16960/P.H.D - Putting Out Feelers

P.H.D - Putting Out Feelers
Date of Scene:	19 January 2024
Location:	Medical Ward: Triskelion
Synopsis:	A pitch is made. It's not accepted. SAD.
Cast of Characters:	Nico Minoru, Frank Castle

---

Nico Minoru has posed:
Magic.

It's how Frank was able to survive and how miraculously he was in stable condition. He's not exactly one hundred percent, so he remains within one of the medical wards surrounded by all sorts of SHIELD security. He's a dangerous man, and was clearly wanted by some people.

Just outside his room is a familiar voice. Well, a somewhat familiar voice. "He just murdered that guy! He shot him IN HIS FACE!" Yes, that would be Nico talking to a slim baldman who just looks at her in that whole 'you have an objective, do it' kind of look.

She knows when she's defeated, especially since she's still one of the newest agents on the block. With a soft sigh, she slips into the room, grumbling something under her breath as she carries a tray of food.

"You need to eat. I didn't use a full heal spell on you. I just sped up your natural healing process to Alpha-mutant class levels." a beat. "It's temporary, and you'll be hungry and hot and probably hangry all the time. It's just your body saying you need nutrition." she explains as she sets the tray of food down.

Frank Castle has posed:
This isn't the first time people have caught Frank Castle.

The last time he was sent to Blackgate. It turned out pretty poorly for the other inmates who thought they had a clear shot on the Punisher, who has an underworld bounty on his head high enough to get most peoples mouth watering. This time? Definitely SHIELD. He'd gone unconscious until whatever spell Nico cast on him did it's work, but it didn't take a great deal of investigation skills to figure out where he was.

If for no other reason than the security is all wearing SHIELD insignia.

Sitting on the bed with his arms laid across his knees, in some sweats they'd provided for him and tanktop, so at least he's got some clothes on, staring straight ahead. His hair is washed, slicked back, his beard is clean.

And he glances over at her when she comes in with a tray of food, but says nothing.

Just stares. Shoulders rolling forward, then back, he reaches out and pulls the tray closer. Once his legs straighten out, it's set atop his thighs to devour the meal provided. A soldier doesn't ask questions.

Nico Minoru has posed:
After the first few bites, she deadpans, "Now you have to tell me what was going on, or you'll die in five..." and then she laughs, just shaking her head, trying to break the tension with a little bit of brevity.

"The food is what we had in the cafeteria. It's not the greatest, but it isn't crap, so..." Nico shrugs her shoulders as she takes a seat and pulls over, giving the older man a look over.

"You know, once you're not looking like a bloody vagrant, you're not half bad." she muses, leaning back as she simply watches him, before taking in a long and deep breath. She crosses her legs to get a tad bit more comfortable before she offers a smile.

"So, how about a formal introduction? I was told about you, but I'd rather get introduced properly, you know Build rapport and stuff." she offers before extending a hand.

"Nico Minoru." a pregnant pause. "Agent of SHIELD."

The shit eating grin on her face clearly shows she's been dying to say that.

Frank Castle has posed:
The majority of Frank's response to Nico is the side eye glance cast Nico's way when she tries for humor, flattery, and then straight to the point of introductions. He never stops eating. If her attempt at humor concerned him regarding the potential for poison, he doesn't show it by taking food for granted. Rather than going into the elaborate series of introductions, however, he focuses on that point. "I'm a marine." Pointing at whatever she brought with the plastic fork, "This is a michelin star meal compared to some of the shit I've eaten in Afghanistan."

Eyes down on the tray, shoveling more mashed potatoes(?) in his mouth. Shoulders rolling, a little fidget of his head. "What are you expecting to get out of me, Nico Minoru, Agent of SHIELD?" Blue eyes turn towards her, "My name? You didn't ask any questions when there were bullets flying at me... what did you expect was going to happen? We were going to wing a couple of highly trained spec-ops soldiers and...-" Whistle, hand wiggling out in front of him like a bird flying, "-hold hands on our way to ihop for after action dinner? Those men were going to kill me... You're god damn right I shot him in the face. He's lucky I didn't work my way up from his feet. Fifteen rounds in that Glock... could have gotten real fucking biblical."

Nico Minoru has posed:
"You know, I usually ask questions /after/ I find out someone's name and introduce myself." Nico replies with a slight shrug of her shoulders, withdrawing her hand and crossing her arms over her chest. "I was going to ask that eventually, but since you're a straight shooter sort of guy."

A soft sigh can be heard and she just watches him, her gaze flitting here and there, keeping an eye on any movement that could be seen as potentially threatening. For that reason, her magical prosthetic is still on display, the shiny metallic magic-arm the one part of her not covered by the uniform.

"I didn't ask any questions when bullets were flying because I didn't want anyone to get hurt." Which would be obvious considering the spellwork she performed. "The guy didn't need to be killed. We could have interrogated him and could have found out more. Murder and mayhem aren't the most effective ways to find out information, you know." she says, somewhat chastizing him.

Frank Castle has posed:
"You know who I am." Frank flips some mashed potatoes over into some peas, forks some of it up, and into his mouth. It's not cocky, the way he says it. He just knows SHIELD knows him and they wouldn't have sent her in here without telling her that first. Because sending a rookie in to talk to the Punisher without a clear line of exactly what she's walking into, well that would downright cruel.

He's watching her too.

In a way that isn't outright aggressive, but certainly looking for a weakness. Whether he'd act on it or just take note for later? Who can really tell. Not a lot of people survive conversations with Frank Castle. At least not the kind of people he goes out of his way to talk to.

Because he's not a conversationalist.

"I got all I needed out of him." On the subject of the dead man, "That wasn't murder. That was a casualty of war. A war they brought on themselves... those guys?" He points his fork to the side, "They aren't your run of the mill criminals. Gangsters or thugs. That was a spec-ops team. That bullshit whining? He was doing that for you, not me. You didn't see his eyes, I did. He was hoping one of you would stop me and then he'd have shot all three of us." The fork stabs at the meat on the tray, slicing through the soft steak, which he skewers and rubs through potatoes to push into his mouth.

Nico Minoru has posed:
Nico's a girl barely in her twenties. There are plenty of weaknesses! Hot guys. Hot women. Jeffrey Dean Morgan. You know, the typical daddy issues of someone whose parents were supervillains who sacrificed young girls to elder gods. The usual in the Minoru household.

Still, she continues to watch him as she sighs and shakes her head. "You could have gotten a telepath to pull out more information. Hell, I could've cast a spell to make him talk." There's another frown as she continues to lean back and concedes, "No, I get it. I've killed before. It was a kill or be killed situation."

Pursing her lips, she taps her left foot a bit. "But I felt AWFUL about it later on. Loads of therapy you know. So what's your issue then? Sociopathy?" she wonders.

Frank Castle has posed:
Frank draws his arm across the corner of his mouth and sets the empty tray to the side after washing everything down with whatever content packet drink was provided. Ultimately it doesn't matter. He ate it like a prisoner. Unlikely he tasted any of it more than was mandatory to chew it up and swallow.

His hands ball up between his spread legs, head canting to the side with squinting eyes turned towards her. "You read my file?" It's a pointed question, but an honest one. "Twelve tours from two thousand to two thousand and nine. And none of that rear echelon bullshit, I was up front-" Pointing straight ahead, with all five fingers pointed forward, "-where people were shooting at you. I served my country. I killed people for Uncle Sam... You know, this one time, a kid picked up a god damn AK-47.." He holds an imaginary weapon, bouncing it in his hands, "Point it right at us.. and pulled the trigger. We all just stood their like idiots, but the fucking thing was empty.."

His tongue slides across the front of his teeth. "Dropped it and ran off, all us hard marines standing there pissing ourselves.. Kid was the age my daughter would be. Her name was Lisa." He nods a few times, janking his head to the side. A single snort and he starts shaking his head, "See, I did all them things and I had nightmares about it. Hard to put all that in a bottle... When I was a soldier? Yeah, I felt horrible for the things I did. Because those people didn't all deserve it. We were tools, instuments for other mens designs for a country. Oil, money, doesn't matter what brand of conspiracy you subscribe to.. But I had my wife, my kids."

He nods a few times, lips puffing up, eyes straining, "Came home, and I had my family. That brought me back from the dark places... and then some mother fuckers killed them." His shoulders roll, chest flexing beneath the tank top. "World is full of people who kill peoples families, send young men and women out to fight for things they don't understand in countries that hate them... How many people do you think I killed in Iraq? Afghanistan? Hundreds... thousands maybe.. and nobody gave a shit until I killed bad people here."

He nods once and snorts, "I'm not a sociopath. I'm also not a hypocrite. I don't have nightmares about the people I kill anymore. Because these are not people, they're monsters.. and I'm not a soldier.. I'm punishment."

Nico Minoru has posed:
There's a slow nod of understanding as she listens to everything and takes in a long and deep breath. By no means is she a trained clinical psychologist. If anything, she's just 'interviewing' him to see if he'd be a good fit for a certain project she might be on.

Nico frowns for a few moments, "I'm sorry to hear about your loss." she says, sounding quite sincere. "My parents were killed." Along with the parents of her friends. "I thought they were bad people, but they died trying to stop an elder god from killing my friends and I." And there's a shrug of her shoulders. That would explain the whole magic thing on some level.

"But there's a difference as to why you're now in trouble for murder versus killing people as a soldier." A wishy washy motion of her hands are made. "Rules of engagement, UN rules, etc, etc. It's a competent military thing, which is why it doesn't apply to crazy fundie militias. Soldiers have a right to defend themselves and know how and when to apply lethal force. I don't think that current laws and regulations consider what you're doing a proper 'war' to where rules of engagement apply. Unfortunately, it's a semantic issue."

Then she turns that frown upside down. "Buuuuuut, there's a way I could probably get you out of trouble." And she waggles her brows, seeing if it might interest him.

Frank Castle has posed:
Frank has a pretty intense stare following everything after sorry for your loss. A serious, borderline pensive, expression on his face as she lays out the strategic chess move of rhetoric he's heard a dozen times out of everyone from old war buddies to Steve Rogers himself. "Rules of engagement." He laughs, but there's neither any sound or merth behind the empty gesture. Shaking his head, with a hand coming up to rub his beard down from his chin with a curl of fingers.

"Domestic terrorism. That's how they tried to combat civil rights activists in the sixties. They called them domestic terrorists and it gave them free reign to act with punative and, often, physical dterence against other Americans on American soil." His head cants to the side, brow perking as he glances out the window to the guards standing security on the other end.

"Semantics are a powerful tool for people trying to paint someone as a villain.. people I killed? You know how many cops they had on the pay roll? Judges? Senators..." He snorts and shakes his head, "Rules of engagement doesn't apply against snakes. When justice fails, and it failed, someone has to do something about it." His fist snaps forward into his chest hard, twice. "Me." The one word is growled.

"I don't need your help getting me out of trouble. What're they going to do? Put me in prison? They tried that once and it didn't work out for them or the people they put me in there with... Put me in a black site?" Frank shakes his head, "I've never hidden anything, no reason to interrogate me. I'm not afraid of isolation.."

He leans forward and cants his head, "Kill me? Good.. I'm not innocent. I'm a monster fighting monsters. It always ended with me dying."

Nico Minoru has posed:
"Fine, you're a monster fighting monsters." She isn't going to argue with him at this point. "But, we could use people like you." That might come as a surprise.

After she runs her fingers through her dark locks, she sits up prim and proper as she prepares to make a pitch. "Superhumans are a dime a dozen these days. You can barely walk through Manhattan without bumping into a metahuman, mutate, mutant, or whatever designation there is. Just like you fight domestic terrorists, we're putting together a team to specifically handle things within SHIELD."
    After a few moments to let him process things, she continues the pitch. "The Post-Human Division. P.H.D. We're going to handle superhuman threats under SHIELD jurisdiction, or as Weatherman says, we'll be part of his Stormwatch." Ding! Credits roll now right?

"For some reason, he thinks someone like you would fit in with the rest of the team." And she thinks of a few of the other members. "I'm the conscience of the team." I.E. She's their Catholic guilt.

"But I think you'd fit in with the others. They're mostly grizzled war vets such as yourself. What do you think?"

Frank Castle has posed:
"That you're barking up the wrong tree." Frank leans back, pulling his feet up on the bed to lay his arms across his knees, "You missed the point of what I said. I'm not fighting domestic terrorists, I'm being labeled as one... Only difference between what I do and what you do, is sanction." He shakes his head and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Someone says you can go after people, so it's legal. I didn't ask for anyone's permission, so I'm a criminal. That's the reality of the world we live in..." His hand flicks up to point at her, "... one your stormwatch is fighting for. I told you, I'm not a hypocrite."

With his shoulders rolling, he pops his neck with a side to side tilt of his head. "Besides, I already said I'm retired."

Nico Minoru has posed:
"Somehow, I don't believe that you're retired." Nico says rather matter of factly. "Or if you are retired, you don't really want to be." she continues. "I saw the way you fought. It was a thrill. I could see it on your face, just like I saw it on Agent Croft's."

"What you're getting is a chance to do what you do best and have it be one, legal, and two, get heavily compensated for." Because hazard insurance, benefits, and all those things happen. "I never said you're a hypocrite. I'm just offering you a chance. Consider this a sort of plea bargain we can put forth."

Then with a flash of her pearly whites, "The Weatherman could put in a good word, then you'll get this swanky uniform and you can continue what you do, but without the hypocrisy of being labeled a criminal. I think it'd be best of both worlds since you do have people after you. They find out you're with us, then I think you'd be the untouchable." Because if they fuck with one of Stormwatch, then the rest get angry. Or something cool sounding like that.

Frank Castle has posed:
"Doesn't really matter what you think, kid." Frank assures her, reaching for the pillow at the end of the bed to give a good fluffing, "I was happily watching Jimmy Kimmel in my underwear when those guys came into my place. I had a job, paid my bills. I'm not saying I was happy, but I was retired."

His legs swing out, laying back on the recently fluffed pillow. One arm behind his head, the other laid across his eyes. Feet still bandaged from the glass. "And even if I weren't, your bosses aren't letting me out of here. I might be good, but I'm not escape from the Triskelion good." Doesn't take a rocket scientist to put together where he is. They're not hiding the fact they're SHIELD agents standing security.

And no black site has a medical bay this big.

"I'm not interested in working for the government again and I don't do what I do for money. So, respectfully... Gracias... no gracias. Flip the switch on your way out, huh?" Finger wiggling at the light switch. "Bright in here."

Nico Minoru has posed:
"SHIELD isn't a US government entity." At least not according to the comic books. "We're United Nations sanctioned. That's why we value diversity and all that." Nico clarifies, as she eases on up, knowing that it was a slim to nill chance of him taking up the offer.

"You'll get a good lawyer though, I think." she says as she stretches her arms into the air. "I think they graduated from Golden Gate University or something in the Bay Area." Oh, that might not bode well for the quality in legal representation.

"And no, can't do." she says with a frown, pointing to her eyes then his. "Gotta make sure you're watched at all times, so that means no lights off. I can ask for an eyemask if you're having trouble sleeping though." Surely, she could have made exception but she isn't feeling as generous anymore.

"Have a pleasant stay, Mister Castle." With that, she heads out... unless he stops her.

Frank Castle has posed:
"Tomato, tomahto. Tell the Green Berets in Mog or the CIA sponsored SEALS in Banghazi there's a difference between United States and United Nations." Frank sounds unfluttered, all the venom of his earlier fire driven counter point arguments defending his war is gone. Sounds a lot like a 'guy', now.

"Fair enough." In response to the quality of the lawyer he's likely to receive. "Lord knows whatever sucker takes that case has a strong disinterest in winning." His shoulders jerk in a chuckle. This almost sounds humored. If only slightly.

"Funny, isn't it?" Peeling an eye to look over at her. "How easily little things slip away when you feel slighted? Small decencies." He nods towards the cameras, "Thermal optic cameras." He grins behind his forearm and lets his eyes close. "I don't sleep much anyways."

After a long yawn, "Don't let the job make you cruel, kid. Every time it gets a little easier. You know where I'm at if you want to toss me another brochure."

Nico Minoru has posed:
While she might seem like she's more the chipper, perky type of young woman, she's a blood witch and dark sorceress. SOmething something about using her pain and loss to fuel her magics. It's pretty hardcore. It's probably why she puts up a front.

The mention of being cruel causes her to shake her head just a bit. "Too late, Mister Castle." Nico admits before slipping out, making the lights brighter with a whispered word along the way.