2468/Black Sun: Manhattan Transfer

Black Sun: Manhattan Transfer
Date of Scene:	15 July 2020
Location:	Cloisters - Metropolitan Museum of Art
Synopsis:	The Grail is saved, but at what cost?
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Jemma Simmons, Sam Wilson, Gothic Lolita, Dane Whitman, Jessica Drew, Mary Jane Watson, Mikhail Uriokovitch, Lara Croft, John Constantine
Tinyplot:	Black Sun

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Jane Foster has posed:
ENN: Breaking News
Austrian Consul General Snatched From Street

Breaking news tonight from Manhattan. Footage from security cameras on East 69th St Park Avenue shows the dramatic events. This looks like a kidnapping of the Consul General of Austria. Doctor Bock, the Consul General, was forced into a white van after leaving the Consulate General of the Republic of Austria.

In this footage here, provided by a secure source, you can see an unmarked white van parked outside 702 Park Avenue. These appear to be contractors for the building under construction at 25 East 69th Avenue. A passenger leaves the van and two men force Dr. Bock into the vehicle. Now, as the van pulls away, note two more white vans coming up in the right lane from around the block.

The Republic of Austria refused to comment on the situation. NYPD has neither confirmed or denied a brewing situation on Manhattan's Lenox Hill, a neighbourhood densely populated with international missions and consulates.

Jane Foster has posed:
Triskelion. Westchester County. 9:22 PM.

Thirty-nine minutes ago, news slipped surreptitiously over the wire, shrouded in top secret status, that an Austrian diplomat disappeared from the street. Obviously not a willing situation.

Eight minutes ago, a quiet alarm started broadcasting an insistent warning through non-standard channels to a receiver stuck in tree, which in turn relayed it to a listening post that uploads into a satellite. The location is Cloisters, that pretty outpost of medieval art in the northern reaches of Manhattan. A blessing given SHIELD's location in Westchester County. The steady ping-ping-ping makes an easy mark on Ops' radar considering Jane Foster knows a thing or two about jumping signals and dealing with intergalactic distances. Intercity is practically laughable. After five minutes, the cadence starts growing more insistent, another 'voice' in the mix pinging.

Six minutes ago, a broken talisman in WAND's vault went up in flames, both halves reaching a heat so intense that it starts to melt its own chain.

Five minutes ago, an energy signature Jemma Simmons has been monitoring and considering duplicating flared. A vibrant, angry stain radiating from the Hudson River waterfront in Fort Tryon Park. Cloisters.

Two minutes ago, ENN broke the story in New York from their anonymous source. SHIELD has no answer for the source yet.

A good evening, all in all.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    The alarm is loud...and keyed to Jemma's particular tastes when the alert sounds out. So, when the TARDIS landing sounds out in the R&D laboratory, Jemma knows exactly what is going on. The Spear of Destiny is active again. The triangulation is blazingly quick, as it is mostly Jemma just putting in a rather educated guess as to where the energy signature would be.

    And, of course it is at Cloisters.

    This time, Jemma was ready. The small backpack that she has taken to using for field missions is packed and ready to go. A standard medkit, a backup ICER, and the 'magic' ballistic glasses with their corresponding tablet. The backpack is picked up...as Jemma grabs the comlink, sounding out over the open channel. <Energy signature detected at Cloisters. Same high energy as before. Our artifact is acting up. Require agents to come with me to the gallery to investigate. Given recent events, expect trouble. Meet me at the motor pool for those available and willing.>

    It was a calm demeanor that sounded out on the channel, but Jemma is anything but. She remembers full well what happened last time she was at Cloisters. But...there is no time to think about that now. With her own ICER to her hip, Jemma heads out, tossing the labcoat while picking up a jacket more...suitable for what may be in store.

    After all, she hasn't forgotten the bough beating she just received recently.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Minutes later in the motor pool, Sam Wilson piles into the backseat of a SHIELD SUV. He's barely recuperated from his injury in South America, and he feels like he has been chasing alarms nonstop for weeks, but it's not in his nature to let that exhaustion show.

He's kitted in the full tactical Falcon gear: dark grays and digital camo patterns, ICERs at his hips, flight harness fueled and ready to go. His last visit to the Met and Cloisters in particular has convinced him that there is little he could do to be overprepared, and with the fires (literal and metaphorical) being lit all over the city, he's already on high alert as the team departs the Triskelion.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Gothic Lolita comes jogging in, zipping up her SHIELD jumpsuit as she pauses to run her fingers through one of her ponytails, tugging idly on it as she wanders over to join the group, a pair of ICERs in holsters on her hips. "Agent Wednesday, reporting." she says easily as she arrives.

Dane Whitman has posed:
It's a nice bonus when your abilities let you don and doff most of your equipment more or less at will. But then again more modern equipment...not so much, and it's SHIELD issue fatigue pants and combat boots with a plain black T-shirt under a leather jacket that Dane Whitman arrives in, with ICER on his hip and a photonic sword tucked at his back (and the matching SHIELD of course on his wrist, all fully charged up). He gives Sam a nod, and looks over his shoulder at MJ Watson, who's piling into the SUV on the opposite side: "We're probably having a real bad day if this mission takes this long, but just keep in mind the charge will only last roughly an hour if it's continually on."

Jessica Drew has posed:
The ready room has plenty of toys to occupy agents with: the latest manuals on arms according to an agent's level, every channel in the world available on one of five screens with headsets to keep from disturbing other agents. Jessica has her tablet open and is deep into the newest ICER info when the alert goes out.

"<<Agent Drew, on my way.">> Swinging her backpack to her shoulder, she heads out reviewing its contents: ICER, ammo, rope, binocs, taser.

The elevator opens and she heads straight for the SUV taking the seat next to Sam. "Hey, here we go."

Jane Foster has posed:
The route to Cloisters is usually a pain, if not down the river in a speedboat. The Hudson has plenty of traffic in its lower reaches, but few bother to sail so far up. By car, another matter, slaloming through the freeway at speeds no one wants to deal with. SUVs have their advantages, but scoring paths around the pokey mid-evening traffic to reach Fort Tryon Park requires some fairly brilliant driving and braving it, coming close to a Honda CR-V that nearly sideswipes the vehicle by merging into the door -- stupid teenage driver not shoulder-checking.

Or the John Deere lawnmower cover lying in the middle lane, fallen from the back of a truck.

Or the slippery, sliding darkness.

The wail tick, tick, ticks against the app, the arrays singing to the high heavens, a SHIELD satellite dutifully broadcasting what they know. What they can feel. Cloisters' security is some of the finest in New York, if not the world, to guard the multimillion dollar collections aboveground, those below.

By the time the building comes into sight, stone tower above the trees on a hill, nothing at all looks out of the ordinary. Two school busses wait in a parking lot. A few cars scattered. Not unusual; people work here late, they come in early.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ nods over at Agent Whitman, "Okay, got it." She's wearing far more appropriate tactical gear at the moment, though she still doesn't have an ICER or any other weapons. Still, having the photonic sword of her own is handy, and she flashes the agent a grateful smile from her vantage near Jemma.

"Unless you had a preference, Agent Simmons, might be best if someone sticks close to you?" She gives her a wry look, "And well, I am a trainee, still." Sadly, experience in the Hyborean Age doesn't carry over to SHIELD seniority.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Well, that was unexpected. As the SHIELD SUV pulls up to the art gallery, stopping to allow the agents to exit, Jemma turns her eyes towards Mary Jane, offering a nod in the afirmative. "If that is what you wish, Agent Watson. I would appreciate that." It takes a moment for Jemma to register...it isn't like she is the most thrilling of people here, but she does offer a smile, nontheless.

    A hand reaches into the backpack and extracts the ballistic glasses. Then...the tablet as Jemma pulls up the app for them. "Alright. The last time we encountered the artifact in question, there was a spectral attack. Also, with the latest attacks, I would imagine we are going to find some right wing extremists in the vicinity. So, it may be best for Agents Wilson and Whitman to take point on any combat that may occur. I certainly hope that will not be the case, however."

    That tablet of Jemma's remains out as she flips over to the satellite tracking she had in place. "It appears that the artifact is still on premise...but it is certainly not idle. Be careful."

Sam Wilson has posed:
"Got it, Simmons." Taking point is, after all, one of the things Sam does best. As their vehicle parks, Wilson gives Drew a quick, comradely fist bump, just to share a bit of good cheer before the mission, then pops open the door and hops down into the parking lot.

He's conspicuous in his goggles and the unusual hardform backpack that houses his wings, but makes sure not to do anything to alarm anyone beyond that. He simply strides quickly across the courtyard toward Cloisters, assessing those he sees with the advanced filters his HUD makes available to him. Part of taking point happens in combat, but assessing threats and gathering information can be an even more crucial step.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    "Do we have a means of defending against a spectral attack? Also, if you would not mind me linking into your tracking app so I can see where it is as well..." the mecha says as she slips almost daintily out of the SUV, waiting patiently for everyone else before following after Sam.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
When things get hairy, SHIELD sends Mikhail. One, he is mildly disposable, two, he can handle himself, and three, he can literally become hairy. He is not far behind the others, having taken a little bit longer to get out of the vehicle due to his mass. He is not as heavily armored as some may be, but that is for expansion reasons, but the Russian is heavily armed, with the ICER he used last time. Because sometimes the old ways work best.

Jane Foster has posed:
Cloisters by night is stunning, ripped from the pages of a Romantic painting, stolen from a hill overlooking the Spanish or French countryside. It belongs to an era lit by candles and lanterns, enhanced by the sacred Latin hymns sung from the chapels by the faithful. It speaks of an age of the sword and the cross, when war and faith collided. A time of ideas seeking to find man's place in the world, bereft of the wisdom of old, aching for purpose and understanding. Not so different from today, but centuries apart.

The serenity lies so thick on the humid summer air, the bones ache. The soul hearts. And anyone doubting they possess such (save maybe Gothic Lolita) certainly might -feel- here. Feel the longing and the splendour, a sense of life that enriches the very fabric of the night sky. Shadows sink deeper into velvet. The cobblestones underfoot feel more tangible, more real. Their clothes have a more tactile quality. Sound holds better resonance, even in the simple beauty of a grasshopper chirping a quatrain and the distant sighing of water over a muddy bed.

The world breathes. The night holds them in her cloak. Ego sum via et veritas et vita.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Good idea Watson. Agent Simmons is the brains of the outfit," Jessica leans forward looking out the window at the stone tower that disappears from view blocked by the trees as they roll into the parking lot. Afterr the fist bump she is out of the car, following Sam. <<I'm in behind Sam. Coms check.>>

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ flashes a grin at Jemma, "Hey, you're the crack shot of the group, someone has to watch your back." She tilts her head a bit, then figures that also would give the Directors a few less ulcers by having a trainee not charging in like she was some sort of Hyborean Barbarian.

Really, Sonja was more of a fighter-class anyway.

She does, however, frown, "Spectral attack? That sounds rather disturbing... at least we can just punch Nazis." She pauses, then taps her the comm tucked away in her ear as well, <<Got you, Agent Drew. Mine seems to be okay from the adventure the other evening.>> Not that she didn't check it before this, but never hurts to be careful.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Speaking of "old ways" Dane Whitman slips out of the SUV a few moments behind Sam and Jessica, and breaks in a different direction from the other two, looking to cover more ground as they scout the Cloisters.

<<I'm reading, GL, you're probably immune, yourself. I may have...a little bit of resistance, but I wouldn't count on it.>> He's moving around towards the entrances to the underlevel. At least, he's really hoping the Cloisters didn't put the Artifact of Doom on display again.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    "Of course, Agent Wednesday." The callsign felt weird to say to the scientist, but....it is what was used. And, honestly, it fits. Jemma, in a show of trust, hands over the tablet to Gothic Lolita, with the tracking application up and functional. "This might help to establish that link, with the algorithms in place for the energy signature we are tracking."

    Even as Jemma hands over the tablet, she walks for the postern gate. She knows exactly where to go to get back to the chapel. Almost too well, as if she has been replaying the events of the Gala over and over again. "This...is the quickest direction to the exhibit. Through this gate, it is only a couple minute walk at best."

Sam Wilson has posed:
For all the beauty of their surroundings, Sam can't help but reflect on his previous experience here: the ghostly attack, the struggle to save a woman's life. It tints and twists the aura of divinity that the architecture means to inspire. He stops at the postern gate and stares through the bars into the rotunda and the broad corridor that leads deeper into the building.

<<So far, we've only seen our specter attack women of color, Dane, so you might be more in the clear than you think,>> he comments, wry humor layered over a note of bitterness. <<More importantly, does anyone have a nice, subtle way into the building? Museum's closed; door's locked. I can fly us into one of the courtyards, but that's going to look a lot less peaceful than using the front gate."

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Lolita takes the tablet, tilting her head as her eyes shimmer, connecting to the tracker and cloning it to run on her own systems before she hands it back. "Thank you." shes ays simply, catching up to the group and passing them as she approaches the door. "Locks are not a problem." she says simply, reaching up to cover the lock, before her hand seems to..shift, flowing into the lock hole for a moment, before there's a click and she smoothly rotates it, unlocking the door. "The security system will be more challenging however if it's online. Most museums have a cell based security strategy where they seal off areas reporting a security breach." She looks back at the others, smiling faintly at Dane. "I am likely immune...but it means I can't affect the spector either, or redirect attacks to myself as easily."

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mikhail remains quiet, listening to comms, though keeping watch. He might not have his ursine senses at the moment, but you do not survive what he did by being unaware. He keeps his hand on his ICER and looks to the door and moves forward to kick it open until Gothic Lolita does... well, that. "Da. It is not what I know much of, but odds are it is question of when we will trigger security rather than if?" He is mildly concerned. "Though we did learn this," he holds up the ICER, "Can possibly work very well."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Only women of color beging attacked angers Jessica and does not make her feel less a target. Only once has she had anything to do with the Spectre they are after. The Nazis being another matter. ICER in hand she follows in Sam's footsteps. <<Copy that. Looks like Agent Wednesday is on breaching the security system. I'm surprised they don't have eyes on us already.">>

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane smiles back at Gothic Lolita and chuckles, "I was just going to say...I have a passcode for the outer doors...but I don't think it's going to work on the interior security systems. MIGHT get us into the basement, though." He adds, "Also doesn't the museum staff know we're working with them on all this? I wouldn't worry too much about making a stir as long as we don't do any serious damage, particularly to the artifacts. Which isn't to say we should go in guns blazing...we've got at least one hostage likely." He moves to head in behind Lolita and whoever else is with this particular cluster.

Jane Foster has posed:
The path around to the back through the postern gate leads to a wall that Jemma can send them through, enabling the group to discover it's been untouched for the moment. Visible cameras seem to track them, blind eyes settled into the dark. Light shines along the walls. It takes some work to reach the panel that needs working, fingertips sliding over glass, to work the rotating numerical requirements and the standing password since the gala -- it hasn't changed. Dane can make that much out, though whether he opens the door when the locks softly disengage is another matter.

Any with magical sensitivity hurt here. It's too real. Too thick. Every sound is too grave, the silence too pure.

Sam Wilson has posed:
With the security at the entrance dealt with, Sam sidles into the rotunda and starts down the long, straight corridor to the lobby proper, taking a couple of steps upward every few meters. The tactical position here is not great: no cover, no side paths, just forward or back. He tries not to think about that as he advances, tries to settle his nerves when his hands itch to reach for his sidearms. This is a peaceful night in a civilian setting; don't escalate until you have to. Still, the whole time, something well below his conscious awareness is rasping away at his peace of mind.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja stays close to Jemma as they move forward together, "Alright, well, we can try Agent Whitman's codes to see how far we get. Otherwise... well, it might be a little complicated. Because I'm pretty certain..."

She pauses, sniffing at the air. She can't sense magic, exactly, but she's more used to the fluctuations of magic and sorcery than most humans of this age would be. "Something very vile is in the air. Be cautious."

Jessica Drew has posed:
They enter what could be a shooting gallery with no cover for either of them. Jessica has Sam's back, gun still holstered depending on her own innate weapons if they are attacked. She intuits his unease but has no abilities with magic though some might consider her mutations to be magic.

Jane Foster has posed:
The interior is dark. Lights that would normally illuminate the different cases are blown out, the bulbs blackened within as though their filaments scorched to nothing in a heartbeat. The outer lights remain stable and some of the illuminated lamps by the windows run off of candles. But further inside the devastation is greater. None of the displays arranged around the Fuentiduena Chapel, Romanesque Hall, Pontaut Chapter House or Langon Chapel function in light; they are bathed in a darkness deeper than any night New York would have. An almost velvet darkness, with a nearly velvet texture, cloys the senses. It sharpens the hearing, but then even the slightest scrape of Sam's footfall or the creak of Gothic Lolita's joints stands out. The air /smells/ different, papyrus and vellichor and stone, a hint of iron, to Mary Jane.

Blood. A dim kiss of blood.

Shadows move through the stillness, military-trained, military-ready to slink between corridors along the western Saint-Guilhem Cloister. They crouch low and use the glass as cover, the lone thing to be seen: a glowing ball.

Jane Foster has posed:
Cloisters. Ground Floor. Main Hall.

With Gothic Lolita and Dane's passcodes, SHIELD accesses the darkened interior of Cloisters. Outer lights work, but none within. Chapels and exhibits wrapped around the western and northern walls reside in total darkness, the stygian velvet of cave-black, filaments blown out in bulbs and others scorched by a power surge. To the agents, it's like their senses cranked up to metahuman levels, delivering larger than life impressions. Their clothes feel more real on their bodies, sounds hold more depth. Darkness drapes like velvet. The air smells of papyrus, vellichor and stone, and a hint of iron. Blood.

They can pinpoint the smell somewhere past the Romanesque Hall. Sam can feel the spiking anticipation, adrenaline seeping down his back.Military-trained shadows slink between the corridors along the west side of Saint-Guilhem Cloister, crouching behind the class displays. Hard to guess how many, but they act in concert to approach their target.

That, at least, is highly obvious. The lone thing to be seen: a glowing ball.

It hurts to look upon, akin to staring into the sun. Jemma's app zigzags and bursts at the readings of sheer energy being reported, anyone tapped in able to see the nimbus large as the park. But it's not necessary, just imagine staring at a small star.

No traces of anyone outside using the back entrances, one hidden by the west terrace and another upon the northern flanking wall. If anyone took hostages, more than likely they're underground in the labyrinthine, temperature-controlled vaults where anything not on display is worked on.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam keys in an optical filter on his goggles, to keep himself from being blinded by the orb's solar brightness, and draws his ICER, moving forward rapidly and tucking himself into the northeastern corner of the Romanesque Hall. From here, he'll have a clear shot at anyone who enters the hall from the courtyard from the north.

Of course, if their senses are just as enhanced as his are suddenly feeling, there's no way they haven't spotted him, and they'll enter cautiously. He crouches, and with a quick gesture, unfolds one metallic wing and curls it around himself, creating an impromptu barrier that will give him some cover from which to guard the room. He's leaving the process of actually recovering that thing -- whatever it is -- to those with not just experience with the weird, but actual expertise.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Sometimes you need a heavy weapons specialist, and sometimes that is why you bring Mikhail. Despite his size, the large former Soviet agent is actually stealtheir than people give him credit for. He sticks behind Sam, though, his heavy ICER is out. Mik is cautious, but should be able to cover Sam from behind, in a similar boat in that he is no WAND agent, but he is very capable of making living things dead, a sort of reverse necromancer.

Lara Croft has posed:
As it so happens, this was one of the first locations in the United States that Lara Croft has any memory of. She'd come here on a business trip with her father when she was 9 or 10. Her father had given a speech at an event hosted at this very site back then, and Lara can recall sitting at the table watching him speak, while anxious to be 'let free' to go explore the entirety of the museum and its wealth of viewable exhibits.

Times change, however, and this visit to the Cloisters is fueled by a much more pressing matter. Lara wasn't with the main team, however, she'd arrived in her own personal vehicle and was walking--at a rapid pace--toward the building. Her eyes scan the exterior lights, but note that the interior are dark as a void...

<"Croft, here."> She whispers loudly into her comm device. <"I'm coming in from the north side.">

She approaches a pair of doorways, and pulls on their shiny brass handles to tug one silently open. Dressed in her SHIELD jacket, and wearing a black gun harness on beneath it, Croft draws her own ICER and moves in to the darkness within the building...

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane sees the glowing light, and crouches at the entryway, not quite inside the particular chamber that houses it, but near enough any of those furtive figures within may have potentially spotted him. Armor and the Ebony Blade materialize, which likely further marks his place with the pulse of light. He doesn't really care. AT least the comms still work.

<<Careful, Agent Croft. We've got multiple likely hostiles moving inside the Museum. And a magical artifact that's going nuts.>>

Dane takes a deep breath, and mutters, <<I never took the Templar Oaths, but I might be able to calm this thing down. Not while being mobbed by Nazis, though.>>

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Agent Watson, aka Sonja, looks over at Dane, <<I can keep you covered.>> She pulls out her own photonic sword, firing it to life as she glances around at the shadows with suspicion.

<<I was guarding Agent Simmons, but I can keep an eye on you instead.>> She sounds... particularly eager to beat up some Nazis. Because who else would it be at this point, honestly?

John Constantine has posed:
"Stupid ****ing tossers, leaving bloody ****ing artifacts lyin' about the place!"

The hiss of protest from the garden access is near-inaudible. Constantine had a solid game plan-- earlier he'd nipped in and planted a landing beacon for a shadow door. Easy in, easy out. It's a museum after all, there's not even a threshold to contend with.

Except now the presence of a legendary artifact is radiating enforced reality like a drain in a pool, and stepping through the shadows had tossed John right back on his ass.

Which is why he's currently struggling with a ground-floor service door that leads to the stairs near the Gothic Chapel. One of the lookouts stands behind him, staring towards the city with a slack-jawed expression. Befuddled or hexed.

Lockpicks twist in John's hands, scraping at the tumblers. John exhales in relief when the latches align and the door unlocks. He slips inside the custodial room and the closing door plunges it into darkness. A snap of fingers brings fire to John's fingertips. He first uses them to light a cigarette, and then starts towards the door to the Glass Gallery.

The sound of voices hushes his footsteps and John instantly snuffs out the flame in his hand. Careful fingertips slowly turn the doorlatch and he cracks it just an inch to get the lay of the land near the Glass Gallery.

Jane Foster has posed:
Saint-Guilhem Cloister.
Once the cloister welcomed pilgrims on the road to Santiago de Compostela. Had it contained the large, opaque agate bowl, they very well would have flung themselves prostrate. Those figures crouched in a fanned position hold for a moment.

A fist closes, an arm moved forward from one crouched figure. Safeties slide free of silenced weapons, and then the burst of action.

Apple-cheeked cherubim and worn saints gaze down from the gloriously carved capitals of pillars mired in blackness. A man, armoured and helmeted, pivots to slide around the display case containing an orb and sceptre from the Holy Roman Empire, breaking through the upper archway into the Fuentiduena Chape. The shining relief of the glowing vessel lends stone a curious gleam, their empty eyes watching two more men follow in his wake. Daniel's lion peers past as the advance begins.

Sam's the first then to take note, a flickering in the shadows. Hair prickling at the back of his neck, something no metal wing can truly deflect.

Glass shatters. The sirens burst in a steady ping, ping, ping. Incandescence plays off the metal, off Dane and Mary Jane's swords, from the lone source witness to a humble meal and a promise infused in mineral veins. It rolls like a glowing spotlight down to the floor in a fall that never connects. Jemma's app charts the wobbling readings spiking higher, higher, higher. Constantine's skull pounds before he can even hope to reach the stairs leading to the first floor.

Mortal hands on an awakened relic send blood running from the crucified Christ hanging over the chapel, splattering drops on the floor from the engraven stigmata.

It's begun.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Hearing his breath rasp through his airways like wind through reeds, Sam waits until the footfalls near the dais, and the breath of the mystic on the back of his neck will brook no further delay. He swings around into the entryway into the chapel, takes careful aim over the metallic pinions of his wing, and fires twice at the men ahead of him. His shots drop each of the men on the lead thief's flank, his oddly enhanced senses allowing him to perfectly place each ICER round on his targets' necks. Eat your heart out, Simmons.

More importantly, Mik, you better have a bead on the lead guy.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Great, threats, Mik grumbles to himself quietly as he follows the pararescueman, keeping his ICER at the ready, though the sudden alarms means that well, game over man. It seems stealth is not an option, today. Seeing Sam move, Mik pops out after, letting his ICER do the talking, hoping to lay down punishment. Mikhail is visibly uncomfortable, he is too aware and he is not happy about it. Something. Is. Not. Right.

Lara Croft has posed:
<"I copy."> Lara replies to Dane's update for her. <"I see the light just up ahe--">

Her voice is cut off as she walks steadily around a corridor into one of the main hallways filled with precious works of art... and all across the floor she spies the dim sight glowing beams of lasers.

Lara stops and looks up at the archway above her, a gate. It'll likely drop if she touches any of those beams. "Damnit..." The British woman just exhales the word out. It'll take her a lot longer to get to where she needs to go if she has to go back outside...

Lara improvises. She starts to go... vertical. With quick strides she bounds up the side of one of the statues and grasps the pole of a flag hanging from a stone pillar. Lingering there a moment, her feet on top of a statue's alabaster head, Lara leaps, and begins to bound from one statue to the next, nimbly jumping across them, her arms up and out as she uses the flags to brace herself when she very nearly doesn't make a jump.

As she nears the far side of the hallway, she stops when she can see through one of the Gothic medieval windows... the light of the mystically powerful relic that they're all here for... it has an effect on her simply to look upon it. She has to tear her stare away, to finish her jumping from display to display...

Jane Foster has posed:
Mikhail's shot evokes a blue bolt, traveling swift as any bullet. One has to hope dendrotoxin has no effect whatsoever on ancient, skillfully fashioned pilasters depicting water running in rippling channels. It sweeps through the Fuentiduena Chapel, straight up the aisle separated by glass display cases and bas relief saints and Apostles witnessing the Passion.

It should strike. It may well have, but in the blinding grace of the bowl, there's no dark figure dropping to the ground with a priceless artifact of old crashing gracelessly onto the stone floor.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja stays close to Dane, taking her escort duty seriously as she holds the photonic blade at the ready. As she nears the glowing artifact, it's almost doubly as effective... perhaps with two souls in one body it makes even more of an impact, or it just feels that way. She shivers a little, glancing back and forth with heightened awareness of everything happening around her. <<What do you need to do, exactly?>>

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Dammit, they're making a move." Dane practically growls, and for once, he puts both swords in hand. Ebony in one, and the pale yellow-orange light of the photonic blade in the other. He's not yet sure of the nature of the foes they face, so best to have both bases covered.

"All right. Stay close, keep them off my back. I have to get to the Grail and...out-will whatever it is they're trying to get it to do. Try to shut it down. The second part I might not be able to do on my own. But I...think...I can touch it without serious side-effects." He gives MJ a curt nod, "OK...let's go."

And with that, the Black Knight darts into the room, swirds in a defensive posture as he tries to move from cover-to-cover towards the Grail.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    The oddities of the chapel as the relic is awakened by the touch of a thief are less of an issue to Gothic Lolita, who remains in the main hall watching over Jemma as she works, her eyes flicking around at the faint sounds of weapons being fired. Her eyes calmly sweep back and forth, before she transmits over coms. <<I am detecting multiple life signs in the lower levels of the building that are consistent with unconscious individuals. Permission to investigate?>> Still trainee, after all.

John Constantine has posed:
Up the stairs, round the corner; John jukes just before he exits the Gothic Hall and ducks back into cover. ICER shots ring out, sight unseen. His eyes narrow; the distinct report of the weapon is pretty difficult to confuse with a bullet, and only cops bother with nonlethal ammo. The noise only adds to the truly gold-winning headache ringing in John's ears.

A rough map's drawn on the back of his left hand. John refers to it while uncorking his flask and taking a few healthy swigs of a vintage whiskey that might be older than he is.

It doesn't help much.

John slides along the west wall of the Cloister building. He chances peeks here and there but more or less just keeps his head *down*. Around the corner near Langon Chapel he gets his first peek at the firefight evolving nearby. A quick reference at the map again and John draws his hand over his face, contemplating his choices. He almost heads for the Main Hall and the staircases beyond but the presence of SHIELD agents already flanking the enemies makes him balk and turn back.

"Ahh... fuckit," John mumbles, and darts onto the West Terrace. A clean slate of marble makes for a suitable canvas, and the magus kneels down to do something with a permanent marker, some gold dust, and blood pricked from the edge of his thumb.

"Verecundiam, vindicta, vapulus," he murmurs. The rune flickers once with light and goes still.

There's not much cover, so John runs to the far edge of the terrace to hide beyond a massive concrete planter. A wand is produced from his inner jacket pocket and clutched in his hands.

All that's left is to time his blindside blitz.

Jane Foster has posed:
The photonic blades add a spark of light to the chapel. Almost mesmerizing in that enhanced state of reality, but neither lightsaber holds a proverbial candle to the agate bowl being sheltered against their unknown thief's body.

He doesn't spare any thought for his friends downed by Sam. The chapel offers four exit points: south, to the Romanesque Hall, is blocked by Mik and Sam flanking the entrance. MJ and Dane further complicate it. Western archways at north and south connect to the cloister. High windows face out to the ground floor, and through the apse. Taking a direct run past the weeping Christ, he hurls himself headlong at a window. Through a window, Hugging the bowl to his stomach, plunging past.

Two more peek around the corner and take shots at the nearest convenient targets. Big Russian. Big American. Big wingman. Lady American. Those are live bullets, crashing into stone, glass, and pray not flesh.

Sam Wilson has posed:
As the man dives through the window, Sam swears -- he never was great at church decorum, even when his dad was the preacher -- and ducks back just as return fire comes flying at their position. Bullets pit the archway head of him, and he runs back past Mikhail, vaulting over a display case as he moves. The heat is intense here, but if he remembers the layout of this place from his last visit, he can get a lot closer to those windows while staying under cover of the marble walls.

Yes, there it is! Just out the eastern exit, he hangs a left and races northward, launching into the air to skip the stairs, and barrels back into the chapel from its own eastern doorway. He aims himself at the broken window, fires a burst of thrust, and then tucks his wings away to fly through it on pure inertia, human cannonball style.

The shooters only have a few moments to try to adjust their aim and track him, and once he's outside he'll have his full maneuverability back to pursue the escaping thief.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mik snarls as the bolts all fly by harmlessly. He observes Sam race by and nods to Sam as he goes by, "I cover," he notes in his heavy accent and allows himself to turn into his ursine form and charges towards them. Once he gets a good idea where they are, he elects to open fire on the threats as he approaches, the Russian ready to claw them open if they get into melee.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja bolts for the window in pursuit of the thief, sensing the gunshots... particularly as one lucky shot lands right into her calf. She doesn't wince yet, though she's probably going to feel it later once MJ has anything to say about it.

Leaping up and through the broken window, she says over the comm, <<Damn, bullets sting. Any luck, pretty bird?>> Which is definitely the sign that Sonja is in the driver's seat, as she tries to home in on the thief with the Grail...

Lara Croft has posed:
On the last statue, that of a mounted knight, Lara leaps off of it to grab the gate above her head. She hangs from the gate and kicks her feet forward, then backward, to build momentum until she's able to lunge forward and drop out of the way of the laser grid she'd just passed though, by way of parkour.

Once landed, Lara starts to raise up on to her feet, and reaches for her sidearm... while behind her, the mounted knight statue topples over on to the museum floor, with a loud thud, and a triggering of the laser grid, causing the gates to come down on that section of the building. Lara, after glnacing back, just exhales "Oops." and continues forward.

Slipping into the next area, Lara keeps low with her own ICER drawn -- she's had a hell of a time adjusting to this kind of weapon, but it's coming along. She stops when she spots someone, crouched, trying to stay concealed, she too tries to stay hidden and approach this person from behind. She can hear a man's voice (John's) but she doesn't see him as of yet.

Once she's close enough to her target she'll lunge at them, wrap her arms around them and attempt to subdue them in a sleeper hold!

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane's barely out of cover for two steps before a bullet strikes him in the shoulder. He staggers a bit, but it doesn't break through his armor. Gonna leave a hell of a bruise though. "Agh...dammit." Well this is just turning into a failboat of epic proportions. <<GL, absolutely go duck below and attempt hostage recovery. Falcon, stop the guy but whatever you do don't put your hands on the Grail if you can help it.>> Inwardly, he's berating himself for not more closely examining the various artifacts here...or having Jemma examine them or...whatever. But those recriminations can come later. For now he's effectively got his back to the window to cover Mary Jonya's pursuit, bringing up his photonic shield to deflect more bullets that might come his way. Come on bad guys, shoot at the bright shiny target and pay no attention to bears or Tomb Raiders or what-have-yous.

John Constantine has posed:
The brutal efficiency of the SHIELD agents-- and then being abandoned by the thief fleeing out the window-- takes some of the nerve from the infiltrators. When a freaking BEAR appears with a gun in hand, a few lose their will to fight entirely and bolt towards the West Terrace. They pass over the rune John had hastily scrawled on the stones. The blood and ink flares with an inner fire.

**THIEVES**

The sound is without force, the words without a voice. But they resonate like a cannon blast against the soul all the same. An apparition appears over the lawn near the Western Terrace, sixty feet tall; silver skin that glows bright against a chrome-bright cloak and hood. Sightless eyes filled with white-hot fury, and a blazing sword of Divine retribution in hand.

**I AM REMIEL, HIS RIGHT HAND OF JUSTICE. FALL TO YOUR KNEES AND REPENT!**

It's a huge, spectacularly intimidating presence. It pushes on memory, on old guilts of childhood and the shame of maturity alike.

It is also of absolutely no interest to John, who has his back to his illusion and is watching the thief with the bowl shake off the shattered window glass and start running. The magus steps from cover with wand raised, aims at the man's back, and--

*pfftz*. John looks at the wand and curses boisterously, flinging it to his feet. For lack of any better ideas, he grabs a rock from a planter, takes two running steps, and hurls it in the thief's direction like a wildly aimed shotput with more fury than focus behind the effort.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    The moment Dane authorizes her, Gothic Lolita turns to Jemma. "Yell if you need me...say 'cavalry' if it's urgent." the petite mecha says calmly, before she's off, moving in a fast sprint as she heas down the stairs into the underlevels of the Cloister as she starts seeking out the lifesigns she's detecting...which appear to be unconscious, at least, rather than seriously injured. She hopes that's the case for all of them, but she'll starts recovering people and moving them to a safe location on the first floor so they're gathered where first responders can help with any injuries.

Jane Foster has posed:
Darkness crashes down with the Grail gone. Its absence feels like a punch to the gut, a keen ache in the heart.

A mecha marches through gunfire and angelic curses. Those with augmented sight and scopes see their targets, a chattering discourse of quieted gunfire turned on SHIELD agents. Mikbear, Gothic Lolita, Lara in her acrobatics. Bullets strafe past cases containing Crusader relics: a wooden shard, Islamic weapons, Byzantine jewels. Blossoming sparks mark for an instant where one thief fires back at Mikhail, slowing his advance, giving time for his partner to retreat to the hidden door leading to the basement. Lolita will come late to that party, but no latch bars the way.

Sam leaves broken stone in his wake, forcing his way out where MJ did not. The tiled roof leads to a wall, a drop into the park proper. Who is the faster, a falcon or a man? For her, it's a perilously close fit. Blood splatters in her wake, an easy trail for Jemma or others to follow. The first man Sam shot is rising to his feet, rising in a protective crouch with a weapon pulled. Dane receives the stare of black death's head -- Totenkopf, Nazi, deathbringer -- and it's a question of gun versus sword. The second shakes off the stunned state in time to grab a gem-studded dagger and hurl it at Constantine's torso, strength and speed inhuman. Which Lara is learning; a sleeper hug against that Kevlar-clad man is bizarre, but he flips forward while a conjured angel calls for penitence.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam's wingless dive barely allows him to squeak through the window after the escaping thief, and he comes out low enough that he has to run a few steps before he can unfold his wings again and take to the air once more. <"I'm wearing gloves, Knight -- will that count?"> Sam answers over the keening wail of his thrusters, the strain of effort obvious in his voice.

The race should be a quick one, but his quarry is unnaturally fast. Typical! No time for that 'on your left' bullshit tonight, though: Sam not only pours on thrust to try to catch up, but raises one arm and fires a miniature rocket from his wrist launcher. Not at the thief -- Mik established about how effective direct attacks would be -- but ahead of him, triggering a detonation to cause him to change course or flinch back. Anything to get an advantage.

<"Doing what I can to make my own, MJ,"> he answers the barbarian warrior in clipped tones.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Agent Watson lands nimbly through the window, chasing after the thief on foot. Speaking of 'On Your Left'... Sonja books it with a pace that would leave Rogers pretty impressed. She holds her sword at the ready, non-lethal settings enabled (and really the only choice she has).

The plan is simple, take advantage of the thief changing course due to the rocket to catch up, and skewer him with the sword to scramble his nerves. Then take the Grail.

Simple. Right?

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Things are going full bananas. Mikhail is not happy and lets forth a primal roar as he charges in noting the scent of the one retreating and gains speed in his direction, lowering his shoulder as he approaches the other shooter, hoping to discourage him from further stupidity as Gothic Lolita is going to be joining them shortly. Should it connect, Mikhail will attempt to knock him unconcious with a bear paw/hand/thing.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara had underestimated the abilities of the person she'd tried to choke out, and about the time she realized this, he was flipping her over and slamming her down on to her back upon a table covered in glass. The glass shatters beneath Lara's back, and the big man now takes two quick jabs at Lara, one in the stomach and one across her face, which dazes her, but also propels her into a sideways roll that has her falling off the table and rolling underneath it.

The man verbally taunts the SHIELD Agent who just vanished under the table. He's toying with her now, believing he has the upper hand in this.

As he rips the table of the way, however, Lara opens fire upward with her ICER right into his chest. She fires three quick times before lunging up and striking him in the nose with the weapon.

She doesn't wait for the results, she turns and starts to make her way east to the main hall, still staggered, however, by the man's powerful strikes! Her shoulder crashes into a table adorned with a set of flowers in a glass vase, causing them to topple over and land on the ground (yet some how NOT break).

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    <Bloody Hell>

    If one was listening carefully on the comms, they might have heard the quaint British colloquialism slip from Jemma's lips. With her tablet up, she takes inventory of the situation. The Grail...the object of interest...is fleeing to the west. To the west are at least 4 Nazi nasties in the way, in varying states of vileness. And...that is too many for Jemma to handle, even on her best day. The quickest way out is to the east, where Agents Wilson and Watson (the W squad!) are at. But....there is an advantage there....

    And then, suddenly, Jemma is up and heading out towards the door. The east door. <I have an idea. Keep them busy. Agent Wilson, I'm coming to you.>

    It doesn't take long at all for Jemma to get out to the postern gate. After all she knows the way quite well. She runs up to the vicinity of Sam, paying little heed to what happens to be around that is not friendly at all to Jemma or her team. Instead, the tablet is in hand...rather than the ICER. "Sam! I need you to go after the Grail! I'm giving you the tracker program!" How? Well....if his tech is anything like SHIELD's...then there should be a secured wireless connection right around....

    There! Sam may see a little alert in his HUD, as a notification states a program is being uploaded, even as Jemma types away furiously at her screen. Then....after a brief moment, a small map appears in the upper right hand corner of Sam's field of vision, with a bright red spot signaling where the Grail is at. West...and moving fast.

    But, hopefully not fast enough for a Falcon

Dane Whitman has posed:
<<Maybe, but I'm not sure I'd want to count on it.>> Dane replies to Sam's question on the gloves. And then he's rushing, shield forward, photonic blade shut off, though still kept in hand. And given the opportunity he'll rush right up to Mr. Death's Head and slam into him Shield-first, hoping to knock him enough off-balance to swat him with the flat of the blade. It's a bit of a test really...the Nazis he faced before disappeared with the merest touch. If these are the same then...it's full rein. Of course, if these are the same then the shield-bash might not exactly work as planned, either.

Jane Foster has posed:
Outside... On the highway below Fort Tryon Park, the route takes cars from the furthest reaches of Manhattan and Westchester County into the seat of power, the tangled high-rises. Vehicles bombing past at comfortable highway speeds are caught by the solitary figure in black bursting from the green. By the shadow of the Avenger sweeping overhead, less seen. A driver swerves. A truck judders when Sonja bursts out with a blade of light, rubber hot on the air, thick rot rising from the soil.

A detonation rips ahead of the lead thief and flames swirl, smoke and asphalt crash down from the air, and swallows his silhouette. Down, gone?

The black balaclava torn from his head and flung back might just throw off MJ or Sam into thinking he jettisoned the Grail, or it came free from his arms.

Hope against hope. The figure forced forward may be familiar. A crop of ashen-blond hair. A face SHIELD's best artists tried to capture from a dying Bangladeshi woman's descriptions.

German spat from dusty lips wraps him up in something -- a cold, cold something that leaves weeds withering, the road underfoot parched and crumbling from the entropic forces ripped up. The Grail seethes with bloody fire, white at its heart. He makes the all out sprint for the Hudson River, downslope, perilously risky to hit the other side. Dive, dive, dive.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Gothic Lolita comes running straight into the open as she does arrive, not bothering to hide. Bullets ricochet off as they *SPANG* off Lolita's form, her HUD highlighting targets aiming at her before her hands go for the dual ICERs at her hips, coming up smoothly as precise blue zaps begin returning fire, as the mecha services target after target, her eyes flicking slightly back and forth as she picks each target. There's no hesistation in her advance, and no attempt to hide.

    She WANTS them to shoot her. She want to be the threat, because if they're shooting her, they're not shooting her teammates. Who are not as bulletproof as she is. Also wonderfully distracts their attention from Lara or Mik taking them out quietly from behind.

     <<Engaging multiple armed targets. No damage. Clearing area of hostiles and pursing enemy forces as needed.>> she reports calmly. The very model of a modern merciless terminator that she is as she pursues the enemy forces that start to retreat, speeding up as needed to keep them in her line of fire.

John Constantine has posed:
Perhaps it's luck, or some instinct. Or fate. Something twinges John's instincts at the last second and he ducks almost before his peripheral vision notes the flung dagger. It hits his shoulderblade at an angle and skews off with a bright tracerie of blood arcing in its wake.

"Bollocks!" John swears and flings an outstretched hand at the man, fingers curled around shadow and smoke. An orb wraps around the Nazi's head, obfuscating sight and sound and even choking his air off to meager, smoke-tainted wisps. Constantine darts past the man just in time to see Lara staggering and falling.

"On your left gel," John whispers, and moves to help her up. "Stiff upper lip an' all." He flinches away from ricochets near his head.

Jane Foster has posed:
Inside... It's the first bolt to connect that disrupts the pattern of Lara's aggressor. Physics can no longer hold the constituent parts together. The second causes him to evaporate, collapsing in on himself. Jemma Simmon's scientific terms may differ from John Constantine's: displacement of forces and a skull-splitting migraine to boot. He's gone.

Ursa has tactics on his side, those born of raw need on the battlefield in Bryant Park. He may hit and his aggressor can slam that pistol back as hard as he. Theirs is a scrap that smashes glass and whirls past penitent stone saints, battery of the highest order. No blood falls but the bear's, a pistol whipping to answer the claws carving away flesh that is not flesh, disassembling a body with rage of fang and claw.

Fuentiduena Chapel witnesses another death, another dissolution. One of them is most definitely human. The merest touch of the Ebony Blade devours the Totenkopf soldier, but not the other willing to fire; a shield bash would go nicely, the fellow charging at Dane's legs to throw him off-balance. Fighting an actual knight is an unfair balance, but it bloody well ought to hurt. Defanging a serpent always fucking does.

ICER blasts eradicate the false, drop the humans. It's not an even split. But the humans cannot be trusted to stay down. For now, they are, for now, the oubliette under Gothic feet might still hold living victims.

And...
    And...
        The night tilts.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Jemma's minimap sparkles into being on his HUD with a pleasant pinging sound, and Sam smiles grimly. He won't be thrown by any evasive tactics now. As the thief tries to lose himself in the rocket detonation, the flier doesn't waver from his course, jetting by overhead and then diving through a half-loop to rocket back at him from ahead, arm outstretched at the runner's head height.

He's not eager to spend any more time in this guy's vicinity than he has to -- he's seen what happens to the people who do -- but to tie him up long enough for Sonja to reach them, he'll risk blasting in at full bore just long enough to deliver a black fist to his sneering Aryan face at full-bore jetpack-powered speed.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja uses the distraction of Sam's attack to close the distance with the thief. And as she comes up behind him, she thrusts the photonic sword right into the center of the thief's spinal column.

Non-lethal, honest. Though non-lethal doesn't mean it's not going to hurt. A LOT. As MJ looks over at Sam and grins, "... what? His back was to me." She looks pretty satisfied with taking down the thief as she says on the comms, << Thief down. We haven't touched it yet, though. Sonja knows enough to know that touching glowing magic things is typically bad. >>

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara was down on one knee when John appeared and offered her a hand up. She first looked up to him to meet his eyes, and there was recognition in his features. She'd met him once, at the Hellfire Club...

She offers him her hand and moves to rise up to her full height. "Thank you." She mutters, giving a glance back the way she'd come from. "These ... things, really pack a punch." She says as her other hand raises up to the side of her head to brush her dark brown hair out of her face.

"John, right?" She asks of him, apparently being quite good with faces and names, she starts to move again. "I assume you're here to help, and not just here to see the exhibits?"

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    With a blink and a quick look around....Jemma realizes that she is actually free of being a potential target for anyone in the general area. This gives her time to confer back to the tracking program to check on the status of the object or objects, with the primary one being the Grail. To ensure that it is indeed immobilized. Though, with no one looking, there might be a sigh...and a puff of breath sent upward, to blow away a stray lock of hair.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Yeah, because nobody ever thinks to go for the legs on the guy with a shield on their arm. Dane hops-and-sidesteps simultaneously, pivoting around a standing display to his side. The Ebony Blade disappears in the motion, and the shield winks out, with the photonic sword being transferred from one hand to the other, igniting just in time to be driven through the back of the fellow's skull when Dane emerges from his full circuit around that display.

It looks FAR worse than it is, which isn't to say that the fellow isn't gonna have a hell of a headache when he wakes up in a few hours.

But with that done, Dane cues his comms, <<Status report, folks...I'm available for back-up, but if we're all clear I should probably get after the Grail.>>

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mikhail has no patience for whatever this is. His own blood has been drawn and his own claws are failing to find purchase and so he decides to fix this now, taking his effort and ferocity out on the Nazi like it was 1945, though he does seem to disregard his own safety to a degree, preferring to rend the threat into pieces for the time being.

John Constantine has posed:
John scampers to cover with Lara until the last of the gunshots are done. He squats with his back to a pillar, and for lack of a handy target, decides to fish a cigarette out of his pocket and light it with flame conjured from his fingers.

"Not really the time for pleasantries, love," John bids Lara. There's a shift in his awareness-- a sense of malicious spirits dissipating. Only the low-level malevolence of man remains.

John palms the fire like a rock ready to throw, and chances a glance around the corner. "Oye! If you're not a demon or dead, surrender! If yer a bobby, sing out and don't shoot-- I'm holed up 'ere with the punky gel with the brown hair and nice figure."

He glances over his shoulder and winks at Lara, once, but doesn't lose focus until he's relatively sure no one's going to storm at him with ICERs, knives, or any magical or mundane weapon.

Jane Foster has posed:
Night falls.

The man falls. Such a long, long way, with the flames of the Grail echoing the blade bursting through his spine. That might not be enough to fully drop the Nazi thief, but it is quite sufficient to knock his momentum away and send him staggering to the ground. Falling, crashing, a whirlwind of holy radiance leaking out around him.

Jemma's small app tells it all. Inertia, priceless stone leaving spasming arms, the Grail bowl spilled out into the roadway and rolling, tumbling, straight into the steep verge occupied by trees and grass, tangled vines, weeds. A miniature, pollution-stained forest in which to locate a piece of stone.

The dead, the vanished, the unconscious lie among spent casings above. Below, Gothic Lolita's name is a bit too apt, finding those stripped of their vitality but breathing or knocked out by various violent means. Scattered workers can be sent safely to the hospital, but at least seven victims await medical attention.

Blood. Ashes. Metal. All in a night's work for SHIELD.

Satisfyingly had. Grail found before it hit the Hudson River, caught in the mire, and one wise-cracking magician swept up in the masses. Just one issue...