17498/HUNGER: The New Colossus, Part I

HUNGER: The New Colossus, Part I
Date of Scene:	01 April 2024
Location:	Launch and Arrival Platform - Atlantic Starport
Synopsis:	Donna has a very stressful day at work, as the alien refugee situation strains logistics and patience alike. SHIELD has internal conspiracy bullshit for the 37th time. And remember: don't feed your dog chocolate, or your Karidian processed cheese product.
Cast of Characters:	Cassie Sandsmark, Natasha Romanoff, April O'Neil, Richard Stadler, Donna Troy
Tinyplot:	Hunger

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Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
Since the first arrival of the alien refugee flotilla to the solar system and the proximity of Earth, things have been chaotic at the Atlantic Starport. While serving as an official place to meet visitors from other worlds has always been its goal and stated purpose, it was never designed to take on so many visitors, so quickly. While the causes of the flotilla remain a mystery, its tremendous scale is an undeniable fact. Dozens if not hundreds of ships, carrying countless alien lifeforms aboard. While there are smaller groups and larger, a simple reality remains that there is little of anything in common among all the aliens: they come from different worlds, fleeing for different reasons, bringing different cultures... and different needs.

The three super-nations responsible for the Starport project are not without resources. Collectively, they are some of the most advanced societies on Earth. However, two of the three are quite small. And while Atlantis claims (recognized or not) more territory than any other nation on Earth, it's underwater realm is generally ill-suited to the majority of the visitors.

And so many of the greatest challenges have been of simple logistics. How to feed these people (when their dietary requirements, indeed, even basic biochemistry) differs among every species. How to house them, as many of their ships begin to fail in orbit, while the Starport lacks large-scale housing. Some of these things have had short-term answers: docking bays and the large public rotundas have been converted, stocked with cots and other more exotic sleeping arrangements. Food has been brought in from various sources: Wakanda has the wealth to buy it, at least in the short term, while the Atlanteans can supply some impressive ocean bounties (think less fish friends, and more vast quantities of edible kelp processed for essential amino acids, vitamins and minerals. Mmm!)

It's not an ideal situation, but everyone is working their best to get by.

Needless to say, the recent moves by the United Nations have put the situation even further into question. In response to the quarantine calls by their governments, several suppliers cancel their contracts. Ideas for expanded temporary housing outside the Starport - even on simple nearby barges - suddenly face the prospect of official rebuke, as several nations send naval vessels toward an arbitrary 'line' drawn in the ocean around the Starport. Everyone is doing their best, but a certain sense of agitation, anxious worry, is heavy in the air.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
The logistics of keeping a spaceport hub going are enormous. The personnel and technology capable of running it as well. Thankfully, three of the most advanced nations on the planet contribute to it. Natasha has feelings on occasion that King Namor will at some point be heavily annoyed at something and abandon it, but for now with the surface world threatening it's institution, he's likely to keep it up purely to make sure no oneinfringes on his projects.

She's down there now helping to observe the refugees. Not engaging them directly.. Moreso observing for anyone or anything out of line. There have been some points made on possible infiltrators, and she's here to keep an eye on them. It's extremely unlikely with all of the different ones from differeent species and cultures in desperate need of help coming down.. But it's what the Avenger is here for.

And she's leaving the mechanics of aid to the others that are beter suited to it.

April O'Neil has posed:
April O'Neil was on site today, what with all of the activity of the Starport that was in the news headlines of late, it is no surprise to see another reporter here. Having taken a shuttle out from New York this morning, april is here with her small team. Vernon Fenwick, her camera man, and a young understudy who was interning at Channel Six News for the summer, a student from Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters named Rhona. The trio are gathered near one of the public rotundas, April in her signature yellow leather jacket, with a light blue top on beneath it, and a pair of slate grey slacks. Having just wrapped up a general piece covering the basics of ongoing situations at the port, the trio are comparing notes whilst waiting for their main interview with the director of the Starport.

"She better not cancel on us, or pass us off to a PR stooge." April quietly says to Vernon and Rhona, both of whom are fiddling with their own devices, Rhona on her phone and Vernon messing with his tablet as he already has the video they'd just shot half way finished with editing. In his mid 30s, Vernon is a tall man, dark hair with a gaunt face and a deep baratone voice. "Who would ever cancel on you, Ape? I mean, you're a sunny beam of inspiration for us all." The man says in a distracted tone, laced with sardonic disinterest. It makes the high school girl crack a soft smile, and it causes April to glare toward her tall camera man counterpart.

"Don't get sassy." April warns the man, as she steps over to Rhona to peer at her notes. "Lemme see what you got out of that report?" She asks her young understudy, who turns her phone to show off the screen, loaded with a wealth of thoughts and opinions on the topic, and about April's performance in front of the camera. It slowly causes the reporter to life her eyes at the amount of which she's reading. "God." april softly says. "Wait, did I really touch my nose six times?"

Richard Stadler has posed:
     So many species, so many different ways of operating; different reactions to common drugs and nutrients, different was of processing them, different medical conditions. This was in all honestly, a job for an army of xenobiologists and the most experimental doctors, but aside from a couple of old invasions, supply had just about matched the previously existent demand. That meant just grabbing the merely very good scientists with security clearances, and, while the pool was still small, there were at least /some/.

And Stadler, at the very least, was used to long operations with scant supplies and even less sleep. There were still bags under his eyes as he walks over to Natasha, removing a pair of gloves and placing them in his pocket. Water and a few drops of bleach meant they could be reused. "Something about books and covers. Galadorian's look human enough, but their... let's call it analogue of a liver is much more efficient with the break down of fats. Those HDR's we've got aren't providing enough of it, but lord knows we should be able to find saturated fat in abundance."

He moves his hand up, almost about to rub the bridge of his nose, before thinking better of touching his face. "God, I should have brought some goddamned caffeine pills. Any word on if the 22nd MEU is going to be dropping in on Osprey's in the next few hours?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Hopefully there will be an external solution to the problems that are causing all these refugees. The migrant flotilla has been terrorized by piracy, and if the piracy problem can be solved then clearly the vast majority of refugees would be happy to return to the flotilla. Nobody wants to abandon their home, after all.

    Steps are already being taken on that front, and Donna Troy has taken it on herself to handle the organzing. Already there's some interesting intelligence about these pirates, and some plans are in motion to find a resolution. There is even, amongst the various aliens at the starport right now, a captured pirate officer returned to Earth for questioning. He's currently being kept well away from any of the refugees.

    It's planning for that next mission that occupies Donna's time right now rather than any of the administrative work of dealing with housing and feeding refugees. If the problem can be resolved at source, those problems will turn out to be quite short lived.

    As will the problem of people making a fuss at the UN. So far Donna doesn't really pay that a whole lot of heed. It's posturing, really. The legal ramifications of what has been discussed are simply *insane* and would take years to work through. Do they intend to simply throw away all maritime laws concerning flag rights on the high seas? That would instantly remove the legal basis for taking action against piracy. Are they going to suspend the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea? The national interests of many of the world's major powers would suffer significantly. Are individual nations going to attempt some kind of 'police action' in contravention of numerous international conventions and laws? Possibly, but that would be very foolish and given the likely result be very bad for re-election chances.

    No, let the politicians do their bellowing and ranting. The problem will be solved by real people actually *acting*, not the sound and fury of presidents, premiers and prime ministers who seem to worry they'll fade into nothingness and drift away on the wind if they can't see themselves on television every day assuring the world that they really do matter. Donna has more important things to do. Prisoners to question, space missions to provision. And before long, pirates to punch. Productive things.

Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
As if all the looming logistgic and geopolitical problems weren't vexing enough, there's plenty that goes wrong every single day. For instance!

At the entrance from the arrival platform leading into the center of the Starport, one of the Doarj'n has set up to preach to any who will listen. Although whatever faith his people natively practice is quite unrecognizable to either his human hosts or the other aliens, he has seized upon a fundamental message that joins all the alien visitors: one of DOOM and the end times, of galactic, even universal cataclysm set to destroy all life. In his sermon, the dimming of his people's star is but the first sign, of a chilling dark that will snuff out every star, every life. And he is attracting more listeners by the hour.

An incident report is circulated among Starport security: a group of what they believe are Karidian youth have apparently figured out a way of bypassing some of the basic electronic lock systems and have been running amok engaged in mild pranks and mischief, and have also stolen a tub of liquid cheese from the Taco Whiz.

While most of the traffic too and from orbit occured in the early days of the flotilla's arrival, today, a ship is asking for permission to leave. Apparently, they've been able to monitor Earth communications and have taken the public outcry against them as a bad sign. Already somewhat nomadic by nature, they have decided simply to travel on, taking whatever risk. But their ship isn't in the best condition.

For Donna, there's also one more item. This one is less 'day in the life' and more of that geopolitical stuff. The Amazons handle most of the 'hands on' security. To this point, that's mostly meant dealing with less scrupulous aliens, like the Shi'ar assassination or the Dark Elf invasion. But today, the action item on her desk is about a different set of guests.

The report is a flight schedule, outlinging the comings and goings not of the refugees, but the various others who make use of the Starport. Although it's probably unecessary, the woman handing it over places her finger beside a series of entries, tracing down a row. They're all SHIELD flights, and there's a lot of them, beginning just ahead of the UN announcement.

It could mean absolutely nothing. But paranoia breeds more of the same. The Atlanteans have never been overly friendly, and no doubt see those ships as a (laughable?) provocation. The Wakandans do not trust easily. Maybe the Amazons are more circumspect, but even in this guard, there is clearly a measure of doubt.

April O'Neil has posed:
Since April, Vernon, and Rhona were outside the public rotunda to the western side of the starport complex, they were on the edge of a seating area for one of the on-site restaurants, and were awaiting their orders. Said orders are now arriving, via the smiling face of a server in a well kept uniform. "Ice cream!" Vernon says, suddenly putting his tablet away in to the hip satchel hanging from his shoulder, reaching for the plastic cups filled with vanilla and chocolate treats. Each one is handed out to either of the tall man's co-workers. "My treat, for my lovely ladies." Vernon says, ever the big goof trying to be debonaire. Both April, and Rhona, smirk and smile at his actions, but both happily accept their ice cream filled cups.

After everyone has taken a bite, and let the sugary blast settle in to their mind for a moment, April glances up and to the south. "I wanna get some shots of the flotillas." She says, dabbing her spoon in to the cup as she stares off toward the landing platforms. "Anyone hear anything about pics and video being shunned of the ships?" She inquires, glancing to the other two.

Both Rhona and Vernon are happily spooning their respective ice cream cups, and both just shake their heads. The young High Schooler chimes up with a simple response. "As far as I know, they're not stopping people. I watched a number of Youtube clips last night, while preparing for this.."

"You prepared for this?" Vernon asks the teenager, his own eyes just jabbing spoon in cup, then spoon in his mouth.

April peers to the south anyway, her left hand sneaking up to lower her sunglasses down over her eyes. "Well, it'll be good shots to clip in, and great for the social media posts when we have all this up online. So we better finish up here and go do that while the lighting is still good too. Plus, I wanted to go talk to some of the Taco Wiz employees about that cheese theft. Might let you do all the questioning on that one." She says that last bit specifically to her British understudy who simply shoots a smile back to April between ice cream bites, along with a soft 'Thanks.'

Vernon, just chuckles, and softly says 'Taco Wiz.' as though the very name is quite funny to him.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
The number of SHIELD overflights has been increasing in the days since the United Nations pronouncement, and Natasha Romanova has kept her eyes on it. Checking in has confirmed it's for standard things - delivering personnel, supplies, specialized equipment.. All those sorts of things necessary to keep a facility running. All of the documentation checks out, as well as manifest lists. Having quickly checked at the cargo pods they've brought in it has seemed legitimate. It has, however, clearly begun to scale upsince the United Nations made it's declaration.

And SHIELD functions through NATO, not the UN, so any such declaration otherwise would be somewhat laughable to have an influenceon SHIELD. Even if President Luthor leans, Fury will lean back harder. So as far as Natasha is concerned this is all bureaucratic brinksmanship. As she skims over a clipboard while idly considering over whether to pass it along to Deputy Director Hill to scream as,s he goes to watch some of the landings. Waiting to see who will scream at who first.

Her money is on the Atlanteans. That's always a safe bet. At least the Queen (is Mera the queen?) hasn't come here to yell in person.

As Richard approaches her and Natasha gives him her attention, "So you're saying that we need to take samples of everything, freeze and preserve them, and hope that Agent Simmons does not work herself to death and then find a way to revivew herself as an undead to keep at it?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna is overseeing the loading of supplies onto the Archeopian ship that has been loaned for the purpose of pirate hunting when the message comes through about the suspect SHIELD flights. She rubs her chin in thought for a few moments, and signs off on a requisition request for supplies going through the central dispensary before responding.

    "Okay Elethia," she radios back to traffic control. "Inform the SHIELD ships that due to the stricter quarantine protocols the UN is urging, we're going to have to bring them in one at a time to pass through security checks, and they will have to stay on their landing platform for now. If they grumble you can tell them that we'll try to get them cleared within 24 hours but there's no guarantees right now what with these strict quarantine regulations the UN is so keen on."

    "Direct them to landing pad 3 on the southern platform, and clear out other traffic from there. Full security check on each ship as it lands, and tell our people there's no need to hurry. Leave the others waiting in a holding pattern and wasting fuel as we bring them in one at a time. I'm sure they're just trying to mess with us, so mess with them back."

    "However, just in case... let's have security monitoring them closely, and alert shield control to activate the bubble over pad 3 and lock them in if it looks like they're planning to move out armed. I'm sure they'll understand that's just standard protocol in cases of piracy. If anyone calls to complain, direct the call to me."

    Donna ends the call, takes a deep breath, and lets the moment of pained annoyance pass. Then it's another call, through to Natasha. "Widow, we've got an unusual amount of SHIELD traffic at the moment. You know anything about that? "

Richard Stadler has posed:
     "I'm sure there's something in WHO guidelines that says something about taking medical samples without a patient's consent, but this entire endeavor is in a legal grey void, you know. We're grabbing and storing what samples I can justify under epidemic prevention, at least; we've got a lot of species in close quarters here, and it's a wonder the pressing concern has been nutrition and not morgue space. I'll keep you updated."

Stadler gives a nod to Natasha, stepping away and just takes a moment to take a breath. Maybe a couple moments, actually. It was something that he could use after what he saw, and there was some regret at leaving the fray; once you were out of it, even for a bit, entering it again seemed that much less appetizing. But people like him were in exceedingly short supply, and too long unplugged meant that somewhere, some alien arriving on this far distant shore would meet their end from something as simple as not getting enough lysine. The geopolitics were at least a distant concern then, but Rick was far less certain Brussels wouldn't be a part of Security Council action... or that the calls for some sort of quarantine were entirely off the mark.

He sighed for a moment, wondering where we would get gloved, before walking forward...

And stopping. That door was access to one of the places they were using for medical storage, certainly. The easy stuff, like gauze, spints, and the like (most every alien benefited from clean dressings and set bones... just that they had to know how to set them. And it was supposed to be locked, not blinking those odd colors and easily opening to a slide.

Rick grimaced. He had been plugged into the security nets, at least occasionally, and he'd heard enough about those damned kids running around. Grumbling, he moved to open the door and pass his way into the small room beyond.

Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
Bureaucratic dickery is a time-honored tradition. There's bound to be grumbling (in fact, there's grumbling almost immediately on the comms when Donna clears the order and the flight control relays it), but it doesn't seem to go any further than that. A couple inbound Quinjets are left idling, although it leaves an open question about the deliveries that had already occurred over the prior week. They can search the new arrivals as they're diverted over to a different pad.

But going into their rotunda and surveying everything would be a step further.

Elsewhere, the TV crew led by famed anchor April O'Neil is able to do what they do best, looking for whatever leads them to the story. The Starport has made itself an open book to the various foreign press, eager to show that they not only have little to hide, but also to spread the story of the alien refugees and their various woes. Channel Six can do it in the mainstream, while there's no doubt that Wonder Girl is here somewhere in the chaos recording another Instagram story.

The Taco Whiz franchise owner is happy to speak in front of the camera. He's a relatively jovial Pakistani man, by way of New Jersey. "When this place was getting built and they took applications for the food court, we never thought we would be chosen. But I said to myself, what is better advertising than saying you've fed a spaceman? Anyway, I don't blame those kids. It's hard here right now. At first, they all came here, they loved it. They came back for seconds, thirds... But after the first few days we ran out of almost everything, so the restaurant had to close, and my cooks have are helping the Starport people use our kitchen to do prep."

"Why they like the cheese so much? I do not know."

Richard faces the reality of doing anything in the Starport right now. He finds some of what he needs, but not all of it. Have things been stolen? Maybe. Or maybe they just ran out. Some of those SHIELD deliveries do (according to the manifests that Natasha was able to bring up, anyway) include basic medical supplies, so perhaps there's a good reason behind the uptick?

He may also notice some cheesy fingerprints, leading into some kind of ventilation shaft...

On the main landing platform, there's now an argument. The Amazon flight controller has denied, again, that one ship from taking off, and one of the crew has opened the rear ramp to come down and complain. This doesn't seem to be one of the more numerous alien species, with this particular invidual sort of short, round-ish, and purple skinned, with multiple sets of arms along that ball-like body. All of them are waving and gesticulating angrily at once!

April O'Neil has posed:
Post ice cream, the C6 News Team moved on in to the rotunda to speak with the Taco Wiz manager. Since there was no camera work being done for this piece, and it would simply be an article on the C6 website, Vernon was simply enjoying a triple taco combo off in the seating area, while April and the young Rhona were seated with the manager at a booth. April, staying quiet and simply observing, watched Rhona run down a list of questions on her phone whilst reacting with pleasant expressions to some of what the Pakistani man states. "It sounds like they're a big fan of your food, that could be a great marketing angle for future advertisements. 'Our Tacos are so good, we're building bridges with intergalactic civilizations.'" She states, shooting a smile toward the man across from her at the booth, eliciting a light laugh from April beside her.

"And who wouldn't want a large container of cheese?" Rhona asks further, before she moves on. "But there's been no sign of it since it vanished, and they vanished with it? Perhaps the effect of the cheese itself is stronger on their taste palette than it is even on ours. Lots of sodium in cheese, maybe that has a positive effect on their neuron receptors?"

The Brit teen waits a moment for that question to register, but after a second she realizes its a bit strange, so she moves on.

"Um, what I mean is... Perhaps we should order a larger supply for them in the future?"

April glances over toward her camera man, Vernon, who is raising the last taco in his trio pack up to take a bite out of it when the whole back end falls out back in to the paper container on the tray upon his table. April notes the cheese all over his face, and with a smirk, she chimes in on the interview. "I think it's got Vern's neurons firing too. Maybe you got some special cheese around here." She tells the Taco Wiz manager.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
There are so many flights. All of them coming over with extra supplies above and beyond the schedule. Enough that it seems to be slowing down the unloading and redistribution process. Everything she's randomly scanned so far seems legitimate, even as Natasha detatches herself away from Richard and heads down towards the Rotunda with a lot of agents in Quinjets. That are unloading Quinjets, being blocked off from things by crates, waiting for their position in the queue, and just talking or looking bored.

Natasha heads along, doing the occasional quick check of a container along and then manifest to match it up.. Everything seems in order. It's almost like right before the politics hit someone high up wanted to try and send as many materials as possible to try and help things wait out the storm a little easier.

But it was never that easy, was it?

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Rick wasn't strictly on the 'medical' side of things, but that didn't exactly matter in the current setting. He knew how biological system worked, what kept them working, and what stopped them working, and for the most part, they benefited from keeping blood or blood-analogs on the /inside. Thankfully all the species had something similar to a clotting response, but it was still important to keep dressings clean, and they /certainly/ didn't have enough of them in general, much less taken or ruined by some /goddamn/ kids who didn't understand how serious this situation was-

Eyes closed, count to ten.

At the end of the day, they /were/ kids. Sometimes they just needed to understand something in the right way. He briefly considered those cheese prints at the shaft, testing the vent cover in front, and finding it does seem to open up easily enough. Calling out to them would just cause them to hide (if he knew kids) and he couldn't just wait here until they came back, so... Bah.

He hoisted himself up, grunting, and started a low crawl through the vent. There were some medical supplies on that manifest, so hopefully if he died in the vent, there'd be someone to pull his rotting corpse out. That wasn't a pleasant thought when transferred to the kids, however.

Donna Troy has posed:
    It would be nice, Donna thinks, if reality would just stop for a bit and let her get on with her work, but this is not to be today. The SHIELD situation can look after itself for now, she reasons. Maybe Natasha can do something useful there if needed. However now there are purple aliens causing difficulties because they just don't like the fact that the Star Port is too busy and want to cut ahead of the line.

    Where's Diana when you need her? She should be the one who gets a call when the Starport authorities want someone to step in. Or T'Challa, or Arthur. They're not available, so it's Donna's communicator that keeps buzzing.

    Donna passes off the work of overseeing the provisioning of the mission to one of the Amazon guards, and takes off into the air, flying to the pad where the little purple aliens are protesting the refusal of flight control to let them leave this instant. She plummets down to land in front of them in what's, let us be honest, a clear attempt to play the 'magical flying persons should be respected card.

    She checks her Rannian translator quickly, then eyes the aliens with a look of mild impatience. "Is there a problem?" she asks them. "As you can see we're rather busy here at the moment."

Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
Nat's searches, absent any particular logic or lead to follow, are a bit of a needle in a haystack situation. With the added difficulty of not even knowing that it's a needle you're looking for in the first place. Or if there's anything to find at all.

While the manager is obviously both thrilled with his prospects for galactic food fame and quite magnanimous on the topic of the theft, Rhona's question clearly hits on something he didn't quite consider. "Hmm, it is possible. The cheese, ah, well, technically it is 'liquid cheese product', but it and all of the other ingredients, they come from corporate. Secret recipe. So I do know not what is in it... Maybe they like it, but maybe it is not good for them? I do not think the FDA plans for aliens..."

Then he holds up his hands. "They took the last container of it! We make yours with just some little we had left in the squeeze bottle." Vernon definitely got the 'leftovers special' combo. "But they ate before. Whole tacos. No problems. We just run out of cheese last."

There's clearly something to the mystery of the cheese!

And elsewhere, Richard is on its trail. One which is not particularly hard to follow, given the greasy marks left behind. Even in a much more elaborate, videogame-esque vent system, that stuff is easy to follow. Eventually, he reaches a small mechanical room, which includes some of the venting equipment and other miscellaneous power access. It's also strewn with all manner of odds and ends, a treasure trove of stolen goodies. There's everything from gift shop items to electrical and mechanical tools, to what looks like a SHIELD secure hardcase, to, well, a big empty tub with a crusty yellow rim. And around it, a trio of juvenille Karidians, laying about in what seems like some sort of stupor.

Out on the platform, the alien puts down its two lower sets of arms as Donna arrives, but gestures at her with the upper pair. "Must go! Must go! We have seen and listened, and we understand! Speakers have made it known. Dangerous to remain. We see this also, the intersections. Please allow departure." Although its gesticulations are difficult to parse, there is a sense that they are more nuanced than simple signs of aggititation, woven more deeply into its communication.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanova goes to speak to her comm, it going through the communications line to the Amazons handling landing duties <<Things seem legitimate on the end of the SHIELD rotunda pending spot checks of all containers.>> There's a lot coming in from a lot of different agencies and units coming in, but everything seems to be fair. She's not getting a good handle as to why the seeming step up on things.. But it ould just be a general backlog - more refugees, refugees wanting to leave, more overflights coming in on observation..

Small things piling up and like an airport all being caught up. But.. All this from SWORD? SWORD handles monitoring. Very rarely supplies. And screening.

She goes to comm Donna and Richard <<There's an extensive list of things requisitioned and deployed by SWORD. However, they've gone to some lengths to bother to put in a significant amount of bureuacratic delay in it. I'd suggest scanning through things they've sent on a priority>>

April O'Neil has posed:
A few more questions are thrown at the manager of the Taco Wiz, before the duo of reporters are moving to stand up. Once on their feet, Rhona holds her phone up to tap one more check on her notes. "Oh. Might we have a look at the kitchen space where the cannisters were stored?" She asks. "I know we're not... detectives, or anything of that like. I would just enjoy a chance to see what the culprits were working with when they decided to lighten your stock of your last cheese cannister."

April shows a light smile at this question, before she looks toward her camera man again, seeing that he's dumped his tray and is now talking up one of the Amazons who'd stopped by to deliver a message from the eastern offices rotunda. With a slight shake of her head, April looks back to the manager, who seems to accept the request to see the stock supply area. With a nod of approval, the two reporters move on to follow after the manager, who seems to be quite proud of his operation, as he gives a small guided tour.

April leans forward to whisper a few suggestions to her intern, perhaps pushing her to question him a bit more, or to simply appraise her work thus far.

Near the exit, however, Vernon leans on the doorframe with one hand, as he talks up the tall Amazonian warrior woman. She seems skeptical of the man's conversational topic of choice being his pro athelete aspirations when he was in his 20s. Good luck, Vern!

Richard Stadler has posed:
     It was still /horribly/ cold, like most HVAC systems he's been in (at the very least it hadn't been too hot; that would have been a bit worse). It wasn't a long trek, either, before he reached the mechanical room at the end.

And he was honest enough to see the appeal of it. The station was heavily crowded, beyond what the designers had thought of, obviously, and these people weren't here for a day or two before moving on. Space was at a premium, and privacy for those living here was non-existent. So what kids didn't want a 'clubhouse'? Some space they and only they could call their own?

Less forgivable was what they had taken. The Giftshop was glass knickknacks, but some of those pieces were needed to keep the place in tip top order. The hardcase, though, he quickly moved to secure, and, sliding thumbs over locks, opening it to check and see if whatever was in it was still secure. It had to be quick though, because he didn't exactly know if those kids were in a food coma, drunk, or having a medical emergency. Which...

First things, first, hand on... okay, they still pumped blood, but it was... there should be a pulse about halfway down the forearm... three pumps to a single beat, pulse..... slightly low, normally... god... 40 beats per minute?

As the comms came through, he uses his other hand to adjust the mic at his throat. <<I might have found our cheese thieves here. Seeing if this is a scolding or a medical emergency, but they have a hardcase from us here. I'll review the equipment they've sent... but I wouldn't put it past them to set up some secondary intelligence channels.>>

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna folds her arms across her chest stares at the purple alien for a little while. Then she turns and stares at the purple alien's spaceship for a little while. Then she turns back to the alien. She remains utterly stoic, almost the direct opposite of the alien's gesticulations.

    "Far more dangerous to go, in that old thing. Do you really think your ship is safe to pilot through a busy sky? Now if it was just *your* lives that you wanted to gamble with, that would be your choice. However if you veer off course and crash into another ship, you'd be endangering the lives on that other ship too."

    "You are free to leave, but for the sake of your /own/ safety as well as other people's, we need you to wait until we can give you a clear flight path. Nobody is running towards you shouting. There is no immediate danger. So please get back on board your ship, and be patient. We will clear you for launch as soon as there is a safe route through the traffic for you. Right now there is not. I'm sure you don't want to endanger your people by risking a collision, do you? So prove yourself a good captain of your people by doing the responsible thing and waiting for your launch window."

    "And try to remember that the more of our time you waste with complaints, the less time we have for clearing the traffic out promptly, and the longer it'll be before we can clear you for launch. Understood?"

Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
The Taco Whiz kitchen is pretty clean, for a fast food chain. Maybe there's a higher standard to meet at the Starport, when you're serving as an ambassador to the entire human race with your Crunch Wrap Supremes.

Also, it's pretty empty. As the manager described, most of the actual taco fixings are long gone, and some of the shelves and the fridge unit have been refilled with generic foodstocks from the general Starport stores. Bags of various staple grains. Blocks of that yummy yummy Atlantean kelp nutri-gel. "The cheese was over there," he indicates, pointing, although the shelf is empty now. "They took it, and a jar of seasoning, but that was almost empty."

Richard is faced with a few decisions in terms of alien biology and first aid, all of them likely equally dubious and based on iffy guesswork. Instinct is as good as anything. The case, on the other hand, is another matter. It's marked for one of logistics shipments from SWORD - usually the hardcase would be used for delicate or expensive equipment. And maybe that's technically true here, too. Except when he pops it open, the device inside is, well, nothing he'd be familiar with. Or nothing he SHOULD be. Except...

On the dock, Donna explains very reasonably to the alien why it is impossible for their ship to be cleared. Eventually, all the sets of arms are lowered. "We understand your judgment." It turns around, trundles up the gangway, and the ship closes.

"Doom!" shouts the Doarj'n preacher. Surely just bad timing.

For a moment, it seems like everything is settled. But as Donna turns around, there's even more aliens behind her. Just her presence seems to have drawn them, her voice of authority. Suddenly, every one of them has a grievance. One is asking about where they will stay, how things are becoming more cramped. Another mentions someone sick from the food. Another points to the ship. "Why can they go? Why must we stay here!?"

April O'Neil has posed:
Once the two intrepid reporters are shown in to the food store, they both spend a few moments allowing their respective eyes to trail over the slim pickings for contents. "Boy, you really are cleaned out." April commented, while her protege moved toward the shelving unit where the cannister and jar of seasoning had been stowed. She takes it upon herself to snap a photo of it, even though there isn't much to be seen, and the manager doesn't seem to care -- likely for the same reason.

"Well. We'll be sure to write all about your plight here, sir." rhona states to the Taco Wiz chief operator. "Hopefully you get a restock soon. This is the nicest Taco Wiz I have seen since coming to the states." She affords the older man a pleasant smile before she turns to leave with april.

The duo head back toward the main room, only to find Vernon is waiting for them with his bags slung over his shoulders again. He offers April her own satchel, and she claims it with a quiet word of appreciation.

"How did the kid do?" Vernon asks, glancing toward the teen, before back to April.

"I think we have a future me on our hands." April fires back, as the trio heads for the exit of the Taco Wiz store, to re-enter the flow of traffic in the public rotunda.

"God help us all in that case." Vernon jests, gaining a glare from the teen intern.

"Lets go grab those shots of the alien ships, huh?" april asks.

"Sounds good, Miss Tall and Hot told me that that other Tall and Hot woman was dealing with some kind of disturbance out at the platforms." Vernon relays from his attempt at flirting with the Amazon. Look out Donna, Vern has more intentions in mind!

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Pulse was... damn it. It /seemed/ good, but his 'expertise' was normally on plugging gunshot wounds and dealing with shock in people, not... prospective food pinioning with aliens! If that was all it happened to be at threat here, he's have some time to deal with this. Call in a medic or two, maybe a representative alien from the same species, some gentle scolding...

But he stopped for a moment, and went back to the hard case. "<<Wait one, Widow.>> At least the comms still worked. That was from one of those SWORD shipments, and like hell if Rick was an engineer, but something about that device seemed familiar... He moved it over in his hands, looking at the markings, and attachments. It was something, maybe, that was-

ecognition came quickly, after that. As well as the implications. The /reasons/ were still a bit iffy, but as someone who was naturally paranoid, none of them were good.

<<Widow, I have a hardcase here. Kids must have stolen it along with a few others, but it's one of those from the SWORD shipments. It looks an awful lot like one of those devices used to create those portals into the Triskelion a bit ago. Why the hell is it in a SHIELD case, and what's it doing here?>> He was hoping Natasha would have an answer, but his own thoughts were this facility was a lot less secured than he thought. And that meant been less graceful. He clears his throat, and, in a loud, from the diaphragm voice, tries the simplest method to rouse someone or someones.

"WAKE UP."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
And whatever sort of ambivalency that Natasha has going through her is now gone. She immediately goes to put an uplink to the Amazons and then to the SHIELD Agents on security. <<Lockdown zone. Cordon the area and prepare forensics team. All dispatches for said shipment are to be immediately seized and all personnel involved in shipment are to be questioned up the full chain of logistics.>> She's just on her own initiative announced a hell of paperwork that will give anyone that is not a bureaucratic fetishist like Hill or Brand an aneurism.

<<En route>> She's not unclipped her gun, but she's on full alert mode as she goes to stalk towards the area, her tone brooking no disagreement. Time to see if the Amazons would obey the instructions of a human woman without any real understanding of the situation or not. And whether the SHIELD Agents would be confused or drill would have them do as they were told. She's heading towards there at a fast trot now.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Where's Diana? She's supposed to be the diplomatic sister! She's probably sitting back in her office in New York eating cake. Donna's the punchy sister! She wants to be sitting back in her office in New York eating cake, not trying to be the diplomatic one!

    Donna holds up her hands and calls for quiet.

    Loudly.

    "YOU!" she yells, pointing to one of the complaining aliens. "If you want to leave, you're free to do so. File a launch request with traffic control like everyone else. YOU! If you arranged for a place to stay before coming, then contact administration to talk about trans-shipment. If not, you have to wait until we can find something for you, just like everyone else. YOU! If you have a medical concern, talk to medical. I'm an Amazon damnit, not a doctor!"

    None of the aliens are going to understand that one, but Donna doesn't care.

    "You all came here to ask for our help. At the same time. Without even telling us you were on the way. We're doing our best to help you all, because we're nice, but it's going to take time. We are hoping to be able to deal with your pirate threat so that any of you who wants to go back home will be able to, /also/ because we're nice. The more time you all spend complaining, not following the guidelines we're giving you, and not being cooperative, the longer /all/ of this takes. So please return to your ships, staging posts or temporary accommodations, direct any questions you have to the relevant authority, and be patient while we deal with all your problems for you instead of giving us more problems to deal with."

    "Is that understood? GOOD."

Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
Shouting at the kids... sort of works. The group of them, with their various pairs of large black eyes, all clearly look at him, fixate on the sound. It's a sign at least of vague consciousness, even if they're clearly still in something of a stupor. The literal alien-ness of the situation probably doesn't do any favors, either, in grasping what this human might want of them. But they're aware, reactive, which is saying something, even if their condition still seems touch-and-go. One murmurs something, managing worlds in English of all things:

"Ex-treme... flavor. We... crave... the Whiz." Well then.

Regardless, they clearly need some kind of medical help. What kind? Still sort of a guess.

At the same time, the device Richard found at least doesn't seem active. Clearly, whatever scheme there is at play, it didn't account for the case ending up in some alien bolthole with a bunch of ETs ODing on cheese. And relaying the info on the case back to Natasha, she takes the broadest possible solution and locks down (or politely asks the Amazons to lock down) the whole rotunda. They may have information to narrow their search from the case (it has manifest numbers from whatever shipment it was secreted away in), but for the time being, that may be the safest option.

And then, on the launch deck, there's Donna. No one can fault her for what is happening, nor her frustrated reaction. Perhaps if Diana were here, she could sway them all with a word of kindness. Or perhaps there was just never any chance of it. Some of the aliens are shouted down, cowed by her fierce Amazon mien, but others seem to only take her forcefullness as further insult. And the preacher, long ignored as background noise, seems to sense his moment. "The fire-eye of this world burns brightest! Only it can stand against the ever-dark! It is our destiny! Our new world!" Who gave him a translator, anyway?

The Amazons, to their credit, are prepared for something like this, for what is now beginning to escalate toward a riot. They move in swiftly, forming lines, breaking up growing mobs of aliens, keeping them separated.

April and her crew are bystanders to all of this. Amazon security squads running one way, toward the SHIELD rotunda, and then even more of them rushing back the other to secure the landing deck. Aliens going everywhere. They even pass a weird open supply closet that smells slightly of cheese.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanova goes to take the broadest possible action. She's seen what those portable teleporters can do, and has seen what widespread infiltration can cause. So as soon as one of them is identified she's treating it as an immediate threat - or at least politely requesting the Amazons to. Technically SHIELD is a partner here, but does not have authority. By the time she goes to join Richard, she gives him a quick nod of approval and then goes to quickly work at establishing a perimeter in the area along with anyone else thats' being dumped on security duty.

And this is just one more thing to handle bureuacratically and another thing to investigate. And reason for more group Amazon anger management classes.

April O'Neil has posed:
When the C6 news team makes it out of the public rotunda, they are in the process of descending one of the staircases that leads down through the marble pillars toward the central gardens, when the sight of something being afoot becomes much more obvious.

With Vernon pulling his video recording camera up, and Rhona reaching for her fancy photographer camera from the strap around her neck, April takes several quick steps down to a stone railing overlooking the gardens below. She watches with concern at the detachments of Themysciran warriors moving in urgent pace toward the north to the hero rotundas, then her blue eyes sweep to the south toward the clear situation unfolding there.

"Something is heating up, for sure." April quietly comments, while her two associates gather record of it from this great raised vantage point.

A text comes across her phone, which grabs O'Neil's attention. It takes but a second to check it for a frown to strike her lips. "Meeting with Boyd is cancelled." She tells Vern and Rhona, who both stop what they're doing for a moment to regard April. "Something is definitely not good." April softly states, clear frustration on her voice at losing the main interview that they had scheduled today.

"Come on," April states, turning to move to the southern curving staircase. "Lets go check out the crowds at the landing platforms. I can see Donna Troy there, she stands out in any crowd. If she's there, that means essentially Wonder Woman is involved in whatever is going on."

Rhona and Vernon both grab a few more shots before they hustle after April, the trio now weaving their way through the crowds of people moving up and down the white marble stairs.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Oh, Lord, this was just wonderful. Aliens who had their first bit of fast food at a location that he was pretty sure wouldn't even be welcome on base. If there was one argument for immigration and getting these kids /real/ Earth food, this was certainlty it right here. "I'm... sure you do. But we're going to hold off on it for a bit until we figure out what's going on. Sit tight, all right?" He said. Sick kids didn't need an adult bellowing at them... right now. The bellowing would come later. He flicks onto the comm net again. <<Copy. I'm in a machinery room... looks like... 4014-DBE. There's a door in front of me, I'm sure you've got a higher clearance card than I do.>> He notes.

The device is looked at one more time, before Natasha finally reaches the room itself, and she busies herself with putting up a perimeter. "This isn't the best place to handle this over here." He says, collecting the nearly empty cheese tube, and at least trying to put one of the kids in a carry. "Grab the other one if you can. Two, if possible. Get them back to... hanger 4, I think, is where they've sent up. Some of them, at least, and I'm going to need to talk with a few people before running some tests. I don't know what's wrong with them, and I don't even know what's in..." He says, looking at the container. "Processed cheese product? Oh, for pete's sake."

Time to get those kids out of there. Health first. Then yelling.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna can be nice. Donna can be reasonable. She just doesn't have her sister's patience and almost supernatural ability to calm the savage breast though

    To be fair, she's not actually throwing people into orbit, however much she may be tempted.

    As Amazons security fans out to disperse the crowd, Donna is being notified of even more nonsense to deal with in the wake of Richard's discovery. Perhaps to give herself a moment to calm down a little before addressing that little issue, Donna rounds on the local prophet of Doom. Getting right up in the face of the mini-Godzilla, she leans in close, eyeballing him. "You wanna see how brightly /my/ fire-eye burns?" She growls. "Because you're going the right way about it. Stop stirring things up, because right now you are distracting me from my battles against the ever-dark. Understood?"

    She doesn't wait around for his response, and is instantly striding away. <<"Widow," She calls into her communicator. <<What the hell is going on now? Perhaps you could remind someone that we have enough on our plates here right now without having to deal with any added nonsense. You might also, if you think it would be useful, point out that in case anyone hadn't noticed, attempting to board a flagged asset in international waters without permission is known in international legal parlance as 'piracy on the high seas' and that is something people would be very stupid indeed to be considering right now.>>

    Donna is rather tempted to just call Raven and ask her to teleport everything and everyone who isn't an Amazon, Atlantean or Wakandan a hundred miles or so north and let them all swim home. She's not quite that annoyed yet, fortunately.

Cassie Sandsmark has posed:
An adult Karidian is child-like compared to humans to begin with, and their weight is... well, mostly their heads. Maybe it's awkward, but between them, Nat and Richard can certainly scoop up the trio en route to whatever SHIELD disaster. And with a proper medical bay, it won't be too hard to diagnose their problems (especially with the evidence on hand).

A little later, the Wakandan doctor will write it off as strange, obscure, but ultimately inevitable: "These foods have so many ingredients, chemical interactions we cannot predict." Cheese overdose? Not enough hot sauce to balance out the liquid plastic goo? It doesn't REALLY matter. It's just a reminder of how tennuous this whole situation is. Feed your EARTH dog some delicious chocolate, and it dies. Grapes, walnuts, avacados. It's all toxic.

What chance does an alien have?

And while it is not the only problem, it is problems like these at the core of the scene on the landing deck. Some are hungry, some are increasingly sick on these imperfect diets. Some wish to flee back into space, whether or not their crafts are worthy. Others, like the Doarj'n preacher, envision how they might make Earth their own home. Maybe permanently.

The lizard does not stand against Donna in that moment of ire. She confronts him, and he defers, offers obeisance in word and gesture alike, bowing, palms upturned. "Forgive. It isss... religious misunderstanding." He's a cunning creature, though not so much to fool her.

Just one more fire.

For now, there's a bigger one to put out, in whatever is happening at the SHIELD rotunda. Alarms are sounding, security is responding. So is Natasha. Which begs the question of WHO is doing this.

Whatever the answer? Well, you can be sure that April O'Neil will be here with the Channel 6 News to let you know!