2397/Black Sun: Small Mercies

Black Sun: Small Mercies
Date of Scene:	10 July 2020
Location:	Staten Island
Synopsis:	SHIELD finds the trail of a killer, but not quite soon enough to save their quarry. But in death, clues are offered to save another life.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Mikhail Uriokovitch, Kara Lynn Palamas, Lara Croft, Jemma Simmons
Tinyplot:	Black Sun

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Jane Foster has posed:
Staten Island University Hospital: North Campus - Staten Island

Like much of Staten Island itself, the north shore medical campus looks a lot more impressive on a map than in person. A battered, divided street carves a path in front of the three-storey hospital dropped in a mismatched jumble on the ground, backing up against a rather ordinary working class neighbourhood. Next to the medical giants in the City, this place is practically modest. Outbuildings hold a variety of physicians offices and specialists, while labs scattered around the main green-glass "turtle." Expansive parking lots hawking valet services for $10 offer some hints of modernity in the most American sight possible: health care at a cost, a blend of old and new.

After finding no hints of Shirin Harami in her office at the Chief Medical Examiner in Staten Island, the next logical step follows the other triangulated location courtesy of Daisy and a few analysis: the university hospital complex. There's always a need for an autopsy or actual practice, and Harami's volunteer services there include mentoring yet another round of tired residents. With dusk just falling, chances are good some of those residents on their 36-hour rotation are about to drop dead.

Nothing stands out as odd about the place except it's so damn suburban. Dump it in Columbus or Spokane or Tulsa, the hospital would fit in just as well. Its exhausting generic uniformity practically weighs on the soul, a minor offense. There are a few points of entry to the main hospital, though access to the morgue might take finagling to enter.

Reaching the suboffice of resident liaisons is also buried a fair ways back, but not nearly so monitored. They care less about expendable manpower than the cadavers headed for the cemetery.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mikhail had been assigned to this duty due to his unique set of qualifications, namely if things get hairy, he gets hairy. He has joined the group dressed in semi-tactical gear, namely black sweatshirt and pants. No need for body armor at this point in time. The mutant looks to the others present and nods, "Something is not right, da?" Mik's accent is still rather heavy, though at least understandable to most of the agents. He is relatively lightly armed, only an ICER today, to avoid too much suspicion.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
Kara Lynn had been reviewing the autopsy report that'd passed over her desk and she hadn't liked it. Not one bit. It was, of course, entirely plausible that there was some scientific reason for it, but the intercepted transcript at least was a red flag of an indicator of murders most foul. It could be, she knew, too late to get anything by looking at the corpses - magic rarely lingered or remained active on the deceased unless necromancy was involved. But, there always was a chance.

She'd called a small team together to go investigate, and see what they could come up with. At the very least, if it wasn't on her end, she could smoothly have it passed over to Operations, afterall.

She pulled into the hospital and parked near the entrance even as she smoothed her clothes down. z "Alright. I need to get eyes on the cadaver, people. I'll be heading into the morgue. Agent Simmons, you're with me. Agents Croft and Uirkovitch, I want you to head to Shirin Harami's office. See what you can dig up."

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara, with aviator sunglasses on throughout the ride, raises them up to her forehead to look at the interesting (or the opposite of that) hospital as they arrive at it. Her uncovered eyes look to Mikhail and then up to Kara. She lowers the aviators back down again to her nose. "Shouldn't be a problem." She says then. Wearing a light duty SHIELD jacket, it has the badgets of the agency on her shoulders, and a pair of duty trousers with black leather shoes on her feet, Lara moves to exit the vehicle. Once outside into the hot summer air, she exhales and takes a breath inward. Her eyes scan around the rural area, and she probably has not felt this immersed in Americana since she'd moved to the States earlier this year.

With another glance to Mik, Lara starts toward the hospital building, and glances down to her phone to bring up a map of it that had been loaded into the device, to find the office as quickly and easily as possible.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    It has been a day full of excursions for Jemma Simmons. It was the digging of Jemma and Daisy that had brought the pair out to the Chief Medical Examiner's office in Staten Island...a trip that provided leads, but perhaps not enough for the medical doctor. After all, there was still a person out there in the form of Ms. Harami that is in need of assistance, not to mention the family behind that person. It bothered Jemma....and not because of her medical training dictating it should bother her. No...it bothered her because it is another mother. Another family affected. Another set of children wondering what are they going to do now?

    Another Meris.

    And...Jemma is not about to let what happened to Meris happen again. Not if she had any say in the matter.

    With the evidence of the previous visit to Staten Island back in analysis (the smartphone), Jemma travels once more, to the hospital. Her labcoat has been left back in the labs...her ICER in plain view on her hip. As the vehicle approaches the hospital, Jemma offers a summary.

    "The person we are looking for is Ms. Shirin Harami. At approximately 4:48 am Sunday morning, Ms. Harami received a call on her cellphone from an unidentified male in regards to research she was performing. She found a pattern of medical anomalies, all of which match the anomalies found with the autopsy of one Meris Drew. There was a threat, a scream, then silence. Daisy and I researched the call as well as the files and found the similarities too great to ignore. We had gone to Ms. Harami's office at the Medical Examiner's office and found her cellphone thrown under a filing cabinet, but no sign of her. The phone is currently being analyzed, while we should have a vocal match to the male's voice shortly."

    As Director Palamas gives the orders, Jemma offers a nod. She has no problem with the morgue. She does pipe up with more info. "We determined through Ms. Harami's co-worker that she volunteers at the hospital here. I would recommend going to the resident liaisons office first to determine if the hospital has seen her lately."

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Bear: Offices
Staten Island University Hospital hops at this hour when people keel over from indulgences at the dinner table or the stress of a hard weekend catches up. Shifts changed an hour ago, but the weary residents stream out. Administrative staff are reduced to a skeleton, the last few hours of visitation playing out. Lara and Mikhail have no difficulty walking through the front door, an information desk planted in the very middle of the lobby. Bypassing it means running into a big orderly who could've been a line backer, and two or three security members who probably were. Not hard to show off the badges for admission to the party, though a tired nurse stuck on desk duty asks to see their ID. Actual SHIELD gets a jolt out of the ginger man, and he rakes his hand over his hair. Calls in to find out protocols, costing them a few seconds.

Team Science: Morgue
Getting into the morgue takes a little more effort. It doesn't have its own entrance and threading past that entry desk means finding an elevator bank down to subbasement 2, most of which don't head there. Too many doors block the way, and no handsome doctors pushing gurneys bash through in their Kool-Aid Man moments. The pair of women need to use their wits and reading skills to get through, waving badges several times and cuing an intercom twice to get access from skeptical staff. Staff who don't want to be there, slow to move, irritated and anxious in dealing with them. Snappish words invite complaints, whether from an exhausted nurse slouching over her coffee or a guard slurping down chicken picante cup-o'-ramen and glaring hard at Kara Lynn for getting in his way.

But eventually they reach the right wing. The air is cool and still, antiseptic and brightly lit in those passages used by passing few of the medical staff. It feels cold, slinky and sterile. A distant murmur of bad 80s New Wave plays from under a door: Depressed Mode. Err, Depeche Mode.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
"Understood," Mikhail says to Kara and then looks to Lara, "Indeed no problem." He does not grin, but is in a mildly decent mood, all things considered, though he smelled vaguely of cheap vodka and cigarettes. He makes his way to the building and flashes his ID, confirming that he indeed a SHIELD agent, but after that he lets Lara take the lead, she has the map, though the former Soviet soldier pays attention to the staff, to see if anything seems out of the ordinary, or if any smells stand out of place here. "Da, /actual/ SHIELD." He notes.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
"Considering the proloctivity of our enemy to have their own information network, Agent Simmons, I think it's best if we split, and do a two-pronged investigation. Keep in communiation with any updates you find," she tells everyone, and then she's indicating to Jemma to follow her as she starts to slowly head towards the morgue.

While Kara might not appreciate the treatment she gets, she's certainly not unused to it, remarking casually to the Agent with her, "The perks of working in the field. This is not something I missed," she says, with a measure of slight sarcasm, an attempt at humor. She is, at the very least, patient with the staff members and knowing that honey gets you more than badge-waving most times.

"Any other information to share?" she asks of Jemma, curiously, while they are alone and walking through one of the halls, until they get, finally, to their destination.

Once they do, Kara surveys the room, slowly, a severe line slashed across her features in a very good, and, unintended impersonation of Deputy Director Hill.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara is just behind Mikhail as he makes his way to the receptionist desk, and she flashes her badge out he takes the lead on that element of their assignment. There-after, she steps around the reception desk and smiles softly at the guards and orderly before she raises her sunglasses up onto her hairline and starts to lead Mik down the central hallway of the main building. "Just this way. We'll have to take a lift." She tells him. It only takes a bit of a stroll to find the off-shoot hallway with the four elevator entryways. When their lift is called, and subsequently arrives, Lara strides on inside of it and presses the floor they're headed for.

The lift ride is unevently, mostly, but there's a poster on the interior wall advertising for the hospital Pharmacy, with the slogan under the title being 'Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither is good Health.'

Lara smiles at this and glances to Mikhail. "Rome has taken over one million, ten thousand days, to build, as a matter of fact." She flashes a faint grin and glances down to her phone once more.

When the lift doors open post-little-bell-dinging, the Briton starts to stride forward and steps around some boarding the elevator in their wake. She leads them onward. "We're just up here." She says, at the furthest edge of this impressively massive building.

The doorway to Harami's office is located at the end of the hallway and Lara motions toward it, then to Mik. "The honor is all yours. Plus, if it's locked, I'll let you find a way to open it." She also seems to be in good spirits this afternoon.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    There might have been an expression of agreement. Simmons' own dealings with judgmental medical personnel was still fresh in her mind, though Jemma used the blunt hammer of the truth of the situation at hand to drive her point home. But here, in the bowels of the hospital, it would take too long to explain to each stressed-out doctor and nurse why SHIELD is here. So, she allows Kara Lynn to use the proverbial honey to ease their passage while Jemma herself provides the additional information.

    "Ms. Harami identified multiple cases of accelerated aging. All within the Staten Island vicinity. And all..were female. Ages ranging from 21 to 60. Cardiac arrest and unconsciousness. These were not picked up as strange because the majority of subjects survived." A pause is given, as Jemma indicates in the general direction where the morgues should be. "From what we saw at the medical examiner's office, there was only one additional egress into the office. The window. And, while there was some evidence of someone outside of the window, the window itself was locked and sealed from the inside."

    Jemma's words trail off as the dulcet tones of 'Personal Jesus' wafts to the ears. Opening the door, the pair enter. While Kara does her best impression of Director Hill, Jemma looks for the current poor soul who is working the morgue. Because...a medical examiner who volunteers at the hospital is going to know the morgue staff on a near intimate basis.

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Science: Morgue
The music pumps through an empty waiting room large enough to accommodate three people tops. No chairs, no magazines, just a counter and a large red button with a sign reading 'do not press.' A digital clock paces on, a sealed door with a hazmat symbol on it behind that lonely counter. Forget 'authorized personnel only.' A camera in the corner unfailingly watches the women enter.

Either they risk the button or waiting. Neither gets answered before the song flips over, suggesting someone is busy or very, very naughty.

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Bear: Offices
Through a door, mysterious answers await in a shared office where residents and their paired volunteer doctors and nurses abound.

Shirin Harami isn't a young woman, but a Persian professional in her mid-forties and distressingly punctual by every report. It takes a certain skill set and fortitude to choose to enter medicine, and then focus entirely on reviewing medical records, performing autopsies, and dealing with every manner of human ailment. There may be some of her influence in correcting the disorganization found in the resident relations office, which simply has 'Residency' on a plate outside. A score of locked filing cabinets line one wall. War waged against piled coats and bags confines their spread around a tiny closet and a pair of worn-out couches permanently imprinted by prostrate bodies. One is there now, stiff and sprawled, arm hanging down to graze the floor with its knuckles. His, given the short shock of black hair.

Past that are two tiny offices separated by a hallway, an ugly yucca plant, and a wall of photographs featuring residents, staff, smiling doctors, Shirin herself in several politely looking at the camera. They can identify her with a one-off tag on her shirt. Both doors are closed and the smell of something horribly sweet to Mikhail's nose comes from the left. Along with something shuffling around in there.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
"Excellent," Mikhail says quickly as Lara leads the way to the door, though he does chuckle at Lara's commentary, "Did not take so many to fall, da?" The Russian snorts at the comment and then chuckles again. "But things are always subject to change

The smell has been generic hospital, though as they get closer things change, "That... smells odd. Like cake and moss, fresh moss. Also maybe someone is here, it has people smell."

Mik snarls and looks to the door, giving Lara a nod as he checks the handle, finding his way into the office. Though he is now out of his element, "Seems like chaos went through here." His words are clipped, though his hand rests on the grip of his ICER. The Russian goes through a few things though he gestures that someone, or something, is to the door to the left, drawing his ICER and carefully moving forward, getting ready to breach the door on Lara's signal.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
"Agent Simmons, assessment?" Meaning of course, the hazmat button, what the individual may or may not be doing within. She knows the possibility of contagens, which is likely why she hasn't pressed it yet. But, presently Kara Lynn doesn't see anything that's setting off her alarms - that doesn't mean it's not there. It was, afterall, just a tertiary scan.

She looks around for a file, or report that might indicate what the person behind the locked and sealed doors might be dealing with, in the meantime. But, this is Jemma's area of expertise. Not hers.

<< Anything to report? >> She asks of the other team, just in time for them to stumble upon the murder scene and the victims.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's phone is slipped away back into the pocket of her light jacket. She now walks along side Mikhail and lets her eyes sweep right and left, left and right. She gives casual stares the nurses and residents in their own working spaces, but otherwise just keeps on moving. Her eyes also glance to the man with the black hair and dangling arm... hospitals... not Croft's favorite place to be...

Down into the hallway with the two mysteriously closed doors, Lara's left should brushes the ugly yucca and her eyes are going to the photos of Harami, staring at the middle aged woman's features when Mik speaks up. Lara's brown eyes sweep to his location and she steps toward him. When he takes out his ICER, she is aware of her own weaponry beneath her jacket, but doesn't yet make a move for it.

A quick glance is given to the door as Lara reaches up to unzip her jacket, just in case. "Lets try not to make a ruckuss unless we absolutely have to, or we'll have a panic on our hands." Lara says in a soft and quiet tone to her British voice. "Lets see whats behind Door Number One, shall w--"

When her comms goes off, Lara raises her left wrist to speak into the receiver around her wrist beneath her jacket's cuff. <<"We're at the Office. There's an Unknown inside it. We're taking a look.">> She reports back.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    An eyebrow is raised as Jemma eyes the red button. There is a quick shift of attention from the button to Kara Lynn as the director asks for Jemma's input. And....Jemma provides it.

    By reaching over and pressing the red button.

    The New Wave 80's party (currently INXS with 'Devil Inside') is interrupted with a chime reminiscent of a door bell. The British accent remarks with a bit of amusement. "Common joke in the morgue when one does not wish to be disturbed. Unfortunately for whoever did this...I am aware of how morgues function."

    Jemma is willing to wait. But, if it takes too long, she is not afraid to press the chime at a frequency bordering on nuisance.

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Bear: Offices
The exhausted resident on the front couch doesn't even stir when Agents Uriokovitch and Croft break in through an unlocked entrance. Drool saturates the mushroom brown fabric under his slack jaw. Stiff as a board and sprawled out, he isn't going anywhere.

The door on the left side isn't locked but swinging it open knocks over a trash can to the floor. Debris spills out in a fan, noisily unleashing an unrecycled can, several crumpled papers, and the remains of someone's cake on a disposable plate. A lumpy shape under foil perched on a side table is the sweet smell of buttercream frosting Mik senses, and the mossy stench comes from inside. Dim light peers through slatted blinds onto a hunched figure shuffling around in the corner of an L shaped desk, the drawer open and a monitor squashed into the corner. Random pawings cast paper in a heap at the dark figure's feet, which aren't quite visible. Rumpled clothes don't look quite right. It--he?--doesn't look up from rifling through papers unless there's a loud noise to attract his attention.

Team Science: Morgue
The little wire-inset window in the Hazmat Warning door sees shifting light and shadow. Another buzz breaks the jarring noises of Michael Hutchence purring on about his doomed state, and then the shadow resolves to a person in a white coat, peering through. Spectacles rest on his forehead, pushed back, and out comes a thin, older man. "Second shift, and I have a backlog to work with. This better be good. Don't tell me it's Grandma Reggio. Just because the son says the Sicilian familia would be -very- disappointed," he rattles off like an archaic machine gun. White polyester flaps and his thick blue plastic gloves are mercifully free from most stains. He strips them off, dumping them in a metal box. The acrid smell of hand sanitizer being liberally applied follows, but not pulling down his mask.

"You must be new." It's not a question. "Get to it, then. I haven't got all night. Even half a night."

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik is unconcerned with sleeping resident, for the time being. The Russian nods to Lara as she makes the call to go for the door, though to be subtle. He opens the door carefully and notices the cake; however, Mikhail is a professional and that is presently potentially evidence or further information (though if it turns out it is not, and also edible...). The Russian lets his eyes focus letting, Lara call in the response to the director's inquiry.

Whatever is rifling through the papers catches Mik's attention and he keeps his ICER down for the time being, saying to Lara, "Careful, it has not seen us yet." His tone is as soft as it can be to avoid detection, as he gets ready to loop over to get a good angle once Lara is ready, not wanting to take on the unknown by himself, and she is the higher ranking agent, here.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
<< Understood. Call immediately if you need backup. We'll be there soon. Keep the line open,>> Kara says into the comm. "Good to know," the WAND Director says without mirth, but a subtle inflection of approval to Jemma.

A wry smile does, however, touch her face when the morgue lab-rat seems to think she and Jemma are 'new'. That only lasts a fraction of a moment, though.

"No," she reassures him in regards to his concerns about the Sicilian.

Kara takes a glance into the room, surveying it for another moment before observing, "How well do you know Shirin Harami?" speaking her in the present tense, for the moment.

She looks to Jemma as well, silently. An invitation for the Agent to ask whatever questions she feels fit, deferring to the R&D mind who has a better understanding of how morgues function, and how to corrolate those autopsy reports to another scientist within SHIELD protocols.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's hands remain at her sides while Mik breaches the office and she is soon to follow, with her eyes dropping immediately to the tipped waste bin and its scattered contents all across the floor now. She sees whats left of a piece of cake from a plate, then looks up and is soon to find the rest of the cake. She's never had much of a sweet tooth, herself, but her curiosity is certainly raised by its mere presence.

As Lara hears Mikhail's reference to 'it' she steps around him to see the figure rifling through the desk... A glance back to Mik, and Lara raises her hands to place them into her jacket pockets to try to look as casual as possible...

She nods once to Mik, then looks back to the man / it searching through the L-shaped desk. "Pardon me." Lara announces herself toward 'it'. "I don't suppose this cake is for everyone?"

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    "Ms. Harami works with the Medical Examiner's office and volunteers here with the residents. Chances are that she may have assisted here in the morgue." Even as Jemma speaks, she presents her credentials to the morgue doc on duty...both the SHIELD ID and the medical license. It most likely doesn't play with the morgue tech, but it should at least give the impression that no, she is not there to relieve him...and yes, she knows her way around.

    The next question from Jemma isn't necessarily about Shirin...but rather what she was researching. "Have you been seeing an increase of cardiac victims with females between 21 and 60 years of age? Or cases with multiple organ failure and signs of premature aging? Ms. Harami had identified a string of cases and we are following up to confirm." Jemma has the pleasant demeanor of the medical doctor down cold. Polite and insufferably British.

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Bear: Offices
The idea of a cake going to waste is a tragedy beyond telling, and SHIELD cannot let a fresh, preserved dessert be unrescued. It's not the American way. Still, the disheveled brown-haired man in a loose shirt open at the collar keeps sorting through papers in a disjointed, awkward way. He at least wears pants, but any tie is gone and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal somewhat hairy forearms. Papers spill out of a manila envelope, a definite compliance violation, as Lara talks.

"Aaaaack?" Oh boy. That bleary response is concerning. Either he's drunk or permanently intoxicated, bloodshot eyes peering through the night at Lara and Mik. "Yaaaaah." Cake for all!

A stiffened jerk of his shoulders and he throws the nearest thing at Mik. "Ooo ya-yaaaaay!" he slurs with an impressive skill. A big swipe of that uncoordinated arm still throws said red Swingline stapler hard.

Team Science: Morgue
The coroner looks over Kara Lynn and Jemma, but not in a remotely questioanble way. "Then who are you?" There's Jemma to the rescue with documentation, though. He pulls out a swatch of forms in triplicate, peeling a section off. Then swiveling it around, the pages are brought down in a flutter on the counter. "You check someone in, fill out section four and five. If you check someone out, six to nine." That being pushed at Kara Lynn, he listens with a worried kind of expression. "One thing at a time, ma donna, one thing at a time. Harami, of course, how'd I not? We go back six or seven years now. Since I came here from Philly. Real professional, her." In their field, that apparently garners respect.

"Multiple organ failure happens plenty. You come here in bad shape, it all goes more than you think. Saying heart failure is nicer than 'drowning on bodily fluids' for the cancer patients," he offers, not really grinning at all anymore. "Cardiac victims? Come to think, yes. Harami was asking for records over the last month. I delivered them already, nothing new there. She dug in?"

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik listens to Lara address the man, when suddenly the man chucks a stapler at him. The Russian tanks the hit, smacking into his chest, giving only a slight wince, "See, that is problem. First you waste cake," he raises his ICER, "Secondly you attack me. I would advise you to stand up with hands up. We do not play games." His chest will probably have a bruise, but it is not his first and won't be his last. But hopefully this can be resolved peacefully.

Jane Foster has posed:
Mik's probably better off talking to the cake, for what it's worth. The hunched resident shambles from behind the desk at him, repeating that dreadful groan of "Ooo ay-yay!" again, growling out the vowels with the articulate quality of a drunken satyr. Possibly unkind to the satyr, given how he considers swiping. It's hard to say if any intelligence remains in his eyes in the dark, but attacking the big Russian leaves little hope. The way he moves is concerningly ... zombieish.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
Back in the morgue, Kara Lynn watches the paperwork be presented to her. Kara is a PRO at paperwork, especially in triplicate. It's what she does on a daily basis, making sure all the right lines are filled in for the right places on the right forms. The coroner has given Kara all the information she needs to check, and verify the forms against one another. And, with a rather exemplary display of efficiency, she shakes her head to the man. She looks up, briefly, displaying a measure of compassion for the man. "She's why we are here. She alerted us to her concerns as well. Shortly after, we have reason to believe she was attacked. ANy information you could provide can assist us. Agent Simmons, here, was crucial in helping us understand her research and concerns as well as where we might pick up her tail. Please answer all her questions. There is a pause."

"Where did you deliver them?"

She breaks eye contact and then goes back to comparing papers, the ins and outs of those transferred - looking for disparities, red flags, or missing paperwork that might catch her eye and goes quiet, leaving further investigation and inquiry to Jemma.

Lara Croft has posed:
With her hands in her jacket's side pockets, Lara's eyes peer at the 'drunken' man as he replies... and then throws a stapler across the desk. She looks over to see it bounce off of Mik's chest, with very little visible effect to the big Russian man, so her stare sweeps back to him as Mik lays out the 'how it's gonna go' orders.

Lara doesn't speak, she just takes another step around the desk, but keeps her distance for the time being, she looks toward the papers the man was rustling through, as well as anything else that might stand out to her perceptive gaze.

If there had been a party of some kind in here, it's entirely possible this man got drunk in this otherwise empty office, but still, something felt off...

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Bear: Offices
First, the bear and the archaeologist and the stapler-throwing resident. His arms are still bare and his fists opening and closing, itching for something else to throw. The obvious thing is a wireless mouse, going for Lara. The next one, papers tossed away so he can lunge for the prize above prizes.

Yes, there looks to be a party that happened. No bottles in evidence except in the basket for a can, but then he seizes the cake plate and that becomes a projectile.

At Lara. Oh no! The blessed cake!

Team Science: Morgue
The poor coroner flushes as he gets back his paperwork correctly filled out the first time and done in full. How often do doctors or pesky police officers achieve that? He turns around to an old wooden flip-style calendar, hauling out the digits that currently read '76' and slotting the digits to '0' and '0'. It stands over a shelf reading "Days since last correct form submitted."

"She took them on Sunday. Last shift," he explains, "and I left before her. I'm second, she took a stint at third working on Mrs. Atwal. Must have been called up to work, I thought, because she hasn't filed her findings."

Some keystrokes on his computer are awkward standing up, but they do muster a purpose to wander through the database of files. "There." He pokes a finger at the screen. "Still in progress. Must be something she needs to get back to. But she tidied up OR #2 and put Mrs. Atwal away. I peeked in, slab was clean. When the city calls, you answer. At least for Shirin. Always exactly the way it should be." A shrug there as he looks at Jemma and then back to Kara Lynn.

His brow sweats and he pulls his mask down, fishing around for a tissue. "Go back. Wait, attacked by something other than a patient? Sometimes patients get a little turned about on the floor and lash out but you don't mean... like, hurt? Who would hurt her? She was a big softie to everyone. She's due back tomorrow morning, and this your way of saying she might be hurt?"

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik frowns as the crazed satyr continues with his babblings. "See, this is problem." When the mouse is thrown. Then the unforgiveable crime of cake destruction happen and Mik lets loose with the ICER, hoping to solve this quickly without ruining his clothes. This is why they can't have nice things.

Jane Foster has posed:
*Blip*!

Dendrotoxin slams into the resident. He's experienced worse. He seems generally unperturbed by being shot if he even happens to notice whatsoever.

The honeycomb and pistachio cake with a pale-honey bourbon buttercream frosting has an impressive demonstration of a tricky flavour balance, utterly beautiful. The frosting looks like a shaggy mastodon, demolished where pieces have been cut-away.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
Kara doesn't feel she has to tell Jemma to look through the database of files, especially after a cursary glance she steps aside to give Jemma room to go through it thoroughly.

She, instead, reaches into her pocket and pulls out a cellphone. She extends this out to the man, "If you come across any further cases such as those she was describing to you and had asked for files for, use this to contact Agent Simmons from a secure area. Don't file your findings, or report them. Agent Simmons will instruct you on how to proceed."

She pauses, adding, "We are looking for her," to the man. "But, she is currently missing under suspicious circumstances. That's the best answer I can give you, presently."

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes are going from the area around the slobbering slurring man to where he is when he moves frantically to grab something else. When the cordless mouse is sent hurtling her way, Croft takes a step out of it's pathway and lets it soar past her to clatter off of the wal land down on to the floor.

As she steps back to where she'd been she looks to Mikhail when he raises his ICER... and then.

Caked.

Lara looks down at herself as the cake was thrown right against her stomach, the plate then falling to the floor at her feet, leaving her covered from stomach down to her feet in bits of cake and icing.

"Fantastic." She mutters.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Jemma has been in this situation before. Recently even. However, as Director Palamas handles the question efficiently, Jemma starts to do what she does best.

    Research.

    The scientist reaches over and starts to peruse the database. However, she has the look of someone who knows what to search for...and within moments, she pulls up an autopsy record. "Yes...this is one of the case files here." A few more moments produces more hits. "This is definitely one of the sources of her inquiries." At that point, she looks up, and addresses the morgue tech directly. "She did dig in. And, found patterns that tie in to incidents that we are also investigating. Which is why it is important that we speak to her."

    As Kara offers contact information and specific instructions, Jemma checks her tablet to correlate the files she already saw with what the database is showing. As she does so...a notification pops up in the upper right hand corner. Jemma checks...and manages to maintain her neutral expression...but only just. Instead, she turns back to the tech. "Thank you for your time."

    The glance back to Kara tells the Director that Jemma might have some more information. The tablet is held up, as Jemma nods to the open file notification:


Voice Analysis Completed.

    Jemma doesn't open the file...yet. But...perhaps it is time to vacate the morgue for more...warmer environs.

Jane Foster has posed:
Team Bear: Offices
The zombie has expended his cake. Well, there must be more things to hurl at them, so he decides on the course of action of chucking a keyboard and pens available. The neat resident relations office is soon a disaster zone above and beyond what was already there.

They corner him and he will soon start punching above his weight, disregarding a waste of a perfectly delicious cake. It was delicious, once.

Team Science: Morgue
Look, there are days it sucks to be the guy who opted to go into death and not taxes. Accounting rarely involves danger unless one serves the Firm or mafia interests. "Last I saw was her workspace in the operating room," he says, holding up his alcohol-purified hands. "We don't really socialize much. I'm not the-- uh, her scene. Family lady and I cl--- um, I like the clubs." Don't say you club people in a missing persons case! He works his jaw.

"Maybe you want to check? It's tidy and all but maybe she left something behind. Ticket or something." Right, pigs fly.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik scowls as the gun does not work and he holsters it. It takes a few seconds but his muscles begin to bulge and the shirt, being pelted with office supplies as Mik expands into an ursine form. He gives a roar, now in tattered clothing, and barrels forward, hoping to secure the satyr zombie in a headlock or pin it to ensure easy removal.

Ursa Major uses his hands to grab the zombie by the throat and slams it against the wall a couple of times before using his superior strength, and lack of concern for his own well being, by eventually putting the monster into a full nelson so that they could examine this... thing, later. "I believe we have prisoner?" He asks Lara.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
That severe line again flashes over Kara Lynn's features as she nods to the screen Jemma is showing her. She echoes Jemma's statement, "We will check, and then be on our way. Thank you for your time." Kara does mean it. Everyone has their own little world, however insular, and when the shit hits the fan it is shitty. She can appreciate that, as there is usually shit all over her ceiling on a consistent basis. But, that's what she signed up for.

She moves to the operating room, and if the coroner is a person of interest for going clubbing she doesn't seem to show it. Instead, with Jemma assisting her, the two of them should go over the OR quite quickly, and quite thoroughly.

Lara Croft has posed:
With things seemingly escalating, Lara takes a step back toward the office's doorway. The ICER discharge from Mikhail seemed to have no effect on the man, which was concerning... but seeing her fellow Agent suddenly changing shape into... a bear? Well this is going to go down as a much more eventful outing within a hospital's office wing, than she'd originally anticipated.

Lara shakes her head nervously from side to side at all of this, unsure of what Mik's intentions were, whether the big bear was going to just tear this 'drunkenly' man apart or not. But when he seems to just be getting him into a grapple hold, and speaks of a prisoner... Lara calms some and nods her head. "I believe you're right." She says back at him.

A moment later and the British agent raises her left arm again to speak into her cuff. <<"Croft here. We've detained someone who might be of interest to all of this. We need to get them out of here rather quickly I think. So we're headed back.">>

With a smile, Lara lowers her left hand again, and a second later she realizes there's fake all ove rher chin now. Her right hand comes up and she dabs some of it with a finger and then cleans it off between her lips. She smiles softly again. "Delicious."

Jane Foster has posed:
Denouement 1: URSA e CRUX Nothing quite like striking down a zombie by bear-claw, and not the delicious pastries. It isn't as easy as charging in a furry mass at the desk, since the arrival of a large bear cuts down on maneuverability all around. It means the resident zombie cannot charge Lara in her defiled cake person, or run out the door without bypassing someone more hirsute than he is. More office supplies and then a scroungy fist come pummeling at Ursa, but at the end of the day, the Russian has tactics and great horrid paws. Too much manhandling will, unfortunately, dislocate a fair few bones and possibly make the thing's arm fall out of its socket, held together by flesh and muscle not in an advanced state of decay.

Funny thing that. How is it not rotting altogether? Fresh death!

The prisoner is subdued under Lara and Mik's watch, but they have one snoring resident clearly /not/ dead (yet) lying dead to the world on the couch, oblivious to the huge bear roar. Those rotations, man. Ask Jemma.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    For a moment, there is a *look* that Jemma gives the morgue doc on duty. Being Jemma, it is polite, but also incredulous. The sort of look that would ask just how certain the socialite doctor knew his friend, the family woman. Still, nothing is said as the SHIELD doctor herself offers an affirming gesture. "Yes, we will be more than happy to look over her operating room."

    It isn't until Jemma and Kara are left to inspect when Jemma speaks. "I have been to Shirin's office. I sincerely doubt she would have left something behind by mistake. She is most meticulous in nature, from what I have seen."

    And....the operating room is no different. If it wasn't for the fact that the dancing doctor led the two in, Jemma would have assumed the room was never used.

    And...that seems to be an issue. "I...have been in many operating rooms. But....never one so clean." The disbelief is genuine. "I mean, not even a single imperfection. This...this isn't right. It isn't humanly possible. Yes, it is supposed to be clean. But this..." Here Jemma indicates the table, the equipment, the lights...."this is spotless. Whoever did this must have a serious obsessive compulsive disorder."%

Jane Foster has posed:
It's a very nice operating room as far as they go. Some of the equipment is obviously missing; no one uses a heart monitor on a cadaver or needs to register oxygen content in the blood on a stiff subject. The tools are put away, the doors tidy and clean on the cabinets. It shines in a buzzy light overhead, and the floors are immaculate. The counters are clean enough to eat off, and germs live in terror and ecstatic joy facing that clear sign of untouched, undefiled stainless steel everywhere. Not a stain, not a goopy shadow, not a dust bunny exposes itself to the light.

It's depressingly hygienic, like the hospital is depressingly anonymous and the parking lots soul-suckingly dull. No wonder the resident is a zombie.

Kara Lynn Palamas has posed:
As the two enter the room, and Jemma relays her experiences, Kara remarks, "And that, Agent Simmons, is why I decided to come along on this investigation." There is a dead seriousness, now, in her tone. The sort of tone that says, 'I knew I was right, and I hate the fucking fact I was right, God I really wished I wasn't right'.

Again, her eyes flick over the room, stalking it and fingers splayed as if she saw something Jemma didn't.

<< Understood. Return to base as soon as you're able. I'll want a full debriefing as soon as possible. >>

Then, Kara is turning to the wall. Plodding, with a measured cadance towards it, like an animal tracking, or scenting it's prey and stalking it slowly. Then, she puts her hand on a handle in a drawer built into the wall, and pulls it out.

As the drawer is fully pulled out, a 49 year old Persian woman is on full display, her hair shocked white. In a tone that matches the severity of the expression on her face she tells Jemma, as well as the other Agents over the comms, << This is officially in WAND's jurisdiction, Agent Simmons. We've found Shahin Harami. >> That can only mean one thing. It isn't science that's doing these things.

She looks to Jemma, "I want her autopsy ASAP."

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Being of scientific mind, Jemma, of course, sees the room as clean. Even her own experiences tells her that it is too clean. Perhaps it was a little intuition with experience....or just experience itself. But, there isn't anything that tells to Jemma that the particular drawer that Kara selects is off by any special means.

    However....the contents? That is a sure sign.

    The confusion is easily seen....why is Harami here? But...the time made sense. The disco doctor in the waiting room did say that Ms. Harami was scheduled for early Sunday. But...if she was here....why was her phone in her office?

    Many questions swirl in the research scientist's head. But...only one answer. And it is the answer that Jemma gives Kara.

    "You will be the first to know when I have completed it."

    Because, like Meris before...Jemma is going to do this autopsy herself.

Jane Foster has posed:
Denouement 2: SCULPTOR e CIRCINUS
She did not go quietly into that good night. From the cool state of things, Shirin Shahin Harami has been dead a few hours at most. Possibly suffocating in that lonely underworld as her body betrayed her and broke apart, or perhaps sent on her final journey in one swift blow against life.

Her face is not peaceful. There are signs of terror. Of anger. Stiff lips gone blue are fixed in a withered snarl. Hands lie curled at her sides where they fell. Carved against the wrinkled, matchstick arm is a code of blackened, ugly lines like pollution poisoning the flesh. Jemma can see it for herself like a dull tattoo: TAKEN | TOO LATE.

For Kara Lynn, the same seems to burn with its own putrid glow, a hint of its making.

Harami stares sightlessly up at the ceiling with answers and no voice.

And somewhere, her killer baits SHIELD.