14586/Back For Blood

Back For Blood
Date of Scene:	02 April 2023
Location:	Chelsea
Synopsis:	Janet runs afoul of Baron Blood, and Brian Braddock's timely intervention saves her life.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Brian Braddock

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet reappears a few feet too high over the rooftops and hits a chimney stack badly. She grunts in pain and drops three feet to the rough-hewn rooftop, which only adds to her discomfort. The Wasp scrambles to her hands and knees and starts into a shambling retreat while trying to shake the cobwebs. The low clouds reflect New York's never-sleeping city lights, painting the world in a dull sepia tone.

"Wasp to anyone, I need backup in Chelsea," she says, speaking in a harsh whisper with one finger trying to activate her ear mic. "Hello? Godfucking damnit, is this thing on--?"

A blur of shadow abruptly boils into a humanoid shape just in front of her and clawed talons lash out. Janet yelps and evades them by launching herself backwards and vanishing with a puft of displaced New York air.

The shadow becomes a man-shaped thing, hunched and predatory. He grins toothily and puts a pair of oversized fangs on display. "Come out, come out, ladybug," he coos in a rasping English dialect with a hint of Spanish to it. "I'm not so bad, you know. We could even be friends. I won't hurt you," he promises.

Behind a radiator unit, Janet reappears and sits on her rear with a pained expression. She twists this way and that, trying to pin down the source of the strange voice.

Her eyes start to dim and she rests her shoulders against the rattling aluminum. The voice continues: "I can smell your skin just like I can taste your blood. Such a spicy treat." Blood licks at the fast-drying blood on his talon. "I'm going to be high for a week. Just sit there and rest, my dear, just rest, rest..."

Janet's eyes start to lid and her head rests against the radiator too. "Just... a quick break," she mumbles in agreement.

"Yes, just a short break my dear," Blood says-- and the vampire materializes out of the shadows in front of her, slowly stooping to one knee and reaching a hand out to brush his talons against her forehead. Janet's eyes go out of focus, fixed in the distance behind him. "Rest, lovely, rest," he continues to soothe, and leans forward until she can't see the sharp fangs he bares at her throat.

Brian Braddock has posed:
It really is sheer dumb luck that Brian's study group needed to schedule for tonight -- and not only tonight, but in the Chelsea-based apartment of one of his fellow graduate students. There had been undergraduate papers to grade and a beer or two had in commiseration for their plight while reviewing Jasper's thesis, but in the end, Brian pleaded an early morning. It's a ways back to Gotham anyways, so shoot him an email with thoughts about his own thesis-in-progress.

Granted, it -is- a ways back to Gotham by car...or ferry...but not by flying.

He's grateful for the cloud cover. It makes blending in all the easier against the dully-lit sky. He's grateful too for the thin yet warm material of the facemask covering him from nose to chin, all the better to hide him in his hood. But what's that? -- that tinny voice just at the edge of his register? Brian focuses and the words come into sharp clarity: //- backup in Chelsea.// Wait. He knows that waspish voice. //Hello? Godfucking damnit, is this thing on--?// Pulling up short with graceful abruptness, the Captain hovers there holding the cross-chest straps of his pack, scanning, scanning, scanning...there.

Oh god, THERE.

He can't tell //who// is leaning in, but he doesn't like it because last time he checked? Janet never invited shadowy strangers into her personal space quite like that. Thus? Arcing down with the blurred precision of a stooping peregrine, certain of his decision, Brian (in his insignia-less hoodie, jeans and boots) attempts to aim the heel of a boot dead at the head of aforementioned creeper.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Baron Blood is so fixated on his next meal that Braddock's foot imposes itself on him like a falling star. It drives the vampire's head to the ground with shocking speed and the impact *cracks* several support beams in the building's roof. Blood staggers away with a curiously simian shuffle, using his hands and feet both to skitter along the asphalt.

The impact shakes Janet loose from her reverie and she blinks awake in a second. "Fuck!" she spits-- and disappears again. A moment later there's an imperceptible rush of air as Janet lands-- almost crashes-- onto the ground next to him, rolling into an awkward crouch. "Jesus, I feel like I just shotgunned a whole case of Four Loko," she complains, and shakes her head to try and clear the cobwebs.

Blood stands up, swaying like a broke marionette, and turns to face Brian. The grin stays in place as the vampire casually grabs his skull-- dangling from a broken neck-- and quite literally screws it back into place on his shoulders. "And a noble interloper," Blood proclaims, drawing out the mockingly. "Well well. Playing the deus ex machina tonight? And here I thought Americans had no backbone. If you think you can intervene to save her, I might just show you yours," Blood says, and flexes his inch-long talons rather pointedly.

Brian Braddock has posed:
"That's one way to spend a Saturday night," Brian replies very nearly soundlessly to the Wasp while she reorients herself out of the inflicted daze. "Take a moment, find your balance." He risks a very quick glance to her before straightening up out of his own landing poise and shrugging off his laptop-pack. It gets slung-slid off to one side, coming to rest up against the radiator unit. Broad shoulders then roll along with his neck as he inhales, exhales, watches the arch-vampire realign his head with queasy certainty.

"I rather like my spine where it is," Brian replies drily back to Blood, his accent not...British, but ironed out into something nearly null. Practicing a non-regional dialect when he was young for funsies is panning out to be surprisingly useful as an adult. "And I doubt she needs saving. Back-up is another matter entirely. //You// need a little reminder about boundaries and how 'no' means 'no'. I didn't bring any newspaper to put down though, so...I'll sweep up when I'm done here." The hoodie-wearing man then shifts into martial stance, his hands readied and semi-cupped.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet gets to her feet, borrowing a little balance from Brian by grabbing his arm. She blinks when muscles don't yield at all. "That's not a Saturday night, that's pre-funking on Thursday," she informs him. Her tone's a little tart, as if she's insulted by the idea that a gallon of malt liquor would slow her down in the least. Once she's sure her feet are under her, she starts circling sideways so they don't form a single target. Rather than repartee, Janet's lips soundlessly form numbers as she does some sort of mental math to clear her head.

"No... no, I don't think so," Blood says. There's something a little cautious in his voice, the sort of tone one takes when unsure if they recognize a person or not. "In fact I think I'll make an example of you both. You seem like the white knight sort. Maybe I'll make you watch while I unmake this woman." Blood's voice slips into lilting sussurances once again, and his eyes fairly glow as he stares directly into Brian's visage. Janet trembles visibly and balls her hand into a fist as the psychic domination starts to encroach on the two heroes. "It will be so much fun, just us, the three of us, just having fun, so much fun..." Blood has somehow closed the gap with Brian and starts reaching out with those strangely soothing gestures, stroking the air between them as if enticing a beloved child. "There will be so much to enjoy."

An index finger enters Brian's field of vision. "Enjoy this." An electric arc so intense it ignites the ozone crackles around Blood's temple and the force if it exploding sends him flying laterally with a lot of momentum.

Janet looks at Brian, then reaches around and slaps his ass with a firm hand. "Get back in the fight, big boy!" she tells the Brit with a singing sort of glee.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Brian's smirk starts off strong behind the anonymity of his facemask. A villain uncertain is a villain on the backfoot. He knows all too well the power self-confidence grants. So too does a smart-ass comment start to form on his tongue, but he finds himself suddenly wondering what this...'fun' is about. What fun. What's 'fun' about all of this? Is he supposed to come closer? The gestures seem to be telling him to come closer. Why are Blood's eyes doing the glowy thing?

BZZT.

Wait, where the glowy eyes go? They were talking about 'fun', but Brian finds himself unable to figure out still what this 'fun' is supposed to be.

//CRACK//. Janet's hand lands home. Suddenly, this 'fun' is not important anymore and no longer a distraction.

"BLOODY HELL!?" So much for the non-regional dialect cover. Brian shoots the shorter woman a disbelieving glare before shaking his own head very much like she did before. "You //could// have punched me in the arm!" Definitely full British accent on display. "Where is he? I'll show him fun."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Where's the fun in that?" Janet sallies, with a fierce, gleaming grin. Her eyes cut from Brian's outraged blue gaze to something behind him, and widen suddenly. "Ther--"

Blood crashes into Brian with a full shoulder tackle, screeching in rage. The three of them go down in a tangle of limbs and Blood comes out on top. The vampire lashes Brian's upraised arms with his talons, trying to get to more vulnerable flesh in his gut. "I'll skin you alive!" he screams, no longer trying to use his alluring hypnosis. The electric spark dug a fist-sized crater in his temple and his undead flesh, burned and ashed, is retracted to the other side of his face. Even as he attacks, that skin can be seen growing back.

Janet rushes at Blood when he reaches an arm behind him for a powerful blow. She hits it with her full weight. Around and over it goes and she lands near Brian with Blood's arm in a classic armbar, and breaks it with a twist of her hips.

Blood cackles. "Tickles," he snarls, and turns to dig his inch-long fangs into Janet's inner calf. The Wasp shrieks in agony and releases his arm entirely, trying to twist her way clear of his deadly bite.

Brian Braddock has posed:
It doesn't matter if Brian takes the cue of widening eyes or the interrupted word: ass-over-tea-kettle, there they all go. He instinctively attempts to keep his own arms from flailing through the tumbling and grunts as he feels Blood's talons glance off the metaphysically-strong defenses layering his entire person over. Each consecutive hit feels a modicum stronger, more rattling, more apt to make the Brit grit his teeth harder.

But skin him alive? "Even electrotherapy's not going to help you change your mind on that, it seems," he grunts as he takes another preternaturally strong blow against crossed forearms and then deflects another off to one side. This allows for Janet to come in for the impressive arm-bar as Blood needs must open up frame for his attempted haymaker -- and what a sound, the snap of bone. The Captain is in mid-roll and regaining of his balance when the vampire nails the bite home.

Brian's own blood goes cold as he hears the Wasp scream in pain. Quickly calculating in the hyper-clear freeze-frame of a pause, he lunges in and jabs fingers up into the soft tissue at the underside of Blood's jaw, the better to spasm the vampire's jaw open. "DROP IT!" he bellows as he then tries to wrap an arm around Blood's neck for a headlock slash biggest damn koala bear-hug this side of Sydney.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Immortal though he is, Blood was once mortal, and no one likes being poked in the throat. He croaks and gags and his head pivots back. It's enough for Janet; she abruptly vanishes into thin air again, leaving blood suspended in midair to fall to the ground in a grotesque rain. Blood slowly rolls his eye back to Brian-- and grins. The flesh on his face has almost healed and a lump is slowly forming under the restored flesh of his missing eyelid.

Blood abruptly vanishes from Brian's grip, evaporating into a mist that flits around him. The undead reincorporates below Brian, sweeping his legs and landing on his stomach in a weirdly boneless crouch.

"Has Brittania sent her hero to me again?" Blood cackles in mad delight. "I know well the taste of this flesh! Ahhhh, Captain my Captain!" Blood jeers, and unhinges his jaw to snap a bite at Brian's thick neck.

Brian Braddock has posed:
"I'll show -- you -- fun, you -- shambling -- "

Brian has a few seconds to grit all this out while he grapples the arch-vampire into a standstill. It's more than a little disturbing to suddenly find the wiry frame of the undead vanished entirely from his hold. Exhaling forcefully as his arms and legs reflexively close for a second, Brian lands only to find himself uprighted flat to his back. Another breath leaves him in a whuft and wheezed curse.

By the wet spot on his lower back, he knows in one of those split-second realizations that he's landed in the small puddling of Janet's blood. Great. That's not coming out of his hoodie.

Grimacing, Brian looks up and his eyes go wide as he sees the flash of ivory fangs coming right at him! Fangs? Meet fist.

Like...really awkwardly, meet fist, covered in that impossibly-irritating metaphysical barrier and now jammed literally into Blood's mouth to stopper up any more biting attempts. It's like gnawing on a rock. "You were always terrible at reciting poetry, Falsworth, just shut up," he snaps as he tries pushing forwards and countering in order to trap Blood back-down on the roof. "Lady Wasp! Your plasma, blind him!"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Achk-- gahk--" Blood slashes at Brian's wrist to no avail, save for shredding his sleeve. The stalwart captain seems to have found a way to shut the vampire up pretty effectively. He rears backwards and from the set of his shoulders, it seems he's about to disappear into the mist once again.

Janet returns to the world a split-second before he can transform, and plants a foot on Brian's brawny chest for leverage. Instead of tackling Blood, plasma blossoms around her hands and she discharges a tremendous burst of that bioplasma right into the vampire's face. It's enough to blow his skull open around Brian's fist, and the report crashes around them like a stray burst of thunder overhead. Blood falls backwards and scrabbles at his face-- what's left of it, anyway. With no jaw or tongue, all that can be heard is a hoarse sound like wind whistling through an empty pipe.

"Keep him busy!" Janet bids Brian-- and disappears again!

Brian Braddock has posed:
So much for his hoodie's sleeve. Between those horrifying talons and the smudge of blood, it's doomed for the garbage at this point. Brian has a briefly smug moment and commentary of, "What? I can't hear you, old boy, speak up." before Janet arrives.

FLASH --

-- and the Captain's body resounds to the detonation of the plasma at such close range. Now freed of his fangy shackling, he dances back and shakes out his hand more for relief at the pins-and-needles felt than the viscera clinging to it. Sucking an inhale through his teeth at the feeling of his metaphysical shielding temporarily strained, the Captain then darts in. Quick, his blows to the vampire's cervical vertebrae, and lower spine to follow, for the sake of temporary paralysis.

"You wouldn't happen to have any holy water, would you? Oh, no, wait, silver," the Brit amends on the fly, looking around quickly for any sign of the Wasp.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet appears next to Brian and lands on her own two feet. She almost immediately falls and is saved only by his quick reflexes. The Wasp hisses in pain, favoring her injured leg and unable to put weight on it. "Fresh out. Didn't pack my stakes and crosses, either," she says, voice tense with pain. "But it's OK. I brought something better."

Blood slowly stands, head cocking this way and that. Blind, speechless, the vampire still radiates predatory rage, and seems to be trying to zero in on a voice. It's at that moment that the constant, low drone of the city changes. In fact two distinct frequencies emerge, one of them the sound of cars and trucks and moving things, and the other a sussurance of wings.

Lots, and lots of wings.

Wasps flit past Brian's ear. One or two, then dozens, then hundreds. Maybe thousands. They descend on Blood, who simply swats them away as if they are minor irritants. Dragonflies can be seen too, monsters hibernating during the winter in old safe holes in the city.

Blood suddenly emits another voiceless, hoarse scream. And then another. The wasps aren't stinging him; they're chewing him apart. Tiny bite by bite. Ragged holes appear in his undead flesh as they chew into him. The vampire flattens himself and rolls around, crushing them by the score, but there are always more to replace the dead. Even ants start to boil out of the rooftops, climbing up his legs and taking a bloody harvest.

Blood abruptly gets to his feet and lurches away, trying to shamble to safety. The vampire dissolves into pink mist to evade his insect foes.

And to absolutely no avail, as every flying creature swoops in and takes a droplet of that undead blood and spirits away somewhere else. In just a few moments there's nothing left of the vampire except some ash and clothing scraps on the rooftop, and the swarms go home, leaving Janet and Brian alone on the roof again.

"There. That'll show him," she says, and starts trembling. With the adrenaline crashing in her system, Janet slumps against Brian and starts sliding to the ground. The bite marks in her calf are leaking a steady trail of blood that won't clot, and through the torn cloth Brian can see that vampiric venom turning her smooth skin an ugly shade of purple and green.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Quick to reach out as Janet's stance wavers, the Brit is just as quick to stop short as to not touch her because...there's something better than silver in this instance?

"Forgive my dubious nature, Lady Wasp, but you could...also..."

What //is// that sound...?

Brian fades out as he listens to what sounds like hundreds...no. Thousands...? No, //hundreds of thousands// of wings starting to thrum from every which way and direction. Entirely human of him, the subtle flinch, as the first wasp buzzes past him. What follows is something which may require a bottle or two of liquor to help suppress from memory. Even attempting to mist away fails Blood and just like that...the rooftop is jarringly still and soundless. It leaves Brian blinking and slowly uncurling his reflexive fists.

"I daresay it'll show him. We could've beheaded him, it worked perfectly well last -- !!!" Janet and her weak knees are quickly scooped up across the breadth of the Brit's chest. "Bloody hell," he mutters, feeling anxiety prickle across the back of his neck. "This won't do. Stay awake, we'll get you back to the Mansion."

His laptop-pack is left where it is for the moment as the hooded, still (relatively) anonymous Brit lifts into the air. Swish: with a careful flicker of willpower and metaphysical skill, Brian takes off in the direction of the famed residence of the Avengers. It's not but a minute or two at most when he lands at one of the side doors and shifts Janet in his arms that he might //firmly// thud a fist against it. "Excuse me! Emergency, please! We need medical here immediately!"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
It's hard to tell whether Janet's compliant because she simply *expects* dashing superheroes to ferry her around, or if she's slowly succumbing to the poison. Either way she's almost quiescent in Brian's arms, and frighteningly delicate-seeming. She turns her face away from the rushing wind and puts a palm on Brian's sternum for balance.

The side-door opens and one of the SHIELD agents who works at the Mansion takes Brian and Janet in with a glance, then flips open a clear plastic box and presses the 'emergency' button. "Medical to north access, stat," he shouts, and moves to give Brian a hand with getting Janet on a nearby table. Brian's given a wary look and the SHIELD agent almost protectively starts to edge between him and Janet, holding one hand up to forestall Brian. "Hang on, you can't come in here until we verif--"

"<Captain Britain,>" JARVIS says over the intercom. "<You are authorized access. Medical will be there in forty-five seconds.>"

Brian Braddock has posed:
Thank god, the SHIELD agents are quick. Brian's equally brisk stepping inside and out of further reach of any attack. When he lays Janet down on the table with marked care, he has a moment wherein even despite the overhead lighting and hood, his brows can be seen to quirk in great concern.

The SHIELD agent attempting (rightfully so) to deal with the mystery of the facemask earns a cut-glass snap of, "You bloody well better verify -- "

JARVIS saves the small room from an argument by pronouncement. A sharp huff and equally sharp sniff from the Brit at the SHIELD agent before he returns attention to Janet.

"Medical is on their way, Lady Wasp. Before they gets here, let me try something."

What is he... What. What. Even the SHIELD agent is hard-pressed to remain professionally-stoic in the face of Brian attempting to pull some of the vampiric venom from the bite wound on the Wasps's calf via sucking on it.

A spit of blood off to one side and he makes a wretched little sound as he swipes at his mouth with his sleeve, all at an angle away from Janet's line of sight. "...so bitter," the man grinds out as he pulls his facemask up over his nose again. The hoodie is utterly doomed.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Ow. Owie. Ow," Janet whimpers. It hurts, and she bangs her small fists against Brian's thick shoulders to absolutely no avail. The SHIELD agent almost tries to intervene, but thinks better of it. After all, Captain Britain is a superhero, so ... maybe he knows something the guard doesn't?

Thankfully, the medical team responds quickly, with one of Dr. Cho's residents at the head of the gurney.

"What on-- stop that!" he barks at Brian, and tries to shove the towering fellow out of the way. He's not quite as tall as Brian but he's much more slender, and reaches around to get Janet's pulse and check her breathing while Brian decides if he's going to cooperate.

"Cutter shears," he tells one of the aides, and accepts a device that looks a lot like a can opener. He finds the tear in Janet's costume and rips it open like it's made of tissue, down to her ankle then up to her thigh.

"Some kind of bite," he says, examining the wounds. Thumb and forefinger span the gap of the canines and he measures the arc of the teeth. "A wolf? How long ago was she poisoned?" he demands with a clinical directness.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Once more, thank god for the facemask and hood of Brian's thoroughly-sanguinated sweatshirt. It covers what must be one of the very few blushes of embarrassment to heat his cheeks thus far this year. He's quick to step back and out of the way of the medical team, the better to let them get to work.

"Venom," he volunteers, his tone and composure now almost coolly proper in unconscious self-defense. It helps him ignore the bitter metallic taste still lacing his tongue. "An older vampire's bite, Baron Blood. Lord Falsworth, rather, the one and the same. He's over a century old now. The bite occurred less than twelve minutes ago."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Vampire venom?" The resident looks a little baffled, and shares the look with the other workers. "I don't-- that's a thing? What do we even do--" he looks at the EMTs, who just shrug at him with the same bafflement.

There's a little hustle and a slender, efficient woman with dark hair hustles up in pink scrubs and Crocs. The resident looks relieved, and everyone makes way for her with deference. "Dr. Cho, I didn't think you were here--" the resident's propelled out of the way and Helen Cho starts looking at Janet. A cursory once-over, then she looks at the wound, then at Brian. "Vampire? I heard that right?" she asks. Once confirmed, she turns back to the resident. "Go to the labs and prep me fifty mils of colloidal silver in buffered saline," she orders him. "Then prep ten bags of plasma and the dialysis machine." She moves to get Janet onto the gurney, whether or not Brian helps. "And I need juniper berries, garlic, and a tenth of a gram of nightshade. It's in the herbal storage unit."

The resident looks perplexed. "Nightshade, wha--"

"Just do it!" Cho barks, and the medical teams scurries into action. "You're with me," she tells Brian as they rush Janet's gurney to the elevator. Once they're inside she pauses and looks him over-- bloodstained, clothing shredded, he looks a fright. "Is any of that blood yours?"

Brian Braddock has posed:
There's a facemask-muffled scoff from Brian as the residents gets stymied by his response. "You've never dealt with vampire venom? And you work f -- "

A new arrival makes him hold his cutting tongue. The Brit too very quickly observes how the medical staff make way for this woman in her Crocs and cheery scrubs. Once addressed, the Captain nods curtly. "Vampire, yes, doctor, a mature one." His eyes stray to the pallid features of the Wasp now as Dr. Cho sets residents scrambling. The man's sigh is silent through his nose, brows once more heavily knitted. He balks the slightest when Dr. Cho summons him into the elevator, but only for the span of a beat. Once inside and asked of his own state?

The tall man looks down at himself and plucks his sweatshirt forwards on his frame. His sleeves are tattered to his elbows and there's a tear down the top of his jeans, at the left thigh. Blood stains the front of the hoodie now as well as the back; there's an Escher-like spatter where Janet slid against his leg in passing.

"...regretfully, no. It all belongs to Miss van Dyne," he tells the doctor. "Would that it were mine so she'd be less wounded. I had ways of avoiding the vampire's teeth and talons."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Cho doesn't take Brian's word for it, and while the EMTs attend Janet, she's suddenly in his personal space, poking and prodding at him with the back of her hands to look for tender spots. She even grabs his head and pulls it down an inch so she can examine his eyes for any concussion. "Lucky you," she concludes with a dry tone. "I've seen people get turned into hamburger by immature ones. You must be a real tank in a fight."

Once they're down in the medical hall, Brian's left to his own devices for a while as Janet's wheeled into the surgery bay. Someone comes along and thoughtfully offers him a set of SHIELD workout sweats and points Brian at the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When he's finished, Cho emerges from the room, stripping off her gloves and tossing them in a bin with her soiled surgical apron. "She's awake, and asking for you," Cho bids Brian. "But I'm going to put her under for dialysis, so make it fast."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Suddenly, once-over.

"Excuse y -- doctor, I'm //fine//," Brian insists as he's palpated and brought down to Dr. Cho's level for a pupillary check. Blinking as he's released, he fights down the instinct to knuckle at an eye as she comments about his staidness. "I've been told I'm useful in a scrum, yes." His tone is equally dry back as he pulls his besmirched hoodie better into place again.

The gurney's wheels make the quietest rattling sound as Dr. Cho and company then wheel away the Wasp to one of the bays. The Captain steps out of the elevator and off to one side, feeling oddly lost and useless. He reaches to rub at the outside of one of his eyebrows before looking around the area. Having never been down here before, thankfully, he's unfamiliar with the layout. When he turns back around, there's the intern with the set of clothing to replace his currently battered duds.

"Ah, yes, thank you," he tells the young woman before he almost dutifully goes to get changed. Thus, when Dr. Cho comes to find and summon him, he's in the SHIELD workout get-up, facemask and hood up and all. "Yes, doctor, fast it will be."

Into the bay he strides and over to the gurney's side. "Well...I'd say you don't look too terrible now?" he comments to Janet, trying to inject humor into his tone. "You can rest up and then it's back to swatting trouble again."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Liar," Janet says with a little rasp, but manages a wan smile. She's clad in a thin hospital gown and the dialysis machine is steadily circulating through her left arm. The colloidal silver is being dispensed drop by drop into the blood and once in a while there's a little faery-fire reaction as some unholy pathogen is destroyed by the purifying substance. Next to her is a half-drunk cup of tea, and from the strong scent of juniper, it seems to be an herbal remedy in addition to the complex tubing.

"You're getting... a bad habit of following me," she murmurs, and beckons Brian closer to the stretcher. "I'm beginning to think you must like me or something. That's two times you've decided to ride in and be a white knight," she chides. "Not very ... progressive of you."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Brian won't admit it for the sake of the patient's morale, but...yes: he's a liar. Poor Janet's normally-bright eyes look like two burnt holes in a wet sheet. Briefly, his eyes trace the lines leading from machines to her form. The scent of the tea has him sniffing curiously before his attention returns to her.

Bidden, he steps closer to the gurney, his hands tucked away into the pockets of his hoodie. For all JARVIS identified him as 'Captain Britain', he's only demonstrating half of the upright, ridiculously self-confident carriage of the suit-wearing hero. Right now? The man seems...terribly human. Even if Janet can't see his grin, she'll hear it easily enough.

"I don't know how I'd qualify the first incident with Firefly, but I seem to remember picking up a call about 'back-up to Chelsea'. I don't think that's white knighting if you called for back-up. It's //back-up//," he counters in gentle tease. "That it was Baron Blood...he was supposed to be truly dead." Brian's exasperation is both knowing and rueful, as if some expectation had come true to his distress.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Yeah but I was expecting Carol or Wanda or something," Janet counters urbanely. The machines near her gurgle and beep; there's a strange rhythm to the Avenger's medical lab, almost musical in the right moments. She moves her bandaged arm and immediately regrets it, pinning the circulating tubes into place.

"Anyway-- this vampire. Baron Blood?" she repeats. The Wasp tries to leverage herself up to a better sitting position and winces, elbowing the pillows around behind her. "I'm assuming that's not his real name. I heard you call him something very British. Forsythe, or Reginald, or whatever," she prompts Brian. "I'm also assuming you two have some history."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Unoffended that he wasn't a listed option, Brian merely arches a brow within the shadows of his hood.

A nod to Janet to confirm the name; yes, Baron Blood. Janet makes herself comfortable as possible on the gurney, decorated with tubes as she is, and the Captain shifts weight back and forth in place as if he were checking on a strained muscle.

Spoiler alert: he did pull something in that fracas. Damned if he's going to let Dr. Cho know given his strong insistence of focus being on the bedridden Avenger instead.

"His real name is Lord Falsworth, according to his STRIKE file. He's been alive since the mid-1800s and active as a vampire since the first World War to fully-confirmed knowledge. There's even hearsay he gained his powers from Dracula himself, but...I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the Count so I can't confirm this. He was //supposed// to be dead still after his ashes were interred in the Tower of London, but...can't keep a damn vampire down, apparently," the Captain muses drily. "There's a chance Captain America ran across him during the second World War, or at least ran across his machinations."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet listens intently to the story-- well, inasmuch as she can in her state. A massive dose of vampire venom was a toxin in its own class, and even with her seemingly endless tolerance for strange chemicals, Janet's clearly having to fight hard to stay alert, while also being a quart low on fluids.

It also means she doesn't conceal her emotions quite as well, and a little flinty expression crosses her face when Brian invokes Captain America's name.

"Wonderful," she says, a bit sourly. "So he's old, he's powerful, and he might be friends with Dracula." Janet waves her hand at a holoprojector to get JARVIS' attention, and brings up Dracula's data-sheet. "...this picture is not helpful," she says, gesturing at the shadowy blur where a portrait would be. She starts going through the combined intelligence they have on the progenitor that is Vlad Drakul.

"Vampires aren't exactly my wheelhouse," she's forced to admit. "I don't know how to fight them except for laying out my big punches. Is it possible he's just here on his own business, or...?" she prompts Brian with an arch look.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Open face, observed expressions. The Brit's brows meet to see the way Janet reacts to the name, but he doesn't pursue it further.

"I wouldn't hazard that Falsworth is //friends// with the Count, having potentially gained his powers from him and thus owing him, but...certainly both older and powerful for it," Brian readily agrees with the Wasp's assessment. Wincing at how the Wasp moves about more than Dr. Cho would likely prefer, he still starts to read over the information brought up by the Mansion's local, ever-helpful AI.

He can see where STRIKE's files begin and end. It always bothers him to see a short dossier and, frankly, there's even less information on Vlad Drakul than there is on Baron Blood.

Shaking his head slightly, he glances to Janet again. "Entirely possible. There's also a smaller, still plausible chance he might be here in my wake. As I mentioned before, he was interred after I last dealt with him. I was partially responsible for this end result. An itch of vengeance isn't beyond him. Still, if you're looking for information on vampires, Agent Van Helsing, in the STRIKE files." A nod towards the screen. "He was last responsible for subduing Count Dracula according to what we know before the first World War. I read over his files when I had some free time between missions. Europe is much older than America. We have many beings who go bump in the night in comparison to here. It's wise for me to know of them."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"We have history lessons in the States as well," Janet murmurs with an arch of one brow-- but she doesn't look away from the display flickering in front of her. There's something just a little odd about her tone and the words she uses. 'The States' is not something one would typically hear from someone born and raised entirely in the United States, after all. And the edges of her words get a little crisper, as if with some unconscious formality behind them.

"God. These things can breed like rats," she says with dismay on her face, and looks up at Brian. "I like a good fight, but I'm half hoping he *was* just here to see you, and got unlucky to get in my way." She rubs her palm against her side, wincing as if not quite realizing it hurts to poke at the talon slashes in her ribs.

"But he's dead, at least," she says with a self-satisfied sound, and looks at Brian. "My babies have a way of making sure there's not much left to bury."

Brian Braddock has posed:
'The States' - a particular phrasing and it //does// capture Brian's attention in passing. He makes a note to dig around STRIKE files on the Wasp herself now; before, respect kept his quiet nosiness at bay.

Now? Not so much.

"We can certainly hope I remain the sole target," the man again agrees with Janet. As before, his mouth can't be seen, but the rueful smush of a close-lipped smile can be heard. "But dead? I wouldn't say it for certain. Remember, I saw to it that //ashes// were buried under meters of laid cement years ago. Your insects took away mist and bits. Don't get cocky just yet. However? I'll appreciate a chance to continue breathing any day."

The numbers on the steadily-beeping machines appear to be correct upon a glance. "While you rest and recover, I'll have an ear to the ground. Vampires //do// breed like rats. Should another appear, you and the Avengers will be made known immediately. You can have your lessons on the supernatural, not merely known history. I doubt many of you have had lectures on kelpies or tatzelwurms or golems."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I like to get my fresh tazels from a place on 42nd," Janet quips, and dismisses the holographic display with a gesture of her wrist. She hugs her good leg up to her knee with a casual disregard for modesty and looks up at Brian's imposing blue eyes.

"I can't get a handle on you, Britain," she says, finally. "You're either have weirdly good timing or you're the world's worst stalker. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or flattered." At least it's come far enough that she doesn't see it as intrusive. "You show up here on a friendly diplomatic visit and immediately stick your foot in two fights in a row. I admire that sort of initiative," she concedes, "but we're not in England. We're in New York, and I'm a little suspicious of people doing me favors."

She stares very pointedly at Brian, holding that eye contact fearlessly and leaning an inch towards him. "So. What are you really here for?" she asks, in an enigmatic voice that suggests anything is possible.

Brian Braddock has posed:
With the shadows of his hood made heavier by the stark, surgical overhead lighting, it's hard to tell the Captain's eye color. Memory will fill in the shade of blue easily enough. Maybe Janet's not dizzied enough by blood loss and impending drugging to catch the fine laugh-lines around the corners of the man's eyes in turn. He's surely smirking beneath the facemask, though whether at the quip about tazels or the suppositions, he'd never tell.

"As I mentioned before, my visit's entirely diplomatic in its informality. You've seen the paperwork -- or at least, your teammates have. The welcome was warm and I appreciate it. I find it //slightly// amusing that you think those two scrums were the only ones I've been in since arriving to New York," he notes, letting aforementioned amusement be easily heard. "I firmly believe that I should help where I can, when I can, and how I can. It doesn't matter where I am...or if my timing is this weirdly good. Did you ever consider that you've been perhaps getting into more fights than usual?" the Captain counter-postulates.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's eyes narrow slightly, but they form a confusing counterpoint to a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. The teasing tone is at least some response to her needling provocation, which is better than the formidable wall of Proper Manners she'd been running square into since day one. Still, that leg she holds artfully angled falls flat and she flickers her gown absently back down into place to cover her bare legs. "This is my town," she reminds him with a mischevious humor. "I've got a right to get in fights whenever I want."

She looks at him thoughtfully, then crooks a finger. "Come here," she says in a pre-emptory tone-- and then when he's in arm's reach, she hooks a finger in the neck of the hoodie and pulls him closer still with that unexpected strength people often underestimate in her. "Don't move." She reaches up and pinches the nosepiece of Brian's mask and very deliberately-- making it clear she's not going to unmask him-- lifts it up so it covers his nose and eyes.

There's another beat and Brian's only warning is a whisper of warmth before Janet's lips reach his. A simple kiss, neither chaste or hungry, and it ends with her lips curling around his lower lip and pulling it out just a hair before she releases him entirely. "Thank you, Galahad," she whispers, and then releases him entirely to sit back in her bed with a unfathomable but deeply amused expression.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Down goes the leg to be properly covered by the gown again. Brian sighs very quietly to himself. Alas: he'd been appreciating its svelte lines as nonchalantly as possible.

"You certainly do," the Captain concurs of Janet's claim to fights. At his hip pocket, his phone vibrates some message, but it's a split second before the Wasp asks him to move closer. Never mind the message right now. Admittedly curious despite himself, forever a weakness in the scholarly hero, he does take that step closer to bring himself within reach.

//Yank//.

Brian's hands end up on the metal railing hemming in the gurney as he pauses in his directed lean, surprised as hell to be suddenly where he is. Janet should be //exhausted// from anemia and the tubes' workings, how is she this...wait. His facemask. The Captain holds very still in the manner of someone ready to jerk away at the merest provocation. Up it goes and...

...the kiss.

The way his weight sways in by a minute amount, there and gone in self-control, betrays him. One slothful blink later, the man straightens up. Throat, cleared. "You're quite welcome, though...be aware that Galahad's more chaste than -- " Brian catches himself. NO, BRAIN, NOT FACTS, NOT RIGHT NOW. "Chivalrous. Chivalrous than me. I sometimes forget to hold doors for people," he quips as fast as possible. "Galahad never does."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"You know, Galahad," Janet says, leaning back with a positively vulpine expression. She tucks her free arm behind her head and settles her shoulders down into the gurney. "Maybe you're not so bad after all," she informs him with a sleepy urbanity. "Keep up the good manners, and I think we'll get along just fine. Well--" she amends, and sends a little roll down her spine from shoulder to hip. "Up until it's time for the manners to go out the window."

That expression is guarded by an utterly unreadable smile, as if daring him to draw one conclusion or the other. Before she gives him a chance to pick a lane, her other hand gestures vaguely in a swimming 'go away' expression that reads as an not-entirely impolite dismissal.

"Be a dear, get the lights on your way out?" she requests.

Brian Braddock has posed:
It takes that particular smile to make Brian realize his mouth to chin is still on display. Whoops! A quick pluck of the facemask puts it back into place. Janet gets comfortable on the mounding of pillows and beneath medical-grade blanketing, the Captain stands there with a defensive brow arched. He's not //really// embarrassed, not this time, merely ready to meet her next conversational parry.

He ends up laughing loudly enough to gain the attention of an intern lurking outside. They disappear after leaning around the open doorway to make sure nothing untoward is going on.

"Of course, Lady Wasp, the lights. I'll be certain to have Dr. Cho see to your sedative levels as well. It'd be bad manners if I didn't have her do this." he replies on the way to the door. "We can't have you picking fights before you're mended, can we?" What a flash of humor in those hood-darkened blues over his shoulder at Janet. "I'll keep you abreast about anything involving Baron Blood." Lights? Flicked off.

Blame the intern for how he nearly walks into Dr. Cho -- or maybe blame the lingering ghost of earlier's kiss upon his lips. "Ah, Dr. Cho. She seems to be ready to rest," the Captain tells the doctor in the hallway, easily heard. "Your good and incomparable work is always appreciated. I'm going to home and put my boots up, so you don't have to worry about me."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Jes-" Cho exhales explosively and comes up short, one hand framing out the space between her and Brian and the other clutching her tablet close. She looks up, and up, and her eyes widen notably. "Uh..." It takes her a beat to catch up to him. Realizing she's got a hand on his arm she snatches it back and hugs her tablet closer. "I was going to say I still think you need a once-over," Cho informs him with an arch brow. "I saw that little limp." She flashes a mirthful smile and starts to walk around him, then pauses, and looks back at Brian.

"Captain Britain," she says, bringing his attention back to her before he can slip out. She tilts a head to the surgical ward. "For one, we've got camera monitors in there," she says, without a trace of shame on her face-- though a little amusement. It falls away a moment, replaced by wary concern. "Second... you should be careful around Janet," she advises him. "Things could get... complicated," she says, struggling to find the right word.

Brian Braddock has posed:
"I'll be fine," the Captain in question repeats calmly to Dr. Cho as she's stepping around him. He too takes a step before his title brings him to look over his shoulder, this motion leading his turn-about to face the doctor again. His hands remain in the pockets of his borrowed SHIELD hoodie.

The plain observation has him rolling his eyes to one side. Of course they have cameras. Thanks, JARVIS.

The brief moment of pique evaporates as Dr. Cho continues and carefully chooses her words.

"...complicated?" Brian echoes quietly, carefully modulating his tone to neutrality and thus inviting the woman to continue as she'd like. His bearing is kept open and peaceable.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Cho hesitates. On the one hand, she obviously is concerned about Janet's well-being. On the other hand, she is very concerned for Janet's well-being. Conspiracy or confidence war across her face, and something in his blue eyes leans her towards the latter. "Janet likes to be in control of things around her. Sometimes that means she'll escalate situations just to provoke a reaction. And she can sometimes be..." she hesitates, not wanting to speak ill of a friend. "Well, unpleasant," she says, finally. "I wasn't here when she and Dr. Pym divorced, but it was a pretty bad scene," she admits. "But when she and Ste-- Captain Rogers split, it was even worse. She lives a, uh... *fast paced* lifestyle, and she lives by the seat of her pants."

Fingers lift and splay slightly from the tablet. "I'm just saying that... she's still a little fragile. Even if it doesn't show. And she doesn't do things by half measures." A brow lifts pointedly. "Is any of this making sense?"

Brian Braddock has posed:
Brian listens with an air very clinical now, entirely interested in hearing the facts presented. They get filed away, one by one, and Dr. Cho is close enough to see the empathy still filter into his visible features; his jaws sets and relaxes while fine lines once more appear at the corners of his eyes.

He'd read about the split in the news. Who //hadn't// heard about the split of the titantic public personalities that are the Wasp and Captain America? To see someone closer than the papers relate it makes him silently sigh. Of course. Of course that would factor into things. Introspection already starts to dampen his mien.

"Yes, Dr. Cho, it makes sense," he nods. "I hear you. Thank you, sincerely. I can tell you're speaking from the place of a dear friend. I would be foolish to ignore what you've told me. I'll bear it in mind in all that I do. The last thing I'd want is to complicate things beyond reason."

Not...necessarily refuse to complicate things //within// reason.

Perhaps to see if he can placate the concern from the doctor's face, he adds, "Do you truly feel that I need a once-over before I leave?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Something about Brian's earnest question makes Helen's cheeks mottle subtly. "Ahh.... nnnno. You're go-- uh, you're good," she says, shaking her head a little too quickly. She backs up a half step, awkwardly side-steps, and tries to shuffle past Brian (who takes up a good section of the hall). "Just get a foam roller or something, lay it on the floor, kinda--" she bobs one knee, vaguely miming the motion. "Ice, ibruprofen, you'll be fine."

And with that, Helen Cho turns back to the surgical suite-- head, spine and shoulders all carefully locked in place-- and heads inside to examine the world's highest-maintenance patient.