19499/How To Say I'm Back In Furiese

How To Say I'm Back In Furiese
Date of Scene:	13 November 2024
Location:	Director's Office - Playground
Synopsis:	Jane's back to Earth and Fury has a job for her.
Cast of Characters:	Nick Fury, Jane Foster

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Nick Fury has posed:
Fury is in his office. The smell of high quality cigar smoke permeates the air. Even with the highly advanced air filtration system, it lingers in the office.

Fury is in his uniform. The SHIELD uniform was the same as everyone wore. The only difference was the rank insignia that reveals who this actually was. There was only one Director of SHIELD.

Hanging on a coat rack nearby was his trademark long over coat, black in colour, with who knows what gadgets and weapons hidden in all the pockets.

Fury was pouring over a recent intel report from a team in the field.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane Foster's arrival back to SHIELD headquarters should be a non-event, if it ever were to be. She is not Captain Steve Rogers, excavated by a joint effort of the US government, spy agencies, and some very concerned personal individuals. Nor is she Bucky Barnes, whose return to anything from clandestine nightmare would warrant a full-scale assault. All the same, her disappearance that shattered the woman who literally wielded Mjolnir and went with the dark elf prince Malekith to his ostensible demise does mark a dark moment in recent history, if not so emergent as Galactus tooling around with an eye for an Earth buffet.

Months MIA, possibly KIA (if not the car), come to the remarkably mundane end of introducing herself politely at the security desk after the morning rush, at some point around 9:15 or so. Guest pass handed to her after the invention of a senior agent -- Jemma Simmons, a known close acquaintance for WAND's deputy director, and probably an hour follow before all the particulars there are sorted out. Before the inevitable comes running up via multiple streams; that Doctor Jane Foster presented her credentials to security and waited, security had a field day figuring out protocol for non-Steve Rogers-level surprises, and Dr. Simmons has thoroughly analyzed a proper summary to determine if this somehow isn't a doppelganger, a compelling illusion, or other weird.

No doubt that's led to some comments. Jane doesn't just walk in; she certainly waits for the notice that yes, she'd probably like to present herself as alive and very much herself before having a trigger-happy or concerned agent try to do something foolish. Like shoot her.

The fact the thought is swirling in at least two people's heads in her proximity isn't lost on a woman who spent three years as an embodied soul and has the psychic faculties to match, but these are things you don't just say in public.

Nick Fury has posed:
The communique was shocking to say the least. However, Fury's voice doesn't reveal any shock. Or concern. Or anything for that matter. His voice is completely devoid of any emotion at all. A very useful skill in his line of work. "Understood." Click. Silence.

Standing, Fury sighs, an almost imperceptible sound that escapes his lips. If anyone had noticed, he would have waved it off as taking a breath. Gently he puts out his cigar, then walks to his over coat hanging on that coat rack. Putting it on, Fury stretches, then walks out the door. A few minutes later, he was at the doors to R&D.

Without a pause, Fury walks inside, his security clearance obviously allowing him entry.

"I hear that the cat dragged someone in from the cold." Not a question. Fury's eye looks around the office before resting on the occupants. "I take it someone is going to fill me on on what the Hel is going on?"

Jane Foster has posed:
To be fair, it would have to be a rather large cat. Possibly one with great impressive fangs, or owned by Wakandan royalty as an effigy of their patron goddess. These things matter.

Jane herself looks completely suited for roaming around her workplace: black trousers, sensible knit sweater, suit jacket. The latter isn't common in her repertoire, but looks count. Aside from a likely small bandage taped over her forearm under a sleeve, if Jemma opted to take a blood sample, all looks especially normal. Minus the fact she matches a photo taken five years or more ago to a tee, it's entirely what anyone who knows her should probably expect.

Including the calm lift of her gaze to meet their cyclopean overseer, a respectful nod acknowledging him and no need to loiter about in front of a tablet filling out a questionnaire or some such. She sets that aside and stands, precise in her movements. A security detail of two more senior individuals outside, banished by said Dr. Simmons on pain of do-not-disturb-her-research (and Fitz around, no doubt, to shoot if anything did go awry) is about the only disruption to be had. Jemma is bound to be factoring results or the like, and wisely out of the way. So be it a matter of people fleeing smartly out of the way or becoming very, very busy all of a sudden.

"Good morning, director," replies the aforementioned brunette. Her tone is even, suggesting few jitters, but needs must. "I presented myself to SHIELD upon my return, and made myself available for any questions. Considering the nature of my departure being rather abrupt, I'm sure there are additional protocols to be considered." Here I am, ask away. "I did not recall many prior briefings or templates that involved situations similar to this one that were not forty years out of date." A brief pause. "How brief would you like the disclosure to be?"

Nick Fury has posed:
Fury's eye rests on Jane Foster. His other eye was behind a patch that may have been scanning the person in front of him. His expression was neutral. A flicker of acknowledgement was there, briefly, in the slight blink of that eye.

It was morning. He hadn't been to sleep yet. "Foster. You are back. You certainly don't look dead." Now Fury frowns, listening to her preliminary report.

"I would like you to give me a brief synopsis of what happened, don't leave out any important bits, and you can write a more detailed report later. I am sure you have already explained everything to our Agents here." Simmons. Fitz. Others.

"If everything checks out, we can reinstate your security clearance. I expect the tests have all revealed you are who you say you are, so please. Fire away."

Jane Foster has posed:
"I didn't when I was," Jane replies in that soft tone. Her fingers stray to the loose fall of shining chestnut hair, pushed back behind her ear as she considers the request and how based to frame it.

"Thor's final blow to Malekith the Accursed fatally injured him. The elf used a spell that entangled me with him, and took us both to the Underworld. As I was separated from my body, I had no resistance. My body was kept alive using the same device that kept Peggy Carter in cryostasis. The resurrection combined soul and body, and I'm more or less myself." A spread of her hands reveals their open state. "No longer Thor or using Mjolnir, as Thor himself can attest. But alive and perhaps more able than my previous annual qualifications benchmarked." Her gaze is not wavering in that restraint. "For whatever value it holds," she says slowly, "I can communicate mind-to-mind."

Nick Fury has posed:
Fury remains silent as Jane tells her story. Taking it all in, he waits until she pauses, and says, "I see. "More or Less" yourself." Of course that would be what Fury picks up on. "Well. Let's avoid the mind to mind for now. As for the rest...it has been quite a journey Foster. All of that takes its toll on a person. I suggest you take some time off."

Fury nods to the staff present, letting them know that he needs to read ALL of the reports on Foster, NOW. Turning as though getting ready to leave, Fury pauses. Looking back over his shoulder, he allows himself a small, small smile.

R"Welcome back Agent Foster." Fury emphasises "Agent". That tells her he will reinstate her access and security clearance effective, immediately. "Try not to get yourself killed again...okay?" That was as close as he got to telling her he was glad to have her back, safe and sound, Mostly.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Time operates differently down there," says the woman softly, shaking her head. "There is none. I spent an eternity as I was, and lived countless lifetimes besides. Believe me when I say extra time has little joy." The corner of her mouth lifts. "I would rather be useful. Like resuming the search for a Congressperson who can get through the red tape and ensure I'm not on the Social Security deceased list, else I cease to exist outside this building officially. Would you know anyone?"

It's not fun. It really isn't.

She smartly brings her hand back, and nods to Nick, though the solemn weight in her gaze lets on more than is ever said. She meets his gaze once more, if anyone can possibly measure up under it. "Thank you, Director. I intend not to. However, you might drop a word with Agent Corcoran to have the liver cancer checked out. It's more advanced than he probably expects."

Nick Fury has posed:
Fury forwns at that revelation. An eternity... "I may know someone that can cut through that red tape. I'll take care of it."

Fury moves towards the exit, but takes a moment to say, "I will let Agent Corcoran know immediately. Thank you Agent Foster."

As the door opens, Fury adds, returning her gaze. "Now get back to work. If you spent an eternity lazing around, then you used up all your leave time." Then he was gone.