpoint Charlie, the occasional blast of energy, and can likely hear the rattle of gunfire.
    For the rest of the building, there is an almost ghostly presence at points. The rush of air disrupted by Carin's speed is impressive and for some that's all they see of her. But her presence is definitely felt as she makes it known with those brief moments of danger when some people have no idea what is about to befall them. Abruptly she is there, they are moved, she is gone. The fires fall to her efforts, and she is able to handle much of the faster damage control, stifling situations before they flare into what could have been a cascading failure.
    As those scarabs head toward their target, Zatanna's small spheres of light and lightning begin to dance amongst them, blazing and surging to sizzle what sensors they have. It serves well to slow them, to have them twist around, to slither like a large black scaly snake trying to avoid those points of light. Though they continue onward, but slower.
    Yet as Carin blazes through the building she will be one of the first to realize that those scarabs are not just coming down the hall, but underneath on the floor below, crawling on the ceiling, and likely on the 6th floor as well, as if they had the intention of sealing that room in their skittering bodies.
    Over the Comms, Fury coordinates the entirety of SHIELD in this effort, and at his words he can see the data shift and change over the displays near. He can see the cafeteria being heightened up to a high priority for defense and the allocation of manpower to it. He can see the reports coming from the sentinel and security equipment. But the worst part is he can see when those bio-monitors flat-line. He's fed all this data, and it's amazing he can collate it all with just the one eye.
    In the interrogation room, Hubert backs away from Zatanna, getting in the most solid part of the room, one of the far corners. He shakes his head and says quickly, "You have to keep them away from me..." His purple eyes distancing, his features taking on a harried look. The seemingly middle-aged Arabic man is trying his hardest not to be afraid... but the corners of his psyche are... frayed even though there is no small number of people protecting him. And a magic horse.
    As Vintridr and T'Challa speak, there comes a shout, a clarion battle cry and then there is the crack and sizzle of energy that slashes across the hallway and dances from scarab to scarab, though it finds home on some of those larger drones, causing them to veer as they float in mid-air and then crash into the walls, several of them lying dead with several hundred scarabs sizzling and crackling like black metal popcorn. Though now with the attack taken, those scarabs spread further apart, their attack pattern changing to mitigate the damage from Zatanna and Jane's arcane power.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Well, this isn't what she was expecting. She's failed to anticipate that the enemy is not going to play stupid by doing the same tactical maneuvers endlessly. That's on her for underestimating thier enemies that have had centuries of experience. So that's something to reprimand herself for. Her heavy gun that she's setup for heavy anti-personnel is going to be useless against these things. But still, she has other options. Her Widow's Bites can only cover a limited area at best and that's even if these things are vulnerable to massed electricity. But.. Fortunately she has things that will hopefully be quite effective and quite nasty over on the swarms.
    She goes to take out a trio of concussion grenades, warning over the comms her location <<Launching kickbacks, smoke, and flashers>> primes them, and hurtles them over into the nearest mass of them. This is added over by another set of flashbangs, and then smoke grenades. Time to see how tehse things respond over to concussion kickback and disorientation. If they're thin armored hulls then a concussion grenade -will- be messy on them. Depending if tehy act as a hive or not, smoke and flashbangs may disrupt control for a small area. The point isn't necessarily to take out large numbers.. But thin them out and hopefully break some of the blockage to give the others leverage to move.
    Whether or not ehr attempt at attacking words, she's going to use her grapple gun to launch herself over to the next edge of corridor, where she goes to the next quick armory to use to get a quick reload of grenades and other small explosives.

T'Challa has posed:
T'Challa smiles a bit under his mask as he hears Nick, "Seventeen thousand Fury" is his resonse though after a moment to just let that number sink in as that was how many dots they had seen, "Good luck to you as well." though he doesn't stop going in as he had seen how wide span these things were, and knew this was just the tip of the iceberg. He had a bunch of new security to put in place when he got home after this, and if he didn't interact with the problem now he would be dragged into it sooner or later. He knew those numbers were not the kind you used for one person. No, this was a bigger attack they had stumbled on, and so were now involved in.

Looking up as his claws come out but the thing is already stabbed T'Challa nods to her claws going back in as he calmly says over the radio (Make that two flying ladies) correction his count from earlier. He doesn't have time to turn though as while it is leaking it hasn't eploded so using his Kimoyo beads he starts to try to hack into the bomb, and disarm it from doing so, and spreading what is left with the Pather to the four winds, and make the possiblity of it taking anyone back out of here impossible as to cut off their exit.

He stops, and looks up at the person that just came in.. "I know you want to fight, but you are needed here." he states pointing up at the buildiing itself. "We need to tilt this thing up to be a support beam." It was a little large, and he would help though he is not near as strong as her only maxing out at around two tons, but if they left it the building was going to topple. Even while his tech is hacking away trying to make the thing inert, Black Panther is moving to the opened front trying to get into position to lift it. "Come.. we do not have much time." he finishes looking at Vintridr.

Carin Taylor has posed:
    Zoomy's heart skips a beat. She's absolutely gotten used to authority and orders. But she hadn't expected the Director himself to be in her ear and give her a direct task. <<O-of course, Director!>> she sends over, still mid-stride, rushing up those stairs. Her wetware shifts to the priority channel at the speed of thought, patching her in to the secure emergency 'net in the building. So much more opens up to her, and it would be overwhelming if not for her Brain Box prioritizing and parsing data as it comes.

    But the task at hand is the fourth floor--or what's really left of it. Impact damage, broken lights, and injured. If she's not putting out fires she's rounding up breathing masks from wall boxes and passing them out. She's not exactly a trained wilderness survivalist but she can wrap wounds in gauze and padding to help stop bleeding. Survivors are rounded up and ushered towards the stairs, and in a blink she's gone.

    The scarabs on the ceiling are ever-present, though, and the skittering shapes do little to alleviate some of the panic. <<Lots of bugs on the ceiling, fourth floor. Evacuating and sealing what I can... l-lots of damage and injured here.>> She tries to keep her voice steady as she records, saves, and forwards images of what she's seeing to emergency responders. At the absolute least, she's giving the crews in the secondary medical area an idea of what to expect when people do start to filter down from the stairwells with the help of other able-bodied agents.

    She doesn't even have to ask anyone to clear a path for her as she pulls supplies out of medical stations, using her speed-proof courier bag to carry as much as she can to bring downstairs. The pale redhead darts between agents, leaving a rush of wind in her wake, deposits everything she has in the Cafeteria and is off again. This time, though, her next trip with a fire extinguisher is more of the offensive variety.

    The least she can do as she clears out rooms is hose off the scarabs with fire-foam and give them a little speed-whirlwind to slam them into the floor/ceiling/walls what have you. An ICER would probably really come in handy about now.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
With those senses expanded it means Daisy is able to -hear- way too well as the agents at Point Charlie are taken out, lives snuffed. It only fuels her anger further. More and more ..., and more. <<Please help them, Stargazer>>

"Zatanna, Sleipnir. There's an intruder coming up from the ceiling right above us." she calls out, sensing those subtle vibrations above them." A beat, "Right there.." she nodding towards the point of entry that she expects the elf to use.

She moves back closer to be in the way between Hubert and whoever may be coming but she knows she has to vent out that anger somehow.

And what better way to do that than by kicking some skinny dark elf ass indeed?

The floor rumbles again and this time it isn't a missile attacking but Quake as she calls on her powers, the debris around her slowly starting to rise and vibrate around her. Wrists come closer as she points her hands forward. "First we crack the shells..." she murmurs, right as those grenades from Natasha explode in the hallway, "And then we crack the nuts inside..."

A shockwave of vibrational energy unleashes towards the oncoming drones as she unleashes her pent up anger towards the drone attack!

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
They exist in the bubble of connection, Dark Elf and Mage, ignoring the com chatter around them until Daisy's voice breaks through. Hubert backs further into the corner, purple eyes trained on the ceiling.

You will be protected," the mage answers, bitter words in her mouth. Nothing she has seen or felt of the man informs her of his goodness. Hubert is no different than the ones pursuing him.

Zatanna clenches her fists and screws her eyes tight, concentrating on the orbs of electricity. They burn brighter and take on weight, as heavy as depleted uranium. A deadly rain falls on the black targets scurrying toward the shielded room.

"Sit!" she commands, dropping any pretense of diplomacy. "I will portal you from here if need be."

Zatanna neglects to tell him where or to whom. Instead, with a grim smile, she wings a message to the hammer-wielder. <<I have a package for you.>>

A violet line opens behind his chair. Zatanna gives Hubert a determined push into the waiting portal.

Vintridr has posed:
    Vin listens to T'Challa's explanation, then nods and regards the damaged supports. "... That won't hold forever, but it should at least last long enough to let everyone evacuate," she agrees, moving into position and bracing herself.

    For a moment, little seems to be happening, but then with a grunt from the woman and a shriek of stressed metal the twisted wreckage of the missile moves from its resting place, slowly tilting up toward vertical until the main part of its structure has taken the place of the supporting beam that it damaged during its impact.

    That task done, Vin glances down at the diagnostics display on T'Challa's beads. "Tread carefully -- the Svartalfr's love for treachery extends to their anti-tampering protocols," she warns.

Nick Fury has posed:
Nick is indeed getting all of the information, all of the pertinent data fed in to him via coms, via the networks, and that does include pertinent negatives as well. He's got cameras, monitors, and that black scarab carpet isn't something he likes. At all. "Find the damned controller. I'm sending a couple of my scientists down to the deployment missile to see what we can get from it." Maybe there's a hint in terms of control from there? Even those floating drones have to be taking orders from something, someone, somewhere. Right?

With every passing minute, Fury is feeling more and more surly. He's seeing biofeed monitors just blipping out where only moments before there had been life signs. He's fighting to keep his building from falling down around him; No. They're fighting for both that and their asset, their very valuable asset, apparently. "Seventeen fucking thousand," is repeated. He's not about to advertise their losses, certainly not out loud. Those in the command center already know.. and they, too, aren't saying a word.

It's eerily silent, the Agents that man the monitors and com units don't speak unless they absolutely have to. They're fielding the lower priority items; the world is still turning, after all, and they have agents in the field, in the air, on the Helicarrier, deployed to virtually every remote area in the world. Including those 244 sites. (244?)

It's not easy. Not by a long shot, but this is his job, his responsibility; putting damned talented men and women in harms way for the good of... something. This time, Earth. Next time? Could very well be Earth again. And again. //That's// what the damned politicians never understand when all is said and done.

The Director begins to pace once more, but this time it's more in the style of a caged great cat, waiting to leave its cage and strike. Finally, Fury's had pretty much enough of those damned beetles and their drones, "EMP how full are the shielding? If I have my people throw voltage down, tell me how likely it'll succeed." Tucked away in the message is that silent but deadly undertone of //Talk to me, people.// He's gleaning reports from the radio chatter, but little else. Not much that is actionable, that is. At least not from his side, and if he can fry the sons of.. yeah, he will.

Jane Foster has posed:
Stargazer carves her way through the black carpet of scarabs, many of which are distressingly dissatisfactory to punch. Boots finding purchase on a bit of exposed, twisted beam, she drops into a crouch and catches Mjolnir on the return circuit of its devastating path. The hammer's momentum pulls them both forward in a corkscrew twist, allowing her to adaptively crush and bash anything not disrupted by the shockwaves moving from the opposite end of the fifth floor.

Drones on the wing prove the more agile opponent, invisible targets notwithstanding. Hairs stand up against the back of her nape under that silver helm. Jane breathes deep, the thrill coursing down her spine and rebounding again through her extremities. Eyes fill with that elemental white-blue incandescence through the helm's slits. A moment later, the lashing sylphs and electric wisps blow off of her and Mjolnir in tandem. Any EMP might have a secondary echo in the fury of the heavens bending to channel through the Asgardian relic.

She whips around and slams the hammer into the nearest drone, sending a ricochet of lightning backward and sidelong in a forking web. The polarized charge just about makes her teeth ring, a glorious sensation -- and all the more to silently lend her thanks to the house of Odin and ally in hand -- that is more head-spinning than ending the revolution.

She drops down at the besieged Checkpoint Charlie or close enough to count, wading into the debris to drag it aside in a mindful set of rather protective rings to pull out anyone still breathing from possible untimely death by entombment. <I have survivors in the hallway, Lady J-- Quake. Cover them, I will be on the move anon.>

A package, you say?

That might explain Mr. Horse ruffling his feathers and dropping through another of those uncanny mini-portals that Aesir horses and Black Knight steeds are rather noted for. Most because the package needs to /be/ somewhere, and that might be airborne.

Thor has posed:
    In the hall there's the repeated /CHOOMPF-CHA-CHOOMPF!/ of grenades igniting, kicking up masses of the scarabs and sundering many, splitting them into pieces as they splash apart from impacts and lightning and raw arcane power. Their sensors already over-loaded by Zatanna's spellwork are taxed to the limit by the addition of Natasha's concussion weapons. They can see that tide now diverted, crawling around the points, trying to reach up and over, to find those small structural holes in the walls, to crawl through them, to find _somewhere_ that gives them cover from this madness.
    Having recognized the structural weaknesses, T'Challa is able to start to manipulate the missile. His Kimoyo beads quantifying the damage to the building while they infiltrate what data system there is left on the missile. It should work, but indeed will take quite a bit of muscle to get it in place with himself and with Vintridr. Though those words of caution are well heeded. The beads come back with a report, however, that there is no evac system for the missile. Though it does have a self-destruct mechanism that is keyed to detonate at the termination of... three operatives that were inside the vehicle. No method for recovery are included, apparently it is... indeed a suicide mission for these warriors.
    On the floor beneath the warzone, Carin hurries about tending to the fallen, to the damage, to the flames in her own inimitable fashion. People find themselves moved to the evacuation avenues, the stairs, and a more stable hole in the floor that allows people to descend if they're at least passingly ambulatory. Then she turns her attention to those scarabs, and with the equipment on hand she is able to slow their assault, that foam fouling the grip of their small needle-like legs, her spinning speed then helping to break their formation up and send them crashing into the walls with enough force that many of them shatter and lay unmoving.
    Within the room when Daisy calls out the possible incursion of one of the intruders, Hubert draws back and grabs a heavy office chair, lifting it up as if it were nothing and perhaps getting ready to try and... hit something with it. But then Daisy steps up and she focuses her powers at her enemies, the reverberations from her Inhuman ability slamming into the hall and shattering part of it again, but her power adding to that medley of destruction inflicted on the main rush of those scarabs. Countless numbers sizzle and crackle and pop from the weapons and powers aimed at them. It seems like the heroes have been able to check the surge of the monstrous mass. There are still thousands in the hall and the floors above and below, but they are reeling and their numbers seriously depleted.
    Hubert turns to Zatanna and when she tells him to sit... he does exactly that, the chair hitting the ground and... he sits in it. Then the portal opens and he is _shoved_ through it, the wheels on the chair squeaky-squeaking as one moment he's there, the next moment... he is not.
    Which is when suddenly that chair and its occupant disappear and reappear... right in front of Jane.
    In the command area, one of the comm techs turns to Fury as she pulls her earbud out of her ear and says quickly, "Sir, the damage to our defense grid is staggering. We're open to further attacks, roughly 70% effective loss of firepower. Should we... should we evacuate?"
    There's a sudden look as the rest of the people in the command center look over toward Fury, some of the chatter falling off.
    In the blazing hallway of Checkpoint Charlie, Asgard makes its presence known, with the surge of lightning that sizzles and blasts across the distance. Scarabs die in the scores, while those hovering drones that had been firing round upon round at the SHIELD agents huddled in cover had endured. Only to be given a glimpse of hope... then freedom at the behest of the hammer-wielder.
    However near Natasha at the other end of the hall there is a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision. Even as at the end near Jane, several

Thor has posed:
    However near Natasha at the other end of the hall there is a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision. Even as at the end near Jane, several of those drones turn to try and send fire her way... and the package's way.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
She's used the first lot of grenades. As the blasts from Quake, the EMP, and everything else clears one path through the corridor, Natasha gives an update over on her position as her armor's insulation makes her safe from anything. As soon as the first wave of threats are down, she goes to ready another bit of grenades over and moves to rotate them this time.
    First she launches a trio of concussion grenades down, kickign one to the far end where something had caught her movement, then a flashbang. Then she goes to take out the enxt addition to her small arsenal of explosives seh had taken from the weapons locker.
    This one is a cryo grenade, which would blanket several meters over in a deep freeze. If there were more hostiles, they would be disoriented from the thrown bolts first, and then the grenade would freeze them up, and clear the area for an alternate retreat route. IF it wasn't hostile..
    Well, then they would just have a rather nasty case of hypothermia and be in the medical facilities for awhile. Natasha was in 'if it surprises, blast it' mode now. <<Contact report, engaging wtih freezers>>. Using faster terms meant it was easier to get the impression through on comms and easier to understand if there was jamming or disruption. The faster one could get out words, the less time spent wasting breaths while shooting.

T'Challa has posed:
Watching her lift he is only strong enough to spin it a bit to make sure it is solidly in place. With a nod he looks at Vin, "Thank you for the warning, but if my tech can not do there is nothing on this planet that can." he notes a bit confidently as those were some of the highest tech hacking devices around thanks to his sister. When the missle is in place now holding up the 6th floor and beyond temporarly, he looks at the way the others went from the exit of this.. "Wait before you head out to fight..." he goes back to the radio (Done what I can with the missle but do not kill all the three operatives they have a dead mans switch! Location of the operatives?) he asks as he had gave them the estimated numbers before. After he ges the numbers he tells Vin then nods, pointing a thumb the way they went. "Good work... Go get them." and gives her a nod with an arm over his chest in respect for her assistance.

Panther wasn't sure he could disarm the self-destruct so they had to find them then he smiles a bit under his mask.

On the radio he goes again (Those who can spread out what you have on the floor, paint, flour, whatever... Look for the footprints!) he knew it was a wierd request, but he knew the weakness of stealth as he had to face it all the time. He looks at Vin and wished her luck, though he did the same to make sure there wasn't one here waiting to jump him as he had heard they were tricky.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Ahhh, the chittering cries of cracked drones and scarabs in the morning... What a sweet, sweet sound. And now Daisy is fully into it after having sent that first wave of anger into their assailants, senses sharp, "Alright, time to..." a pause as she sees Zee push the dark elf through the portal.

"Where did you ...." but then she sees Sleipnir disappearing and she realizes what happened. Over to Stargazer. <<Package is with Stargazer. Keep them off her and prepare their evacuation. Rest of the rooms can be nuked>> Or EMP'ed in this case!

And as for Daisy? She goes to provide cover, jumping out of the room and into the corridor to join Natasha, blasting away with concussion blasts at whatever remaining critters remain calling out a warning. "Careful, that sneaky dark elf is nearing your position, Nat."

Stealthy elveses hate Daisy.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Once the package is launched into the aether to drop in front of Jane, Zatanna cricks her head to the left and right with audible snaps then shakes out her arms. Now, free of the dark elf, she can concentrate on defense.

Aftershocks tremble underfoot while Zatanna expands her magical net of awareness. Each scarab is a scar marring the world. She doubles the rolling lightning balls in their pursuit. The scarabs unfortunately leave holes where they are punched into oblivion.

The shield around them wavers until the raises her hands to reinforce the filaments of light. <<Sling him back if need be."

Carin Taylor has posed:
    Despite the good she's doing against the scarabs on the fourth floor, Carin's primary task is moving past the black tide on the ceiling and covering as much of that level as possible. A last double and triple check for survivors hiding, injured, or in the worst case, dead so she can bring their identifications back with their exact locations. Just anything to help organize, even if it's of the rather morbid sort.

    With every room she has access to scoured and rooms flagged with stick'ems on the doors to indicate just how bad off they are inside, Carin moves down through the third and second levels with the same tasks in mind. Check rooms. Label doors. And collect every last bit of medical and first aid supplies she can find. Boxes on bathroom walls. Supply closets. If there's adhesive medical strips and alcohol prep pads, she's grabbing them. It's not as if she knows the Triskelion by heart, but with her wetware marking off rooms on the map, she's able to make the most of her time.

    Make the most of her time and still be back to the fourth floor with two water cooler jugs to spray around like a broken sprinkler head--and use her shocky gloves to jolt the Hel out of straggler bugs. All while keeping an ear out for developments if she's needed elsewhere immediately.

Jane Foster has posed:
The appearance of Hubert in front of her leaves no time for hesitation. Jane wraps her arms around the dark elf, pulling him uncomfortably close and turning her back to face the blasts. Each one of them has to contend with her armour, and while they break through, they'll certainly sting her less than they might burn him. One solid hook of her foot kicks the chair back in a diagonal direction that hopefully confuses the remaining sentry drones with a threatening missile. If the fates are kind, she doesn't accidentally bean Vintridr or accidentally detonate the missile that T'Challa worked so painstakingly hard to disarm.

Dark elf chair suicide cannot be ruled out.

With the chair still caroming, she points Mjolnir back from whence she came. Momentum comes not with a smooth acceleration but a jerk, as she rolls to keep Hubert shielded by her body rather than risking a direct hit. The backblast of the air around them might help projectiles but less so energy weapons.

Hope has a cost. It always will; adrift among the stars, burned and lacerated in the sky, or punctured and smoking on the ground.

She promised. SHIELD promised. Fury promised. Her oath must be fulfilled, even at the terrible cost of her own life.

She breaks for the open skies, the pearl-white Aesir horse opening its wings to keep up with the pair racing for freedom. Or Odin knows where.

Nick Fury has posed:
Now the information from the more specialized teams begins to trickle in once more, allowing the Director to make a more informationed decisions regarding the disposition of the rest of the building. He's got non-combatants on floors, some rescued by Agent Taylor and her case of the zoomies, deposited where they needed to be, that is, in the multi-faceted, multi-purposed, and all around useful area that is the cafeteria.

The worried staff now that he has before him, he can see they are exhausted, and they're frayed at more than just the edges. The Triskelion is taking a great deal of damage, and it's questionable as to whether it'll be standing by tomorrow. But, as long as they have their asset, that is the one being that can possibly help him locate //their// asset and try and stem the tide of war that is coming. At their requests, then, Director Fury shakes his head slowly, his one eye training on each and every one of them in his room individually. "Not yet." Striding down to where one system lies before the woman who had the courage enough to speak up, he leans over and hits a couple of keys; the screens he accesses are not only locked to the normal user, they're hidden as a sort of failsafe.

There are some sharp intakes of breath around him as one by one they begin to realize a few things all at the same time. Cameras blink on, their red lights looking very much like the running lights of the hall, and so they're difficult to differentiate. One, two, three corridors, each blinking to life, and in the next moment, there is a shudder in the halls, and it's not Daisy's fault! There are flickers, and it may become apparent to some that the red running lights are shielded...

EMP away!

Vintridr has posed:
    "That would be their usual protocol, yes," Vin replies, nodding. "If their attack fails their lives are forfeit anyway; they'll fight as if they're already dead."

    She returns the salute, her blade flashing back into existence. "The usual detonation method is loss-of-signal; if you can identify the telemetry stream you should be able to bypass and duplicate it."

    With that, she turns and heads deeper into the complex, trusting her senses to guide her to the nearest battle.

Thor has posed:
    The explosions went off, impacting hard and heavy around where Natasha threw them, that flicker of movement... perhaps it was an illusion. Only for in the next moment it resolves itself into a black armored figure that was clinging to the ceiling, one gauntlet still twisted with ice and frozen partially. Yet that injury does not stop it from dropping down hard upon the graduate from the Red Room, seeking to land heavily upon her.
    Only for her trained skills to kick in and she rolls smoothly out of the way. For a moment the two fighters square up, defensive stances held. Natasha has her first glimpse of a Dark Elf Assassin in that form-fitting armor, dual blades extending from its forearms, and its edged and spined silhouette seemingly filled with malice as the two are likely about to try and take each others' lives...
    Meanwhile the Kimoyo beads continue to do their work while T'Challa and Vintridr secure the frame of the missile nito becoming a make-shift support for the building. A wise move as much of the mayhem on the inside battling the Kill Team could well have crippled the building itself. The Panther does not get an all clear from the beads, their current response is to just flash over and over 'WORKING' on his HUD.
    What had been a slow in their advance quickly became a rout as the programming in the drones start to twist back on themselves. Some of the scarabs detonate against each other, their sensors so scrambled that they unleash their small payloads upon their mates. Then another wash of gravitic power plays over them, shattering them, sending them rocketing back as Daisy continues to make them pay the price for those that intrude upon SHIELD's home.
    Then the addition of the roiling power of Zatanna's lightning starts to set off a catastrophic chain of explosions, the efforts of the heroes causing the carpet of monstrosities to suddenly resemble an old rug riddled by moths. The darkness of their approach recedes, though their small mandibles clack and creak as whatever communications they are capable of are given back and forth in something akin to panic.
    Meanwhile during all of the mayhem, the speedster Carin hurtles about the damaged infrastructure of the three floors so assaulted by the impact of the missile. She's able to provide the support of several teams worth of paramedics, her efforts an blur of triage and focus. She performs the role well of keeping some of the injured souls from taking a turn for the worse, and provides paths for their evacuation. The straggler scarabs that she comes into contact with feel her own particular brand of jury-rigged justice that serves for the now.
    Then at Checkpoint Charlie that hope manifests in the form of a figure hurtling skyward, carrying its burden and aided by the flap of equine wings, accompanied by the flying steed. The package is 'delivered' and carried up and quickly out of the combat zone, into the sky, flying upward.
    Down below in the command center eyes still on Fury. The decision is made, the blast doors closed, the systems secured. He swipes his fingers across the right data panels. Systems that were hopefully never meant to fire do so, the charges build...
    And suddenly that EMP fires with the low _SHOOM_ that comes from far within the Triskelion, causing many systems to end. Causing the lights to flicker.
    Around the building suddenly all of those scarabs go instantly still. The armed drones that had been rising up out of the building suddenly drop out of the air and hit the ground in a clatter of metal.
    And that figure that had been squaring up opposite Natasha. He sees the scarabs stop, the drones die. His armor still functions, but all he has time for is to say a single word.
    "No."
    Then there's the sound of a soft *PAK!* as an explosive within his helmet fires. The eyelets of the dark elf are replaced with a red gore in his helmet as he falls back and down.
    Eventually... another pair of bodies are found. But the crisis moment is past. The package is secured. There is still much to do. Many injured and

Thor has posed:
    
    Eventually... another pair of bodies are found. But the crisis moment is past. The package is secured. There is still much to do. Many injured and wounded. The dead to be honored. Recovery will take some time. Though when T'Challa checks his HUD as he will at least be rewarded with the Kimoyo bead informing him. 'Process Complete'.