9521/The Watch Proceeds

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The Watch Proceeds
Date of Scene: 07 January 2022
Location: Midtown
Synopsis: Michael Erickson meets and greets with a /bunch/ of people in Grand Central, as various volunteers show up to help fight the angels.
Cast of Characters: Michael Erickson, Megan Gwynn, Monet St. Croix, Roberto da Costa, Paris Bennet, Zatanna Zatara, Jonathan Sims
Tinyplot: Path of Glory


Michael Erickson has posed:
    It was supposed to be an asteroid that hit Manhattan. But there's no asteroid, no explosion, no wreckage. Instead, a largely empty borough looms, and among its streets, or so it's said, there are creatures on the east side of town that defy faith or belief.

    They're supposed to be angels. Honest to God - so to speak - angels.

    Here at Grand Central Station, however, there are no angels, or at least nothing Biblical. The large, squarish structure of city history has been largely transformed into a massive bunker over the last days, with steel plates, corrugated metal, I-beams, rebar and concrete somehow welded to the structure, forming a thick defensive shell. Murderholes and sniper slots have been cut into areas, tracking the streets which have had fencing and concrete barriers towed in to form aisles through which any approaching parties must go when on foot. Military minds have set this up; there is word in some quarters that SHIELD is operating out of the structure, so perhaps that is them.

    And of course, there is the Red Sentinel. Standing atop the armored platform that has been build to enclose the terminal's famous clock, a figure made from red chrome (or something very like it) watches as displaced citizens come in through the defense lanes, slender and vaguely alien, a combination of an anatomical model and a hood ornament. Looking down upon it all with a long, shallow 'V' of a visor set into its face, glowing softly with violet light.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Angels, honest to goodness angels. Who would have thought? Such an arrival should have been a miracle, but these angels apparently were not 'good Angels'. It kinda tested one's Faith, and while Megan's faith is not super strong, she did believe in angels. Good angels.

Either way, here she is, teleporting in with supplies and a few reinforcements, dressed in her official Xmen uniform this time..While many were already fleeing the city, many more were trapped and would need supplies from the van she brings in. "So then.." she peers around, "Where should we start..?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix hasn't quite caught up on events or been briefed. But as the group is going into a subway that's essentially been turned into a bunker, she's presuming that whatever it was didn't go particularly well. Teleporting in with Megan she would appear, having been present as an escort. Taking a moment to glance at the Red SEntinel, she would inquire..

"How many casualties were there? And how secure is the beachhead that the.. Adversary has established?" She would query while going to start taking supplies where needed. "And the location here is secure?"

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa was wearing his Sunspot uniform as well, in part so he was ready for action and in part because any of his actual clothes were far too expensive and delicate to be in the range of such devastation. Some stains won't come out, no matter how much you pay your dry cleaner.

"Whatever they appear to be, I'm not sure you could call anything that did this angelic. Not by any sane definition. But then, aren't demons just fallen angels? Maybe these things literally fell from heaven," he says, although his Catholic upbringing doesn't really allow for such a possibility within the plan of God. But he was never a very good Catholic anyway.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    It's a bit of a call up to where the Sentinel stands - Grand Central's a big building, after all - but apparently he hears her fine. << THERE IS A STAGING AREA INSIDE FOR SUPPLIES, >> the red figure thunders down from its perch; while distorted and metallic for the likely purpose of sounding fearsome, Monet, at least, might well recognize the voice that serves as the underlying base for it. So /that's/ where the Astronomy teacher's gone. << LOOK FOR THE LINE IN BLUE SPRAY PAINT ON THE FLOOR. THAT WILL LEAD IN TO THE SUPPLY DROPOFF. >>

    As more show up, the red figure sprouts wings - red airfoils sprout from the underside of their arms, razor-edged and gleaming, giving the Sentinel the appearance of an angel of sorts himself as he leaps off the building, descending as if floating, not flying, to land upon the street next to the X-folks. << Thank you for coming, >> the machine-man says to them in his grim, modulated voice. << We're working to get the people who want to escape off the island, but there is a lack of teleportation. We've been angling to get them out via commuter trains. >> A hand is offered to those coming in. << Truly, thank you. >>

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix is going along with the gestures while turning her attention to Megan, "You would be effective at helping to evacuate the area." She would shift her attention up to the Red Sentinel, "ANd is here intended to be used as an evacuation ground or a forward base?" The two didn't necessarily have overlapping intents, after all. And something very dug in and reinfroced so thoroughly seemingly had other sorts of plans for it. But still polite.
    She would go along to start to take her supplies towards the blue line, picking up a container with both hands and then floating a few inches up in the air to be able to maintain a better grip on it.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn peers upwards as the voice barks orders, "Ahh, okay, maybe later someone can tell me more about this whole angel craziness too..I thought angels were supposed to be good?" she nods to Monet, following suit, "So let's see, I got medical supplies, food, blankets..What's the priority, any injured?"

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa turns his head, "I can provide help lifting or flying people that need it. Or melting anything down if there's metal blocking things," he says.

He grins at Megan, "Since when has the world ever been the way we were told? Isn't there a line from Shakespeare about more things in heaven and earth? Well, heaven and earth seem to have met and I don't think they get along very well."

Paris Bennet has posed:
A silvery rift opens some mere yards above the ground, like a fresh hole in the sky to those with an awkward angle as it is decidedly two dimensional. This portal is accompanied by a disinct psychic...pressure. A presence much more imposing than the formidable physicality of Bennet du Paris, aka Exodus, who descends from the portal in ironic fashion, his white cloak fluttering gently as he replies to Roberto as if he heard every word,"Your church is as decadent as this society. In my time, the wrath of the Lord was understood as a given. We all knew we were not so far removed from the days when God's temper was barely asuaged with the sacrifice of his son. Clearly the Archangel was not so moved."

The man then surveys the others around with arms folded before adding,"I was given to understand an encampment for the needy was being establishede at this location. Direct me to the site of greatest need, por favour.

That was to noone in particular.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    << This way, please, >> says the Sentinel -- he gestures to the main doors, which have been swallowed up in plating, but one swings slowly open among the groaning chorus of weight and metl as the knot approach, likely due to him being with them. << We can discuss the situation once the supplies are deposited. >>

    Inside, the hallowed, spacious interior of the station has been made far darker thanks to the windows having been sealed off, but electric light still remains. Like a battlefield camp, people sit in rigidly cordoned-off areas, seating from all over the structure having been arranged so that people can gather without being /too/ close. Lounge areas, quiet places, a dining zone, impromptu bunks -- all these have been laid out with military order in mind, and uniformed SHIELD personnel can be seen roaming the area on top of this. A blue line spraypainted upon the floor jags off to an area at the base of the clock in the center of the station, where piles of boxes are stacked and under guard. << That sounds good, >> he says to Roberto, and nods to Monet and Megan as they walk with him. << When you deposit the material, we will meet over in the stationmaster's office. I will tell you about the situation then. >>

    Then, of course, Paris arrives. And is stared at, quietly, with that visor. << Come with us as well, Lord Bennet, >> he offers to the man - yes, he at least knows enough from television, one assumes, to know the name. << I will explain all. >>

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would give a nod at Megan, and then Roberto. Lifting things carefully, slinging up her large container in the air. "Very well. Hopefully we can take at least some back with us to a safer zone easily eough." Wary of Exodus, giving him a blank, empty stare over of vigilance as she would follow along the astronomy teacher. So far, not making any move to scan at his mind or anything. Reviewing in her mind what sorts of things she had read in her research since encountering him.
    Exodus getting a look, "And that was simply the view of one particular sect of one particular religion and one interpretation at the time. There have always been numerous interpretations of the same dogma and theology even in the smallest groups." That statement made more out of particularity than anyone else.
    She would go to take the items and put them in a pile where she hd been indicated. And at the tone of 'take to the stationmaster's office' her facial expression would shift just a little more. Definitely 'badly'.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn isn't super strong or anything so she just leaves the majority of supplies for Monet and Roberto to take. Whatever remains is left behind for her to teleport further in once she has co firmed the intended location. As Bennet teleports in, she blinks and tenses slightly, glancing at her allies, "Um, think we can trust him?" but she is not the leader on this excursion, such a role would probably fall to Roberto to make the call.

As for the angels she just shrugs and grins, "You have a point. I guess there are various interpretations, plus you have the fallen angels too. Still I wonder what they look like, and what they really want..?" ah she has Soo many questions.

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa shifts into his blackened energy form, a frisson of heat shimmering around him as he hefts some supplies up onto his shoulder. He eyes Paris for a moment after his comment, "Well, hello, Mr. Fancy Pants," he says. He points towards Monet, "What she said. If the church were genuinely decadent, I might have stayed awake going to Mass more often. As it is, I haven't been much since my christening. I've been too busy saving the world and chasing pretty girls. Speaking of which..." he says.

He smiles to Megan, "I would guess at times like these, strange bedfellows are what they are. Alien invasions usually lead to people setting aside more petty differences. At least in the short term."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    << Oh, >> says the sleek, red figure, looking between the assembly. << I can assure you that you are among friends with me. Let me prepare the office. You can stay here for the moment and survey. >>

Paris Bennet has posed:
A smile spreads over Bennet's lips at being addressed thusly by Micheal. Finally, a proper sense of protocal. That puts his mood in a place where even Monet's response finds armor to deflect off of for the most part as he makes to follow the man along with the rest.

He replies evenly to her and Roberto,"You would not be of such an enlightened relativist view were you to live then. It is easy to look down your nose from afar. I carried a sword for the church you seem to hold in very different regard. Back then, that church employed such men as myself to inscribe the holy word with its finely honed edge upon the souls of those ignorant savages who deined to do the same on behalf of Mohammed. That being another sect, to coin your phrase, who by your tone I can only surmise that you think were more peaceful and dignified."

He chuckles ruefully at that last note, then adds,"I can assure you they were not."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would glance at MIchael and give a nod as she would ake things along and put them down, and nod at Megan, "You can quickly maneuver things around if need be. That is much faster than us having to physically maneuver along." Shew ould glance at Paris.

"Given I am one of those ignorant savages by your definition, I would hardly care about how your limited grasp of any sort of nuance and broad ignorance limits your perspective."

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn arches a brow at Roberto and smirks, "Sure, if you say so..As long as we're all on the same side. Still.." she sighs and shrugs, surveying the area that they're led into before lifting up her arms and murmuring the magic words that teleports what remains of the supplies to the designated area.

Talk of religion causes her to frown, with so many different and contrasting views out there, she'd rather do her research before making comment. "Soooo regardless, what do we no of these apparent angels that have recently..Arrived here?" arrived, attacked? Whatever they're here to do is what's important now.

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa rolls his eyes at Paris, although it might be hard to tell given the power-aura sheathing him, his eyes usually turned to glowing sockets of white in his backlit body. "So, you were a thug for rich guys a long time ago. Congrats. I know a lot of those types. Usually they're at least a little more self-aware than you, but ego's a hell of a drug. I would know."

To Megan, he shrugs, "Kick their butts, I'd guess. Done it before, we'll do it again. Earth don't go down easy on our watch."

Paris Bennet has posed:
Barking a laugh at the reaction he gets, Bennet's smile turns to a smirk. He likes spirit, especially when it's honest. The machismo of the warrior is a thing that ruffles feathers, and he basks in it.

He offers in reply,"Talk of nuance and acceptance of the charge of 'enlightened relativism' fits one from an era that no longer strives towards excellence. Rest assured, my language was sarcasm. I no longer hold that faith. Nor do I seek your friendship, only strength at my side when it comes time to strike down a mutual adversary."

Then to Roberto specifically, he maintains that smirk as he offers,"I do not ken your slur, but I've seen you at the Hellfire Club to know that you yourself are...rich. An ironic turn of phrasing. I commend your spirit."

Lastly to Megan, he asks,"Do you need to know more than they seek our oblivion?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would shrug, "Well, for all that it might matter in those ongoing conflicts your faith lost and was driven from the area, leaving the ancestors of mine to mostly hold theological dominance in the region, for better or ill, to this day." There's not -quite- as mirk from her back on that.

She would glance at Roberto, "Though we fight here, engaging the.. Adversaries is tricky. They have at least from reports I have read a tendency to fight in groups and have a great deal fo experience in a combat environment. Their training and tactics focus upon it. I would recommend that you familairize yourself with what has een reported so far."

A nod given to Megan, "They need to be talked down or convinced to depart and cease their threat to this region. No matter what they are they should be treated the same as any other danger."

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn seems encouraged by Roberto, nodding with a smile, "I guess they're wanting a fight and probably won't listen to reason, huh. Just hope we can get in some extra training before than.." a shrug is given Monet as she starts to hand out food and sighs, "I mean, I'm guessing the government already attempted diplomacy to no avail..But,still, it'd be nice to know exactly why they want to..Obliviate us."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    After a few minutes, a man returns - tall, well-built if not muscular, wearing black combat fatigues and jump boots with a large pistol worn on his hip along with a long, sheathed fighting knife. "Right then," says Michael Erickson in a solid, no-nonsense baritone, now longer the Sentinel. "We all set up? Shall we go to the office, now? Really want to try and keep things on a need-to-know where the civilians are concerned."

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa shrugs as he sets down his load, "Oh yeah, I'm filthy rich. Don't mistake, I'm not pretending to be average. How could I, nobody would believe it anyway?" he grins roguishly.

"What I'm saying is, being medieval is kind of a negative nowadays. The world's progressed, in a thousand different ways, most of them positive. Other than the horde of avenging angels, obviously."

To Monet, he shrugs a bit, "I doubt they're going to let me play general much. I can lead our squad well enough, but I figure the New Mutants aren't likely to be on the front lines, with the Justice League and the Avengers throwing their hats into the game. But we'll do our part, just like we always do. Warpath's probably got a better head for tactics than me."

Paris Bennet has posed:
Lord Bennet narrows his monocolored gaze at the man addressing them, no longer amused. His countenance literally illuminates slightly as the restraint on his psionic energies slips ever so slightly. He replies first to the honest rich man that is Roberto,"I respect your candor. My reply will therefore be in kind. I am who I am, and I do not extend to the state of this world the same respect. Now is not the time for such a discussion. We have a gentleman to tend to who thinks he can decide what we deserve to know about the end of the world."

With that, Bennet turns his gaze back to Michael and smiles...wolfishly.

Then states,"Yes. Let's see our way to your office."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would just cross her arms and go to follow along after Paris and towards Michael, "Then as much as possible the non combatants should be evacuated as can be managed." She wouldn't go on to ask about wht was going to be done here. Nodding at Roberto. "Wise. I would likely not be an effective tactician either." Best to admit one's shortcomings after all!

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn flinches visibly at mention of Warpath. Clearly no love lost there due to the animosity between Megs and Illy in the past, and she'd much rather follow Roberto into danger, especially after he defended her from being flattened by Warpath, on more than one occasion. She just swallows and smiles, "Suuure, I'm sure we all do our part, as long as we know who the real enemy is." she follows after Michael, giving a soft sigh, "Sure, you got any useful info on these Angels..?"

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa sees that wince from Megan and frowns softly. He tries to stay friends with everybody - leader should do that, at least - but he also knows that some things just aren't his business. If allowed, he'll give her a squeeze on the shoulder of reassurance and nods, "Don't think it's going to be hard to figure out the enemy this time around. Although Warren should probably be careful. Wouldn't want him getting hit with friendly fire..."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "That's what we're trying to do." Michael quirks a brow, looking at the lot of them - and then, turning, leads them all into the stationmaster's office. Which has been turned into something of a small strategic center; all the former furniture has been stripped out, just a desk, chair, and a battery of holographic projectors, very /small/ ones, set up to provide all manner of informtion. Nothing's in English, of course. Strange, barbed runes are the script of the day, and the holography is extremely clear, of very good quality. Much more so than most people on Earth can provide.

    "Before we get started," the man in the black fatigues says as the last of them enter and he closes the door behind them, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Cal'hatar of Chandilar, Officer Third Magnitude of the Shi'ar Imperial Armed Forces - formerly, that is, as Miss St. Croix can tell you I turned my back on my people to help protect Earth and mutantkind during their recent attack on the planet last year. My earthly identity is Michael Erickson; I would appreciate that you use that name outside this room."

Paris Bennet has posed:
The big man that is the golden eyed swordsman Lord Bennet du Paris is initially intrigued by the introduction. Such is the measure of his efforts not to telepathically intrude upon the minds of others in recent times in spite of his imposing aura. He regards Michael for some moments, considering his words and language displayed as the others file in...

Then his jaw squares as his temper frosts over. Teeth gritting at something the man said...

His countenance shines brilliantly as the floodgates of his mind's fire slip and his form seems to...flicker. First it hovers in place, and then an instant later it is back behind the doorway like a stuttering image, eyes shining like twin welding torches, cloak swirling in an unfelt windstorm as his voice issues forth from all around...

Every acoustic item in the vicinity serves to carry the acidic voice of Exodus,<<This man would brazenly introduce himself as one who turned his back on his own, and presume to be the filter for what we aught know about our enemy?! How kindly I thank thee for thine service, disclosing the worth of thine oath prior to beggaring ours of secrecy!>>

With that, the face of Exodus fills the doorway in a brilliant shine as his outrage echoes through unshielded minds,<<I for one... DESIRE NOTHING FROM TRAITORS!>>

And then...with a sizzle and snap....

Exodus departs as dramatically as he arrived...

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would go to watch dismissively over as Michael would speak to them, "Yes, he is. I cannot state the particulars beyond he is quite knwoledgable and I would urge listening.." Right as the tone would take a turn for the dramatic as Exodus would make his proclamationand rapidly teleport away.

"he does have a sense of theatrics combined with poor taste. I find that ridiculous for departure. His own army was quite well known when it came to issues with discipline after all, ehs' not one to judge."

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn relaxes at Roberto's touch, smiling and nodding faintly to him. Nothing worse than infighting in the team. But right now they gotta focus on the immediate threat at hand, and that means trying to work together with people they don't necessarily trust against a common goal. "Heh, that'd be..Well weird. she comments in regards to Warren, "I mean, that's assuming they even look like your stereotypical angel. I mean what do we really know about these..These beings?"

She nods to Michael, then freezes as Exodus..Explodes then vanishes, "Woah, at least I'm not that bad with Illy." she laughs nervously, tensions already on edge, and decides to focus primarily on Michael, "Michael, got it. I'm Pixie. Sooo what do these..Angels even look like? What sorts of abilities do they possess? Have you encountered them..?"

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto da Costa winces at Exodus' dramatic exit, his corona flaring about him a bit as he braces himself for any potential negative backlash.

"Wow. Note to self: medieval knights are drama queens," he says aloud. He crosses his arms over his chest and chucks his chin, "Hey, Mr. Erickson," he says. Roberto is technically graduated now, although not by much, but he took astronomy as one of his senior electives. What, like he needed an excuse to sit under the night sky with a bunch of girls? Please.

"Anyway, now that Sir Whines-a-lot has left, has anyone figured out any weaknesses for these angel things yet?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    With Exodus's disappearance, Michael shake shis head. "Projection is projection," he says with a shrug. "People don't often ask /why/ someone turns from their people. Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Pixie." Then he goes to sit on the edge of the desk, looking among the others. "So here's the deal, folks. As far as I know it. These are, in fact, Angels with a capital A - the Archangel Michael's involved, the Legions are coming. What we have here is a vanguard, though the numbers I'm not entirely certain of - I work with SHIELD as a consultant only, not an agent. I'm doing most of this of my own free will. For whatever reason, the Angels are coming to wipe out existence. Not this planet, /all/ planets. The entirety of the universe. A mystical situation is unfolding."

    He looks among the faces here, brushing his hair back out of his face in the wake of Exodus's passing. "I'm not a mystic, ladies and gentleman, I'm a soldier. I'm here to help people, contain the invaders, and kill as many as possible should they dare cross over to this part of town. As far as my information goes, they'll be destroyed with sufficient massed ballistic firepower, strength, energy weapons. They've got ranks so the infantry equivalent is going to go down a lot faster than the higher orders - I only have a cursory idea of the angelic ranks thanks to human religious texts but one assumes there's a similar structure. I doubt the commanders are going to go down without serious power leveled against them. Certainly more than what these people out here are able to summon - ah, I forgot. Energy sourcing from Nullspace, anti-energy or entropic energy, that is inimical to all of them. Entropy eats all things."

    That said, he gestures to a holographic map on the wall. "Now I've built the majority of the structure around the building, but I've also been setting up traps and deadfalls around Murray Hill, the neighborhood that borders the station to the south. That's where I live, I know it well. There's a tunnel leading to Queens there that needs to be secured, and generally we just want them to not want to be there. Additional space for people to hide, supply, that sort of thing. We clear so far?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would listen over while she would cross her arms, "I presume as well that a majority of them are fliers and rely upon melee based weapons, though they likely have elemental based ranged attacks. And that they would have some sort of armor as well." This is her being presuming in the face of data and what she had read.

"Goodt o know that standard methods of neutralization work. Are they vulnerable or resistant to psionics? Or has this not been attempted yet?"

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn listens in wide-eyed horror and fear. "Soo...This is no joke then, no crazy aliens pretending to be angels, but the real thing?" she sighs, "But why? I thought angels were supposed to be good..This is sooo messed up. Still, I wonder if my soul dagger would be of use against such creatures." oh yeah, she's sure Illy'd have a ball with those beings. She nods to Monet, "Good points, I mean, if they call themselves angels, does that mean they attack wuth a holy based element? What about the faithful?" she sighs and rubs her eyes,, "Geez, this is sooo messed up."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "We have to assume they're essentially very tooled-up jump infantry," Michael says to Monet, nodding. "Reminds me of when I was on Jatuul. The Excederate's forces were largely rigged with gravity pods and heavy armor along with their particle guns. Very hard nuts to crack - but! In an urban environment there's a million way to crack nuts, as they say." What he does /not/ explain, of course, is that the Jatuul were fighting to defend their planet. He tries not to bring that up at the school. "I don't know if they have minds. They might just be like divine robots. We haven't had to face them yet over here."

    Michael drums his hands upon his thighs. "Dawn yesterday they arrived. There was an assault over across the way at St. Patrick's Cathedral, but I don't know the details of what went down, yet. As I say, I'm not in charge of this situation, I've just set up the architecture. And of course, I will be fighting everything that tries to get over here in my battle armor."

    That said, he looks to Megan. "Angels are servants. My people have gods too, you know. They're pricks. Their servants are pricks. I don't get that they're bad, coming here, but they're still here to do a job. We want to make them fail. Courage, miss. We'll get through it. The mystics are handling it; we just have to make sure they have time to do so, and that the civilians are protected."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Pfft

        A faint puff of air blows a candy bar wrapper aside in one corner of the large, echoing hall. A slender woman flashes into existence without fanfare.

Boots clicking on the marble flooring as she heads in the Red Sentinel's direction. Zatanna unwinds the red cashmere scarf knotted at the neck of a long black coat covering a tailored suit also black. It reflects her mood after yesterday's debacle at Saint Patrick's Cathedral.

She marches up to the group centered around him, brushing back a wing of her raven-black hair, and nods to him, smiling slightly to Megan, the only other familiar face among them.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would swing her attention to Michael, "Jump infantry?" It would take her a moment to transfer the statement of a style of soldier she as not familiar with to a concept that she could analyse, and therefore evaluate. She would skim through her mind for similar things, eventually settling on something she found sufficient.
    "We are to assist in limiting collateral damage and casualties and let the specialists take care of the problem." Very well, thatw as something she could work with. Simple, logical.. "Are they prone to attack anything in their proclaimed territory or.." As he would explain about the Shi'Ar gods she would hear Zatanna come in.
    Turning her attention to Zatanna, her expression going neutral while she would just watch, considering.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's been somewhere deeper in the complex, going over information, trying to find people who can scout, making new plans. Getting sleep, and eating, those are important things. He comes up to the stationmaster's office that Michael has turned into a strategic center, wearing SHIELD tactical gear with ICER and baton-sized collapsed staff both clearly visible on his hip. Despite that he doesn't quite look like a soldier; more like he ought to be one of the medics.

    "Oh, didn't notice you had company," he says at the door, giving Zatanna a smile and a nod. He looks around, regarding them all. "Ahh... volunteers...?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Jump infantry," Michael explains to Monet, "Is a class of infantry whereby the infantrymen are equipped with a technology that allows them either limited or full flight capability. Rocketpacks, suspensor harnsesses, antigravitic motors, whatever. Gives them unparalleled maneuverability, which makes them dangerous - but in an urban environment, they have to dodge a /lot/ of things. Which is why it's important to get them between buildings, deal with deadfalls, wires strung up about street level, that sort of thing. As for the rest, yes, your summation of our task at hand is indeed accurate. Now..."

    He falls silent, looking as Zatanna enters. "Ah," he says. "Hello. Zatanna Zatara, I would like you to meet..." Michael glances to Monet. "Well, she can introduce herself as she would like to be called. Identities may need to be preserved."

    And then there's Jon. "People came to assist," he tells the man. "I am informing them of things as best as I am aware. I'd intended to direct them to your people if they wanted to know more."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would look over at Jnathan, "Hello." NOdding at Michael's elaboration, "Thank you." She would shrug at the others, "I am M." Her saying that like it had any real meaning. But codenames really didn't need to have meanings.. Though her's kind of probably needed some work.
    "So how are we best served in aiding to eliminate the aggressors?" Her having sttled on refering to the angelic hordes as that. Politely adding, "Pleasure to make all of your acquaintances."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Perhaps?" the magician replies in answer to Jon, head canted quizzically at the others with an open, pleasant expression.

She studies Jon's face for a moment before asking,"How are you doing? I just arrived myself and should change back into armor. I snuck out for a nap and food earlier then reinforced the wards around the station How is planning going? I have several ideas for the next round."

Zatanna's gaze shifts to the woman identifying herself as M, rests a moment as though committing her face to memory and nods,"Zatanna Zatara, please call me Zatanna."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Dr. Jonathan Sims," Jon replies to Monet with a smile. There's a tiredness around his eyes, but his tone's brisk enough. "Zatanna and I are two of the leaders of the Justice League Dark, which is spearheading this whole business. Pleasure to meet you. How we eliminate... well, that's one of the reasons I came up, actually."

    He shifts to look to Michael. "I wanted to thank you for... this." He waves a hand about. "The work you've done. And find out if you might have any suggestions regarding combat with the angels; I remember you were putting together a pamphlet."

    He rubs at the back of his neck. "Planning is... going. The vanguard looks like they're moving to secure key points rather than spreading out generally but I can't for the life of me figure out what they're after. We'll need more intel, I think."

    A pause, and then, "Ahh... Zatanna... our Atlantean friend, he... he didn't make it. I don't know if you... heard." He frowns. "I... are /you/ okay...?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "The pamphlet is in review," Michael tells Jon, quirking a brow. "I need to check with Chief Carter on the matter. I'm afraid that some of my applications of Imperial military doctrine to the situation was considered...too severe. As if these beings will worry about the Geneva Convention on their part." He nods, then. "A tireless armored body allows for a great deal of work. If they dare coming out this way, we shall kill them. I intend no mercy for anything that's come from another dimension, holy or no. Most gods are far more trouble than they're worth."

    He looks to Zatanna, quirking a brow. Then to Jon: "More fatalities on our side? I hope you made them pay dearly in blood."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Automatic response readied for someone she didn't know. "I'm sorry fo ryour loss." Monet St. Croix would make hertone quiet and sad. Just in those right little bits to offer up sympathy in case it was needed. Likely not given she had never met the individual i question, known them, or could even say she knew who they were. The sincerity was there, her facial expressions coached over into it.

Her followup question also dropped now to make sure to not interrupt any of a more personal and private exchange. Her bluntness being held back to make sure that she wouldn't interfere with something going on. They needed information, and adding something to it while the others that had the information were exhausted and stressed would make getting anything informational from the exchange that much more difficult.

So it was with practiced ease that the unemotive girl would manage to put up the bit of concern and sympathy for the loss of an ally, friend, and comrade.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna nods in quick affirmation of the shared leadership. "Don't hesitate to ask for information; we are here to help."

At Jon's hesitant question, she looks down, nodding slowly. Then, after a deep inhale, she raises her blue eyes, liquid with unshed tears, her expression held stiffly impassive, "Our first, I think. He was here for a short time, but I miss his deep lore already. I understand it was..." shaking her head side to side, she leaves the rest unsaid.

As she listens to the Red Sentinel, Zatanna's mouth twists sardonically at his mention of the Geneva Conventions. "We hope that the Host will respect sparing civilian lives. That promise was made." She frowns, remembering the moment the promise was made.

Then, fixing her attention back on the armored man, she gives a puzzled huff, " Should I call you Red Sentinel, or do you have another name? What pamphlet?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs, and nods to Zatanna. "I... hate the thought that..." He shakes his head, glancing to the others around, and pulls himself together. "We will preserve reality. In his name."

    He glances to Michael, holds back a smirk at his statement. "Excellent. Well, whenever it's ready, send it my way. I understand the Chief's hesitation... we should not let these beings change who we are, or they win. But... yes." This to Monet. "Please feel free to ask questions, that's why you're here, right? To figure out how to help?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael looks between the three, shaking his head. "Were this the Empire, that entire area would have been bombed into a parking lot for the loss of just -one- command-level operative. They have to be made to feel it somehow, so that they do not feel too confident. They have to be made to feel that they were /wrong/ to inflict such a loss." He jerks a thumb at the map of Midtown projected on one wall. "That will have them coming over here faster than anything else. Morale /must/ be suppressed; not enough to make them desperate, but enough to make them hesitant. Blood will have to be spilled."

    To Zatanna, then, he cracks a faint smile. "Michael Erickson will do, for now. Anything else is immaterial for the moment. Suffice it to say I have been on this planet for some time. I'm not from around here. Sometimes that makes it...hard to connect with, so please, I hope you wiill forgive the occasional seeming of inhumanity. Because I am not, in fact, human."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Good, she's given the moment to address thier loss, then go back over to the main focus. "How do the angels fight? What are thier normal tactics and operational parameters? What sorts of common combat abilities have they displayed in the vein?" Glancing back at Michael with agreement.
    "And do we particularly trust their word in the matter?" She would cross her arms casually while considering. "I presume they have flight, have displayed armor and weapons of a magical nature, primarily melee oriented, and the use of elemental based attacks for range."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Pulling her bottom lip between her fingers, Zatanna raises an eyebrow at the decidedly human name and his avowal of being an alien.

"I think..." she says quietly then repeats more loudly, "I think that to win this contest something else is expected from us than bombing the host back into the Stone Age and New York with it. I dreamed I had an answer and woke up nearly whooping with joy." Her expression opaques and she shrugs. "No, such luck. It's like trying to remember a forgotten word. If we don't fight they wipe us out, if we /do/ fight they wipe us out. What will we do at the next attack?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would cross her arms, "As was said earlier, they are servants. Servants of a cause. A higher being. A purpose." She would stretch over as if Zatanna's broad question had a simple answer. Looking demure. "They're zealots." As with Exodus going out and storming in a teleportational rage..

"You destroy their faith. Make their cause and charge an empty one. Destro thier belief."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'm going to look to another for vengeance," Jon says to Michael. "The Ghost Rider will take care of that far better than I can; you know I am not a vengeful soul. Not usually." He /does/ have his moments. "But the insult will not go unanswered, no."

    He nods to Zatanna. "But Zed is right... I'm going to ask my informant /why/ we're fighting, beyond just 'because the game says so.' People are /dying/ and we deserve to know /why/. There must be a goal in the game, and I intend to find out the rules. I... would love to hear the answer if you can remember it, though."

    He looks to Monet then. "Honestly? It's better to think of the angels as... automatons, robots, at least the lower-ranked ones. They don't have souls and free will as we understand them, so there isn't general morale to consider here. It's the archangels and maybe the Seraphims and some of the other higher ranks that we need to focus on, morale-wise--and the mortals fighting with them. That's why Johnny should be a good choice for wrecking some of that morale. And there's already dissension in their ranks; nearly every archangel we've spoken to that I know of has indicated they're not happy with this, and the rest are merely going along. Maybe we turn them against him?" He shrugs. "But you /cannot/ destroy their faith or their belief. Faith and belief is what they /are/. Angels are Purpose incarnate, soldier ants more than people."

    "You're right on all of their combat capabilities, and destroying Michael sent out a shockwave of energy that raised all the dead ones. They're vulnerable to negative energy attacks and Hellfire, though the former seems more potent than the latter, and we've removed their normal protections so they're able to be taken down by normal attacks too. We need more engagements before we can get a good sense of tactics, though."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Oh, I absolutely understand that these tactics are not all applicable here," Michael replies, nodding at Zatanna. "This isn't the Empire. But some sort of symbolic reciprocity needs to be made, in my opinion - the blood need not be /literal/."

    A nod to Monet; he smirks a tad. "Top marks, Miss M. Top marks."

    He looks, then, to Jon. "Then we aim for the upper ranks. I assume that it isn't impossible, however improbable, to make an archangel doubt itself. And in the meantime, how may I be of combat utility? Shall I go out and destroy patrols? Collect prisoners? Can they be raised if they are somehow annihilated?" He taps his lips. "The churches, do they draw power from them? How can their consecration be befouled?" Guerilla warfare and straight up terrorism, folks. That's what he's thinking now.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
During the battle, every Angel Zatanna had hurt or killed had made her wince, it is not her nature to kill, not only because of the repercussions killing can have on her magical abilities. Abilities that are bone deep but inextricably tied to the balance of her soul.

"Automatons," said with a measure of relief. "I have never thought once that Michael could be swayed. Not once. But the others," with growing excitement, "/if/ they truly have doubts then would that change the balance? Right some of the problems inherent to the universe-phage that our universe is supposed to be, then we have a chance. Because I thought we knew the why of the fight, just not how to play by the rules.Shooting for the top echelon makes sense but would that increase their doubt?

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would lean in over and move to shrug, "They need to be convinced. We require an understanding of thier belief structure, hierarchy, and nature. With this sort of information a tailored campaign can be made effectively. Without direct intelligence, a haphazard series of engagements will do little more than muddy the waters. A prisoner of some sort is required for interrogation at length. If there is a way for a diviner to scry such a thing or a telepath to probe. We will get far more accurate information from one of the aggressors, particularly if there is any inherent resistance to the idea or those whom are willing to take a more aggressive stance in defiance. A targeted campaign and actions to attack morale requires knowledge of targets, psychology, and diktats. You will need someone to explain this."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I already have a spy in their ranks," Jon says. "I cannot say who. But things are not so monolithic as they appear. And I'm working on a psychological profile of Michael himself, along with the others. Michael, at least, underestimates mortals to his peril and has a strong sense of karmic balance."

    He looks to Michael. "I wouldn't know where to /store/ prisoners, and there's no guarantee they couldn't just teleport in and use them as a gateway. I don't know if they draw power from the churches; we need to figure that out. For now I'd say destroy patrols in the area, keep them from here until and unless we can parley with Michael to get this building declared off-limits. They're going after some specific targets, and I'm putting together teams to go after them, and you're top of my list for that."

    He eyes Monet then. "Ahh... okay, I'm sorry, can I ask your, umm... expertise? How you were hoping to assist?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would just swivel her eyes over at Jonathan to stare, "Why did you just mention that at.. All? I clearly don't need to know that, you just heard my name. I can appreciate the gesture, but I have no reason to have that specific information, and you have put your agent, whtever they are, in danger by so cavalierly dropping the information." If she could sigh with the force of 'I have a headache' it would be done as she would just sigh over.
    "I am Monet Yvette Clarisse Maria Therese St. Croix." Her speaking the name with the full 'I am rich and my family has a great pedigree' tone to it. "I am Perfect." Speaking as if she was making a literal statement of it. "I can fly, I have enhanced strength, invulnerability, reflexes, telepathy, enhanced senses, and I -am- among the most intelligent individuals you will ever meet." Someone clearly isn't shy about stating what she could do.
    "I am a student at Xavier's and part of the group in residence and I am willing to lend my aid since it has been requested."
    Continuing, "And prisoners can be kept secured in a variety of ways or put in stasis. If you are afraid of long term storage, simply incapacitate them, have a short term safehouse, and an appropriate interrogation group available. At the end of it they are to be left and recovered by their brethren."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna regards Jon a moment, a faint frown edging the corners of her lips at his answer. With a shrug, she moves on.

"Specific targets? Which ones?" asked in an attempt to keep current with tactical considerations.

"How would they draw power from churches? Leylines or prayers?"

Blinking mildly at Monet's list of abilities, many shared by the homo magi herself, she says, affably. "As you say, the more we know, the better. We have spoken to the leaders on both sides of this "contest," which has been in the making for eons."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Falling silent now, Michael quirks a brow as he looks between the other three, especially when Monet draws herself up to her full height and introduces herself. Ah. Pride. A faint smirk - very faint - and it vanishes again. Michael looks over to Jon and Zee. "All right. Counterpatrolling, I can do. In the meantime, I can talk to Reed Richards, if it serves you. He's offered the use of a naval-grade shield generator and fusion plant if we absolutely need a heavy physical defense of this location. I'm sure he might have ideas as to how to trap angels where they can't be bothered."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Ah," is Jon's response to Monet. "I hadn't heard anything from Xavier's; I was wondering when someone would stop by. Well, if you wish to take the information to Michael, he can busy himself tearing his forces apart trying to figure out who the dissenter is." He considers that a moment. "Might keep him distracted, actually. That would drive someone like him 'round the bend. Don't know that I want to deal with the after-effects, though." He shrugs. "The Justice League Dark is not a military organization, and this is not particularly a secret; if I wanted the secret kept, I wouldn't have mentioned it. We have several sources of information, as Zatanna noted."

    He looks to her and Michael both. "I have... sextants, not targets yet. Six general areas. We'll need more concrete intelligence. That's a /really/ good question, about churches, might be a thing to look into. And Richards' help will be appreciated. That's the one group I didn't manage to contact before this all started."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would shrug over at Michael, "For the most part our lines of communication are open. I do believe that having a more formalized structure of coordination would be of benefit to us all in these circumstances, due to the widespread nature of the threat we are facing." Gesturing at the out of uniform Shi'Ar. "I'm sure that you can come up with some sort of structure for maintaining lines of information amongst the disparate groups that are lending their aid here." Delegating!
    Giving a nod over to Zatanna and pointedly /not/ responding to Jonathan's comments on 'sharing of identity'.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well." Michael slide off the desk, now. "I need to get back to my watch. You three feel free to keep on chatting. I'm going to head out and see what I can do. Good evening, everyone."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Brought up as a modern Italian Catholic which to someone faithful would read as lapsed, Zatanna is intensely curious about how churches would be important to the angels.

"Prayer," she says aloud. "Persephone and I talked about the power of offerings once. Like a lot of people I was brought up to believe that she and the other Gods were myths and that the only prayer that mattered was directed to the Creator. I suddenly have a lot to think about."

She watches the Red Sentinel's retreating form. "Time for me to get into /my/ armor. Courage, Jon," said with a smile tinged with sadness. She does not ask the question that runs in the background of her thoughts, who will be next.