2327/A Force Reborn Part 1

A Force Reborn Part 1
Date of Scene:	04 July 2020
Location:	A lonely lighthouse
Synopsis:	A group of heroines are drawn together at a lighthouse near a creepy forest, each for their own reasons...but what lurks inside? Agent Simmons knows! Continued in Part 2.
Cast of Characters:	Singularity, Mary Bromfield, Marie-Ange Colbert, Meggan Puceanu, Alison Blaire, Nadia Pym-van Dyne, Jemma Simmons

---

Singularity has posed:
    There's been a strange unease to the tarot cards.

    They tend to choose to show what is hidden as they see fit even at the bests of times, even as skillful as Marie is at reading them. But certain cards have begun to appear, in sequence:

    The Fool. The Magician. The Eight of Swords. A powerful but naive individual, imprisoned. The stars in the robes of the magician seem to shift and glow with a bluish light at times.

    The Knight of Wands. The Queen of Wands. The Eight of Swords Reversed. Someone marked with courage, an adventurer, can bring freedom. Each time the Queen of Wands is flipped, lightning seems to play over her image.

    The Eight of Wands reversed. The Ten of Swords Reversed. The Tower. Each time, the tower seems to shimmer and becomes a lighthouse on the coast, New York in the distance with its towers providing a way to mark its location.

    And the meaning? Take too long, and destruction is an inevitable end.

    Not suprisingly, there was one person who immediately jumped to mind for Marie to get for help, her girlfriend Mary...better known as Thunderbolt. A quick call and the two are soaring high over the waters along the coast, descending towards a white-painted lighthouse on the edge of a forested area near the coastal cliffs and touching down. There's a sense of unease here you can't quite put your finger on...something that feels weird. Wrong. Abnormal. A sense in the air of it. Perhaps its the cloud cover overhead, dark thich clouds heavy with rain to come, the distant sound of the storm audible as flashes of lighting cross the clouds over the dark water of the ocean as it slowly advances towards shore.

    Well, now they've found it. But what next?

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt, otherwise known as Mary, carries Marie easily in her arms on the flight to the Lighthouse. She then lands gently at the edge of the forested area, her eyes glancing around with a bit of concern. "I'd ask if this was the right place, Marie... but it definitely feels /wrong/ here." She keeps a hold on Marie a bit longer, then blushes a touch and puts the other woman down lightly on her feet.

She then asks, "Anything more specific about the readings? I'm pretty sure I'm not just supposed to punch the darkness." Though she looks perfectly content to try, but seems to think it won't work...

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Marie isn't one to avoid being carried -- she rather enjoys it, even if she too has her own methodology to fly. "Oui, I am certain. It must be the place." the reader confirms, dressed... well, visibly, in a long, hooded robe reminiscent of the image of Death himself. Once she's released? The redhead walks briskly towards the lighthouse. "That we must hurry, Mary. If punching the darkness assists in doing so... then punch the darkness you shall."

She doesn't get the joke, alas, but when the cards tell their reader to do something, the reader obeys. She's their servant as much as they are hers, really, and it's why one hand is kept inside a pocket on the robe. Keeping her cards within reach at all times, and when possible, in hand.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary nods, "Alright..." She moves after Marie, ready to dart in front of her if the darkness /does/ decide to attack, but... well, her vision, her lead. Mary seems perfectly fine following Marie in this case, "Whatever you need me to help with, I'll be more than happy to do. Though, it looks like a nice lighthouse... except for the completely spooky vibe of the place." She frowns, glancing around as if thinking Robert Patterson or Willem DaFoe might leap out of the shadows.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"Things are not always as they appear, Mary... one must always be aware, and prepare accordingly." She learned that in many a Danger Room session! There's a deep breath taken, and one long look at the exterior of the lighthouse before the girl from France approaches a potentially dangerous situation in that way that's unique to who she is.

A hand lifts up, and *knocks* at the door. There might be danger on the other side, but one should always be polite! Marie has manners, gosh.

Singularity has posed:
    Wrong. It's wrong, and she doesn't know why.

    For Meggan, feeling nature is part of who she is. But increasingly over the past few days, there's something...there. A sense of unease. A feeling of something terribly wrong.

    She's gone into the wood to look and found disturbing things. A streambed, with no water, but blackened and burned, the bottom fused. Bit of burned fish bones protruding from where the end of the burn is, still smoldering when she finds it.

    A copse of trees, the leaves browned, burned with some sort of harsh chemical that has killed the plants around them, left holes in the leaves...yet there is not trace of what made the damage. Even an unfortunate pair of squirrels, badly injured, their fur falling out where the underly skin bears angry red burns. Just a strange scent of sulphur fading in the air.

    And the nice hikers who come by ever other week...they haven't come back. Maybe she missed seeing them?

    There's a feeling of something building. Something that should not be.

    And then, there's a knock at the door...though the empathic sense from the two young women on the other side is profound different in feel, and likely much more welcome on a stormy night like this...

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Most people would kill for Meggan's borrowed home. Set back from the road, the historic property boasts stunning 330' ocean views, a wrap-around balcony, and drop dead stunning landscaping. It's secluded from the relative sound of the city, nestled practically on its own little spit.

Rather than purpose of a lighthouse, even one on a ruddy cape.

You place on of those in the middle of downtown or off in the suburbs, it fails to serve its purpose except as an honorary mascot for lighting a storage facility or mini-golf course. No, this is quite the real deal, an imposing, round structure thrust against the backdrop of the sky. Curiously it boasts an almost baroque base to integrate the outbuildings. Not much by any stretch. Where others are electrified and computerized, this one still has a (supposedly) human keeper mostly to watch over the historical site. As it happens, the knock travels well enough through the closed door to the open one where she is.

    "Nid wy'n gofyn bywyd moethus,
    Aur y byd na'i berlau mân:
    Gofyn wyf am galon hapus,
    Calon onest, calon lân."

Marie and Mary find her there, likely first by sound than sight. Not yet aware of her guests, Meggan sings to a garden somehow able to endure the salty air. Only the hardiest varieties grow here, but grow they eagerly do, flowers in pink and white drifts surrounding the golden-haired girl. Not all is perfect, though. A few sad cuttings withered to brown and black simply won't take, no matter how valiantly they rally to her side. She carries snips to trim up the cuttings, unable to erase the damage in full. "What has happened to you? Poor darlings. If only a cup of tea would solve everything, but this shall have to do." Curving around the side of the garden brings her in sight of the pair on her stoop, curiously looking, her eyes wide with interest. The question for the plants... or for Marie and Mary? It's their call. "Good evening!"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary blinks as Meggan appears, "Ah, hello there?" She glances curiously back towards Meggan, tilting her head a bit, "Is this your lighthouse?" She stands fairly close to Marie, looking a bit protective of the other girl.

Then she pauses, realizing, "Wait, you were singing in Welsh, weren't you? Noswaith dda." She says 'good evening' passably enough, then passes a curious glance to Marie.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"Oh, a cup of tea would be most lovely..." Marie replies, definitely taking that question as posed to them. It's only polite for a host to offer refreshments to her guests, afterall! "...but now is not the time, Mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Tarot, this is Thunderbolt." A motion to Mary. She knows the codename game! "There is great danger upon the horizon... perhaps danger which you know of?"

The cards work in mysterious ways, and rarely are all the answers revealed without action taken, afterall. They might find out how to stop the catastrophe here... they might get strange looks. Marie's really prepared for either.

Singularity has posed:
    The audience was pumped tonight!

    There was so much energy at the show, one of those nights where everything was just on, from the drummer to the lead guitar to keyboard to everyone out jamming to the music, the sort of night that can power a performer for days just on the memory of it. Even after the show's been down for a good half hour or so, Alison Blair, aka Dazzler, can still feel that beating thrum of energy in her. She hasn't even had time to get around to taking off her show gear as of yet, as she's been just coming down off that high, getting some liquid in her and remembering it.

    Which is why she's utterly taken off guard when the air in front of her seems to stutter, a blue dot appearing, before space twists and rips, a shuddering portal appearing with a *WHOOOOM* of unstable power. The other side seems to jitter and jump, a jumble of images - people, rock walls, strange machines that looks somehow wrong...organic. A desperate face that looks familiar...blue. White eyes. A mouth opened as the girl made of stars tries to say something, pushing against the portal, hands splayed out, before with a crack the portal PULLS!

    And Alison, her chair, her bottle of drink and a few minor loose odds and ends suddenly find themselves yanked through the portal, skidding to a halt in a cracked gravel parking lot outside a lighthouse.

    All involved probably have a moment to just try and figure out what the heck just happened. Including Alison herself, as the portal snaps shut behind her and vanishes.

Alison Blaire has posed:
Considering the roar of the crowds doesn't just figuratively fuel her, but very literally, Alison is on a high that most people pay really good money for, all without the need for doing anything more than what she loves to do in life.

The lights in the dressing room are bright, discarded wardrobe from various changes throughout the show are tossed all over for someone to pick up later. Text messages to Warren were sent, and her phone set aside as she lounges in the chair, sipping from the bottle of water.

On the counter in front of her is makeup, cotton balls, cleaners, hair products, the sort of random odds and ends that get sucked through that portal along with her to rattle across gravel. The pop star sits there in her chair, her bottle of water in her hand and a stunned look on her face as she tries to make sense of things.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The blonde girl isn't short, poised on the balls of her feet, and certainly about as imposing as a sunflower turning its namesake in the sky. When she speaks, the blending of Welsh and Gaelic mingle on her English accent, placing her natively from somewhere far from an American shore. A brightened curve of a smile lifts higher at the Welsh greeting, and she raises the back of her hand to her brow. "And hullo, Miss Tarot and Miss Thunderbolt. I am Meggan. We're speaking of danger?"

Her eyes share that luminous cut-green shade of fresh grass and leaves, sparkling with interest. The guileless delight at her unexpected guests radiates from her, "Do you prefer a black, a white or an herbal blend? I have them all!" There isn't much room inside the small lighthouse proper, but the adjacent keeper's building once stored oil, rope, and the necessities of protecting sailors from their doom in the deep. It has a good, broad octagonal table with chairs visible through the window.

Looking away from the Marii to offer that hospitality, her gaze snaps to shore-side of the cape. An empath's curse is feeling those who ebb and flow around her, noting oddities when they land. Her lips round in curiosity, brows lifted, and she starts to float into the air.

"Would you like to sit out here or inside? The sea's kind today but a bit windy still. I brought back plants that look sprayed by chemicals, possibly someone testing out things they don't like. I don't care at all for it." She wouldn't. An environmental activist with followings in the 8 digits isn't exactly lacking for a reputation of guarding the natural world. "Do you ave more friends I need to set cups out for?" Alison has been noticed, sort of!

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt smiles warmly back towards Meggan, "I don't think we had anyone else coming... at least not directly with us." She looks about to offer her choice of tea, which is when the portal snaps into existence, depositing Alison not too far away from the parking lot.

"Wait, um, maybe we are having more people showing up. Did you see that, Tarot?" She looks over at Marie, as if making sure that she's not seeing things... or else it's a shared hallucination at least.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Indeed, the sound of things hitting the gravel outside the lighthouse is enough to make Marie spin around rather than focus on the polite conversation happening, green eyes going wide at the sight of... "Mademoiselle Blaire?!" Yes, Mary, she knows the woman who fell out of the sky!

The cards have been mysterious before, but this certainly puts the levels up another notch. Meggan's question, combined with the dazzling appearance of the Dazzler in question? Mean she's turning to the cards for an answer. "I... I will ask, Mademoiselle Meggan, and try to see how many friends are to appear..." she trails off, feeling around for just the right card for this moment. Trying to focus on getting a number to provide that answer with. Was it just the three of them, four counting Meggan? Would the entire school be dumped in the parking lot? She doesn't know!

Singularity has posed:
    It's a nice night for a flight. And even better for a test flight!

    Nadia van Dyne soars above the coast as she checks her new navigation system, one designed to be able to match coastal features to the onboard map to help her orient herself, even in the event that a GPS satellite isn't overhead. Or available. Sure, she might not need it all the time...but certainly it's going to be handy if she ever finds herself in terrain that she needs to map, for finding her way back, as the computer helpfully continues to update terrain features.

    Success!

    And that's when it happens....something ahead of her. She's been aware of the storm for a while, and the lightning, something she'd hoped holds off until she can avoid being a metallic object flying in the air during a lightning storm.

    But that flash of blue energy and the unique spike that comes with it...

    Was that a WORMHOLE?!? Maybe not a stable one, as it seems to close almost immediately a few seconds later. But a wormhole!

    This warrants investigation. For SCIENCE!

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Nadia blinks several times at the energy readings on her HUD, a WORMHOLE?! Here?! There is a momentary spike of fear in her gut and a chill down her spine as she regards the phenomena, "This better not be that horrible hybrid of my father and Ultron finding its way to this Earth for revenge."

Pushing back the fear Nadia flies onward towards the source of the phenomena, sheer curiousity is a factor, but she also has to be sure.

Alison Blaire has posed:
One thing that Dazzler is good at, mostly, is reacting. Sometimes she reacts well, sometimes not well. But she reacts quickly to this, pushing herself out of the chair, "Hi?"

Maybe she's not reacting that quick.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"I will add extra water to the kettle just to be sure," Meggan says, biting her lower lip. Her fair brows pinch in thought, painting her expressive face in a continuously transformed array of emotions. The clouds clear away and she puts her hands together. "Please, be comfortable. I keep a bench facing the cove, but it won't be large enough for four." Her shining gaze widens with interest at Alison's name; she knows only one blonde Blaire, and a delectable shiver of excitement does lift her right off the ground instead of standing on the balls of her feet. "Here? Oh, and I'm hardly suitable for company at all!"

An excited laugh bubbles up, for all the risk of danger swirls around. She bounds a few steps forward, completely unconcerned for her own safety. The entire school would not fit in the parking lot without being stacked up like cordwood. Regardless, Alison receives a friendly wave and a cheerfully called, "Over here, Miss Blaire! Miss Tarot says hullo!" The broken silence swirls around the lapping of the waves and breeze swirling past, proof of the deepening hour when the winds reverse to the warmer ocean. She tilts her head slightly. "Did you bring your own chair? I'm Meggan." A brief spot. "Meggan Puceanu. You've dropped in?"

Ha, a pun. Except she doesn't know that.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt just... stares at Tarot, "Wait, you /know/ Alison Blaire? Whoa." She looks suitably stunned, and gives Dazzler a smile, "Um, hi, I'm Thunderbolt. I'm a huge fan, and... well, um, what are you doing /here/?" She looks at Marie with a wry expression, "Any other pop stars you know that you want to tell me about, hon?" She has a bit of a cheeky expression at that, despite the weird feel of the surroundings, looking to actually relax a bit, despite all the sudden appearances.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"It... appears that she did, oui." Marie responds to Meggan, before offering a little grin towards Mary. "...I do. There are a number of secrets that I have not entirely let you in on just jet, ma chere." the French girl offers, before walking out towards Alison... and also looking around as if expecting more people to start falling from the sky any second now. It's quite literally raining people right now, afterall!

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Nadia flies up to the tower on buzzing bio-symthetic wings. It really is quite a view from this lighthouse looking out over the vast Atlantic Ocean, but really there's no time for that!

She zips over to where the crowd of people have gathered.

"Is everyone okay?! A man fused together with a robot didn't fall out of the wormhole right?! Because that would be bad." the strange girl in Wasp armor's eyes scan from person to personal, until they reach Alison and her jaw just drops, "OH MY GOD! You're DAZZLER!!!"

Alison Blaire has posed:
"Hello." Alison greets, for a second time, a hand lifting up to wave in the direction of the others. There's a very bright smile in Marie-Ange's direction, "Okay...where are we?" She questions, her voice pitched lower before there's more people, and that show-time bright smile is offered towards Nadia as well.

"Hello." There's no agreement, because she's Dazzler. "Perhaps we can move inside?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
That's Dazzler, absolutely. Meggan sinks down to the ground and gestures at the lighthouse, though to the side and not to the front door. Access around back into the lighthouse keeper's quarters will be much faster. "This way. I am putting tea on if you would like some. I should have biscuits and some pastries left, as well as more fruit than I could possibly eat." Her smile is possibly a second sun rising over the water, absolutely projecting an unfailing sense of excitement and welcome.

"A man fused--" Oh. A small voice tilts her head up and the waving banner of golden hair sways around her, lazily toying with the breeze as she spots Nadia. "No, nothing at all like that. Poor chap would have quite a time of it. Are you quite all right? Hullo too! This way." With a turn, one thing's plain: Meggan Puceanu is absolutely a cosplayer or those pointed ears are honestly real. Which might tick off the 'Atlantean' box for some people considering the flight and those cheekbones.

"We have friends waiting to meet you. They're this way." To the tea party!

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt looks over at the tiny buzzing Nadia, and shakes her head, "Have't seen anyone falling through but you, and Dazzler..." She gives Tarot a rather perplexed look, as the Wisdom of Athena doesn't seem to help the situation too much.

Save, perhaps, for being a graceful guest, and she smiles over at Meggan, accepting the invitation for tea and biscuits since, well, she flew out all this way anyway. So why not, as long as there's not an urgent threat of man-robots or other weirdness, anyway.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"We're at Mademoiselle Meggan's lighthouse, Mademoiselle Blaire." Marie offers matter-of-factly to the pop star, as if that answers all the questions the woman might have! ...and then there's more guests, "Non, it seems you might have beaten him here, Mademoiselle..." ...though, the robots *she* knows are not the friendly kind, so she can't help but squeeze the cards in her hands just a bit tighter. Her nerves are definitely getting to her now, but she trusts in her deck. Whatever happens is fate's will, and she will certainly obey. "I... as you say, Mademoiselle Meggan." she agrees, walking off in that direction with a bit of a smile towards Mary; she's not sure what's going on, but... she's going to try and go with it as best she can, regardless.

Singularity has posed:
    It has not been the best night for Jemma Simmons, Agent of Shield.

    When the bodies were first discovered, two of them, purely by accident hidden under a large dead tree, it was suspect to be murder. What else could it be? Two otherwise healthy and uninjured bodies of people dressed for hiking, most of the bruising and cuts caused by someone stuffing them into the hidden space that, of all things, an old retired police bloodhound adopted by an equally retired detective stumbled over.

    The holes in the back of the head, however...those definitely weren't minor wounds. Deep. showing every sign of something hard being driven into the back of the brain, which showed signs of advanced cellular breakdown, dissolving faster than simple decay should have caused.

    Then the forensic examiner found the unidentified DNA. And the case jumped up the chain of command, until SHIELD was notified. Something had killed these people. Something that was not human.

    Who better to send than SHIELD's preeminent biologist, long with a squad of four well-armed agents? Following the trail of the perpetrator was difficult, but not impossible with the right scanner, leading deeper and deeper into the woods. More oddities were discovered....strange burn patterns, the ground fused underneath as if with great heat. Dying plants with what looked like chemical burns consistent with acid rain. When they stumbled over the hiker campsite in front of a cave entrance, the first reaction was to tell the five twenty-somethings to evacuate the area, that they were in danger.

    No one expected them to attack. Certainly not to do so with greater than human strength, or with strange alien weapons.

    One agent never had a chance, his neck broken in the first strike. Another shot with a sickly greenish beam that dissolved her chest and kept spreading until her body was nothing but a puddle of dissolving glop.

    The others, including Jemma were captured, stripped of their weapons. For questioning, it seemed.

    Then the first teen's face opened up with tentacles, extruding a sharpened 'tooth' and punched in through the back of one of the survivor's heads, leaving a gurgling that died quickly and a foul sound of the sharpened cone pushing deeper.

    It was at that moment that the other survivor, realizing the desperate situation pulled a hidden holdout and opened fire, yelling for Jemma to run. There was only enough time for her to grab one or two things, and then just to..run. Run and run, through the dark, with only her glasses to guide her, through woods that seemed like they might hide a monster behind any trunk, the strange warbling shouts of the not-hikers fading behind her.

    After a half hour of staggering through the woods, at last, there was sky up ahead, as she burst out of the woods into a cracked parking lot, outside a lighthouse.

    Where a strange group had already gathered, each arriving differently...and about the same time a energy field washes over the area, cutting off commuications.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    No time...no time at all.

    There was no time to grab everything. No time to lose. Her backpack, with her usual set..the tablet, the medkit, the scanner being used....all that had to be left behind. There was really only time to grab two items, both with one combined purpose.

    To protect her.

    One, the single prototype weapon that Jemma had taken. Composed of a white ceramic, it looked like the ICER pistols the SHIELD agents had carried...but it was certainly nothing like any of the other pistols that were present. Jemma had saw what the dendrotoxin rounds of the ICERs she helped develop did to the alien creatures. Which was exactly nothing. And, with the heat signatures Jemma had detected...the decomposition that can only be defined as acidic in nature...the standard issue pistol may not had been enough. The white ceramic pistol truly had no name. It was never named, though Jemma had taken to calling it her cryo-gun. For...that's what it did. It used a specialized ammunition to super-cool practically anything upon impact. And, even in the midst of terror, with the Lovecraftian creature merely steps away from her, Jemma's scientific mind grasped onto a fact. A single fact, as Jemma's eyes focused on the open backpack, the butt of white ceramic gun just barely visible in the flickering light.

    Acid, when frozen, is no longer acidic, due to the removal of the moisture necessary to produce the desired reaction.

    The other item, the ballistic glasses, were easily snagged. They were so much more than what they appeared. The ability to see in various spectrums, controlled by the tablet within the backpack. But...the default setting, when turned on, was infra red, which...will have to do. Even now, with the glasses on, the device activated via the hidden button on the corner of the left bow, Jemma saw flashes of heat as she tumbled through the woods, a rabbit here, a squirrel there, all scattering before her. She couldn't afford glances back...not now.

    Must keep moving forward.

    Finally, bursting out of the wooded area, the specialist found pavement under her feet. And, up ahead, heat signatures registered at a lighthouse. Tired, frightened, and most assuredly alone, Jemma stumbled up towards the structure, that gleaming white futuristic firearm tightly gripped....the knuckles so tight that they almost matched the white hue of the ceramic. Otherwise, that arm hung as Jemma half stumbled, half ran to what appeared to be safety.

    For anyone that would see the SHIELD agent approach, there are no words. Chest heaving, eyes wide, the panic almost palpable. It is not spoken, but there is one word that rings through loud and clear.

    Help.