Owner	Pose
Jane Foster	THEN, 1 November 2021: Analysts in SHIELD's SIGINT department sent a report about digital records decrypted from a laptop recovered during another 0-8-4 mission in Miami. Combing through dull electronic communications about meetings and shipping reports for a week produces a breakthrough: one of SHIELD's missing treasures is in play. Several agents and a rookie get called in by Jane Foster for preparations as someone higher-up prioritizes recovery. The debriefing passed out in a flash to assembled agents gives them an overview. HYDRA appears to be working through an Argentine middleman to deliver over a possible 0-8-4 to a flagged target of interest codenamed BARISTA. The missing case is a biohazard. BARISTA's loose ties to political terrorist cells and his activity on the black market buying medical or chemical goods makes the recovery of paramount importance. The dropoff point for the package is at Hakkasan Nightclub in Las Vegas the next night. Simply sealing off the building and capturing the 0-8-4 is simply not a possibility due to a concert giving BARISTA and the courier cover. NOW, 2 November 2021: The team has an hour to prepare as the Quinjet streaks from New York to the City of Sin. One does not simply walk into Mor... the MGM Grand. Huge spotlights illuminate the hulking hotel towers and conference room anchoring glittering Vegas Strip. To further compliate things, Hakkasan hosts an insanely popular Dutch DJ in a sold-out show, and nearly 4,000 VIPs and concert-goers bounce along to the lively, laser and pyrotechnics-laden set. "We have a five minute window to roll out before security detects the landing. If we get separated, our meetup point is the Bellagio," Jane says. "To be clear, our primary priority is getting Starbucks. As far as our superiors are concerned, it's a non-negotiable. Arresting Barista is a secondary objective." The pilot maneuvers the cloaked Quinjet around to touchdown on a helipad atop the conference block, further from the main hotel.
Gothic Lolita	This is honestly the kind of thing Gothic Lolita was made for. High risk infiltration and stealth missions. Granted, this is a casino with a massive concert rather than an assassination or a lab, but the concept is the same. Be silent, be fast, and ensure that people who don't deserve to be hurt aren't. Since this is a DJ concert, GL has decided to (sort of) dress the part. And also to wear pants. Well, shorts. Vegas in november is still pretty warm. She's dressed in a cami-style maroon tank top, covered by a men's button up worn open with the sleeves rolled up. Instead of her usual poofy style skirts, she's wearing volleyball-style hot pants. The stockings are still there, but they're opaque black numbers, and her feet are encased in calf-high Doc Martens. The mecha is already in the crowd, mingling and slipping through as gently as she can, in constant radio contact with the rest of the team, regardless of who is nearby and volume. Sometimes having a computer brain is great. <<Boy, I wish we knew what this guy looked like.>>
Morrigan MacIntyre	SHIELD has a consultant that's one of the top pathologists and hematologists in the world. A good asset, huh? But Doctor MacIntyre isn't the only asset that SHIELD has. So it's another day! Morrigan's dressed in high waisted black slacks, black heels that make her stand closer to six feet and a lilac colored blouse. Her red hair is left down and her sunglasses are on. Yeah, it was one of those months. She's standing in the Quinjet listening to Jane go over things and well, Jane and others would make sure that they got out alright. She had a stoic look on her pale face, probably because she got the classified briefing on things and it was weighing on her. She doesn't give orders or anything here though. Not her circus sorta thing.
Jessica Drew	The briefing was clear: low key undercover, low risk, and no collateral damage - between Gothic Lolita, who can feed Jessica intel over coms, and the Archivist with his hidden talents, they have a good chance of intercepting the courier in route. The Field Agent's preference would have been to get the package before it reached the crowded venue, but operations nixed the idea because of security on the object. Jess camped it up for the other agents when they were getting on the Quinjet, twirling for effect before strapping in. No gun. No tactical gear. No heels. Jessica, like GL, is a walking concealed weapon dressed in a midriff-baring white silk tank over a blue skirt that comes to mid-thigh, ankle-high boots complete her agent fashion statement. Careful not to press her finger to her ear, Jess murmurs over the noise canceling com,<" What are we seeing, people?">>
Jonathan Sims	Jon's wearing the sort of thing a psychiatrist hanging out on the Strip might have on after a conference: a suit with no tie, top two buttons of the shirt undone, hair a bit rumpled, jacket hiding the gun some fool issued the rookie. He's on 'find the bad guy with telepathy' detail, which means giving himself a /giant/ headache scanning a crowd full of drunk concert-goers. Hopefully there's someone at least nearby to keep an eye on things.     <<Given the flashiness it might be easier to find "Mercutio" than "Barista." Let me know if you spot anyone who might match either description and I'll come give them a, uhh, psychic once-over?>>     <<...Also I'm remembering why I stopped going to concerts like this. Good lord. Decent music, but the show's all flash and no substance.>> Someone has Opinions. <<Mostly right now I'm seeing intoxicated people and too many bright lights.>>
Cael Becker	Cael was not the flashiest of club-goers - but she's put on a shimmering blouse under her leather jacket to at least attempt to play the part. She still has on her boots, though, and a simple pair of jeans. Her hair is kept cropped short enough that there's not much she can do with it - which honestly, is entirely the point - but there is one thing she's got that helps her blend into the crowd: she honestly seems to enjoying the music, as she nods her head along to the beat. She's near Jon, keeping him in her peripheral vision, as she continuously scans the crowd looking for anything out of place. Anyone dress out of place? Anyone with large bags, boxes, or briefcases? Anyone going against the flow of the crowd?     Tucked into place under her jacket are a pair of ICERs: the only weapons she really felt comfortable firing in a crowded venue like this. And even then - she'd rather not. The stampede it would cause would probably result in death or serious injury.
Jane Foster	Giving orders technically falls to Jane, though it's an odd position for her to be in when telling actually empowered people what to do. SHIELD loves its scientific analysts running the gauntlet. She nods to the pilot when the Quinjet lands and unsnaps herself, headed for the dropped gangplank. <Comms check, Gothic Lolita. Sending over the visuals now.> Or rather, her finicky tablet will, shooting over the clear shot of Mercutio. Unfortunately there's much less to be seen of the blond target in focus, Barista, who is basically 'wealthy dad in Vegas' with a medium set figure and propensity for button-down formal shirts. So basically half the population. <Inbound from the conference center. Descend down the stairs to the second floor and we have a straight path into the hotel. Nightclub will be on the right, and unmistakeable.> She's in a blue top and black palazzo pants, something that passes for a person regularly in front of a camera. Her only adornment is a plain gold bracelet. Moving promptly through the building is nothing new; tourists rush all the time from their rooms to the casino floor or off to a show or restaurant. The MGM has multiples of the latter, several active theatres featuring magic shows and stand-up comedy or improv, and at least four bars actively catering to the many. Getting out to the main junction where different wings converge presents the team with a sea of people of all ages, many dressed to party. Hakkasan is hard to miss with a neon sign, metal detectors guarding the entrances in a roped-off walk up to the closed doors. The noise is bad enough out there but inside, it's a full-on Miami party in the desert. Lights flash and strobe, the sparkle of bodies and glittering shirts, little skirts, and shorts filling the space. The nightclub is divided into levels, accessible by elevators and stairs. Musical equipment sweeps around the dance floor and stage currently home to the Dutch DJ. Adjacent tables throng with celebrities and wealthier guests willing to shell out for tickets. The balcony overlooking them is rife with plenty of people dancing or standing, drinks in hand, totally uncaring about their tables. It's packed. Finding a single person in a sea of folks will take some skill.
Gothic Lolita	GL has filtered her hearing to turn the music from a head rattling volume to what she likes to call NPR. She can still hear it, but it's quiet and mostly in the background now. The picture gets sent to her feed, and she begins the task of surveilence. Mostly, she slips through the crowd, using her small size to her advantage. She skirts close to the VIP area, letting her visual field take it all in, then search the images in post for the target. It's the most likely place for him to be, right? Apparently not. She swivels her gaze, looking upwards, zooming in on every face she can see and ... Bingo! <<Target sighted. Second floor, near the Ling Ling Lounge by the video wall.>> Also, people should pray that no one gropes her in this sea of people, or this might go south very, very fast.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan's listening over the comms as she stands off in the shadows, being able to be invisible with little effort had its benefits. When the comms chatter comes up that they have located the target her violet gaze shifts that way as she debates what the best course of action might be. She was here for making sure nothing got released and if it did...to triage the situation.
Jane Foster	Luckily for GL, no one wants to grope her. She gets brushed up against by people headed to get drinks or flop on a coveted black faux-leather chair, taking a break from dancing. The place is filled to the rafters, which makes the unexpected release of a biotoxin that much more dangerous. Mercutio is busy loitering at the bar, a glass of something transparent in hand. His black silk pants and sinfully cut trousers are on point for the crowd, and he looks cool rather than bothered. Aside from the glass, he is not carrying anything. Per SHIELD's own decryptions, someone ought to have a briefcase.
Jessica Drew	They have the skill, know-how, magic, and science right along with them, as well as a rookie agent. Laughter in her voice, Jess comms, <"Ah, Sims, can the travel monologue."> They blend into the crowd, nothing remarkable to club security monitoring the guests on camera. It's a harsh environment for enhanced senses. The bass is close to painful for her; Jess uses an insulating earplug for protection. < Bingo GL. Target acquired. Do we have confirmation on that?> she murmurs as she triangles the potential target from Gl's position to the Ling Ling Bar. Drew snorts at the name then starts up the crowded stairs where people station themselves to see the party better, sliding between couples as quickly as possible without drawing attention to herself.
Jonathan Sims	Jon had /completely/ forgotten that everything he says is being broadcast to the others on the team, and he has a bad habit of talking to himself. So he blinks at Jessica's reprimand, and replies, <<Right. Canned.>> Good thing he's a practiced actor, to hide any embarassment. Rookie mistakes.     And he /is/ trying to hide his nervousness about the op by playing a part. He grins giddily at a couple of people nearby and flashes a thumbs-up, playing the 'half-drunk professional' for all he's worth. Once he's inside, he makes his way through the crowd and blinks a /lot/ at the lights and noise, but Gothic Lolita's target-spotting sends him upstairs. He'll get a better view up there anyway.     He winds up at the far end of the bar, leans on it heavily, as if he's considering just what to order, and through the grin reports, <<Can confirm. Mercutio spotted, four meters to my left. Black silk shirt, pants that--my apologies, Agent Drew, but there's really no other way to put this. They're so tight they should probably be illegal.>> Well, hey, if Mercutio notices him noticing, at least he can play it off as genuine interest, right?     <<He's impatient, it stands out a little, but not overly so. No briefcase. Is intel wrong?>> He'll stay where he is, several seats down the bar from the target. He's not stupid enough to engage on his own.
Cael Becker	Cael had entered the venue after Jon - pulling aside one of the security guards with a flirty, drunken sort of hand over his shoulder, as she as she flashes him her FBI badge, hoping to keep the exchange out of notice of any back-up their targets may have brought with them. Her act is backed up by the spritz of alchol she'd applied to her blouse - as if she (or someone else) had spilled a little on her. The end result was the Agent being allowed through with both of her weapons still safely tucked beneath her jacket.     As Jonathan heads towards the bar, Cael remains where she is for a short time, then starts meandering through the crowd, as if searching for a vantage point to better watch the show. She'll take up a position where she can try to keep Mercutio and Jonathan in the corner of her vision, while her gaze is largely turned towards the performance.
Jane Foster	The dance floor continues to shimmy and groove as more eager people come to join the fun. Glittery confetti falls from the ceiling as the DJ bobs his head, kicking up the electric beat. Mercutio looks totally disinterested in the display, thoroughly engrossed in his drink, attractive people, and the opulent lounge. He smirks at Jon. He doesn't quite seem to notice that others are strategically closing in on his location, bringing the glass to his mouth periodically. The alcohol level never changes. Cael's able to bypass security with a nonplussed look from the bouncer, a professional who nods at her solemnly. "Boss is in the pavilion, ma'am." He has manners for her flirtations, and that brings her deeper into the foray. Maybe it's chance that in a stumble she catches sight of an unusual thing, a man in a chic navy shirt and jacket circling to the stairs that lead to the upper floor balcony. Even weirder, a small bracelet links from his wrist down, and a similar band winds around the handle of the briefcase he shields at his side. Jane takes an indirect path away from the dance floor, spreading out to cover where the others headed for the lounge are not. That takes her longer to reach the far side of the floor where pretty, buzzed people grind and grope. <Headed for the south corner and completing a sweep. Keep Mercutio in sight, he's the one responsible for the Squid Game's side of the deal. Where he goes, follow.> A minute or two later, Mercutio slides away, and heads casually past the bar for the stairs up.
Cael Becker	Glancing around the room - a huge smile plastered onto her features as if she's simply enjoying the glitter drop and, hell, might even be //on something// to make it extra fun for her - Cael's keen eye for details catches something out of place - the chain connecting one man's wrist to his briefcase. Bingo. <<"Man in navy shirt and jacket, tanned complexion, blond hair - taking the stairs to the upper balcony. He has the packaged handcuffed to his wrist,">> she murmurs. And then, spotting someone near her giving her an odd look for seemingly talking to herself in the middle of the club, she offers the man that same goofy smile.     "You see it, right?" she asks him, gesturing with her hand towards the glitter that continues to fall. "The way the colors swiiiiiirl? It's so cool!"
Jessica Drew	Jessica gets up the stairs just behind the courier. <"We have the object in view. Distraction starting now."> A waitress with a heavily loaded tray of drinks is working her way towards one of the VIP tables. After a quick calculation of trajectories, Jess sways into a woman teetering in heels next to her escort, both of whom have had a few too many drinks. High heel girl stumbles into the waitress, upending the full tray onto the VIP table. Cries erupt of surprised indignation and anger as guests rise from their seats from under the ice-cold bath of alcohol. The waitress grabs onto the back of a chair. While the boyfriend turns on Jessica, saying, "Heeeey watch out." She promptly sucker punches him in the jaw, drawing in bystanders trying to intervene. <"Looks like we're good here!"> she announces, ducking a punch.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan's using magic to make herself not be seen, which helps, but she needs to move to see the rest of what is going on now that the rest of them have started to wind their way through the club and the crowd. She is careful not to stand in one spot for too long so that no one feels that weird chill of someone staring at them. She looks up to the second floor and there is a frown...but her attention shifts when the cries ring out, "Oh well...there it is." the Irish woman states with a laugh to herself.
Gothic Lolita	GL gets Cael's message. She frowns slightly, swiveling her gaze up that way. Being a SUPER RO--MECHA, it doesn't take much for her to find the guy. She frowns slightly as she starts to slip through the crowd again, heading for the stairs. For a moment, she wishes she had her sister's ability set. Social Butterfly would be up there already and have that guy's brain melted in a puddle of pheromones, but who knows where she's at? Not GoLo. Jessica does what Jessica does best, and the mecha hides a smile as she begins pursuit in earnest. She takes the stairs two at a time, ducking low and darting through the throngs of people. If she wanted to, she could just jump and cut him off. Instead, she just pushes around folks until she's about halfway up the stairs to the upper balcony as the man is hitting the top step. She's fast and tiny and very hard to redirect once she's on a path. Some people might have some bruised shins now. On final approach, she takes the steps two at a time. <<Engaging.>> GoLo surges at the man, lashing out faster than the eye can see unaided. She grabs the chain in both hands and pulls to break it. If that's successful, she grabs the briefcase and gives a quick yank, trying to use surprise to take it. If he is somehow strong enough to resist her, she'll just give him a Cap level pop in the nose.
Jonathan Sims	<<Mercutio's on the move,>> Jon says, and per Jane's order pushes away from the bar and moves for the stairs, following the target. He keeps his eyes on Mercutio, but flicks his gaze around at the others in the area so he's not /too/ obviously staring. He's keeping a psychic watch on the man, at least.     <<Want me to hold him up, or just follow?>>
Jane Foster	The distraction makes for an effective, head-snapping turn in the lounge. With a fight breaking out, the participants have to deal with a lack of room to move around. One of the bartenders shouts at the instigators to stop, coming out from behind the long, glossy counter. Security in the nightclub is tight, scattered throughout, and a plain-clothed gentleman wades in to try and break things up, using elbows and telling someone to sit down as he gets closer. Mercutio, for his part, isn't getting caught up in the hubbub if he can push his way to the stairs. A few other partiers turn right around and he moves to join them, though he's greatly slowed in the process. Jonathan can probably taste the alarm and anxiety rolling off him. <Follow. We still don't have Barista, but get a visual for us and we can broadcast to Las Vegas police and SHIELD assets to follow up,> Jane advises over the comms. Her corner sweep turns up nothing of value, so she smirks at one of the lolling, semi-drunk partiers. "Guess there are no free seats. Too bad, the view is great." With that excuse fast on her lips, she retreats along the margins of the dance floor. Getting through or approaching the DJ booth is next to impossible, but it closes the net from another side that GoLo and Mo already have under control. Mo is in position to spot the balcony being largely happier, but someone in a white shirt has that shirt turn blue when a laser strobes across it. In a sea of black, that stands out. Barista? The man with the briefcase is just about reaching the fourth floor when a small woman leaps out to grab him. Or more suspiciously, his briefcase. The metal locked around his wrist is strong, too strong, and the same is true for the handle keeping the metallic case shut. She's going to sooner break his wrist than tear the reinforced chain apart, though the case is weirdly light. Punching him in the face sends blood running down his nose and knocking him back. The man snarls in pain and slams back into a table. "The bitch punched me! Security!"
Gothic Lolita	The chain doesn't break. The chain. Doesn't break. Gothic Lolita is now Cranky. She looks up at the taller man who now has a bloody nose. She draws a needless breath and her eyes shift from perfectly human looking dark eyes to complete black orbs with an orange symbol in the center. <<Disengaging all limiters.>> Welp. This is no longer as covert as it could be. She grabs the man by the arm, her grip viselike. "Hold still, this will hurt less. ... Not that I care," she says. Using the chaos and the noise to her advantage, she grabs at the locking mechanism of the cuff and squeezes. She doesn't go all the way to 50 tons of pressure to start. Just about fifteen. Should be enough.
Cael Becker	With all the action happening above, Cael waits about a 15 count, nudging the guy beside her playfully, before she starts to move towards the stairs with clumsy steps. She keeps one hand on the railing, practically pulling herself up the stairs - and bumping into the guy in front of her when all the commotion ahead causes everything to come to a sudden stop. "Oh, com'on, what the hell!" she calls in feigned annoyance - pushing up past the person in front of her, and ignoring the annoyed response this ellicits.
Jane Foster	Something goes very, very wrong when Gothic Lolita squeezes. It absolutely does, because the metal under her grip cracks. With it goes bone. The pain alone should leave the man screaming in agony or going right into shock. Instead, the bone ripples and flexes like it's made of something else, palpated under her unyielding grip. Broken, twisted bits of metal rub together, gripped in his fist -- the briefcase man can still form one. The other hand is closed into a fist too, and he punches Gothic Lolita straight in the face until--
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan's like a small Irish stealth bomber. She hovers until she sees the 'Barista' and then swoops in to make the move. People disappearing in big crowds happens all the time, right? Right! There is probably a rush of cold air that Mister Barista feels before that nausea settles in and well, there's certainly not a club around him anymore. Nor is there the scent of alcohol, smoke and other things. Definitely not any deadly virus'. His feet touch concrete and probably very drab decor meets him as the SHIELD holding cell is what replaces his surroundings. "Well, this is far more quiet." Morrigan states.
Gothic Lolita	So her aim was off a bit. The crunching sounded weird and felt odd in her hand. Especially the lack of screaming in agony, though that could just be shock. She looks up, and takes one right to the face. It doesn't feel ''good'', but given her superdense construction and nanobot bullshit, it's probably far less effective than the guy hoped. Especially when she smiles sweetly at him, looking to all the world like an early twentysomething goth kid with wacky contacts. "My turn, mister deliveryman!" She sing songs, drawing an arm back. With the wrist still in her grip, she swings with ''everything'' she has. A straight punch to the man's ribcage area. if he even has one. Fifty tons of raw force in such a tiny fist. This won't feel good.
Jessica Drew	In the time it takes to answer Sims, "Eyes on him!" a bodyguard built like a linebacker socks Jess in the jaw, knocking her backward. She pops up like a daruma doll, green light around one hand, barely visible in the ongoing show, and presses it to his chest. Venom blast taser. He drops and stays dropped. Another guard wades in, who she distractedly kicks, head swiveling, trying to follow where GL and Sims are. <"The object? The object? Give it to Agent Morrigan!">
Jonathan Sims	Jon is following Mercutio. <<Eyes on Mercutio. He's spooked, I think he's running.>> Well, not 'running' but moving out, and Jon follows using the excuse of getting away from the fight to press into the group Mercutio's part of, putting on an expression of worry that he doesn't have to work too hard to feign.     <<The other one, I don't think he's human. His thoughts make no sense, more angry than in pain. Things went blurry and settled in.>>     Another pause, and then he lunges at Mercutio.     "Jack!" he shouts. "Jack, it's me, Tim, don't you remember? C'moooon, you remember!" He reaches out to grab the man's wrist, smiling at him for all he's worth, practically oozing 'drunk creeper.'
Jane Foster	Barista is hardly an impressive man. He looks exactly like the type of BMW driver who never uses a turn signal and enjoys games of cheating his stroke count at golf. Morrigan snatching him out of the blue brings out a curse, but his stomach promptly rebels and voids the contents of a high-end steakhouse dinner he enjoyed before his surreptitious meet up. Now it's a meat-up that smells horrible. --- One invisible consultant does not make a clear note until a chime rings in Jane's comms link a few minutes later. In the meantime, she trails after the staircase to the balcony. Cael is ahead of her by a good stretch, and Jessica locked up in the fight that involves a good amount of punching, slapping, and someone throwing their purse at her. Maybe the linebacker's partner was unimpressed she dropped their beloved. Security is coming into the lounge, one or two on the balcony level moving to try and engage the young woman and the man covered in blood. Most of it is red. Why this is in question? After Gothic Lolita threw a punch, his mortal form falls apart and there is, instead, a seven foot tall red monster with two regular arms, two prehensile tentacle-like arms, and a snappy maw-like beak with teeth. Because why not have both. Hello alien problems. The fight in the stairs packs things in, and Mercutio cannot advance without being caught up in the fracas with the briefcase-man or Gothic Lolita. He takes the wisest course of action and throws his drink, glass and all, in the red alien monster and Gothic Lolita's direction.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan ports back to CHAOS of sorts! "Well...that's definitely going to put a damper on the situation." the sorceror states with a frown. She reaches up to take her sunglasses off and she slips them into her pocket. Didn't want them to get broken. She looks to see where targets are, <<One package is secure. We have two more I believe. Which can I take on a field trip next?>> she asks over the comms as she tries to see if Mercutio or Robo-Delivery Boy is needing hauled off next... <<Holy shit what is /that/!>> Morrigan states as she spies the new look for Briefcase ma...lien? "Oh that's going to suck." she shakes her head as she makes her way through the sea of bodies. That are hopefully moving!
Jessica Drew	Can it get worse? Jessica answers that question by leaping to the edge of the stairway where the monster has unveiled himself. Balanced precariously, arm extended, she venom blasts the thing with no regard to whether it lives or not. "Down," she commands, if only she had the magic to knock him out. <Agent Morrigan, can you take it, him out of here?>
Cael Becker	It's suddenly easier to move in towards the fight, as people suddenly find reasons to be //somewhere else//. Great! Of course, that means that there's a quickly opening space around the monster that will make her approach all the more obvious.     So ham is up. "//Finally!//" Cael exclaims. "Some room to breathe!" She turns full-circle with arms out-stretched, then seems to slip - grabbing for something to help her balance... her hand lands on the handle of the briefcase, even while her other hand pulls out her ICER and fires it into the creature, even as Jessica is adding her own venom to the mix. Will the dendrotoxin work on this thing? She has no idea.     She stumbles away into the crowd - the package in hand and the ICER slipped back out of view under her jacket.     <<"I have the package. Repeat, have the package. Wouldn't object to an expedited exit,>> she states into the comms.
Jonathan Sims	Jon has seen some /weird/ things lately, so he gasps and then laughs. "Costumes in Vegas, am I right?" He stumbles a bit, grabbing at Mercutio's arm where he just threw his drink and holding on tight, trying to pin him against the crowd or maybe a table or the rail. "Dunno what that's got to do with the music, but /wow/ what a show, huh, Jack?" He's acting for all the world as if he knows the guy, and hoping that he won't /also/ turn out to be a weird red-skinned alien.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan kicks her shoes off and picks them up really quick, <<I can give Mister Alien a one way trip to SHIELD facilities, yes, Agent Drew!>> she states across the comms. Cael's got the briefcase, so she makes her move. The redhead dashes /towards/ the tentacle armed alien from behind. There's a hop and she propels herself onto it's back, wrapping her arms over it's shoulders, "Hi! We're going for a trip! Please keep all your tentacles to yourself during the flight today!" the Irish woman states as she draws on the mystical teleportation powers and delivers another gift to SHIELD holding cells. This is why Master Sorcerors don't get out much. They are WEIRD! And then she's gooooone!
Jessica Drew	Jessica jumps down from her perch, calling over coms, <I'm running security on the package in case they try to tag Cael.> Super senses on alert she catches up to the other agent.. <Agent Becker, I'm on your six.>
Jane Foster	Venom blasts hitting the red alien earn a loud screech out of it, a convulsion of pain redoubled by having one very strong, angry android-rave-party beating the crap out of him. What briefcase man achieves is slapping three limbs into Gothic Lolita repeatedly, pushing at her in an imbalanced but atrociously messy attack that will no doubt be questioned as real by a lot of very high happy people. But it's the real deal. SWORD just got a job. One that ends up hurtled into a holding cell by Morrigan, who might really question life choices when she ends up with caustic blood on her clothes. Look, not all the things that came off Mars are nice and green. Cael's snap of the briefcase leaves the light metal case in her arms, and the faster to get out of town. The contents cannot be that heavy. Inside, thick foam gives some substance but nothing rattles around at all. <Patching in the Quinjet. Keep that away from the Strip. Head for the fire exit. We'll pick-up on the helipad, priority for exfil.> Directions from Jane, who very much pored over blueprints, gives at least a fast way for their ally to get out. She, unlike the others, gets to run. The chaos is slowly bleeding into the dance party, fed by scary stories from panicking dancers. Mercutio is not about crazy men holding onto him, not about hugs on stairwells that get handsy. Swearing in Spanish, which makes it sound infinitely better, he tries to shove Jon away. Which makes it easier for one spider or security guard pointed in fierce order to come along beside them both. "Sir, come with me" has never sounded so right, especially when it's backed up with the teeth of an angry Vegas casino-resort. Who wants to mess with the House?