9013/Monstrous Recruitment

Monstrous Recruitment
Date of Scene:	09 December 2021
Location:	Chief Carter's Office: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Coming to request permission to use Dottie as a mission asset, Michael upsets with his fashion sense and his attempt to give respect. Aliens are...well. Alien.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Michael Erickson, Jessica Drew

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Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peggy used to work into all hours of the night, she's been trying to keep slightly more sane hours nowadays. It means that she was just starting to pack up to go home when people approach her door. Packing up means slipping back into her high heels, after she'd not been wearing them the second half of the day, putting on her suit jacket, fluffing her curls a little bit more in preparation to see her husband, and cleaning out her tea pot.

She's in the process of cleaning out that tea pot, filled with her latest round of ginger tea, when she hears the knock coming. "Come in?" She calls curiously to the door. This deep inside the Triskelion, especially nowadays, she has no paranoia about who is coming to her door. No fear it is someone marching in with a gun. So she goes back to clearing the scraps of ginger from the strainer and setting her tea mug in the little rack on her tea cart.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael has come with Jessica, waiting for her in the Triskelion gardens before getting the word that she's on the grounds. He wears what...could be called a suit, but looks awfully like a species of uniform: a black, single-breasted jacket with a tall collar and hem that extends to above the knee, black boots that meet the knee and smack strongly of riding gear, slightly bloused slacks of dark gray fabric too. No buttons, no visible clasps, a loose sash of dull silvery material with no adornment. Broad belt of glossy gray hide and a plain pewteresque buckle. He looks like a space fascist from Central Casting. Perhaps that's the point. Sitting in the lobby, he waits until Peggy calls, and (likely having already fielded questions of 'why are you wearing that' from Jessica) rises to enter the Chief's office along with his handler.

    He enters then, bowing slightly at the doorway before wordlessly finding a seat. The severity of his hairstyle, the fresh undercut on the sides and the wing of hair that has been combed back, is...well. It was fashionable in Peggy's time, too, wasn't it? A soldier's cut. But more often in Europe, and in the 1930s. He's not /quite/ coming out in fashy cosplay, but...it's close. Very close.

Jessica Drew has posed:
To avoid office water cooler gossip, Jessica seldom makes an appearance with Mike in public these days. Especially since the Rockefeller Tree lighting incident. She might not know how ridiculous her stiffness with him at the Trisk appears, but the other agents have laid off teasing her, for the most part.

Still, Michael makes quite the splash as he walks through the halls. Jess pacess next to him, eyes straight ahead, ignoring the stares, buttoned up in a black suit and skirt over a soft silk blouse of a particular blue that makes her eyes very green.

"Chief, thank you for your time," she says, waiting to be invited to sit.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The sight of Michael with his slightly new hair cut, a style she *does* recognize, and the fierce suit gets a long look from Peggy. She gazes him up and down for a few heartbeats before looking back to Jessica, something far more somber and serious in her expression. "Michael. Jessica. Sit. I will say I am very... curious about these appearance choices. I suspect you know how you are coming across? And it is not... as someone who stands on our side. I trust there is good reason." She motions for them to sit again.

Peggy Carter knows fascists. She's fought them longer than most of people in SHIELD have been alive. They are still a touchy subject and when someone marches into her office echoing such fashion, her spine stiffens. So, she stops cleaning up. Stops getting ready to leave. She simply folds down into her desk chair, shoulders squared, and waits.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Yes, it's...a choice, certainly. A choice. But it is also done with a deliberation, a confidence that belies the crass insult it could have been. The alien officer is quiet for a long moment after Peggy finishes speaking, hands in his lap. Silent, for several moments. Finally, he speaks.

    "When I still wore the Imperial Talons," says Michael, "I wore this uniform only under special occasion. Dress uniform, you would call it here. Now I do not wear the Talons, but the uniform is to a good degree still what I am. A soldier. My people believe in respecting authority, I am sure you know: the soldier in me, created since I was a child, requires that respect be paid to my commander in the best way that the traditions of my people demand. You are, Chief, the closest thing that I have to a commander beyond myself. Thus do I pay you the respect of this...display." A beat. "It is unfortunate that my people are what they are, of course. But instead of driving tanks through Poland, I wear this uniform in the interest of assuring that I will be destroying them when next they come."

    This said, Michael gets to his feet, tucking his hands behind his back. At least he didn't bring a peaked cap. "I wish to make a formal request, Chief. I recognize that I do not have authority or even position as an agent, but you have a disaster waiting in the form of a tool that has no purpose, which I am certain that you know." Michael looks down at Peggy, now. "I would like to help resolve that. The woman, Darya. Also known as Dorothy Underwood. I would like to use her as an asset."

    So. There's that.

Jessica Drew has posed:
It seems to be a pattern between them. About once a month, Michael manages to floor Jessica no matter how assiduous she is about keeping current with his movements and thinking. Her mouth drops open which she closes with a narrow-eyed look of surprise that she shares with the Chief. Were it another person she would be certain that they were deliberately making her look ridiculous.

His sartorial military statement had made a kind of sense to her as they marched through the corridors together. He bears out what she suspected was behind it, a, to her, weird display of respect. They will need to talk about certain nuances that on the surface he appears to understand.

She can feel her ears get hot, not with embarrassment but suppressed anger at herself for not having ASKED.

Her hand flutters in the air, gesturing for the Chief to speak first while she swallows her shock.

Peggy Carter has posed:
As the man explains why he'd decided to wear that uniform, Peggy's jaw tightens a little more. She's very carefully shutting down every inch of emotion she's having in defense, as she knows the mistake is innocent, but Jessica can hear the severity behind her tone as she responds to that matter. "First. This is not *our* dress uniform. This look cuts a figure that hearkens back very clossely to people SHIELD was founded to *destroy*. I know you have pledged to destroy them next to us, but marching in their colors is still a show of support." She looks straight to Jessica, "You will ensure this uniform goes away never to be pulled out in SHIELD presence again. Get him a nice suit from somewhere downtown. Rothstein's is still there, no? Something not in black. If you show up wearing this again, I will standardize SHIELD dress uniforms and *no one* will be happy." Peggy doesn't seem to be joking about that.

Then, she lets out a slower breath and sinks back in her seat. SHe knows that it was a possible overreaction, and she's trying to reign in the bit of emotion she was feeling over it all. She doesn't even have tea to distract her. "As for Underwood... she is a valuable asset. I would like her to see more... Use. To fight on our side more. But do you think you can command her enough to ensure she is useful and, more over, do you know what you wish to DO with her?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    There is a moment - just a moment - where understanding escapes him. And then...it clicks into place, along with his own embarassment. Of course he /should/ know. He's been on this planet fifty years. But this is also what happens when a man like him goes in utterly devoid of watching movies, listening to music, or otherwise sampling the vast majority of popular entertainment the planet has on offer, too. He just thought...that she would understand. But he has made a hash of it. And so instead, he nods, his jaw tightened for just a moment in demonstration of the same self-frustration that poor Jessica has. And so, without a word, Mihael undoes the belt around his coat, and then the sash, and then the coat itself. Beneath, there is just a plain white shirt, somewhat loose and also tall of collar, and the pants with their boots. Here he looks far less like a fascist spymaster and more as though he were simply about to go out for an equestrian jaunt. "I apologize," he says simply, and folds the coat and sash and belt up in a neat bundle before putting it on the floor next to him, hoping that this, at least, will disarm the moment. "I find that I am....much more at a disadvantage when I am not attempting to seem human."

    He looks down at himself. "Does this...suffice?" Dottie can wait. The Fashy Fashion Question, apparently, is sticking.

Jessica Drew has posed:
There is nothing for it. Jess can't comfort him in front of the Chief and blames herself for not having spoken up when she first saw those black boots striding along the corridor. Eyes averted, she waits while he tries to rectify the error. It's going to be a cold ride home unless he puts it back on when they leave the building.

"Michael, I knew you intended to talk to the Chief about making sure that Underwood is being directed by the agents here."

Her gaze shifts toPeggy, "I wasn't sure who her handler is, Chief, to be honest. On the last operation we went on in Siberia, Special Agent Foster put me in charge of making sure she got /back on/ the quinjet when we were leaving the ops site. I was told to keep an eye on her.

With a glance at Michael, "I could see how Erickson and Underwood would fit together from a certain perspective, Ma'am." A polite way of saying they are both very capable assassins though despite his training, he seemingly is sane. She is not so sure of Underwood.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The abrupt changing in front of her and the pouting (well, as much as an Alien can be a kicked puppy) that is happening is enough to get a small, short breath from Peggy. She shakes her head to him, "Michael, you... you don't... it's... Fine." But it's too late. He's out of the uniform. Her expression is already softened. She gives him a slow, quiet nod and accepts the question. "That suffices just fine. You are not in trouble. It's just... well, it's passed now."

Fortunately, Jessica brings this matter back onto the most important topic. There is a glint of emotion across Peggy's face that says she isn't exactly neutral about this matter. She might even be a little TOO close to Dottie, but she puts those feelings away a moment later. "The fastest way to scare Dottie Underwood away is to tell her that she has a handler. However, having someone... keeping an eye on her would be helpful. I suspect both she and Michael do need a war to fight and suddenly SHIELD has found ourselves in a moment of... peace. Dottie is incredibly talented. She's a highly useful asset. I want to keep her on our side. If you think you both can help with that... well, permission granted. I'll need reports. You already know that dance, Drew."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I understand the sitaution," Michael replies - he isn't pouting, he's just...angry at himself. He should have known better. And now the topic has changed. "As for Dottie, she is...psychotic. Divorced from humanity to a good degree - and a predator down her bones. In this way, she and I are perfect to work together. We have a natural chemistry, though I am...not made so from the horrific mental stresses heaped upon her by the Soviets. And yet, at the same time, I am the equivalent of a GRU officer, which she also seems to respond to. One day she'll probably try to kill me, and will fail.

    "But this we have already discussed. I can allow her to be what she has become, accept her for this, and not judge her poorly. She is really not much different than any of the soldiers in the intelligence unit that I commanded back in the Empire." A flicker of a grim smile. "As much as that may sound...unfortunate. I was a military intelligence commander and then the equivalent of a military commissar. She responds well to that. I will train her, and with your permission, I might even take her off-world when the situation requires. But I will not allow her to kill people except in self-defense. I will not soften her, but I will ensure that her fangs remain sheathed in her duty."

Jessica Drew has posed:
The knuckles of her hands clasped in her lap turn white as she squeezes them. Jessica takes a deep breath making her already straight posture straighter, "I will admit. The two of them fit well together. I haven't seen them at work but there is an undeniable chemistry that I pick up on when Michael talks about her. Chief, if this goes sideways...What I mean to say is, if Underwood goes ballistic on an operation, Michael can't be held responsible. Can he? Will other agents listen to him if he is telling Underwood what to do in the field? I don't mean to sound like I'm second guessing you, ma'am. How will we explain this unorthodox arrangement?

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slightly darker smirk pulls across Peggy's lips as she hars Jessica's questions. Michael's description of Dottie gets an encouraging, agreeing nod from her. That is the woman she knows, the asset she knew, and he clearly appreciates that in a lot of ways. But Jessica's words are the concerning ones. Peggy sighs, considering through this as she drags one tired hand down her face. For a few moments she looks exhausted. She looks every one of her hundred years.

"It is... unorthodox. You are already handling an unorthodox situation and if things go sideways, well, if you agree to this partnership, it will come back on *your* shoulders. That being said, everyone knows that Dottie was my special project for a... long time. Hell, I was the first one to break her out of SHIELD prison back when we were still the SSR. This wouldn't just be your responsibility. I simply can't go into the field near so much nowadays. So... you monitor them. You know Michael well enough that he tells you we are getting close to a problem before it happens. Michael, you watch her like the dangerous weapon she is. You use her. But you make certain she's cleaned and put away before she backfires in someone's hand. Understood? And if you are seeing that weapon start to break down, you report it. Understood?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I will do so," Michael replies with a nod. "And if she does not comply, I shall knock her out. Humanely, so that she can be brought back and returned to custody." Michael pauses once more, brushing at his shirt. "I will ensure that you are made aware of all that she is instructed in, and how it might be countered. I realize that I have, perhaps, not been fully forthcoming with the entirety of my military career - this is not purposeful, but there has simply been....a great deal of it." Michael pauses once more, brushing at his shirt. "I will ensure that Agent Drew has a full writeup of my entire career. I will warn you, Chief. When I was young, I was a full-throated supporter of the Empire. It was a darker time, and I once happily directed the ways those tanks might roll into cities. But that being said...I will serve. Faithfully and honorably, for the good of the planet. You have my solemn word."

    And this said, he looks between the two women. Settles back in his seat, apparently done unless further requested of.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica fixes Michael with a look weighted with command and need. "To my mind it is less a question of if but when with Underwood. M chael,I will say this in front of the Chief, if you /ever/ decide to take a decision like this again without consulting me, I will no longer be your handler. Period. You compromise too many people by acting unilaterally." She holds up a hand, "I can take looking bad. I'm a big girl." She points at him. "But if one person dies on my watch that was not a target because of you not keeping me informed, watch your back, Michael. Is that clear?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The warnings that come from Michael, and his other explanations, get a quiet nod from Peggy. She is not surprised. It seems settled in her mind. Then she's looking back to Jessica and a hint of surprise crosses her features. She watches between the two, considering silently for a few heartbeats before she stands up. "I suspect you two have... longer to speak, but I am settled in that I can trust your intentions with this set up. And handling Dottie as... well as she can be handled. I look forward to reading the reports and I appreciate your honesty. Both of you. But...for now, it is late. You are both dismissed."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica stands and nods formally to the chief. "Thank you, ma'am."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    His brows arch, just a hint. "I see," he replies, looking Jessica's way - but he says nothing, instead stooping to collect his coat and belts. "Yes, thank you, Chief. And I apologize for the misunderstanding. I forget how warped my people's...fashion sense...can be." A faint grimace. "How I wish I had feathers again. Well. Good evening."

    And with this, he gives her another bow - slight and at the waist, but he has to struggle not to click his heels. Insteade he simply leaves.

Peggy Carter has posed:
There is something softer in Peggy's face, especially as she senses the tension there. She gives them a half smile, "And I meant it... go, together... shopping. Rothstein's is nice, or Lord and Tailor downtown. Take the company card, get yourself something... Nice. Something that will feel like a formal, respectful celebration when you bring it out. And do it in joy. You work somewhere better now. You should look like it." And the Chief suspects they both need some joy with each other after this talk.

That order given, she bows her head and sees them both to the door, grabbing her jacket on the way. She's ready for home.