5161/Dropping the Mic

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Dropping the Mic
Date of Scene: 13 February 2021
Location: Winnsboro, Texas
Synopsis: May leads a team of agents, including Hunter, Yo-Yo, and Daisy, down to Texas to retrieve an 0-8-4: Hitler's Berlin Microphone, a strange artifact with the ability to make people do whatever anyone who speaks into the microphone suggests. Something like that doesn't need to be left in the hands of a disaffected Army washout with an axe to grind against anyone with superpowers.
Cast of Characters: Melinda May, Lance Hunter, Daisy Johnson, Elena Rodriguez

Melinda May has posed:
Winnsboro, Texas, isn't a big town. It's one of those sleepy little towns you blink and you miss when you're driving through. It's sat at the intersection of Texas State Highways 11 and 37, in the northeast quadrant of the state, and is home to roughly 3,500 people. Its most notable businesses are an old dairy supplier called Keller's Creamery and the Winnsboro Gun Club.

It really doesn't seem the sort of place to be a hotspot for trouble.

And yet, not too long ago, the FBI suspended the entire Winnsboro Police Department due to a series of complaints about officers planting incriminating evidence on innocent citizens and arresting people on false charges. Although those cases were mostly resolved, the question remains: How did a whole police force become quite that corrupt? Most of the blame was laid at the feet of a local politician who was said to be in the pocket of the Mob out of Dallas, though no one could really understand why the little town would be of any interest to the mob at all.

Thing is, there's now more trouble in Winnsboro. The local gun club has become a hotspot for a white supremacist militia. There've even been some rallies held. Its leader, a 23 year old kid who washed out of the Army, is reportedly remarkably charismatic and persuasive. He took over the group from a bunch of older guys, reportedly based on the fire of his ideas alone. Reportedly, after listening to him, even a died-in-the-wool preacher and man of God is likely to go off to serve the Devil. And serve the Devil they really do seem to do.

There's something hinkey going on in Winnsboro.

Normally, the FBI would continue to run with these cases. But the kid's oratory is taken straight out of a Hydra manifesto -- anti-mutant, anti-inhuman, anti-meta... anti-government... the whole nine yards. More than that, the patterns his followers display match those of the eariler police force actions, save that they're done by regular citizens instead of the cops.

After some investigation, the FBI profiler has actually theorized the source of this pattern isn't the kid or even the cops. It's something else entirely. It sounds crazy, but the profiler is sure the problem is the antique microphone the kid is using. It's something right out of the 40's.

No one at Quantico believed him, of course. So, he reached out to a buddy in SHIELD. Now, a small strike team has been sent down to Winnsboro to investigate the validity of this claim and, if possible, relieve the kid of his microphone.

Sounds crazy? You bet. Is there any truth to it? God knows and He ain't tellin'.

Lance Hunter has posed:
On the way to Wainsboro, Hunter, is talking, big surprise... "So, if this mic is the problem, I mean what would you do with it if you got it?" Hunter muses. "I mean we're going to destroy it or lock it up in the vault, obviously, but you know, what if?" he says looking to the other members of the team. "Me, I'd use it to win an arguement or two with Bobs... maybe a promotion or two... nothing huge."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
After the Saudi Arabia heist where Daisy overused her powers and some time in recovery, Daisy is now fit to active duty again even if her powers appear to have left her, or are at least dormant. It doesn't mean she has lost her more upbeat attitude even if she still appears to be suffering from those effects by the sunken eyes she displays, or the paler skin. And no, to whoever that asks she always says she isn't turning into a vampire! More like she is having troubles recovering.

Yet today that was put aside, it was time for a mission. An 0-8-4. Which meant the real deal. The actual purpose of SHIELD.

So Daisy had armed herself with her tools of the trade. Laptop with satellite uplink, trusty ICER, the standard black and blue armored outfit she wears. She was taptapping away on it while commenting. "So the theory is the kid is using the item to get some revenge on people that harmed him in the past?" she asks, "I will try and see if there's a relation with the kid and the people that were accused on those false charges. It's weird that the mic would had been found by a Hydra type guy of all things but .., maybe it's corrupting the kid?" all questions she didn't expect answered just yet. At least the last one. As for links with the kid, she starts to search for relations between him and the arrested citizens.

A look to Hunter, "Nothing huge. Right. But even with that mic I doubt you'd be able to win as many arguments as you think you could. Bobbs's superpower is her stubborness afterall."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
First mission back and it's something straight out of the handbook.

Dressed in standard black/blue armor, holstered ICER, and her hair up in a braid, she's seated on a bench with her elbows resting on her bent knees. Fingers wiggling between them and brown eyes dancing across the small strikeforce sent on this forey into the heart of Texas.

A little smirk is direct over to Lance's chatty observation and Daisy's retort, "Even winning the argument might get you in the hot seat afterwards, no?" Fidgeting her shoulder, a hand running along the back of her neck to get her head back into it.

"I will do a sweep of town once we are dirtside."

Melinda May has posed:
May sets the Quinjet down in a clearing on the southeast side of town, not so far from the gunclub. She leaves the plane cloaked, so their presence isn't immediately given away.

The taciturn Asian doesn't even bother to respond to Hunter's chatter, though she does somehow radiate an impenetrable sense of martyred irritation with the constant stream of hot air. As Daisy searches for information on both the kid and the mic, she pushes herself out of the cockpit and joins the rest in the back. She gives Elena a brief nod. "Watch yourself," she tells her. "They're gun happy and they hate inhumans. Try not to be seen."

She finally addresses Hunter. "Why don't you go see if you can make nice with one of the locals, get in and take a look around? We'll join you once we've secured the perimeter and our means of egress." In other words, once she knows the jet is secure.

The gun club is mostly dirt and scrubland carved out of a half-decent forest. A cluster of half a dozen buildings, one of them fairly long, but not very high, sits in the southwest corner of the property. Beyond those buildings are training ranges arranged in a weird half circle. And beyond those, to the east, are a few other camp buildings and training facilities better suited to militia than a simple gun enthusiast.

As it happens, the grass-and-gravel parking area (it's really too haphazard to be called a lot) in front of the long building is filled with pickup trucks, the occasional jeep, and even rarer SUV. People are moving in and out of sizable two-storey prefab, probably about the size of a decent barn, sat a little south and west of the long building. Hot dogs and burgers are being grilled up and the whole place has the air of a rally of some sort. The real action, however, seems to be inside that pre-fab, not out in front.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"Yeah, but I'll have won and that's something," Hunter says to Elena, before adding to Daisy, "Just one of many these days?" he says with a roll of his eyes. "And that's not including her bloody wing suit," he says with a roll of his eyes.

Once they've landed and May's given him directions, Hunter goes all business? or well mostly business? 400 0 Picking up the stetson from the seat beside him and putting it on. He unbelts from the seat and gives the ladies a finger gun. "Y'all sit tight and I'll get a little look around," he says in that Texan drawl he learned somewhere, heading to the back of the jet, grabbing his gear bag as he goes, heading towards the pre-fab building at the club.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Or the volcano seat." Daisy says with a solemn nod of agreement with Elena before grinning in her direction. "Good to have you back from Colombia and working with us. I am still waiting to know what gift you brought me from there!" it was a tradition afterall! "And damn, there's a lot that I need to catch you up with. Too bad this town doesn't have a proper bar for us to go after the job is done." Daisy already thinking about the success of the mission, a glance to Lance, "Just a dairy supplier if anyone's into milk." a smirk.

Yet that banter is put on hold when she gets a few interesting hits on her search. Brows furrow and she leans onto the screen.

"Okay guys, if I am right, and I normally am, this pic someone was able to get of the mic is way too similar to an old one that had been flagged before by WAND. It was never found but, it was supposedly a mic Hitler used during his Berlin speeches." she shakes her head slowly. "Let me dig in further, one sec.."

The taptapping continues for a bit while they are still ongoing to Texas and after a time she sighs, "Yea, there's rumors that it can make whoever uses it to sound very, very compelling. The problem is that those that listen take it to extremes, to the point of forcing good people do terrible things, no matter what the ideals originally were."

A frustrated sound leaves her throat, "Horrible time to be without my powers or I might be able to dampen the soundwaves." she looks up at the others, "Bring earbuds just in case. To block sound." she handing a couple to both Elena and Lance before they go on their scouting.

With the quinjet landing down Daisy remains in place, continuing to work on the computer, now scanning frequencies to try and pick up on communications between the town people. "Good luck, and please don't pick up a fight with the first scumbag that appears."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"It is good to be back on a mission." Elena agrees with Daisy, smiling at her friend with a little nod. "I would not get too excited about your gift. It is just standard souvenir fare..." Said as they settle down... Once the quinjet settles and the ramp lowers, Yo-yo inclines her head to May and turns her palms up in a sheepish shrug, "Of course, sir." Walking a few steps backwards down the ramp towards the grass-and-gravel, she only turns at the last second and leans forward. A woosh follows and Elena is off, running at a break-neck speed to do perimeter search and work her way inward.

It doesn't take her long..

Snapping back into place with her hands out to stablize her. "Be careful, Lance. They've got a full on militia standing guard around the adjacent buildings... and they are not playing friendly with people snooping." She wasn't gone long enough to go further than around the exterior, even at her speed.

Melinda May has posed:
"Ear plugs might be helpful," May notes. "See if you can lift some from the gun club." Yeah, no one ever thinks to bring ear plugs on missions. Coms that sit in the ear canal, sure. But never actual ear plugs. "If what Daisy says is right, we probably don't want to hear the keynote speech."

She gives Elena the smallest hint of a smile. "Yeah, don't call me 'sir'. May is fine. But if you can come back with ear plugs..." Yeah, that'd be good.

Ideally, this mission should be fairly straightforward. Hunter can create a distraction and Elena can get in there for a snatch-and-grab. Bag the artifact and take it back to the Vault. Easy, right?

Never mind the fact half the gun club members are miliitia members and half of them were on the police force when the FBI shut them down. And as the only enhanced person on the team whose powers are actually working? That puts Elena at a lot of risk.

May grabs both a regular ICER and an ICER rifle, intending to find herself a half-decent turkey blind. "I'll do what I can to cover you," she tells both Hunter and Elena over coms. Then, she glances to Daisy. "You coming or are you going to stay here and dig for more information?" Not to mention keeping the gun nuts from getting into things they shouldn't.

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter tips his hat to Elena at the warning, "Thanks, Darlin'" he says really leaning into that accent he's put on. Then he's off towards the gun club pausing to get a couple bottles of bourbon out of his kit bag, before the bag is thrown over his shoulder. As he approaches the guards he says, he raises his free hand with the two bottles. "Hey there, this a private party or can anyone come fire and drink a few rounds?"

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Daisy looks up at May, smiling faintly. "I can stay in, continue digging in and run interference on our gun maniacs." she wandering over to settle down by the larger computer the Quinjet is equipped with. Now that they were on the ground it was time to get the big guns out! And the small ones too.., like the DWARFs. She opens up a small case, bringing out a couple to send out to keep as their eyes on the air, following them through the monitors.

She speaks out through comms to the rest of the team. "I will get a jamming signal going so they can't easily be alerted if problems start. Good luck, guys." she says.

On her smaller computer she continues running more info on the item in question. There should be an answer on why the heck it's all the way out here in some Texas smalltown!

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Elena plugs in her comms and does a check before everyone slips off to their different tasks, keeping closer to the ridge against the silhouette of the light behind her to prevent easy observation. Laying in wait for the go ahead for the on paper easy snatch and grab.

From elevation, she's watching through optics, kneeling down to lower her profile. While these aren't Columbian Cartel, she's done enough ops against militia to know how they operate. Playing against their weaknesses, the only difference being, some of them are well trained police.. "Just let me know once you have eyes on the device and I'll run in there and grab it." Super easy.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Melinda May has posed:
The men Hunter meets are probably ex-cops. One of them, a fellow with a grey walrus mustache and close cropped hair, eyes Hunter's bottle. "Shoot around or two, sure," he drawls in return. "But unless you're intendin' to use that bottle as target practice, I suggest you leave it in your truck. Booze and bullets don't mix." Yeah, he sounds like a cop.

"You here for the rally?" his compatriot, a younger guy who looks like a grown up farmboy who's enjoyed a few too many of Mom's apple pies, asks, peering at Hunter. "Don't think I know you." It's a small town. Everyone knows everyone else in a small town.

Signals in and around the compound suggest that there's a robust wi-fi network in place -- probably a more powerful one than most rural communities support and probably facilitated by a commercial satellite hookup. Cell phone signals are about average; there's a tower within good range of the property, but not so close as to give a sizable boost. Local communication band radio signals are strong, probably juiced by a couple of repeaters in the area. There are a couple of encrypted channels buried within the broadspectrum feed, which is certainly unusual. And, of course, the FBI do have at least a couple of sat feeds surveilling the area. Those may come in handy.

May, dressed in her SHIELD nanomesh tac suit, slings the rifle over her back and sets off at a quick jog toward the treeline, after making sure the ramp to the jet retracts, concealing Daisy inside. It wouldn't do for a random spotter to, well, randomly spot the completely not-invisible hatch, right?

While Hunter works on talking his way past the gatekeepers and Elena finds a good place to start her run, May sneaks her way into the compound and finds herself a roost that will allow her to keep an eye on the building's perimeter and even catch a glimpse of interior procedings through a high bank of windows.

"Now looks like great time," she says into coms, peeking through her gunsight. "The stage is empty, save for the sound setup." Which means the mic is on its stand.

The interior of the prefab is fairly open. The stage at the far end has been constructed of stacked palets reinforced by bolting them together and covering them with a plywood top. There's no lecturn or podium, but there are large speakers. The mic is on a stand alone in the middle of the stage, a few feet away from the front lip. Really, the place could be a meeting hall or a barn... and may very well have been, once upon a time.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"Well I could take them back to my truck or I can give 'em to you fine folks for after the rally," Hunter says offering the booze towards the big farm boy, figuring he'll be the easier mark than the ex-cop. "And damn right I'm here for the rally, new in town heard some folks talking about it thought I'd come down and have a look, your boy here is speaking the truth."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Sneaky buggers.." Daisy states on comms, perhaps in Lance's honor, ".. they have a *lot* more hardware here than I would expect for a backwater town. Wi-fi up the wazoo, encrypted channels... Mmmm." the encrypted channels do make her curious, "I will see if I can break into them. And ..., preparing to jam radio signals once the retrieval is done." SHIELD tech, got to love it! She starts getting it done while sending a DWARF up to follow close by to May and keep a look from above.

Nothing like another set of eyes!

A few more taps on her keyboard and she readies the antenna on the quinnjet to run interference on comms when all hell breaks loose. Yes, it was not even a question of 'if' anymore!

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Elena, kneeling from her vantage point, scopes across Hunter smoozing with the locals. A small smirk playing across her face at his counter, "Nothing like greasing the palms of locals with grain alcohol." Snooper shifting to the stage, zooming in, and fixing on the object they've come for.

"Pretty straight shot through the front of the prefab. I've got eyes on the mic." All she needs it May's signal, with Hunter distracting the guards and Daisy ready to block comms if things turn upsidedown.

Now looks like a great time

Yo Yo leans forward and flicks off in a whirl of motion, taking the path of least resistance towards the stage, ready to grab the mic and ricochet back to her place on the hill. "Annnnnd-"

Melinda May has posed:
Looks can be deceiving.

The cop with the walrus moustache scowls a little more deeply at Hunter. His young partner, however, is more than willing to take the bait. "Hey," he says to the older fellow, as his hands wrap around Lance's bottle. "He's probably the guy who moved into old Eddie Janes' old place, right? 'Sides, once he's heard Skeet speak, there's no way he's gonna be a problem, right?"

Walrus lets out a soft growl that's more a grunt than anything worse. "Mebbe," he concedes. "You just mind your p's and q's in there, buddy. We've had enough problems with outsiders already. Don't you be addin' to 'em." Warning given, he steps back out the way and lets Lance pass.

As Lance is making his way in, a wall of sound rises up from those speakers. Oddly enough, it's the strident tones of death metal that screams out of the diaphrams, not some hot new country lick. Of course, Dallas-Fort Worth is known in music circles for its strong metal bands. So, maybe it's not nearly the surprise it could be.

Nevertheless, the tune is roaring out just about the same time Elena is rocketting across the threshhold into the prefab. By the time her hand is wrapping around the mic head, a young man in camo pants and a dusty black tee is unexpectdly wrapping his hand around the mic stand itself -- albeit from the floor below the stage, rather than on the stage itself. So, you know... he's a little lower than what May could comfortably see.

Well, shit. May doesn't voice the expletive out loud, but it runs through her mind in that instant, as Elena's unstopable force runs headlong towards the young man's unexpected obstacle.

Meanwhile, a new radio frequency opens up among the channels Daisy monitors -- this one in the range of a low-end AM radio station. Also, there's a social media livestream feed that goes into standby, its handle the unimaginative 'Wood County Watchdogs'.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"I promise I won't be any trouble at all," Hunter says tipping his hat to Walrus and heading into the pre-fab calling over comms trying to speak over the metal music in the background. << Inside. Let me know when it's time for a distraction >> He heads inside the building, moving to the back of the room, nodding here and there to the locals as he goes.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Pff Lance, your middle name is trouble." Daisy comments to Lance when he makes that promise to the guys by the door, perhaps just a touch amused.

"Uh, they seem to be getting ready to transmit to the rest of the city using AM radio stations. I am going to guess those not near enough have radios at their home ready to listen to this guy.." Daisy starts working quick, preparing to counter the signal of the radio station, a brow arching when she spots the livestream feed. "And oooh, they joined the 21st century too, media livestream." she plugs into it on a monitor.

Harder to get *those* down, but doesn't mean she wouldn't try, just in case there was trouble.

Of course that trouble *is* already brewing, she not aware yet of the sudden encounter between Elena and the small 'dictator'.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Nothing is every easy.

Not in the field, anyways. And it's dangerous to start expecting it to be, a lesson Elena knows internally, but cannot help bucking every now and again. Milk runs are so few and far between, it's just dangerous to start hunting them... which is how she finds herself in this situation.

The blur of a ghostly Columbian reaching out towards the mic just as someone else is grabbing for the stand finds herself in a precarious position because if she keeps her same tragectory, she's going to smash directly into him. Either now or when she ricochettes back out... one way or another.

So she twists off to her right, stops in her movement facing Lance coming into the prefab. There's not a lot someone can convey into a half seconds worth of eyecontact though. The easy part of this is over.

It also throws her off balance the half second later when she's snaps back up to the crest of the hill she'd originated from and rolls over into the grass with her boots digging into the dirt.. Clutching her right hand, the right had she'd closed around the mic, now empty.

"Shit... I don't have it and he saw me. I'm going back in but I'll definitely need a big distraction." Now he knows there's an Inhuman here... and that is going to complicate the whole situation. Popping up to her feet, ready to run back in.

Melinda May has posed:
"INTRUDER!" The guy in the black tee and camo pants, shouts openly into the mic. "We got ourselves a freak, boys! Get 'im!" Does it occur to young Skeet that it's the mic they're after? Hard to say. But he jumps up onto the platform, facing out to the crowd. The crowd is already starting to scramble, grabbing for guns and looking around for this supposed intruder. The blur was too fast for most of them to catch.

Indeed, the only stranger they see in their midst is Lance.

May takes sight through her scope as Skeet mounts the stage. The kid begins to speak, holding the mic almost like a crooner making love to it. He's got this whole speech prepared, memorized even. He throws it out, however, in the heat of the moment. "Hey, folks! I know there's a whole buncha y'all joining us online and on the radio dial. We gots ourselves a bit of a crisis here. The freaks are attackin' us, jes' like I told ya's they would. They don't want us to be able to fight back. But we can and we will! So, all y'all out there online, you jes' come on down to the Winnsboro Gun Club and give us a hand. Everyone else? Find the freak! Find the fuc*" He never gets to finish his impromptu call to war. An ICER round takes him right in the center of the forehead as May finally gets a clear enough shot to take him down.

"<<Yo-yo! Go!>>" she tells Elena sharply. "<<Don't get caught! Get the mic and get out there! Hunter, now's the time for a distraction.>>"

Hey, it's not like May heard the twerp's speech. She's far enough away, she can't. Everyone else in that building, though? Oh, yeah. It's on. And they've got Lance in their sights.

Lance Hunter has posed:
When the crowd turns in Lance's direction he's got one hand in his kit bag and a gas mask pulled over his face. ""There's a perfectly good explanation for all of this?" he says before he pulls his hand out of the bag with the cluster of CS grenades he'd wired together, yanking the pins all free he hurls the bundle into the crowd and starts to run for the door.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Oh no, you don't ..." Daisy murmurs when the kid starts trying to reach out into the online community, no need to bring more innocents in! She works quick, cutting through those media channels to instead start broadcasting an episode of ..., Friends? Maybe it's the 100th rerun or something. But that's what they get on short notice. "Yea, have fun with Monica and Chandler.." she murmurs to herself.

"Oh man, that's turning into a hotwire of activity." She gets the DWARF looking over the path towards their quinjet. "Path should be mostly safe for now on the getaway! Just .., those two guys outside are moving in on your position May." she warns the asian woman.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
<<"Loud and clear, May!">>

Elena sets off in a blur, rushing down the side of the hill, weaving her way through guards that are basically standing still for her... at least in so far as she's moving so much faster than them, it would be neigh impossible for them to grab her, even if they could see her coming.

With her ICER in hand, she leaps over the back of a row of chairs inside the doorway of the Prefab, running along the backs to get her out of the path of all those people who are now looking directly at Lance- Perfectly good explanation indeed

She doesn't bother shooting, the bolt May had fired is just smacking Skeet in the forehead when her shoulder blocks into him with the force of a, relatively soft, sledgehammer. JUST enough to send him tumbling back off the stage, already unconscious... but it also stops her foreward momentum. "I'll just take this..." Snatching the Microphone off the stand just as she's feeling the pull back towards the hill. Skidding to a stop with sand and bits of grass spraying off the otherside.

Only a few seconds later and she'd have absolutely gotten to snap out with an explosion behind her.

Missed opertunities.

<<"Lance, there's a ton of those idiots coming from the buildings to your right.">> Confident in May's ability to take care of two guys without much need for intervention while assisting the agent still behind enemy lines.

Melinda May has posed:
"<<Copy that,>>" May says to Daisy. Yeah, she can handle a couple of small town Texas yokels. The rifle gets slung back over her shoulder again and she drops down out of her perch. She pulls out her ICER sidearm just as the pair come running into view. Her hands come up, her finger twitches twice, and the pair drop just like Skeet did. "Sorry, boys," she says, entirely not sorry. "Today's not your day."

She then begins to run, heading back to the jet to get it scrambled for take off. "<<Daisy, pop the hatch, I'm incoming.>>" Stealth hardly matters now, anyway.

The grenades go up, buying Lance time enough to either run for cover or at least get enough of a head start on his pursuers that he's got a fighting chance. Theoretically, anyway. The people at the prefab are in chaos. The ones coming out of the long building, less so. They're the ones more likely to shoot at him as he runs. Of course, most of them are used to stationary targets. Even those among them who fancy themselves hunters tend to wait until the buck is standing still. So, if he keeps moving, he might keep ahead of the bullets.

May is halfway back to the jet when she hears the first shots ring out. "<<Elena, meet me on the ramp with that 0-8-4, then give Hunter whatever support you can. I'll come pick you up.>>"

Lance Hunter has posed:
<< Thanks >> Lance says over comms to Elena as he rushes out the door, the ICER he had under his leather coat is drawn and he swivels to the right, ICER leading the way, he drops the first yokel he sees, hoping to startle the rest, as he makes a dash for the parking lot and the plentiful trucks and jeeps he can use for cover. He doesn't fire wild to keep their heads down as he runs. He's got the one mag in the gun and a spare in his pocket after that he's out of ammo and out of luck.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
<<On it.>> The hatch slowly starts to lower down to receive the running agents, Daisy picking up an ICER rifle and making her way over to the entrance to grant support fire. Tech stuff was done for now. It was all about getting everyone out alive. They might be yokels but a stray shot could be just as deadly if it hits just right.

Her head starts to peek out of the entrance, levelling her rifle. She looks through the scope, finding a stray wandering about closer to the jet and shoots him down. <<Have a few straying close, but not many so far. Hunter, what's your status?>> she asks.

She gives a thumbs up when May is getting closer.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
<<"On it.">> Elena mirrors Daisy's confirmation, already on the move at a more realistic pace towards the Quinjet, ready with the football to pass off to May in an underhand toss. "Headed back in to help Hunter."

Turning on her heels as soon as the 0-8-4 is in safe hands to blur forward towards where she'd last seen Lance ducking around all those trucks. Rather than grabbing him, however, she's the distraction for him to keep running towards Evac, which should be coming to them shortly.

A distraction by way of direct intervention!

Leaping out of her run, both her knees crash into the massive chest of one of the overstuffed, brainwashed teddy bears with the concussive force of a 150 mile an hour Columbian cannonball. Rolling up into a crouch with her ICER up to fire the wild shots Lance wont shoot because a half second later and she'll be yanked back away!

A half second is a pretty long time though.

Melinda May has posed:
May snags the mic from Elena as the Columbian meets her at the ramp. The speedster bounces back and then yo-yos off to Lance, while May tosses the mic to Daisy. "Get that packed away," she tells her. "We left off in 30 seconds."

She slams her butt down into the chair of the cockpit, leaving the hatch open and trusting Daisy do do what needs to be done. VTOL engines ignite. Cloaking flickers but remains active. The quinjet lurches skyward, making a short hop towards the parking lot where Lance holds out.

As she descends, May positions the jet such that it splits the difference between Lance's position and Elena's position. Hovering twenty or so feet above the ground, she decloaks the bird, deploying the guns so that the people on the ground can see them swivel. "<<Wood County Watchdogs, we are SHIELD. You are ordered to cease fire and stand down immediately. If you do not comply, we will open fire...>>" She's really hoping they decide to comply. The only thing she's willing to fire at are the empty buildings. She doesn't actually want to shoot the people.

Switching channels, she alerts the nearest SHIELD command station to scramble a clean up crew to join them. Of course, they're ten minutes out, which will give a lot of the big dogs, here, time to go to ground, but its the threat that counts, in this case. And they'll probably be in time to take care of Skeet, if May keeps hovering.

Of course, she can't keep hovering forever. She needs to get her agents on board. That said, even under the influence of the Nazi microphone, most of the people still in the compound are civilians. They're not prepared to take on anything with serious firepower. That's enough incentive to make most of them drop their guns and turn to flee, making it a whole lot easier for Hunter and Elena to get to the jet when May finally does decide its safe enough to drop down for them.

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter is aiming over the top of a truck with a Texas flag painted over the back window when the Quinjet decloaks and the Watchdogs suddenly have other places to be. Not that Lance doesn't drop one more of them just for the fun of it, now that ammo conservation is no longer likely to be something he'll need to worry about. Then he's off and running for the ramp, eager to get the heck out of here. "Thanks for the lift," he says to May when he gets on board, weapon aimed down the ramp in case any of the Watchdogs decides to be brave.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Oh damn. She has the HOT PACKAGE in her hands now. So much temptation to use the thing... But no, stay strong Daisy Johnson! And she does. She runs to one of those specially-made containers by FitzSimmons. Just for these occasions. Good luck breaking into one too after it's closed down. She pops it open with the code and then gets the 0-8-4 in, the little red beep saying it's now fully secure! No more small dictators!

She runs back towards her seat, calling back the DWARFs and strapping in. It was time for lift off!

She keeps an eye out on the screens and when they start to scramble she speaks on comms, <<Good to run back in, Yo-yo. Time to leave this place forever. Good riddance!>>

With Lance hopping up the ramp she eyes him, "Why do our missions always end up with people trying to shoot you?"

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Then she's back from which she originated, sweat beading down her face from the extreme amounts of energy she's used to bounce around like a pinball, but not looking out of breath.. Which is still an odd breakdown that she's parsing in her head. Something for later.

When the quinjet settles low enough for them to board, she's right behind Hunter with a nod as she passes, "Good work with the distraction." Clapping his back and heading forward with her hands smoothing hair off her face where a few strands have come loose of her braid. "We're all in, May!" Wink at Daisy, she settles into her abandoned spot on the bench with a huff.

Melinda May has posed:
"It's because he's Hunter." May answers Daisy's question to Lance with the same certainty she'd use to confirm that the sky is blue. It's simply an immutable fact of life on this planet.

But, with the last of her agents on board and accounted for, and a clean-up crew incoming, May pulls back on the stick and lifts the Quinjet skyward. Pickups, jeeps, and SUVs are fleeing the compound. Only the most diehard of the Watchdogs remain -- most of them NOT the movers and shakers of the group, who bugged out early. (They're perfectly willing to leave the chaff behind to get swept up in the raid.) And Skeet remains forgotten, unconscious, on the platform inside the battered prefab. He'll probably end up in a SHIELD holding cell later.

May, however, has her cargo, she has her team. It's time to head home.