3851/Signs and Portents, SHIELD edition

Signs and Portents, SHIELD edition
Date of Scene:	18 October 2020
Location:	Helicarrier, mountains of Afghanistan
Synopsis:	SHIELD team heads to speak with a Warlord in Afghanistan and learns of a black ops location that hadn't been on anyone's map.
Cast of Characters:	Clint Barton, Melinda May, Natasha Romanoff, Daisy Johnson

---

Clint Barton has posed:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1w4BjYVZW8c

The deep, rich sound of a bell sounds through the streets of NYC. No one stops, no one considers, no one questions its existance. This IS New York City, after all. This is the City that aliens attacked it not once, but at least twice in its recent history. It's the home of Museums, the home of several global corporations, and the Headquarters of a known but frequently misunderstood Agency, SHIELD.

Within SHIELD, however, there isn't much attention paid to the sound from a good portion of the higher ups. Most notably, those born and raised in NYC, because.. New Yorker. Others? It's strange, and odd enough to have made the 5:00 news, though buried under the politics, the crime, business reports and coupled with the 'feel good' stories.

---

Out in a mountain range to the north of Afghanistan, just south of Rushon, there is a female warlord, one that many fear and respect. She holds the command of hundreds of men, no small feat for a woman, and all she wants is to protect her village. She fought the Russians, the Taliban, and at times, the Americans when they came in to take refuge from the fighting. Commander Kaftar. For those in the know? Kaftar means 'pigeon'.

There is a history with this one in terms of SHIELD, however. There are agents that have spent time in the sands, getting clues as to Russian movements, man, materiel and money. She's been an important piece of information gathering, and now, she's calling for help.

---

Meanwhile, in Siberia, there is a young Russian politician sipping tea before boarding an airplane to fly home to Moscow. The man is a lawyer, a thorn in the side of the established order. One who has slowly been gaining some measure of popularity.

---

SHIELD geographic report:

Rushon: Southeast Tajikistan, locally known as 'Vamar'. Located on the border with Afghanistan, on the river Panj, just downstream from the mouth of the Bartang. There is a site of medieval ruins of a fort, Kala-i Vamar, which the Soviets used and mostly demolished for (secret) military bases.

---

Within SHIELD briefing room 3 aboard a cloaked helicarrier in the Middle Eastern theatre:

Clint Barton is standing at the head of a briefing table, papers actually piled neatly in front of him, at the end of the table, neatly stapled. Within those handouts are maps, both satellite and from the ground, a brief synopsis of the region, a timeline in terms of skirmishes in the area, troop movement, and local headlines translated from Dari. Once everyone has entered, the archer closes the door and hits a button before handing out the information packets. For all it looks like it does is light a red light light above the door outside, signalling the room is in use. Within?

A white noise generator. This is a mission that is near and dear to his heart; one that he's taking on simply because it's for the safety of a very important asset he's cultivated over the last few years.

He doesn't have to ask if everyone is here.. he's basically handpicked everyone, including May. It's everyone he can tacitly trust to watch his back, and in return, more than familiar enough to be able to watch theirs. He relies on his teammates to make the right choices, and he owes it to them to give them enough information with which to work.

"Part of this isn't easy for me, so..." Clint begins, "... and I don't expect any of this to go past this door. Ever." Blue eyes look to each. As he continues, those in the room should understand the gravity of the information coming, "I have an asset in the field," there's a pause, and he continues, "and she needs help. She's got information, but there's nothing she can do with it, so she's bumped it up to me." A spy and their 'asset' is a sacred bond, one not to be shared lightly.

"She's been fighting a one-woman war," Clint pauses again and there comes something of a lop-sided smile. "With a few hundred men. An accomplishment out there that you guys would appreciate." Nat, May and Daisy? Hell, yes. And it's obvious Clint respect

Clint Barton has posed:
respects the hell out of his field contact. "She's got incursion from the south, and she says she's got movement from the Russians in the north." Shifting his weight on his feet, he starts to pace a little, and he's got a single statement to underscore what isn't part of the mission.

"She doesn't want extraction. She wants help."

Melinda May has posed:
May flips through the package she's been given, already beginning to look for likely SAM and radar sites, landing zones, and optimal flight paths. She glances to Clint when he begins speaking, head canting faintly, a brow just barely arching. Her eyes return to the packet, quickly absorbing information as he continues to speak. As the situation becomes clearer, that barely arched brow rises higher.

"What sort of help are you proposing?" she asks, setting the pages down and shuffling them to the terrain maps. "A war on two fronts is tricky to navigate? And I'm assuming we're not to be overt about affliation in the process."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    As usual, Natasha Romanoff keeps her feelings pretty close to the chest. When she's among normal people, she puts the effort in to emote and express her feelings visually, to the extent that it doesn't give too much away. Among agents... she acts natural. Which means, ninety nine times out of a hundred, her poker face is immaculate.
    Still, even though her delivery's a bit dry - her Russian accent swapped out for a neutral American one as usual - one can still glean a bit of incredulity as she says "Extraction's a tall order on its own." while looking through the package. Her head inclined downward, her eyes turn upward to Clint. "I don't see the four of us fighting off two armies."
    She's not saying no. She almost never says 'no' to Clint unless she has a better plan. But she's... curious to see what Clint and this person could have in mind that isn't insane.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Markings of the fight against the drones within the Triskelion was still visible on the young woman's face, Daisy's cheek with a small cut through, along with signs of bruises that are healing. She is there on that helicarrier, dressed in that usual black and blue uniform of hers, high boots, the tech gloves on her hands and her arms crossed loosely by her waist. The expression is a serious one, not as goofy as she normally does. She understands the importance of the mission.. And recent events have made her less than feeling like goofing around..

"An off the books op then." Daisy says, as if to confirm. She nods. She is ready to help. But May's question is a good one so she arches a curious brow at it.

But those who know Daisy. Well, she is all about rebelling and acting undercover without minding bureaucracy. So either way she seems to be in!

Clint Barton has posed:
"Am I proposing?" Clint shakes his head even as he says those words. "She hasn't told me what she wants. What she doesn't want, fine. I get that. She's got a region she's trying to protect. And I'm talking villages. Women, children, and truth be told, from the south is a few different groups. Taliban, sure. They're honked off that they're being held at bay by a woman." There's a lopsided smile on that one before he continues, "But, it's also the government there who thinks that disarming all the war chiefs is a good idea." And if one were to read international news, that //is// the basic underlying theme to all of the political juggling.

Yes, Clint's rooting for the underdog, supporting, for the most part, a war chief. But, to his defense, it's not any war chief. It's his asset, which makes it an important SHIELD asset.r
"I'm guessing she thinks she's got something we want, and it's on a bigger scale than just a food drop."

There's a nod towards Natasha, agreeing with her point. He'd explained why only a second ago, and fully believes they'd all agree. Extraction of one is one thing. But hundreds out of a region that is considered 'very warm' if not 'hot', unofficially?

"Off the books. It's my asset, and I'm dealing with it the best way I know how. To get a couple friends and go play in the mountains and see what we can find." In other words?

SHIELD was never there.

"We have a Quin and we'll be in position in a few. Loadout is for for recon with a touch of infiltration. I'm not expecting a hot warzone when we land."

Melinda May has posed:
"So, you want to go in, take a look around and improvise," she concludes. This is not an ideal plan in her book. Having said that, she can read between the lines and understand what he says. They need this war chief to maintain stability and keep these civilians safe. Thus, she nods.

"Fine. Give me five minutes to suit up and I'll meet you at the 'jet." She's never much been one for waiting around. Better to get down into the thick of it and keep moving. "I'll work on an extraction plan while I'm at it." For the four of them, she means. So, you know, they can try to survive this crazy idea.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha leans back slightly in her seat and crosses her arms with a little sigh. She usually likes more comprehensive intel if she can get it. Though spies are often beggars rather than choosers in these matters. Still.
    "Whatever she has had better be impressive." She says, which is more or less Nat agreeing to the endeavor against her better judgement. "If she just wants four more guns at her funeral, I'm knocking her out and dragging her to the Quinjet myself. When's dustoff?"

Daisy Johnson has posed:
A brow arches, Daisy's hands going to her hips and she looking down at her full SHIELD outfit. "Shoulda told me before I got all dressed up..." but the thumbs up she offers is one that states she's got the archer's back. She is not the type to make too many questions. Or at least not until she gets her hands on intel, or a place she can hack it from. She does give the info package a bit of a perusal but then it's time to go change into something non-SHIELD.

"I will be back in five as well." She says, going off to get herself into more appropriate clothing. At least for the region.

Loose brown pants and tunic, a wrap about her hair and part of her face and of course those techo-gloves hidden under the sleeves. A backpack finishes her emsemble with her 'tools of war', which are mostly her hacking laptop along with a few more goodies to help in such endeavors in case it's needed. She likes being the techie.

Clint Barton has posed:
"We have to see first hand if what she's got is worth what she wants," Clint says wryly. "And you know as well as I do that reading about it is nothing like seeing it in person." And, really, the Commander isn't one to send messages beyond, 'Come' and 'Aid'. Now, in what context that 'aid' is?

"Pretty sure it will be, Nat," and his words come a little quieter, "we know how this goes."

Reaching to grab the papers, he sets them into a slot; an incinerator before he looks to Daisy, and there is that lopsided grin as he hits the door control, the portal sliding open and the white noise generator turning off automatically. "You look fine. The goats will love it."

"Five minutes. Flight deck. Slot 5."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha determines that Clint has earned the honor of the kind of stare that says 'Are you fucking serious?' when the timeline is given, just before she stands up saying "Well then." and sighing, "Better get wrapping." before she heads out the door

Melinda May has posed:
Thus it is, five minutes later sees May entering the Quin in a tac suit appropriate to the desert scrub and weapons to accommodate a fairly flexible range of combat options. At seven minutes after the meeting breaks up, she's finishing her pre-flight check. And by the time the ten minute mark hits, she's checking to make sure everyone's there so she can close the doors and initiate take off.

Shortly thereafter they're airborn and heading towards a reasonably clear, reasonable hidden landing zone not that far where this warlord is holed up.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Daisy is a rebel. Everyone knows it. So she is there 5 minutes and THIRTY seconds after. Take that. But she is running up in that loose outfit to sort of look more 'in' when they get onto their destination. Of course that under it there's the skin-tight armored vest. Just to make sure.

"Also, remember your waters. Good to hydrate down there." And she does just that while May is getting the flight check going, taking a water bottle and drinking it mightily.

She is all ready now, hanging by the cockpit with that raised brow while she looks at May, perhaps wondering if it will be -today- that she will fly a Quinjet. Apparently not! But she still watches, because she wants to learn.

"So, what can you tell us about your asset, Clint?" She questions while they are in flight.

Clint Barton has posed:
May is seconded by Clint, settling into the copilot's seat, and works the pre-flight checks with her. He's got his gear stowed; collapsed bow safely ensconced in its carrying case, and attached to that, his quiver with specialty arrows and unattached heads. Upon liftoff, he's checking the back and rechecking before he looks forward again, and out the windows.

Mountain ranges, narrow valleys with rivers snaking along on the 'wet side' of the hills. Snow caps the tops of them, giving hints of altitudes. It's terrain that simply isn't traversed very often, and from above? Usually only by satellite, if one considers the location to be of any use.

Glancing back again, Clint grins as he considers the question before there's a light, theatric shrug. "She's tough as nails. Just when you think you might have won in a negotiation, you'll be walking away and hear her laugh. It's not.. mean or anything. It just means she knows something you don't. And if you're smart?" His grin brightens and he looks to Nat before back to Daisy, "You'll figure it out //before// you leave. Maybe, just maybe, she'll renegotiate. Out of kindness."

His expression sobers a little, and while his voice doesn't drop so he can still be heard, his tones echo the change, "She's lost 3 of her sons. She's got bad knees, and all she wants is peace."

Looking around again, the terrain, remarkably, begins to look familiar again to the archer, and leaning over to May, he points to a clearing that doesn't look like its near anything. No one is around.. nothing.

"There."

Melinda May has posed:
May glances to Clint as he indicates their LZ. Her acknowledgement is the way her hands shift on the controls to begin their descent. Shortly thereafter, they're touching down, the wing turbines churning the air and flattening vegetation as dust flies. When they have settled fully, she flips on the stealth systems and puts the bus in 'park'.

She looks, then, to Clint. "Your show, Barton. Let's do this thing."

Frankly, his description of the woman they're going to meet intrigues her. This could be a woman she could actually like.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha spends most of the flight looking and re-looking her weapons over, decked in tactical gear and wrapped up tight to keep as much moisture in her body as she can, looking up briefly to share that look with Clint. She slows down her work with her guns for a second when Clint's voice quiets, her eyes looking distant and downward for a moment. "Peace is a retirement luxury. She probably knows that by now." And even then, on this planet? Good odds that something insane will pop up even if you leave the battlefield itself.
    When the location is indicated, Natasha stands up and looks over his shoulder, resting one hand on the co-pilot seat. When the plane lands she gathers her equipment and steps out onto the landing ramp without further comment. She seems focused, at least, which tends to make Nat seem a tad... unapproachable.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Intriguing indeed! But Daisy isn't the type to not make the questions that EVERYONE is thinking (maybe!) Well, perhaps only her. "The way you talk about her." A brow quirks. "Are we talking about an old flame of yours, Clint?" hey, he brought these four together. They are not here to not ask questions. Yet the talk about the woman having lost her three children makes her sober up. Noone should mess with family.

She retreats back to prepare and check her ICER, hiding it under the loose clothes. She smiles faintly over at Nat but doesn't address her right now. She does have that rep afterall! And the focused look does make her wary.

As they start landing near some unremarkable clearing she nods sharply. "Time to get this show on the road." she moves closer to the exit to follow the others out.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Yeah, she knows it, Nat. But she didn't sign up for the show. I want to give her something, anyway." Clint knows full well there is no 'retirement', no 'peace'. Not for the likes of them. It's not so much that he chose this life, rather, it chose him. No matter how many times he wanted to walk away, there was always something, or someone, pulling him back.

"Old flame?" Clint shakes his head quickly. "Noooo..." It's a fair question, considering his reputation. "If it was, I'm not sure she'd be so nice."

With the landing of the Quin, it looks like rocky, mountainous terrain all around. Easy enough to hearken back to SHIELD training that if it feels like a trap, it probably is? They've landed in a valley low, and as the back of the aircraft lowers, Clint gestures to the others to stay put a moment, followed by, "Lemme head out first." Swinging by to grab his bow from its case, and attach his arrows, he's geared up when he does exit the back.

Once Clint is out, there is movement; men begin to appear, and while they make carry AKs, they're slung, and there are smiles on their faces. Clint, too, smiles, shakes a couple of hands before he speaks to them quickly before turning back to the Quin to nod quickly. "All clear." His brows raise, however, as one man speaks quickly to the blond archer, and there's that moment when the man looks.. perplexed. Embarrassed, even? Shaking his head quickly in an obvious refusal, a few more words are exchanged before he approaches the hopefully emerging crew. "The Commander is waiting for us at her house. They checked to be sure the way was safe for us, so.." and it does sound like he trusts the welcome wagon.

---

The walk isn't too far. A mile, tops; it's just the terrain that makes it seem a little longer than it should. It's not an unpleasant walk. From the ground, there are crops of scrub shrubs, and as they approach, there is a small village holding 50, tops. Horses and some soviet-era trucks and jeeps are amongst the vehicles that are available to the villagers, with goats dotting the landscape with children as their minders.

The group is escorted to a small house, not much more than a lean-to with doors, but is carefully, deliberately and neatly kept by its occupant. The door is opened to them, and within? There's a woman who looks a great deal older than she is, no doubt. She sits on the floor, dressed in a blue long-sleeved dress with a white, light fabric veil wrapped about her head and shoulders. Beside her? An AK. A bright red persion rug adorns the dirt floor from wall to wall, and crimson pillows sit against the wall. The walls are pale and plastered with cracks running through them, a few chips that perhaps tells the story of fights within with that weapon so close as a testament that it still continues. Hard-fought battles. There is a low table with fruits of the region; figs, dates, and some flatbreads that are still warm. The moment she sees the group, her tanned and creased face lightens, bringing the years from them.

<<"You came.">> The easiest language that this Commander can hit upon for the group, perhaps, is Russian, which she speaks flawlessly, thanks to the occupation decades ago. She's both incredulous and pleased, though it takes her a moment to rise to her feet. She is barefoot in the house.

<<"I will have Sayed sweep. Come in.">>

Clint actually grins at that, having met the son-in-law in question, and enters, boots on having been given permission. <<"It's good to see you. I brought my friends.>> The archer looks back at the team, and returns; he doesn't have to say that he trusts them. It is enough they're here.

Melinda May has posed:
May wraps a brown and white scarf over her dark hair and flips it over her shoulder. Then then grabs a loose brown coat and drapes it over her tac suit. After that? It's just a matter of finishing arming up, which she does quickly and efficiently. After that?

She slings a rifle over her shoulder and follows Clint out into the scrub, once the all clear is given. Nice day for a walk... if you overlook the dust and heat.

When they finally reach the warlord's house, she makes a simple, Asian gesture of honour to the house when she enters. A small bow to the hostess. No, they aren't in Asia. But that likely doesn't affect the old woman's ability to understand the gesture.

But, as is her wont, she keeps her mouth shut, now. It's Clint's asset. Clint's show.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha follows, but warily. There aren't many people she trusts, and the trust of one of those people only goes so far when you're surrounded by strangers in a hostile foreign lands known to have... issues with women, this rare leader aside. Everything they pass is judged for its value as a point of cover, or a vaulting point from which to quickly break the neck of the nearest man if need be. Not strictly necessary, but there are parts of Natasha's brain she can't turn off.
    Honestly, it's like this when they go out to get hot dogs.
    Natasha can't help but feel a little perturbed hearing fluent Russian after recent events, but she rolls with it. She opts to let Clint lead the show. No need to reveal she can speak and understand her language unless strictly necessary.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
With Clint satiating Daisy's need for that particular answer she offers a nod after. "Fair enough." and she is all ready to go. She remains attentive to the group coming out of the surroundings, the slung AKs. She keeps an eye out, making use of both the abilities she learned while at SHIELD but also her own powers to keep an 'eye' out for strange vibrations. And with her brows furrowed, along with the smile gone from her face she has what's called her poker face on.

She makes her way out once Clint announces it's fine to travel she follows along. She notes the goats on the countryside. "Well, you did say we'd find them.." she murmurs. But just a comment to break the monotony of the travel.

When they enter the house of the commander she takes a moment to observe, taking in the inside, the neatness of it all. It tells a lot about a person, along with their wear. She finds herself smiling faintly at the Commander and offers a nod of greeting to her.

She wisely chooses to stay silent (Just for now). One of the reasons being due to russian not being one of her languages of choice!

Clint Barton has posed:
Each are greeted with a version of a salaam, a greeting, a welcome and a sign of peace all in one. May is granted a smile with a brief inclination of her head. There is kinship.

Beyond the introductions, however, things are cut short, however, by calls in the village not a few minutes after the team's arrival. Movement in the valley beyond the Quin, and it's the Russians. A middle aged man appears at the doorway behind the team, his AK before him, but not pointed in any direction. Not yet. He speaks quickly in Dari, his words sounding as if they they fight to be spoken in his rush.

Commander Kaftar holds her hand up as if to settle the man before she turns her attention back to Clint, and as a group, knowing full well the reason for their visit. It's either because the blond can't give her the answer she needs and requires the group, or that he can give her the answer and will require the group to help. Obviously she'd prefer the latter, but the only hint of her thought is in those dark eyes as she watches the dynamic before she speaks finally. And she doesn't address the man, but rather, the group.

<<"It is they. I would like weapons. From Stark. They work.">> She looks a little disappointed even as she speaks, dark eyes back on the archer, and a soft 'hhn' sounds. The elder lady seems to know that it's not going to happen today, or perhaps tomorrow, but it will happen. Eventually. If she has any say in the matter, that is.

<<"There is movement there,">> and she points out where they'd come. <<"The fort where they once were, they are now again. We do not know why.">> They're too busy fighting for their basic survival, and the Commander says as much, her tones lowering, her gaze lingering on each, <<"Help me and I will help you. We know ways in, but we cannot help if we are all dead.">>

Clint exhales and looks back at the team, his jaw shifting as he considers, his hands dropping into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. "She really thinks something is going on." The fort that she's speaking of was in their sheet list; taken by the Soviets in the 50s, abandoned in the early '80s. And now? The lights are going on in a remote section of an almost ignored country in the world. Why? "We need to talk."

Melinda May has posed:
When the man comes in, indicating trouble, May shifts from the casual position she had adopted upon entry, to something a little more alert. She's reading body language now, in addition to listening to the words that are spoken. Speaking softly, she translates the words for Daisy; she knows Natasha doesn't need the interpretation, but she'll not see the younger agent left out of a crucial loop.

Hey, she might have a garbage Russian accent, herself, but her English is just fine.

She glances to Clint as he speaks to the team. "She... hasn't heard about Stark's new direction, huh?" That's... maybe not so good? "We're going to do a looksee, aren't we?" It's not really a question. "I can fire up the scanners, just give the word." Of course, those are back on the 'jet.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
It's all about looking for those nuances and glances between them. The way the Commander appears to truly need help, the worriness. Daisy nods slowly even if she doesn't particularly understand. Just an idea of what they may be talking of. At least until May begins to translate, she smiling her thanks to the more experienced Agent.

She dips her head at Clint when he speaks those last words in english, she replying. "She doesn't look the type to call if things weren't serious." she assesses.

"And a looksee sounds just as good for me right now." She says, rolling her shoulders slowly. "Specially after that mile hike."

"If they have any kind of satellite connections going there I may be able to crack into their system, depending on how advanced it is." A beat. "If it is I'd probably need to be *inside* the base to do it, though don't think that's your idea, is it?"

Clint Barton has posed:
"And it's a headache I don't think he wants, us digging up spare arms he thought was destroyed," Clint murmurs. "We're not in the weapons business, but I'm sure we could do something to set them back a little. Give her some breathing room." Later, of course. First, there's the fort. There's a tight smile, a slightly pained if not reconciled to his fate expression before he nods. "Yeah. I think that's the best right now. You go, fire it up, take a flight. I'm gonna go make life a little harder down south for a little while. I'll meet you on the LZ in two hours?"

The wizened lady, the Warchief, watches as they discuss, and with a soft, breathy noise, nods her approval. It's all she wants, really...

Melinda May has posed:
May offers Clint a sloppy salute that's really nothing more than the brush of a couple of fingers off the side of her forehead. "Two hours." With that, steps back and gives a formal, if brief nod to the old lady. Tough as nails, that one. Yes. May does like her.

She just hopes she never has to fight opposite her.

She then slips out of the house towards the Quin, gesturing to the men know exactly where she's going. Even at a jog... it's a 20 minute hike back to the Quin. But once she's there? Nothing better than a solo flight over potentially hostile territory to clear the mind.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
No salute, but a thumbs up out of Daisy at the plan and agreed meeting time. "Careful not to Robin Hood too much, mmm?" she says in a bit of a tease towards the Avenger. But then it's time to go. She casts a look back into the small house to offer a farewell wave and a smile before beginning on her way back to follow May. ANOTHER mile to run...

Not that she complains, or gets too tired about it. And when they are back inside the jet she goes to get settled down on the co-pilot seat. So much for a solo flight!

She casts a look at May. "So, what do you think about this? Clint appears to trust her enough." she doesn't really reach for the controls though, mostly keeping an eye out on the scanners and connecting her own laptop to them so as to get a live feed down to it so as to examine what they are scanning on the fly.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint takes hold of a jeep, and that's the last they'll see of the archer for a couple of hours. There is a scrambled message that comes through over coms regarding activity to the Quin's south, and to avoid the area...

Flying over the fort? There is decidedly activity. Heat signatures are everywhere, from the ramps, leading down and under the medieval fortress. It's in ruins, but the shielding in places speaks that they're using it as a pathetic attempt to hide their location. Again, who pays attention to the area? A little old lady and her goats!

Thing is, the Russians aren't using marked vehicles. They're all blacked out, including their single vstol aircraft they have on a lowered 'launch' pad. No numbers, no markings, nothing. Seems whoever this is, if it's not the Russians, is taking 'black ops' seriously.

There's a humm that emenates from below, with what seems to be something of a powersupply nearby that doesn't seem anywhere near large enough to be powering what they seem to have below.

All of this, off the radar.

Melinda May has posed:
May takes them up nearly to the top of the flight range overlap between the jet's flight capability and the sweetspot for the finest of its sensor systems. And, hey, if that happens to allow Daisy to jack a laptop into the satelite grid hiding high above the atmosphere? Well, so much the better.

She resists the urge, of course, to sigh when she realizes she won't have the cockpit to herself. Instead, she gives the other agent a sidelong glance as the questions begin. "I think you don't get to be a septugenarian warlord in the middle of highly contested territory without knowing how to play both sides against the middle," she says. "But, I also think she may very well be the best option for this region. If she falls, the extremists move in."

She points to the hotspots lighting up on the sensor array. "And that suggests they're already paying rent."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"True enough." Daisy says of May's response, offering a nod of her head. "There may be something more at work here than she is letting us know but..., one problem at a time, right?" When they get to that sweet spot that is close enough to get in reach of the satellite grid Daisy does attempt to do her 'magic', typing in quickly to see about attempting a scan out of their communication range, and also of any glimpse of what they may be trying to do here. Every little bit matters afterall!

"They are and ..." she whistles. "Look at those readings.." she gestures to the powersupply signals they are getting. "These guys are certainly up to no good. And pros. They got the kind of care we'd have if we were doing a similar op." she says. "Maybe just not in successfully covering the location but ..."

Clint Barton has posed:
Paying rent? Absolutely.

The pictures, the scans.. all are good, and all good enough to bring back and get a good look at under better conditions. Location, placements, all can be checked now against satellite, if there are any pictures of the region taken comparitively recently in order gauge how far they've built and how quickly. It'd give them a little more information, certainly. You go, Daisy!!

As for Clint? He's at the LZ as he said he would be, turning on his tight beam transponder for the pick-up. He's dirtier, a little out of breath, and smells like he could really use a shower. But, all in all? When the Quin lands for him, and he's able to come aboard? He's looking pleased with himself. Won't even toss Daisy out of her spot! Instead, buttons up the back, sits down heavily, pulls his equipment off, and leans back, his legs straightening and extending out.

"Next stop, shower."