7143/Dollhouse: The Incident (II)

Dollhouse: The Incident (II)
Date of Scene:	30 July 2021
Location:	432 Park Avenue, New York
Synopsis:	The attack on the metro, an attempt to make more Inhumans for HYDRA to lay the blame on, to show them as 'monsters' who kill with their strange terrigen gas... has been thwarted. It cost SHIELD a hand to do it, and almost cost them Jessica Drew entirely. The Unspoken got away and Inferno died.. but even in his death he got the last laugh, informing Valkyrie that The Unspoken was not a victim of HYDRA but a willing ally in his own fight against Blackagar Bolt.
Cast of Characters:	Nebula, Phil Coulson, Daniel Sousa, Peggy Carter, Jessica Drew, Jane Foster

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Nebula has posed:
    It's a bold move. They're laying their cards on the table. HYDRA commissioned AIM to build them a computer in the 80s that would allow them to predict the movements of their enemies, that would allow them to map out a plan to conquer the world. Gideon Mallick's HYDRA began an elaborate game of chess, moving people to strategic places.

    They built a specialised academy - HYDRA Academy - a mirror to SHIELD Academy, for that very purpose. General Catherine Hale, high up in the military, Gideon's own son in to politics and national security, Jasper Sitwell in to the belly of the beast itself: SHIELD, Alexander Pierce in to the United Nations Security Council, Julien Beckers in to European Counter Intelligence, Kirk Vogel and Kathlene Hutz in to critical security infrastructure businesses, and John Garrett at the tip of SHIELD's spear.

    All to enact one of the most audacious plans ever put together. Not just a coup d'etat of critical organisations, but of the whole world. The simulation was quite clear. First, SHIELD had to disappear; Second, they needed an enemy to unite the world against; and Third, they needed to act the heroes. It was that last step that was so very against their own nature. But they chose an enemy that they could dehumanise, an enemy they could hate upon as much as the average man in the street. Inhumans would be their nightmare fuel.

    It had almost fallen apart once already. Daniel Whitehall had been so close to seeing it through with SuperSHIELD. Usurping the name of SHIELD was a nice little 'screw you' to their adversary but they had thought too small then. The enemy they had chosen was simply 'superheroes'. They were too liked. This time they would build off of that. This time they would shock the world awake in to a fevered nightmare where a single Inhuman could kill tens of thousands of people in the blink of an eye. And then, then the people will welcome their leadership with open arms.

Nebula has posed:
    Peggy's voice comes over the comms, clear and strong even after the week she spent in a bed. Her British tones sound stronger than ever as she begins to speak: "Agents of SHIELD, we've been in the shadows a long time. For months now, the world has called us criminals and terrorists. But for decades before that, they whispered about us, in fear as much as awe. Spies. Big brother. Little does the world know that we are the shield that protects it from the things it doesn't want to think exist. We stand between them and most dangerous threats, from space, time, and more. It's not an easy job. It's harder when they are calling you traitors.

    "And yet, you all still stand here. Through life threatening missions. Mental torture. Trauma. The hate of the very people we protect. HYDRA's lies. You stand here today because you believe in our cause as much as I do. As much as agents have for 70 years before you. You stand in a long, strong legacy of doing what must be done in the face of the worst odds. I'm so proud of each and every one of you. I am so honored to call you colleagues and Agents. You do your predecessors proud.

    "Today, we are done being in the shadows. Today, we finish this. We let the world see who we truly are and how much they need us. We put HYDRA back where they belong -- hated as the Nazis and traitors THEY are. But, most importantly, we save innocent lives. We do what we have pledged to do. Go. be the sterling agents I know you all to be. Fight hard. Save lives. Show the world what being an Agent of SHIELD truly means."

Nebula has posed:
    The S.T.R.I.K.E. force had been divided in to three. With the intelligence painfully extracted from The Framework they knew what HYDRAs plan was. They knew how it would play out if they didn't step in and expose them to the world for what they truly are.

    Team 1: Commander Morse, Senior Agent Barton, Senior Agent Johnson, Senior Agent Simmons, Agent Hunter, Agent Fitz, are headed directly for the tower itself. HYDRA intends to bring down the tallest residential building in New York. 'Mass Casualties' they said. That's not going to happen. Bobbi has prepared for the worst, that if they're too late they can still save the building and the people inside. Specialised suit cases containing a fancy new shielding system built for purpose, to hold a building up even if its foundations are crumbling. They need only get them installed.

    Team 2: Commander Coulson, Chief Carter, Agent Sousa, Agent Foster, Agent Drew, are headed to the metro below the tower. A scary prospect if Team 1 fails, but no less scary than if they themselves fail. What better place to create the enemies of tomorrow than from the devastation caused above. HYDRA intends to detonate Terrigen bombs. How they've gotten their hands on so much terrigen we're not sure but in the chaos they will turn as many people as they can and abscond with their new weapons.

    Team 3: Commander May, Senior Agent Romanoff, Senior Agent Wilson, Agent Pezzini, Probie Agent Becker, must deal with the most visible threat of all. HYDRA. Acting like heroes. They are orchestrating a play, a falsehood for the cameras. They have their own camera crews set up, they have quinjets with HYDRAs logos on them, they have fancy uniforms to make them look legitimate. They have Gayle Trushoot, the only HYDRA agent of Whitehall's to have successfully adapted to his superhuman concoction of powers dressed like a superhero. They are blocking access to the tower to stop the real emergency responders from getting in so that they can swoop in and 'save the day'. Not on our watch.

Nebula has posed:
    Midday. Rush hour.

    432 Park Avenue Metro Station. Underneath the tower is one of the busiest metros in New York. Its location right next to the park and also being underneath one of the tallest residential and commercial buildings in the city makes it an ideal destination. Lots and lots of foot traffic. When The Bus lands in central park with the others across from the tower, the team exits via hanger resplendent in their uniforms proudly brandishing the SHIELD Eagle upon their shoulders.

    The approach to the metro itself is unchallenged, but inside metro police are quick to put their hands on their holsters and approach SHIELD. "Whoa whoa whoa. Hey. Look. We don't want any trouble here. I got mixed feelings about you guys. You saved my nephew's best friends mother's sister once and I ain't forgot that. But ya'll also had killer drones flyin' around in the skies. US Government says you all is terrorists."

    Speaking of, the keen eyes of the spies can see people on the platforms who aren't there going to or from the subway cars but are instead setting up what could only be described as dirty bombs. Against pillars, in corners, they are being very sneaky about it. Dirty bombs that contain something unexpected. Terrigen. The glint of the blue rock reveals in the light that this isn't the nice kind either - it's tainted with something silvery.

Phil Coulson has posed:
The slow and steady descent of the black-painted aircraft is indeed a sight to see. The large engines at the back of each wing is tilted such that it lands vertically, very much like a helicopter. It's enough to stop traffic and gain something of an audience. Emblazoned upon the very top of the wings, and along its side is the emblem that is SHIELD; the stylized, encircled eagle.

Phil is short, sweet to the point; not given to rousing, morale boosting speeches. It's not needed- Commander Carter did it. All that he has to add?

"You heard her, let's move out."

The plan is simple, in word only. Find the bombs, find its detonation source and take it out.

He exits the back of the aircraft in suit and tie, his only nod to the potential danger to life and limb is a black armored flak jacket that sits atop the suit. It weighs him down a little, but not enough to be troubling.

"Okay, we've got the schematics of the wiring of the building, and all the major and minor support structures. They'd have to go after that for a good pancake. Trick is gonna be how to take them all out at the same time." His experience? One goes, they all go like dominoes.

"Anyone sees anything, sing out."

It's when they head towards the Metro station and they meet their first 'level of resistance' in the form of Metro Police. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stand aside." Phil is pleasant, a warm, seemingly genuine smile on his face. "Not unless you want to be buried under several stories of rubble. Problem is, we're here to prevent that. So, you can let us pass and you can stay here, or don't.. and be part of New York City history. A tragic, bad part of it." After the speech, he stands there, the smile still painted on his lips. There's a quick check of his watch, however; timing is everything, and they don't have ALL the time in the world.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel boarded the bus with his weapons certification fresh off the printer, between that and the physical certs were enough to get him on the mission, after all this was all hands on deck time.

"Helluva speech, Howard, Rose and Phillips would be proud of these guys," he says to Peggy after she addresses the troops nodding in the direction of the others in the plane.

Blinking away a bit of misty eye at the memories of the people who had been with him and Peg a the beginning, while putting an ICER in one shoulder holster and his old trusty .45 in the other. He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

Inside the station, as Coulson deals with the police Daniel nods to a passenger fiddling with a backpack kneeling by a pillar. "Coulson, there," he says. "Possible bomb, one o'clock."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy's in her tactical uniform, not a dress for once, boots and the SHIELD eagle happily upon her back. She's ready for a fight, an ICER rifle clutched against her chest and a few other weapons around her belt. It felt like the whole team needed a speech and, since she's back on her feet, she was certainly up to giving it. She grins to Daniel as she sits back down from the comms, "Thank you. Saw some of the younger agent's eyes. They need to know it's the right thing." She also is genuinely proud of them.

As she looks over the schematics, she frowns a bit more, "I'm not a scientist, Agent Drew, it's going to be up to you to help tell us the best way to disconnect these things." And then Phil is settling down and she falls quiet. She's taking orders today from that man, and she's happy for it. She nods curtly as they all start rolling out, following along with her husband, the rifle pointed to the ground in safety position. She lets Phil do the sweet talking, her dark eyes looking around for any other possible bomb..."And a second at 11. They might be placed equally around..."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Vindicated and proud are Jessica's dominant emotions while Peggy Carter speaks. She wipes her eyes as she listens, biting her lips, chin down to hide the unbidden tears. Carter is their Churchill wielding words to hearten them in the coming fight to the death or victory.

Her personal history with HYDRA still gives Jess nightmares that she keeps to herself, unwilling to have the psych-teams probe and awaken more. But, the agent knows deeply that the right choice was joining SHIELD.

Nor is she ashamed of being different any longer. Jessica is a mutant, a laboratory product created as a weapon for world domination. No longer because she belongs to SHIELD.

For the first time in months, the team walks in broad daylight with the SHIELD emblem emblazoned on their tactical suits. Jess hears but doesn't focus on the cross-talk between SHIELD and the NYPD; she is too occupied watching the furtive movements of terrorists planting the destruction of innocent lives. Let Commander Coulson smile and soothe the police.

Following a mental overlay of the schematics they studied on the actual subway, she gives a policewoman a cockeyed salute then goes over the barrier straight up the wall. Yep. She's one of those awful Inhumans, and she has spotted a bomb.

Jane Foster has posed:
SHIELD crawling all over the place feels uncannily familiar, going back to a night in New Mexico when the world changed. Things have moved along since then, notably several dozen near-world ending events that make the appearance of an enchanted Asgardian artifact seem practically droll. Aliens enter the atmosphere all the time now. Or enough to count. New York still stands. But agents in their proper black and white attire flex against an expectation and it's just really /strange/ to see. Jane wears sunglasses until they end up in a subterranean portion of the subway and said additions are simply stupid, rather than a fashion accessory about proper eye protection from the sun.

The only weapon she's got, standard issue ICER. Anything else is ludicrous for an astrophysicist. But weaponized with those nice stakes that have a spatial distortion effect when properly set up? Hey, having your own personal micro-wormhole on occasional command to remove crystals that probably belong to the Embassy of Attilan (population 1, roaming attache-king around) means toting the gear yourself. So she looks like she's off to a sports game somewhere. Totally normal.

Following the leader is the fastest route she has, and that means ghosting well behind Peggy, Coulson, anyone else present. The rousing speech... hasn't had the effect except to make their resident scientist probably quieter, more observant. Jess going for a crystal cluster gives the signal to slap a sensor on a wall with a practiced, palming gesture. Has a dead woman (?) been practicing sleight of hand? You've no idea. A tisket, a tasket, a miniature space-folding disruption from a basket!

Nebula has posed:
    The metro police consider their options. One starts to draw his weapon, but his buddy places a hand on his arm, "No. This is SHIELD dammit. I don't care what the politicians say. These people are goddamned heroes." The police listen to what Phil has to say and one rushes over to hit the fire alarm.

    The building above them rumbles suddenly and one man stands distinct from the crowd that begins to rush about trying to get to the emergency exits. The police begin trying to herd people the right ways.

    The man in question is wearing a long trench coat and his eyes glow purple. He has a sinister grin on his face and as he lifts up a hand, a terrigen crystal grows from his palm. He tilts his head as if to say to SHIELD 'whatcha gunna do about it', then tosses it over his shoulder carelessly.

    The crystal shatters and terrigen gas swirls about the panicked people. Two of them drop choking while a third is encased in a hard shell. Jane can see with her unique perspective that dark clouds of death begin to spread over everyone in the metro station - including themselves.

    The HYDRA agents step back from the three bombs they've planted. Only three. The timer on them indicates 5 minutes until detonation. "Whoo hoo hoo bloody true right mate," comes a cutting Australian voice from the crowd as another man reveals himself.

    Inferno, one of the Inhumans Jiaying refused to allow terrigenesis. Wearing a very unsubtle flame embossed red leather jacket. He picks up a fire extinguisher and it begins to glow red hot, then tosses it toward one of the exits. It explodes over head and the crowd steers back the way they came in a panic.

Phil Coulson has posed:
It's strange, working with people he's never worked with before as boots on the ground. He doesn't have his team; his team that he'd built to trust each other, to lay down their lives willingly for each other, and for the mission. Do these have what it takes?

He really doesn't want to find out.

But, Phil is the consummate spy. He's been with SHIELD for about 30 years, learning the ins and outs of the organization, what makes it tick, what motivates people, and what doesn't. This is 'just another mission' as far as he's concerned. It does have implications, ramifications, and if it fails? There will never be a vindication of SHIELD.

It can't fail. He has friends in the military that are grudgingly backing the play; they have their six, and the other way around.

Phil nods as his team moves past as he stands there, waiting for the response. Whether he gets one or not, he too moves with his team, blue eyes searching the struts and supports when he gets into more of a position to see them.

"Eyes," and Phil cranes his neck to look around at the other sites, catching the climb of Agent Drew. His expression doesn't show surprise; doesn't show anything, but it is still interesting to see something in person after reading it in a file.

he sound of the fire alarm is welcome to his ears; it means that New York's Finest also has their back. Allies are good things to have. Until they become liabilities. Phil can see the gesture if not the entire tableau, and threat assessment states that-

"Run! Get those people out of here!" in his first breath, and in his second, a warning for the others sound even as he pulls out his ICER to shoot at one of the targets laying the bomb. "Masks! We've got mist!" Instead of pulling his on immediately, however, he's running across to get at a civilian, a young student that is both trying to run AND video everything that is going on. He slaps his mask on her and gets her moving out and away from the immediate area of the mist.

"Bombs are in place! Track it now.. the rest, on Crocodile Dundee."

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"Take eleven and I'll take one?" Daniel asks Peggy, before his eyes follow Jessica up the wall. "Guess she's got the one on the roof," he says with a bemused expression. Powers. Still getting used to those but he had to admit they're damn handy.

Same with ICERs, seeing the man's at 1 o'clock has his hands free of the backpack, Daniel draws and fires his ICER in a smooth motion, dropping them, alive but out for a long while. He only gets a step forward before the two Inhumans join the fray. Eyes widening he takes a step back towards Peggy closing the gap between them and letting them cover each other if any more surprises emerge. He slips a mask on and at Coulson's command fires at the Aussie Inhuman.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Well, knowing that there was some sort of possible gas bomb down there is a certain help. The moment that mad man releases the gas, Peggy's fingertips slam down to her belt and she releases the gas mask there, pulling it fast onto her face as her rifle rests on her shoulder on it's strap. Put your own mask on before helping others, after all! Then she swings her rifle back into place and levels it on the Inhuman who is tossing the tank. No hesitation. She coughs out two shots from her rifle.

Then Daniel's asking about the bombs, and she nods immediately, "I'll go for one!" She echoes over the comm unit, running deeper into the crowd just seconds after Daniel is on the way. Since he's falling back closer to her, she fires off another shot, trying to cover them both as they work towards the bombs, "Foster, do you know how we disarm these if we get to them?" She calls over the comm units. "If you can do it better than I, I'll provide as much cover fire as possible!" She has het to notice that Phil's given up his mask.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Glued to the wall that rumbles under her hands, Jess has a spider's eye view of the panic below and time to pull a mask out of her pack to cover her face. The bulky pack contains small fold-out boxes that IKEA flatpack shipping would envy, airtight and designed to contain explosives. (Now, if only her IKEA hex key would work.) She spots the man standing still as a pillar in the storm raging around him with the smug expression of someone pleased at panic.

The bomb or the man? She chooses the bomb. It pains her to be masked while below her people fall in the crush trying to escape the gas. Unfortunately, there is no time to hide her abilities from shocking non-mutant sensibilities. Live with it, she thinks, leaping from the wall to a support strut hiding a backpack. Thanking the SHIELD tech teams that built the boxes, she unfolds an orange biohazard container and drops the bomb into it.

Over coms, "Agent Drew here. That's one in the rafters boxed!"

Jane Foster has posed:
Whatcha gonna do? A flicked hand gesture answers that: <<Bad move.>>

Doctor Foster, pursuer of the bleeding forefront of human scientific breakthroughs, moves through the civilians being evacuated by those overworked transit police. Swaying limbs and beating feet swallow her up while she uses some finely honed Seattle footwork and pointy elbows to keep her gear conveniently from being bashed about or mobbed by commuters on the verge of irritation.

Forget panic. Civilians prevented from bingewatching the Witcher season two or ordering a party pack of shawarma will wreak more havoc than HYDRA ever could. The nearest convenient tiled strut facing outward presents a suitable spot for scientific graffiti, marring the ceramic square with another sticky-backed lozenge about the size of an ant-bait trap. Swiveling his arm like a demented windmill, a train-cop guides her into the throng behind a slow-moving woman in a fabulous patterned dress. Two more spots get laid down, the receptor kicked to a turnstyle and squished by her toe. Over there, beside the ATM, where Nonna Vespucci needs to take a breather despite the imminent danger, is where a spike gets placed discreetly and handily planted in place.

The warning about masks presumably gets there. Escorting someone with a gasmask in a subway, how very Blitz of them. Hers is hauled on as she sees the white-haired nonna to the stairs.

<<Going live in thirty seconds.>> A warning blips over comm units. <<Stay away from pillars West-5 through 12.>>

Consummate public service spywork probably also includes rescuing treed kittens by extrapolating equations for lensing light around a black hole that prove Einsteinian theory, causing stunned cats to play dead to escape. Her neat little tablety interface comes to life and she presses the button to set off the miniature wormhole within the field. Micro-micro tears, hardly scary to anyone but useful for eating unwanted things, Take the very squishy agent out of harm, where the Inhumans aren't likely to be. No reason to pay attention to her. She sneaks off to the utilities hallway where she adds another of those spikes, playing lock-out-tag-out with interstellar space.

Nebula has posed:
    Colonel Talbot paces back and forth in his command tent. It's going down today. All the chatter from the military made it clear and some of the soldiers who were HYDRA have cracked. "Sir," comes the voice of his lieutenant, "Three bogies inbound to New York City. Aerial photography," he says showing Talbot the tablet, "shows HYDRA markings."

    "That tears it," he says and slaps his cap in his hand, "Scramble the jets. Shoot those squids out of the sky. Get me the red phone to the President. He needs to know just what's really going on."

    The USS Nimitz is in the bay of New York when the scramble order comes through. All hands, battle stations, in friendly waters? The jets on stand by are lined up on the maglev runway. The sound of an explosion and the jets are lunched violently in to the air at high speeds. <Bogies acquired, intercepting, are we green light Sir>

    Talbot is handed a red phone and says over comms <You are green light soldiers, weapons free>.

    James, aka Inferno, is laughing his butt off as he's picking up random objects. They light up and he's tossing them around. He's causing chaos and distraction. When Daniel and Peggy takes aim, the bullets hit him square in the chest. He drops for a moment and coughs as the wind is knocked out of him. He's got body armor on underneath his clothes, "Struth almighty."

    Only then realising that there's a hole in his face. The blood starts to spill out of his mouth and he feels one of the bullets went under his vest. In his dying moments he lets out a laugh, "How did I even get here.. shit me on a brick." His body begins to glow as it heats up rapidly.

    'The Unspoken', long ago exiled from Attilan for his attempt to overthrow King Blackagar Boltagon, smiles menacingly and a tainted terrigen crystal grows from both his hands. He tosses one toward Phil and the other toward Jessica because.. she just stole one of his bombs!

    Two more bombs continue to tick their time down.. coinciding with the arrival of the next train full of people. The shaking seems to stop for a moment. Jane's web of spikes are a ploy HYDRA couldn't ever have seen coming.

Phil Coulson has posed:
It's a calculated risk. That, and May has accused him in the past of having a death wish. Maybe he does, or maybe, just maybe there really isn't anything other than the job, and doing anything means doing it all, even if it means laying down his life. After all, he's died once.

Phil is careful, dealing with the periphery of the mist; it's palpable, he can almost feel it. Or, that could be the fear of the civilians, the out and out terror as they run, trying to find a way out. Dundee is blocking the exit; he needs to go.

"Good going, Drew. Keep up the good work." We'll get this yet.

Phil shifts back to the Inhuman; as Peggy shoots him, Phil is adding his own firepower to the mix there, even as he's got the college coed at arm's length and virtually outstretched with straight arm in the shot. "Go!"

The next sound that Phil catches in his ear is Foster's, and he takes the moment to smile even as he's squeezing off his last round at yet another bomber before he's able to blend into the crowd and escape. He's going for that headshot, but body will do in a pinch. While it's not going to book, book, thanks to the variables like an unstable, screaming mob trying to pitch to an exit, he's still pretty positive about how it's proceeding.

The appearance of 'The Unspoken', however, pulls Phil's attention immediately. Gone are the thoughts of debriefing post-mission; and in those next few heartbeats, Phil drops his magazine, reloads, and makes a wild run towards one of those crystals, even as he's unloading the newly reloaded rounds at the newly arrived, and very, very dangerous Inhuman. He's in the air, making the hail Mary catch before the crystal falls and shatters on the ground to release yet more Mist, the shots from the ICER exiting the weapon at the same time.

He lands, his arm outstretched, and he rolls to check his success.. or failure.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"Got the other one," Daniel announces bolting for the one o'clock bomb still half-hidden in a backpack, he crouches down and does a cursory check over with his hands, looking for boobytraps and other gimmicks. "Mine looks clean," it made sense the guy was counting on the bag being ignored until it went off. Pulling a box from his backpack he assembles it quickly keeping his head down and out of the line of fire until the last piece clicks in place. Then, slowly, he lifts the bomb backpack and all up and puts it inside, before closing it up and sealing it tight with the turn of a hex key. "Bomb at the east pillar is boxed," he reports over comms.

Then he sees Phil get hit. "Coulson!" he shouts getting to his feet. "We've got a casualty!" he shouts rushing to the man's side tearing at his uniform as if a tourniquet would stop the spread of the stone.

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's been a bit of a challenge *getting* to those other bombs, Peggy still trying to provide cover with her rifle to her husband working his way through the crowd. But when Phil calls for them to GO over the comms, it gives her the last burst of energy to make the final dash. When she finally gets to her pillar, she kneels down, getting as small a target as her body can while she quickly pulls out the box of technology that Jessica Drew trained her on. Tech is never Peggy's great gift, but she practiced over and over so she could get the motions down by muscle memory as quickly as possible. Biohazard container unfolded. Bomb inserted. Sealed.

Peggy ducks another attack coming her direction and then looks up for where she's next needed, "Anyway we can get some wind in here to clear the gas out? Break an air pipe or two, or something?" She calls over the comms to the rest of the tea, secretly hoping Jessica or Jane will have a brilliant idea to clear the air out as she looks along the walls, searching for any sort of air pipe she can break. She knows the underside of New York. Maybe are old and damaged. She just has to find one. The mission in order: Shut down the bombs, save civilians. Then she can try to finish murdering HYDRA.

And then Daniel's call over the comms comes and she's cursing mentally. She feels half the station away from them, definitely not close enough to help fast enough. "HELP HIM. I'll keep eyes on the crowd and keep the mission going." Peggy calls, giving the best back up she can while she just trusts the closer team members can perform the impossible for their commander.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Air pressure changes in the station as a train whooshes to a stop at the platform. Jessica prays the fire alarms adding another note to the screams below keep the train doors closed. People look up from their phones, and her last sight of the passengers shows mouths opening.

Mr. Smug, the unidentified man taking pleasure in the havoc, produces something from his coat like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat. Two things. The man has an arm a pitcher would envy. One of them arcs toward Phil, and the second goes upward.

"Hell," she mutters, spider senses shrieking loud as the station alarms. Jess already has a box in her hand, dropping like a spider off a web. But no cunning spider thread supports her fall. Only reflexes given to her through science get that box open like a mouth ready to gulp the crystal into its maw. Grappling with the box top, Jess tumbles to the ground with nothing braking her.

Mist sidles out of the box, a venomous snake from its lair. Coms squawk in her ears as she blacks out for a moment and wakes in a panic, unable to see, frozen in place.

It takes precious seconds for her to understand what has happened to her. Terrigen. If she could scream, she would. Instead, the world slows - a tumble of impressions racing through her mind. Science and mad scientists are her saviors, so does not being an Inhuman. Heart racing Jess begins to rock in place; it takes ages to create any detectable movement until her cocoon falls to shatter on the subway floor, releasing her like a newborn spider. Grateful for her strange life, she staggers to her feet trying to get her bearings.

Jane Foster has posed:
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Outside reality as you know it: Inferno's laughter still rings over the tile as the ground polished by innumerable commuters cracks. Ceramic snaps in a bony trill, concrete groaning when warped from irregular temperature fluctuations. Two decades of shoring up subway support beams and columns won't withstand a small sun detonating. Should've watched his six.

Unseen but for the burning Inhuman, ice-pale filaments coalesce through the tortured floor, spreading in fanned geometric Art Deco crystal spikes. The figure unfolding those wings steps back from his buckling figure, a woman wearing a wan smile under a smoky glass volto mask. An ethereal gauntleted hand extends so slender fingers pass through his armoured jacket and draws out the fire-limned soul. <<You have done all you can here, Mr. James. It's time to go home. They have been waiting for you quite some time.>>

Electric blue light licks a fretwork of diamonds over that black suit, shattered fractals drawn from Attilan's breathtaking circuitry. She offers Inferno her upturned hand. <<We can still do good for your people. Shall we?>>
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Lightning sparks off the tracks and then there is a sheet of white light, riding a bow-wave brought by the incoming train. An incandescent shape tapers to a razor-sharp point, taking that whole 'bolt is a spear' or 'bolt as a sword' analogy a little on a nose. The end of the trajectory is Phil Coulson's arm, though feasibly he might grab hold of the hilt to be carried right away from harm.

No hard feelings from the warrior woman with two trailing fuchsia-to-blue braids and a winged, face-covering helm who wasn't there before. Enter one seraph standing directly in front of him and lashing out with a glistening uru whip wrapped up in the plasma of the Mother of All Storms. The undulating weapon careens a defensive spiral to screen the fallen commander from various troubles, like the Unspoken. Yes, this is putting out fire with gasoline.
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Back to your regularly scheduled cosmological tampering: The technical array placed along the west wall presumably does what Doctor Foster's programmed tablet intended: holes draining problem matter to be someone else's problem.

Another strobe reconfigures the planted stakes to fold the distorted torus of space, like sending a second energetic wave crashing into the one ahead of it so they overlap. Pinpoint holes punch open the wormhole here, the terminal end somewhere else. Coordinates are buried in deep strings of code, the only point being the transpatial holes go somewhere //else//. An enormous gravity well outstripping Earth attempts to sip through a straw, but gaseous molecules barely held together at the best of times surely find a trip down the exotic-matter-brick road too good to pass up.

Nebula has posed:
    Phil caught it, but so did The Unspoken, hit with the ICER rounds from Phil. He stumbles back a moment and watches with curiosity to see if Phil is one of them, if he's Inhuman... or soon to be dead. The dendro-toxin begins to spread through his body and he winces, gripping himself at the spot where it hit him.

    And then his body shudders and begins to transform, his skin rippling as he takes on a new identity entirely. A thin short man with a long beard. Transformed right there on the spot. He doesn't mind that people saw, but quickly he blends in with the crowd and is running. The poison that should have stopped him in his tracks? leaks over the floor. And then, just like that, he has changed again and he is lost to the eyes of SHIELD. Lost to all eyes, except Valkyrie.

    It is then that the subway station begins to sing. The building above them sings, the wind around it vibrates and so do the windows and every object and person inside can feel: Quake. The building and tunnels of the metro sings a beautiful song, a song the whole city can suddenly hear like a tuning fork at just the right pitch that is so utterly satisfying.

    It is this sound vibrating through Jessica's body that brings her back from terrigenesis. An experiment gave her powers before her time, triggering what might have happened with terrigenesis anyway - now, though, she knows the truth of who she would have been if not for them. Her powers are a gift, not a curse.

    The last two bombs are safely stowed away in the containers. The timer has 45 seconds left. They are about to learn if engineering did their job or not. But they don't have to. The remaining terrigen gas and the bombs wink out of existence when Jane activates her teleportation field. In the deep dark of _somewhere else_ teh bombs explode. Two of the containers contain the blast, the third does not. But no one is there to be harmed by it.

    Jemma's voice cuts through the comms <Foundational supports in place. Building should be secure until a more permanent solution can be realized.> followed by Bobbi's <Daisy's unconscious - I'm taking her to The Bus. Jemma on the double. Someone get Coulson and May>

Phil Coulson has posed:
It's a moment that seems like it's forever, but it's only within the span of hearbeats. With each beat, Phil's fingers change, looking as if it is turning to stone, the ripples sounding a soft but distinct *crackling*. He can't hold in that exhale of pain as it changes flesh to stone.

Through gritted teeth, however, he instructs, "Get the other one!" As he speaks, it envelopes his hand. The stone-like coating truly begins to gain speed with the larger portions of his arm; his watch, at least, is spared. It feeds on flesh, and continues its climb from hand, past wrist, and creeping up to his forearm.

Dropping his ICER, he reaches out to cradle his other hand, the pain obvious on his face. Looking up at Daniel, the expression on his face pretty much echoes what Peggy would say, and knows in her heart.

Shut down the bombs, save the civilians.

Jess does manage to catch the other in play, and as she lands, he's ready to first congratulate her (through clenched jaw) before he blinks, and blinks again. She's being .. consumed by the mist? "Drew!" is croaked, and he rolls again, trying desperately to get up, even if there is coaxing attempted by Daniel. He's still worried for his people, the mission..

The stab of light brings a scream from the man as his hand is separated from his arm just above the wrist. The stone-hand rolls gently away, still gripping the crystal, and the stump of the arm begins to bleed. At least it's not a ragged cut, but rather, something sharp and surgical. And to make matters worse? As if they can be?

Phil can feel the rocking the building; he knows what that is. And does he really need to hear the next bit that sounds through his coms, sounding first as a buzzing to fight for primacy in his ear?

'Daisy's unconscious... someone get Coulson and May'.

Once again, there is that need, the push to rise to his feet, "Daisy.." only to only make it to his knees, his hand holding his arm.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Team. REPORT." Peggy calls over the comms, skidding to a bit of a stop as the entire building starts to clear out of that toxic gas and thrum in that careful, stablizing way which she quickly understands to be Daisy. Her eyes flutter over the scene, seeing what else might need her. The other inhuman seems quite gone to her eyes and there are injured civilians. Daniel is with Phil, and though her heart wants to run there, she knows he's in capable hands. She gives her husband a brief, reassuring nod before continuing on. She's fine.

Therefore, Peggy scrambles down from where she was and over to a small pile of civilians that got caught up in the stampede. She's doing a fast triage as the report comes in over her ear piece. People who are just shaken and off center to the side, people who are bleeding but not in great danger to the other side, anyone else capable with medical training is directed to the middle where those who can't move lay. She helps with the basic first aid, but there's some medics in the crowd too and soon SHIELD is working side by side with civilians to save the other downed in the crowd.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel is stunned by the sudden appearance of the helmed figure who lops off Coulson's arm. He stands there silent for a long moment before his brain reboots and he moves to Coulson's side. "Hey, easy there," he tells the man. "Sounds like Morse's got Daisy and moving her to the Bus, we're going to get you there too, just hang tight." He looks to the figure, "We need to worry about him bleeding or is that pretty well cauterized now?" he asks, either way he pulls the tourniquet before getting on comms to call for a medical team, he looks around, or three to get down here stat. "Help is on the way," he tells Coulson, meeting the man's eyes if he can. "Just stay put, we've got you, we're all going to be going home today."

That though has him looking over his shoulder for Peggy, making sure she's okay.

Jessica Drew has posed:
A woman dressed for work, one Louboutin shoe broken off at the heel, sits sobbing a few yards from Jessica. Squaring her shoulders, Jessica shakes out the residue of fear while savoring the epiphany she had while encased in terrigin stone.

"Take off your other shoe and help me clear people from the platform," she orders, not unkindly, offering a hand up.

A cautious eye on the ceiling, Jess knows Quake's work, she begins to direct people toward the exits. "Keep it calm, people. The police and emergency services are on the way."

With a finger to her ear, she reports, " Drew, here. I'm covering the south side of the platform, clearing people to the exits, helping the injured." She can see the other SHIELD agents doing the same as Coulson is helped. All just may be right with the world for just this moment.

Jane Foster has posed:
Somehow the likelihood of SHIELD having a handy "Stone to Flesh" scroll tucked in their back pockets seems especially low. Necessity mothers a double-edged invention, a last-ditch result that cuts one danger off at the elbow. The sword's clean arc swings around and comes hurtling right back to the seraph's extended hand. The plasmic whip recoils back to her wrist, spiralling up make a silver pattern.

<<I am sorry. It is cauterized and will not be fatal. Elevate the arm over his heart.>> Oh, how she is. That voice rings with the regret of a thousand lives extinguished and one man maimed. <<The Inhuman flees.>> Turning her helmed head outward, that awful sheen rolls over her gaze. Her province is the truth of life and death, and already it commands her to go in hot pursuit of the Unspoken. Promises, promises made. <<Let his sacrifice be honoured with the means to secure a victory.>>

Regret, however, swims behind the All-Father's enchantment. With no one else to share in it but very distant stars, the feeling must be endured alone. Maybe a thousand years of preparation would ease the bitter surge humming through the veins, throwing white-fire from the energy wings closing shut behind the Valkyrie. Through the building harmony convulsing the skyscraper, something so beautiful has no place uplifting bloodshed to rapture.

The Valkyrie takes a step and vanishes, finding a door hidden even to the all-seeing eyes of the old wandering bastard himself. Heimdall may be spluttering on his mead and stumbling from the Bifrost Observatory for that light is not be.

-----

Some stories up, an annoyed winged ghost stands over Daisy Johnson, tapping her booted toe against the floor to a jazzy trembling rhythm.

-----
Jane's seated on an overturned bucket with two flashing posts slung on either side of the utility room door. She cues up the tablet, keeping the wormholes from entirely closing until they got the all-clear from Peggy. "I've shut down W-5 to W-8, but West Nine seems to be a bit hungrier than anticipated. Override in progress, though I would not recommend feeding tickets in there."

Nebula has posed:
    The bewildered passengers of the train that arrive look on at the scene. There's blood, there's bodies, the station is otherwise a ghost town. Everyone else is evacuated and the metro police are guiding them off the train and out the emergency exits too.

    They won, but it cost them. SHIELD will be licking their wounds but HYDRA revealed their true selves today, once again, proving once and for all who they are. They are the monsters and SHIELD protected the world from them today.

    The Unspoken put his trust in Dr. List, that his plan would succeed and with it a tide would sweep over the world and allow him the power to take Attilan from Blackagar. That was not to be today. But he is not done trying. He will find better allies, ones who will not fail him so tremendously as to allow their enemies to interfere with their plans.

Phil Coulson has posed:
Shock.

Phil can almost hear Daniel's words, but they're getting fainter and muffled and garbled as he blinks, trying to focus. The tourniquet is on his arm, certainly, which is helpful, but the adrenaline is beginning to wear off and his body is beginning to react to the insult done it. He looks up at Daniel, meeting the man's eyes, and there's a mix of pain, and concern with a hint of fear.

"I gotta get to Daisy.." Phil murmurs, more in his head than actually spoken. Again, he struggles to try to get to his feet, the hand that was once there no longer to help balance and stabilize him as he attempts to rise."Help me up.

"I gotta get ..." is translated out only to "...Daisy.." before he's down again, a confused look on his face.

Third time is the charm, however; he waves off medics, anyone who might come running to help. He'll get back to The Bus on his own two feet, though he'll accept the aid to walk.

**"Agents of SHIELD," he manages to call out, his weak voice edged with pride, though it does seem to carry regardless, "We did it. Let's go home."**