7394/Mr. Erickson Goes To Asgard

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Mr. Erickson Goes To Asgard
Date of Scene: 16 August 2021
Location: Asgardian Embassy
Synopsis: Asked to make visitation by Lady Sif, Michael/Cal'hatar finds the conversation to be of revelations and other things - but above all, an ally made as the world gets very serious around him.
Cast of Characters: Michael Erickson, Sif




Michael Erickson has posed:
    Of late, Michael Erickson has had a very interesting, if difficult, time. But he does not let this keep him from keeping appointments; his mother, bless her departed soul, would clutch at the blacklight jewels she wore if she thought that he would let slip a request from Asgardian nobility, regardless of what has recently befallen him. And so, days after the battle at the Xavier mansion and Annandale-on-Hudson, he gets into a suit, into a taxi, and after some time and fussing with traffic he gets into the foyer of the Asgardian embassy. What a great and terrible place it is! Asking at the door and proffering his identification, one assumes that he will be at least ushered into the foyer. Or maybe he might get stabbed at the gates. Who knows? At the very least, he has made his arrival and intention to fulfill the lady's request known.

    Not that the wrathful shade of his mother would be satisfied with this, but that's another story entirely.

Sif has posed:
Michael finds himself ushered to an office. An office that practically SCREAMS Sif. While it has the usual officely amenities (uniquely Asgardian in style, naturally), it also has a miniature museum of arms, each weapon or piece of protection lovingly displayed beneath balls of magical force to protect them.

The steward ushers him into the room and asks what, if anything, he'd like to drink, then vanishes (to return with a drink later should that have been requested) to leave Michael alone.

Under a minute later the subtle clink of scales in Sif's armour herald her arrival at the door. (Her footfalls do not. The carpeting is plush.)

"Mr. Michael Erickson. Welcome to Asgard."

Her tone is formal, but not unfriendly. Her eyes watchful, but not threatening.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Ah, yes. No drinks for Michael; he is polite to the attendant as he is ushered in and given a set, sitting quietly in the museum of arms that also happens to be the office of the iron flower of Asgardian womanhood whom he so recently has come to know. The energy that shields each of the relics is eyed, though he has no armor now to see through - gone is that thin shell of metal which he had worn the day he met the lady, replaced by something very different and yet far away. And so, he waits. Quietly. Until the lady herself emerges, beautiful and lethal as always.

    He gets to his feet. "My lady," he replies to her, executing a deep and graceful bow that speaks to an education of society. "I am honored to have been invited. He is unhurried and unconcerned as he returns to his seat, at least to the eye, and crosses his legs as he watches the mailed vision with slightly raised brows. "You wished to speak to me?"

Sif has posed:
"I did not wish to expose you. You have reason, likely, for your concealment, and your behaviour was entirely honourable so it was not, by my judgement, a nefarious one. I did wish, however, to investigate."

Sif takes a seat, not behind her desk but out among the displays in an ordinary chair, eschewing her thronelike official chair. "Please do sit, Michael Erickson. Don't stand on ceremony. Have you been offered drink?"

The same attendant that offered Michael a drink scurried in with a cart, upon which is what looks like an enormously oversized novelty skull mug from D&D-oriented shops. Only ... it doesn't look like it's from resin. Nor does the skull look fully humanoid. Sif takes the mug and sets it on a small table near her seat.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He is sitting, though at her request he does shift position somewhat - he says nothing as to her statement, merely nodding in response. "I am at your disposal, my lady," he says to her, ever so polite. Unsure of what she wishes to bring up, though with a fairly good idea. And little desire to lie, especially now. "And no, thank you. I don't drink, usually. But I thank you for the offer. You said something about investigation?"

Sif has posed:
"You are not human."

This is not a question.

"I don't know what you are, however, nor do I know your intent."

Also not a question. Stated with the same blunt honesty.

"I find this awkward given my oath to protect Midgard. You can understand this, I hope. So I would like to have a conversation with you to see if we can establish a sound relationship."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    There, you see? The shoe from earlier this week has a friend - though he is, in this case, prepared to dodge it. The shoe, at least. Not a straight answer. "Indeed I am not," he affirms, folding his hand upon his knee. "In fact I am of the Shi'ar Empire - my name is Cal'hatar, eldest and only son of the noble house of Atlex. And until a few days ago, I was an officer for Imperial Military Intelligence; I had for the last forty-five years been assigned to this planet to monitor various happenings. First the Kree and their operations on this world, then the so-called superheroic beings that emerged in force upon this planet since the Doom Affair with the Fantastic Four. I served in the interrim as the costumed superhero Red Sentinel, utilizing a suit of powered armor that is, as of a few days ago, now lost to me.

    "You ask me of my intent; until a few days ago my intent was simply to inform on events to my superiors in the Empire, and to serve the people here as the Red Sentinel - I rather like humans, you see, and I like to help them. So when the fleet arrived in orbit, something which I am sure you are aware of, and clashed with elements of SHIELD, I found myself at something of an impass...until of course I was given orders to assist in the murder of a young woman and her friends, whose only crime was that she had been the unwilling conduit for a destructive cosmic being that had plagued my people milennia ago." He smiles faintly. "My people are not used to being told 'no', you see. It is important that they be taught the word solidly. And so as of a few days ago, I am no longer an officer. I am no longer a citizen of the Empire, either; I am a traitor, having turned against the Empire to aid in the defense of this planet from whatever predations they had planned. I trust this answers at least /some/ of your concerns." Pleasantly put, all this. Like he's had to say it plenty of late, and has settled into sort of a routine. All he needs is a teacup and an accent and he might as well be the literary stereotype of someone who is British. Certainly has the manners of aristocracy down.

Sif has posed:
"And now you confirm it."

Sif smiles. "I had doubts. Suspicions. Not certainties. Though I also had a magus stationed to surreptitiously test you on arrival, I hadn't yet had time to consult. I don't think I will have to any longer."

She takes a long draught from her skull.

"I'm glad you chose not to dissemble. It speaks well of your integrity. Hearing that you turned against your own people and have become a traitor would ordinarily trouble me, but again the reason is sound." She tilts her head. "Do you seek asylum?"

There's an edge to her voice that suggests something, but it's unclear what.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I'm many things, but I'm not a liar." A beat. "Well, unless it were for the cause, but I expect you'd sniff that out. Fifty-five years a spy, I'm rather certain it's still nothing to Asgardian senses." He makes a faint gesture. "Aye, a traitor. I turned my back on my people, but I have retained my honor. And I do not, no; I am working in concert with the human authorities, the organization known as SHIELD - that's sufficient assistance for now. Although..." He smiles faintly. "You're very kind to offer, my lady. What else would you like to ask?"

    Fountain of wisdom here, and all. She didn't even have to pluck out her eye.

Sif has posed:
"I think my curiosity is assuaged. I doubt that any questions I could formulate now would be of use. I need to have nformation about your people first before I can ask any intelligent questions about them. I do not think it seemly to waste your time with my elementary education."

Sif adjusts herself in her chair, looking across thoughtfully.

"But you. Do you have questions of me? I cannot guarantee that I would answer all your questions, but I do think courtesy goes both ways."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He shrugs. "What is it to say? We are warriors. Intelligent, vicious, strong - especially in this gravity. Crafty." He nods his head to this idea, considering. "Aye, a great deal more in the way of assassins and such than I think your people use. But we are a warrior people, and our way is conquest." Michael - Cal'hatar - gives her a faintly pained smile. "I'm told that the Majestor, our ruler, has gone mad. My hope is that this is not the case, but our people follow closely they who sit the throne, whomever sits it." He gestures faintly again. "So. I find myself public enemy number one, so to speak. Certainly you wouldn't want to drag Asgard into such tawdry galactic politics."

Sif has posed:
"I desire only to know what is needed for the Court to retain its primacy over the Nine Realms. If this means war, then so be it. It means war. That is my domain if my honorary title as Goddess of War is to be believed. If it means peace, that is still my domain for peace is only accomplished by cowing the hostile into fearing war."

Sif's smile is dark. "We are not gods of peace and love, Michael Erickson called Cal'hatar. We are beings of conquest. And we do not give up what is ours without battle."

Another pull from her cup.

"There is your free information. And your explanation of my interest in all this. If there is a threat to Midgard, I will be the one tasked with ending it." Again the dark edge to her voice. "A task I relish but have not been able to perform for so long."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    that gets her a faint smile. "Well, there is a threat indeed," he says. "But so far, it is SHIELD and their allies which has repelled it. Are you familiar with a cosmic force known as the Phoenix?"

Sif has posed:
"Your candour is refreshing. You say you are a spy, but you have the directness of a warrior. I must, naturally, as Marshal, deal with spies and espionage often. It always leaves me feeling unclean. This conversation does not."

Her left hand, not holding the skull, taps a rhythm on the arm of her chair as she considers. "You have no grounds to cooperate with me, Michael Erickson. Any such cooperation comes with my debt. I would be kept in information regarding this threat. I will be presenting to the Court my findings and, unless countermanded specifically by the Crown Prince or the younger princes, I will pledge the assistance of Asgard in this matter should it become necessary."

She pauses.

"And should any of the princes countermand, I will pledge my own force of arms, and those of any others who choose to join me of their free will, knowing this would make them outlaw, to your cause."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I was an officer before I went into the War Cadres again as a spy," he replies, shrugging slightly. "I sought out rebels and traitors and reconnointered positions more than I engaged in the sort of work you decribe as unclean. Here, I've been an observer." Michael leans back in his seat, now, brows arching faintly. "As for the rest...I will warn you that there may be some things that SHIELD considers classified. But as I am only a consultant with that organization, not an agent, I have a fairly wide field as to what I might discuss - and I doubt that they would complain to have Asgardian assistance." Well, they probably would. They're human. Mostly. Most of them. "But in either case, I shall take the chance and beg forgiveness later."

    That said, he spreads his hands. "The Phoenix. Do you know of it?"

Sif has posed:
"I have heard the term. I have never seen it and know nothing of its nature or history."

Sif settles back in her seat.

"I anxiously await enlightenment. Is this Phoenix why your nation is invading Asgard's domain?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Quite." Michael gives her a thin smile. "It is an organism. Cosmic in origin, though I must admit I do not know all the details of its power or existence - it possesses people, usually special individuals. Until recently, I was under the impression that once invoked it destroys everything; certainly when it manifested in a Shi'ar host, it had the power to nearly destroy our galaxy. But a few days ago, I saw...something else. And the conduit's caretakers suggest that the Phoenix can be taken care of. It was of course the conduit that I was ordered to kill, and I decided against that. No violence has been committed, after all, and the conduit is otherwise an innocent being." His smile takes on a bit of an edge. "My people, of course, are set on murdering them and their entire family so that another conduit doesn't chance to be born. They've failed, by the way. At least in this attempt. Future attempts, though? While the Shi'ar and the Kree have treaties that keep them from attacking this world, if the Majestor is truly insane he will not stop until he either has killed or captured the conduit. Taking this world is probably on his planning board anyway."

Sif has posed:
The silence is long and deafening. Sif sits considering for a while. Long enough for the shadows of the leg of her chair to have noticeably (if subtly) changed their position from the sunlight outside.

"This is very disturbing indeed. To seek the death of something that has done no harm because something else once did harm is ... repulsive in nature to me. This will very strongly colour my report to Court and likely result in ..."

She shakes her head.

"Thank you once more for this information. I'm afraid I have some planning to do. I have a feeling my armies will be on the move."

Sif rises then, bowing to Michael.

"Your visit was pleasant, even if somewhat disturbing. I look forward to future encounters where, perhaps, we can speak of things not related to our employment."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well, I would not worry about that quite yet, my lady." Michael gets to his feet. "I expect that the conduit's family is prosecuting a campaign of reciprocity such that the Majestor and the Empire may well regret its actions this past week. But." A smile. "I shall keep you informed, eh? I'm pleased that the planet is so well-defended - certainly it was what I was originally here to determine. Now they've come to find that I was right." A pause. "Yes. Polite conversation is always better than planning for battle." And with that he takes his exit, hands tucked behind his back, marching out into the sun and the threat of doom around every corner. Is it any wonder that he's busy picking up allies as developments pile on?