9104/When the World Ends

When the World Ends
Date of Scene:	15 December 2021
Location:	W.A.N.D: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Dane and Jane speak after several months.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Dane Whitman

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Jane Foster has posed:
The general public usually associates Jane Foster with space. Director of the Hayden Planetarium, podcaster of a wildly successful series, frequent appearances on videos and TV; these establish her in the public eye. They don't know (much) about her associations with SHIELD stretching back at least to the Battle of New York and before.

Even if they did, the public might assume she works solely within S.W.O.R.D. Suppose they even know about that division up in the heavens, anyway. They would be wrong.

W.A.N.D. hosts her unofficial desk, though she still belongs as a second to the pointy-end space division and the R&D arm because when does W.A.N.D. ever have enough to do? Turns out, on a Wednesday, they do.

The brunette leans against her desk, a pile of paperwork printed out; AARs, a summary, good old-fashioned legwork by traditional rather than tablet formulae. Though she has the latter propped up on a stand beside her leg where it steadfastly refuses to stay on. "Bloody hell. Just /bloody hell/," comes as a murmur.

Good start to the morning.

Dane Whitman has posed:
The man in black doesn't carry a bible or a gun, he carries a sword.

Most days, anyway. Today he is carrying a long case, and just happens to be in the vicinity so decided to swing by and check on things after a year away in...who knows where, yet?

Yes, Dane was away for a solid year this time. Maybe longer. He has a lot to catch up on, especially since his swords and armor went with him to wherever he had gone to. This could mean paperwork.

Jane Foster has posed:
Another flip of the page brings out a highlighter, choice of weapon to prove the might of a pen over the edge of the sword. Even the Ebony Sword at that, a danger to most life. Her commentary isn't unnoticed by another W.A.N.D. agent dealing with the situation in his own terms, a fellow a few desks away getting the same data she is. Every highlighted mark on the tablet, at least, gets shared with him. Not the paperwork though; that's a manual process even here in the heart of an intelligence agency.

Her slender figures abbreviate another block of information, and the brunette gives a soft shake of her head. When her tablet blips anew, its interruption only causes her to swipe a thumb over the screen. Nothing happens. Perhaps that's not why.

Gaze lifting, her sepia eyes mark the surroundings and the inbound figure, though she hardly needs to do so much as that. It's not like the stride isn't one she could name from the other side of the world. "Long time no see."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Finding himself hailed by a familiar voice, the man in black adjusts course for the source thereof. A beat later and he finds himself at the desk of Jane Foster.

Dane smiles warmly down, his deep set eyes lined with insomnia as he regards her for a long moment, then replies,"Too long. I'm just here seeing if I could call in a favor while I report in. It has been...hectic."

His lips twist wryly at this. Amusement lightening his countenance.

Jane Foster has posed:
The desk is only hers by right of leaning on it, which probably accounts for the most casual the astrophysicist ever gets. Her posture is generally good at the best of times, though lording over a pile of apocalyptic notes and cryptic details causes no end of headaches. She could curse the daystar or reckless humanity, but what would the point be? The folder goes to the side, her notes pinned under her thumb to keep them from sliding in a slurry of typed details, rainbow lines, and jotted notations in the margins. Crumpled pages would be an insult to the analysts crunching through it.

The arc of her brows rising a degree might be barely noticeable, but habits remain the same. She looks as she just about always has, same in December 2020 as 2021. A slipped chuckle holds weary warmth. "That so? I thought you had settled into Staten Island for that engineering career." One WAND agent to another, in that respect, willing to bend to laughter in the face of madness. How else do you get through the day if not for humour and too much coffee? "What, having someone take a look over your records or perform the sign-in tag-in if your credentials got chewed up?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane smirks wider at the banter, teeth showing along with the crows feet as he takes the well deserved jab. He himself has impeccable posture, as befits a man who spends as much time with a sword in his hand as he does staring up at a white board. He shakes his head after a moment, however. Nothing quite so casual or subversive.

He sets the long case on end, to relieve himself of the weight as he flexes a calloused hand and replies,"Nothing like that, but perhaps not too far off the mark either, I hope. Trying to be on the up and up, as it were."

A wink is offered, but not QUITE on the sly...

He leans slightly on the up ended case, it being slightly longer than he is tall, maybe by a foot, and dives in,"I dug out my uncle's old toy, and I want to see about dusting it off and giving it a tune up."

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane's teasing never really comes too sharply, for what would the purpose be in stabbing holes into someone's ego? Odin All-Father gets that role, not the brunette unable to dodge his pitiless eye. She gathers up the pages to tuck back into the folder while Dane settles in, and then offers, "Just a moment. Let me get these over to someone who can log them."

A very short distance to the other desk manned by another agent takes less than a minute to negotiate, and the tablet remains a locked SHIELD device. IT shall not have more headaches than it already does because of her. With a few quiet instructions, she hands off her work in progress, and then saunters back mostly empty-handed. No SHIELD uniform here, though some might choose to wear it. Not quite necessary sitting around the Triskelion, hard at work.

"Care to enlighten me then? I certainly profess to be interested." She casts a faint smile, easing back in. The case receives a passing glance, but she has no reason to be overly concerned by its immediate presence. He flips the case open and that could be another reason. "Anything made by Nathan is a mixed blessing. Did some digging in the family pile or this come out of the trust?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
Smiling knowingly, with just a touch of weariness, Dane shrugs just a bit broadly as his initial reply. Only then does he venture forth by way of slight tangent,"Very true, very true... Reading about him makes me feel better about myself I'll admit."

Take that how you will...

He shudders abruptly then and clears his throat before getting to the point,"It's his old Power Lance. First thing after getting back, I regretted not having something like it. Of all things, NYU had a problem with some kind of slime mold overgrowing the lab. You might say...my swords didn't cut it."

A grin is offered at that, then an elaboration,"But the alpha particle based force cannon on this thing could have done the trick. Short range, but the projector had a decent radius and impact. I just don't trust the battery he designed for it. And half the trinkets he put on it can just go. Machine guns? Blade launchers? Not my style."

Jane Foster has posed:
Her gaze narrows a fraction. Stories perhaps have been told, exchanged in the past over coffee and meals or in the blackest of nights when stars peek through their grey veils of clouds. The lessons that await to be learned by a tutor to an apt pupil could be responsible for the stilling, the quiet, though Jane is comfortable enough to be an audience.

"Are you sure?" The only words that need to be shared there. Her breath drawn in, she slides the tablet closer to the end of the desk. Sitting in a chair might be appropriate, but for the moment, she stays put. Dane remains her focus, a pensive look remaining. "The slime was not responsive to photons or the starmetal? I didn't think that was possible."

Dane Whitman has posed:
The knight rightens ever so slightly as he clarifies a touch, having forgotten how literal she could be,"The photons severed pseudopods, to be sure, but they regenerated as swiftly as they were removed. Removing chunks merely slowed the growth. In the end, we had to blow a chunk of the university to purge the thing."

Dane rubs the back of his neck as he reflects on that,"Do you know about anyone experimenting with utronium? I have no idea how they made that thing."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Regenerating after being severed and cauterized is a concern. Rapid cellular regeneration on that scale could have useful permutations, albeit rather hard to appreciate in the moment. I wonder if the replication processes could be reviewed... but now I'm treading into Jemma's territory and leave her to decide if the biological gains outweigh the risks." With a light shrug of her shoulders, she straightens up the neckline of her sweater. A mild tug resituates the soft brushed wool so it's not trying to slew over her arm. "You blew up a chunk of New York University. And... this somehow did not bring down the alumni association on your head? Colour me shocked." Legitimately so.

Her lips part slightly and she shakes her head. "No, not widely. when it comes to the more exotic elements and metals, your first stop would probably be Fitz. Unless you're implying the material made entirely of neutrons from a neutron star, in which case you can't -- not on Earth, anyway. The element comes into being by the sheer gravitation pressure cooker that is a neutron star, and the neutronium -- if we can call it that -- produced by neutron stars interacting very rapidly becomes other heavy elements. I'm assuming that's that you mean; utronium being the neutrons stripped of their electrons and other charges?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
The smirk evolves into a chuckle at the commentary about the alumni, Dane being in complete agreement!

The big man waxes philosophical then more intellectual however as he delves forth,"Honestly, after a year in absentia in another dimension they probably had me marked as deceased so weren't sure who to pin the blame on but..."

And then the shift to the latter occurs as he grows a touch pensive,"I mean the active ingredient in that compound popularly referred to as mutagen. I honestly don't know what else could have created such radical effects. I'm as flabbergasted as yourself."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Another dimension? Which one?" Jane may have had other questions to worry about; the turmoil of reunions and news comes to a quiet, dead halt on that point. "We met up for drinks when..."

Let that settle back as her mind whirls back. She might be an astrophysicist, but a knowledge of medicine almost to the point of residency will have its advantages on that. "Good, so /not/ the exotic matter of a star. People use them interchangeably."

Dane Whitman has posed:
The commentary about astrophysics earns another chuckle before Dane replies,"Apparently Hydra just calls it...ahem...Weird World. Some kind of...pocket..nexus I suppose?"

As much trapsing about time and other planes as he has done, he still doesn't claim to be an expert! The knight just hmphs as he settles onto his heels and affirms,"And no, no star stuff as far as I can imagine. Apologies."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Weird world. That sounds absolutely like HYDRA, brilliantly uninventive. You mean to say you were targeted by them separately from the whole takeover of SHIELD? You'll need to speak with May or Carter about that, I suspect." Her expression softens somewhat, though she gives Dane a worried look all the same. "I understand the premise of a pocket nexus or dimension, though we don't see them very often this side. It's good that you managed to get free. I'll look into the matter of the slime at the university. It sounds most certainly out there, though at this time of year, I'm starting to think everything slides off the rails simply because it can."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Slowly nodding, Dane clears his throat and replies,"Will do. Hopefully I'll see them coming rather than get ambushed, eh?"

Snorting softly at the likelihood of that eventuality, Dane dives off in the other direction,"So that's all I got, what about you? What have I missed out on, pray tell?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"I'd hope so. The status with HYDRA is always be cautious, though they seem to be underground more than on the surface. Which makes sense, considering they are actively monitored and hunted since they tried their coup against SHIELD. Add the threat from the US government and the Avengers, that puts them in a difficult spot. They've made too many enemies to operate in the open, which isn't saying much. Still, that means we can hopefully sleep a little better at night knowing someone isn't poring over our medical and personnel files." Jane tips her head a little at the questions from Dane, though her pensive expression remains lost in the middleground, saturated perhaps by pondering the layout of recent events beyond 'compromised spy agency.' That one tends to take the cake.

"For a rundown of SHIELD, you get the joys of a debriefing session. I've been tapped to recover 0-8-4s by Chief Carter, so that sits me square in the arc of WAND right now. Funny, it was always you who went here, and now we are. MJ's back, you might want to talk to her. I'm sure she'd delight in her sparring partner back." The corner of her mouth dimples, the redhead someone she's clearly fond of. "I still have Eowyn, the dog." The one they rescued in Metropolis a lifetime ago. "Aragorn doing well? The Nobel Committee granted me the award. I sound so bloody uppity saying it like that, it's not quite like that. The Hayden Planetarium board had an issue when I was away for a bit, though I'm still settling that up. Helped light the Rockefeller Tree, and I'm tapped to handle the Met Gala again."

Dane Whitman has posed:
The grin eases back to a smile that could actually be genuine at hearing about Eowyn and the Nobel award. He slowly nods at each point in turn, raven brows knitting as he considers then,"Aragorn is doing well, I checked on him when I first returned. He seemed put out that Strider had gotten all the attention, can't blame him. Poor guy."

He then shifts course to earlier points,"I got the distinct impression that Hydra knows as much about Weird World as anyone else, which is to say we got there by complete accident. But that's an aside. When's the Met again?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Nobel in Physics that young, that's an accomplishment in and of itself. Jane doesn't keep too focused on her own achievements, dodging with an ease that probably meant she survived Asgard's first brush with the mortal world. "I hope he's doing well. Always more than bold and steadfast when he needed to be, and that's a rare enough in this day and age. I'm imagining that Strider is glad to have you back if you were gone for that long."

Her breath trails off as she nods. "If you can write up a report on Weird World, that would be welcome. Since we need to know about these places, and a record from someone there firsthand is worth a lot more than trying to put together two and two from fragments passed through the grapevine. You know how that tends to distort information, particularly when it comes to anything other than cold, hard fact. I know a few here," a nod to the office around them, "would appreciate it. And the Met Gala would normally be held in the spring but given how events this year happened, they pushed it later, closer to the new year. What happens next year, I'm not entirely sure."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Propping the long case to himself before reaching down to the handle, Dane marbles at nothing in particular. Or more likely at how the report will sound. He smiles amicably then and replies,"I'm certain Commander May will similarly appreciate it."

Dane then tilts the case to ease it over for proper carrying as he concludes,"I'll do my best to make it, and not be scarce where MJ is concerned."

A wink is flashed at that as he adds in parting,"I'm sure I've kept enough of your time. Where should I drop this off? Mind you, the atomic cell in it probably belongs in a museum..."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Given I'm working for senior agent in here, hopefully I can take a look at it as soon as you send it out. The atomic cell is going to be interesting in that. Keep it with the other 0-8-4s in the vaults here, we should be in a good state. I don't think the Mint wants it, and the museum certainly hasn't got the containment field you need. I would probably notify Fitz in case," Jane adds.

She grimaces slightly as the time ticks on. "I'm afraid it's nearly my witching hour. Time to get a little sleep in before the day rushes on and I am needed again. Try not to get lost in dimensions, pulling people out of them can be such a nuisance."

Just a nuisance.

Dane Whitman has posed:
A small laugh is given as he turns to swagger forth to get to work on a year's worth of paperwork after dropping off his uncle's old Power Lance. That'll be entertaining, no doubt. As he steps out, he tosses a parting,"Good to see you too!"