Owner	Pose
Marc Spector	The Call of Khonshu goes out rather strongly from the chambers of the Midnight Mission this evening. A single word to those who have been in the Fist of Khonshu's presence (or perhaps are simply more attuned to the call of the gods): "Come." There isn't urgency or force in the request, but it is still there for those who can "hear" it.     The inner sanctum of the Mission is lit well and the smell of multiple incense and oils fills the air blending into something soothing and peaceful. As if to heighten the experience, there is a low level ambience of a brook filtering through the speakers of the place. That combined with silent gaze of the visages of Thoth, Bast, and Khonshu himself looming over the main chamber in stone reverence leads to a sense of comfort and safety for those within.     Moon Knight stands silently before the statue of his own patron, clad in his armor, his arms resting calmly at his sides. He seems to glow with silver light himself, the metallic thread of his armor sending back the soft light in sparkling intensity that shimmers with every small motion of his form. He is waiting for those who will answer this call, affiliated with the Mission or otherwise.
Tara Tsabedze	The call was a quiet whisper in Tara's ear that she responded to by taking a quick step through the shadows to emerge outside the Midnight Mansion. It was a new sensation, a call that wasn't an emergency or urgent like it had been before, but at least this time she didn't have to walk. Wearing her white dashiki with gold and silver embroidery and matching boubou pants beneath a black trench cloak, she enters the mansion and slides the hood back off her head. The Moon Knight is offered a nod of greeting before she takes a moment to look up at the statue of Bast. One of many possible appearances, but she still liked it. "You called?" She asks quietly while her feline eyes looks over the statue.
Jonathan Sims	Jonathan Sims is in Manhattan when the Call comes, trying to track down a killer. And Moon Knight knows this, so he figures it must be important, whatever's going on. He's wearing a suit beneath a heavy jacket, which he pulls off as he steps into the Mission, warm and inviting against the chill of late autumn New York. His staff's in baton form at his side, an ICER in a shoulder holster; the Archivist has taken to being armed wherever he goes.     He peers at Moon Knight for a moment as he comes in on Tara's heels, and says, "Is this a general call? It had better be important." He sighs, and moderates his tone. "Sorry. I'm certain it must be. How are you this evening?" It's meant for whoever else is there.
Zatanna Zatara	It's a rare occasion, often fleeting, when Zatanna glimpses the Goddess. Persephone, garbed in a purple and black chiton, walked between two trees outside her home in Gotham and disappeared. The Moon Knight's call reached her at the exact moment. It was a gentle call but insistent as the Moon's pull on the tides. The magician portals to the temple with nothing holding her back, arriving to one side of the spacious room. After bowing quietly to the silver-clad knight, Tara and Jon, she brushes back the wings of her raven hair and smiles. If he is radiant as the moon, the homo magi wears the colors of the night, all black, with a glimmer of white showing under her jacket at collar and cuff. "You've called, and Persephone suggested I answer."
Phoebe Beacon	When Phoebe arrives, it's in her Investigator gear, hoisting her leather backpack over her gray coat, wearing those high boots on hers and looking horribly professional. And also somewhat sooty, like she was burning something. Her hair is pulled back in a pair of Dutch braids to keep it close to her head. She was going to patrol once this was done -- she sets a heavier duffle to the side.     "Jon. Tara. Mr. Knight." she greets the rest, though there's a warmness to her voice when she gives a nod to Zatanna, "Zee!" she smiles, wiping off more soot from her cheeks. Luckily for Phoebe it doesn't show so badly. Unluckily for who walks in with her, though..
Morrigan MacIntyre	One moment Morrigan's not there and the next she is. That's how things went these days with the Sorceror. The redhead with the stark white streak in her hair gives a look around to the others that seem to be gathering, a nod given in greeting. She then shuffles herself off to a spot where she is not in the way and taking a seat to watch those that are present as she is not really a talker.
Jane Foster	One moment, Jane Foster reviews a scientific journal indicating localized subspatial warping due to a bubble. Her amusement for how they achieved the exotic matter ring plays out in several notes being made into a notebook set aside for just that purpose. The next, a splitting headache insists on her immediate attention. Precisely where that chiming path leads sets her on a course few will ever see, the abandonment of the Hayden Planetarium in the American Natural History Museum fashioning another spatial warp-bubble larger than the scientists at DARPA managed, by a scale of several million atoms. Shadows bolt and colour bleeds. In a breath, she ends up around the corner from the Midnight Mission, left facing it with a peculiar expression hidden by her helm. Angel feathers vanish, the divine banished in favour of her tenuous mortality. One good shake and she's en route, staring up at the mission's threshold. "Hello?" Thrilling excitement, exactly. Nothing marks her as 'totally not normal astrophysicist.' This helps. It also helps she knows at least Morrigan, Jon, and Zatanna if it comes down to it. If and /when/ she appears, anyway. Lovely. Who to blame this on? Old One-Eyed. Great. Cue curled fingers and that indomitable faint smile in the face of reality making its argument.
Tim Drake	It's Tim. Tim walks in with Phoebe. And Tim looks like he's an extra from that scene in Mary Poppins. Y'all know the one. Full chimney sweep chic.     He looks none the worse for it, though, hands tucked into the pockets of his (ruined) hoodie. There's a smudge on his cheek and above one eye and a little bit of soot on the tip of his nose, too. Moon Knight gets a little chin lift of acknowledgment, but Tim cracks a little half-smile at Zatanna, and then Jon. The less-familiar faces get a quick glance, sorted away for later. "I assure you we set absolutely nothing on fire," he says, and the promise somehow sounds genuine despite how he's literally covered in evidence to the contrary.
Marc Spector	"I did... or well, He did" Moon Knight replies to Tara gesturing to the statue behind him. He nods as the rest of those file in after Tara. Jon, Zatanna, Phoebe, Morrigan, and Tim all get the same from him in terms of notice. Jane's arrival causes him to tilt his head. He can *feel* something about her something that tingles on the edge of his perception, she wasn't one who had been here before but... she answered the Call. To be honest, that is all that truly mattered.     "I felt it was time that we meet one another on a more... official level. Most of us have worked together on a few matters yet I do not think all of us have had the opportunity to meet together under less hostile circumstances." He glances again at Jane. "And I know at least one of us who I have not met."     He steps forward, the armor moving more like cloth than the adamantium-kevlar composite it is made from. "Please, welcome" he says addressing the astrophysicist. "I am Moon Knight, the Fist of Khonshu" he bows to the woman. "This is my temple to him and his ilk: The Midnight Mission. If you are here, is it because you are meant to be here and that is enough for me. We," he gestures to those around him, "are the Heliopolitans. May I ask your name?"     The man beneath the mask recognized the woman, after all one of the many faces within him (a wealthy bachelor named Steven Grant) was rather fascinated with her work. But Moon Knight was all of them and none and as such needed to hold the air of ignorance for the moment. "In fact, I think it would be good for all of us to introduce ourselves so that we are aware of our brothers and sisters in arms."
Tara Tsabedze	Tara turns to face those who have arrived, only two in the room does she know but it didn't matter. If they were here, they had purpose and reason and that is all that mattered to her. It was impossible for those in the room to not recognize immediately whom she represented, her feline appearance was unmistakable. Even as she stood by the statue of Bast, she looked almost exactly like it. "I am K'Tara Tsabedze, Kivuli of Bastet," she offers, her voice touched by an east African accent. "In your language, I would be called Avatar of Bast. I am honored to meet you all."
Zatanna Zatara	Zee lifts an eyebrow, a half-smile, and a question in the look she sends to Phoebe and Tim. She motions to the place beside her before turning her attention back to the Moon Knight. Her blue eyes sweep the others assembled in the tranquil room and come to rest on Jane, who she met not long ago concerning a rare object turned over to her from Barbara Gordon. After another sweep of the room, she pitches her resonant alto to carry, "Good evening, everyone. Most of us knows one another," she nods and smiles to several people, "already so I will be brief. I'm Zatanna Zatara and honored to be the speaker of Persephone."
Jonathan Sims	Jon turns to peer at Phoebe and Tim, raising a brow. Looks between the two and then says, "You know what? I actually believe you." He smiles at them; he may not have been recruited to mentor Tim and Phoebe so much as their costumed counterparts, but he's still fond of them both.     He blinks at Jane for a moment. "...Dr. Foster?" A thousand questions go through his mind, not least--what connection does she have to bring her here? He has to shade his eyes to look at her, as usual, not that anyone /else/ sees her quite the way he does, glowing brighter than even Moon Knight, /present/ in a way nobody else in the room quite is. Yes, a thousand questions, and only /one/ of them is 'so this is awkward since we sort of work together but can I have your autograph?'     He turns away, as much to not be blinded by Jane as anything else, and then says, "Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, though I think everyone... knew that. I'm going to grab some chairs and... ahh... anyone have food allergies?" He glances to Tim. "I'll make sure to grab something vegetarian."     Whatever is said in response, he'll note it and then disappear down into the basement, briefly.
Phoebe Beacon	"Look, next time I try to translate cuniform on the fly, just remind me Ayet before Neft-- Phoebe begins to Tim, and she pauses and looks around. She opens her mouth, and then closes it "Dr. MacIntyre." she greets Morrigan, and looks up shyly to Jane, and rubs the back of her neck. SUre. Not burning anything "A pleasure to meet your aquaintence in person, Dr. Foster. You were definitely on my list of STEM women to meet. Ah... Phoebe. Paranormal Investigator." she introduces herself awkwardly. She doesn't add any last names or epithets, but does check her left wrist and scratch at her sternum.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan's violet gaze looks up when she sees Jane and there's a smile, "Jane." she dips her head to her fellow SHIELD affiliate respectfully. Then she gives a look around, she knew most of the people here, but introductions still helped with those she didn't know well. "I'm Doctor Morrigan MacIntyre. It's nice to meet all of you." she nods to that and then lapses back into silence.
Jane Foster	Potentially being an interloper to an important meeting isn't lost on the brunette astrophysicist. Jane confirms her presence, that bit of a smile forming the shadow of a dimple and her warm brown eyes moving from person to person. A willingness to retreat and call it all a happy accident remains tangible, though a weakening gravitational tug, upon meeting Zatanna's clear gaze. Taking a deep breath, she says, "Jane Foster." A pause there, and she gives that lift of her shoulder. "The stars sent me." Deadpan delivery doesn't change the slight bit of humour around a plain fact. "Unfortunately they can unreliable in their direction relative to me, so I have no problem turning right back around if you prefer." Persephone almost makes her choke; almost. The stifled response smooths out fast -- terrifically quick to any mental or psychically-inclined person -- and she flicks her finger against her brow to remove a wisp of chestnut hair falling in the way. "It's a joy to see familiar faces and some not so known to me. I'm acquainted with Morrigan and the..." A brief pause, "Archivist, as you can see. K'Tara, Phoebe. Phoebe's friend." She probably can recognize one of Gotham's elite, but there's politeness at play. Her pronunciations are spot on.
Tim Drake	Tim clucks his tongue. "Of course, novice mistake. Everyone knows it's Ayet before Neft except after Shesh," he tells Phoebe, perfectly straight-faced. Until he elbows her lightly in the side and turns away to hide his grin.     Then he raises a hand up. Somehow he's managed to keep those free of soot. "I'm Tim," he says. Annnnnnd that's it.     His attention hones in on Dr. Foster, though he does shoot a perplexed look towards Moon Knight at the lack of recognition. "That's Dr. Jane Foster! She received the Albert Einstein medal for her advancement of science by the World Cultural Council! She was in the running for the Nobel Prize in Physics last year!" It's with some effort that Tim, resident nerd, tamps down his overeager enthusiasm, though he's standing there stiffly after.     Awkward.     "I have 'The Wonders of the Universe' sitting on my nightstand at home right now," he adds, though much more quietly. Mostly to himself.
Marc Spector	Moon Knight shakes his head at Jane. "Your presence is welcome. If the stars sent you then you are meant to be here" he says. He looks at Tim, the featureless mask hiding any sign of humor, or recognition, or any emotion to the young man's outburst. He lingers on the young man for a instant longer than is probably comfortable and then returns his gaze to the others.     "Good. Once again, I thank you all for coming. With that out of the way..." He pauses and looks around, realizing that Jon hasn't returned from his foray into the realm of being a proper host.     He shifts gears with relative ease. "I am not sure how much of what is happening byond the walls is known to you. But we have a small--read large--vampire problem in the area. The creatures in question are known as the Brood of Uraea... they are an offshoot born from a schism within the Irappu Clan. They are dangerous and have started expanding beyond the borders of Queens. I encountered an attempt to attack a woman at the border of Hell's Kitchen."     He pauses and sighs slightly. "I hope this is an isolated incident and not a measure of their growing strength." He waits and allows those gathered to process the information he has given so far. It also allows Jon a chance to come back. His information is just as crucial to the situation at hand.
Tara Tsabedze	With her tail flicking behind her, Tara moves away from the statue with a slow, sauntering walk as she listens to the Moon Knight speaking. The mask always annoyed her, masks in general ticked her off. When you are born in a manner in which you cannot conceal yourself, no matter what, the idea of masks were just plain insulting to her. She has nothing to add to the current conversation, new information obtained from it however. Numerous kinds of vampires out there, some good, some bad, but to hear they were actively hunting in New York bothered her.
Jonathan Sims	Jon comes back in time to hear Jane declare 'the stars sent her' and blinks at her for a moment. Considers it, then nods. That actually makes sense. He smirks at Tim geeking out about Jane a little, while he sets out enough chairs for everyone to sit in--including, yes, Jane--and then disappears again.     He comes back with floating trays carrying wine and goblets for the adults, cider and mugs for the younger people--and anyone who doesn't like wine--and some hummus, chips, and vegetables he found in the ready room fridge. Also, there are plates and utensils and things. Sorry, Moon Knight, your post-patrol snacks are being repurposed for the whole of the group now. He sets it all out beneath the statues, so people can relax a bit and have a drink if they like.     He's going to have to have a long talk with Marc about all of this. Granted, he's used to professional meetings where he's often roped into the role of seeing to refreshments either by potluck or by perfect recall making organization easy but /really/.     Once it's all done he peers at Moon Knight. "...The Uraeans /are/ connected to the Irappu? We'll have to inform Lydia. The Irappu are evidently the clan that attacked her and are enemies of her own. That... is /not/ good news. They're powerful, and dangerous."
Zatanna Zatara	Jane's moment of surprise flashes brightly light to the homo magi. Blue-eyed gaze fixed on Jane, she barely lifts a shoulder, head tilted to one side in apology for not telling her before, but name dropping the Goddess of the Underworld, even to someone of her stature, wouldn't do. Her attention returns to their host as he welcomes the scientist who is so much more. The news of the vampire incursion is not new to her. Mouth tightened into a flat line, Zee nods to herself, then asks, "Did the woman survive?" Lydia's connection to the group produces a small sigh. Hummus calls, the hungry magician eases herself over to the snacks and makes herself a small plate of hummus, chips, and vegetables. Then, she raises a glass of wine to Jon for bringing the canapes out.
Phoebe Beacon	Pheobe's ears darken a moment, realizing she had missed a cue from Zatanna, and she sheepishly motions her head to Tim to start walking.     And as she goes, she brings her hands up, letting the dark-haired young man pass in front of her as she raises her hands, and there is a quiet murmur of a spell, borrowed from one that cleans and dries socks, even when it's raining. And Tim's face and sweatshirt are now free of soot, partially because if they're sitting next to Zatanna, they're going to look nicer if they're clean as she goes to take a seat and grab some hummus and veggies for herself.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan looks around and might feel a little guilty for already being sitting, but she had been standing most of the day and well...she wasn't really sure of the etiquette here. She gives a nod to Jane when she speaks of her, but doesn't say how they know each other. She crosses one knee over the other and then lets her hands rest in her lap. She's listening to the talk of vampires with a neutral look on her porcelain features. Just taking everything in.
Jane Foster	Tim's outburst is not potentially too surprising to Jane. She bites into her lower lip as a precaution against replying immediately. "Just me, Tim." The promise of future conversation lies in the spaces between the words, wide enough to drive a truck through. Supposing someone else might be in need of idle hands, she looks around for Jon somewhere. Supposing he has a box too big to carry by himself, or a tray. She could help but, no, they're floating. Drat. "Related at all to Wadjet, or is that merely an obvious parallel?" she asides in a low voice to anyone but Moon Knight, probably the keen smart young people fully appraised of matters. From there, she shifts into much more of a student mode than teacher, eager to wick up whatever can be learned. After securing some delicious looking hummus. Chickpeas are happiness, and life. Thanks will be murmured earnestly in passing. The exact physics of how this all works, best not to dwell on. "All right if I sit by you?" she asks Morrigan quietly.
Tim Drake	It's only after several seconds of returning the intense stare Moon Knight aims at him with a nonchalant look of his own that Tim supposes he should probably pretend that he's actually bothered by it. Right. No, he definitely doesn't associate with any caped crusaders who have a propensity for grim looming or dark stares. Nnnnnope. So he looks away and clears his throat as he shuffles over at Phoebe's prompting to stand next to Zatanna.     And when she goes for snacks and refreshments, so too does Tim. It's only when he reaches to dish himself out some hummus onto a little plate that he realizes there's no more soot staining his hoodie, and he peers over his shoulder at Pheebs with a sheepish smile and a mouthed "Thanks."     He shoots a brief hopeful look Jane's way, certainly intending to follow up on the unspoken offer of future science discussion, and as she approaches Morrigan, he looks towards the Headmistress of Happy Harbor.     And while he and Damian might not have always had a decent relationship, he still did the standard protective big brother investigation, so he knows enough of her background to suspect that his own analyses of the samples might not need to be discussed, so for the time being he's content to sit back, drink his cider, cronch through some vegetables with Jon's delicious hummus, and let Phoebe take the lead.
Marc Spector	Moon Knight nods to Zatanna. "She did. Ms. Jones is much more capable than her appearance would suggest." He looks to Jon. "I had planned on it when I next saw her... I only just found out this information, otherwise I would've told her sooner. If you see her before I do... please inform her."     His attention turns to Jane and it's clear that his eyebrows rise. "The very one..." he says with a nod to the astrophysicist. "They view Her as their progenitor. The first of their line. Not exactly a far jump given the mutation of snake-like features they have started developing."     He pauses and nods to Jon. "In any case, we also rescued a child from their grasp with the last raid we did. It has come to my attention that there is more to the girl than first appeared..." He steps aside. "I will allow The Archivist to explain further."
Tara Tsabedze	Once Tara saunters around the room once, she finds one of the chairs and settles into it, making sure to sit sideways to allow her tail space to keep flicking. It has a mind of it's own and it hates being trapped in chairs. For a choice of drink she accepts wine, holding it in her hand as she listens to the conversation. Most of it is going over her head, but she listens all the same.
Jonathan Sims	Jon grabs a glass of wine himself, and settles under the statue of Thoth. "The Uraeans view /Wadjet/ as their progenitor?" He shakes his head, rubs at this temples. "Lord, I... no, no, I'll get into another time." He sighs. "Alright, so... first of all: the Uraean Brood appears to be deliberately targeting us. They've left /me/ alone, but Moon Knight tells me he's dealt with more than one vampire attack in the past week or so. We've been looking into them because they've been abducting homeless people around Queens, and a group assaulted one of their fronts last week. During that assault, we found a, ahh... murder board..." He actually glances at Tim ever-so-briefly, as if to some private joke, then goes on, "with pictures of most of us here and captions of various sorts. Dr. Foster and Zatanna were not on the board, but being around the Midnight Mission enough would seem to put one on their radar. So, fair warning."     He sighs and sits back. "They also found a girl with the vampires--and I have to say thank you to Tara for ensuring her safety. Her name is Agnes, and... she appears to be a potential avatar of Sekhmet. She was raised in a cult, the Eye of Ra--and if you're making the connections to Sekhmet, you're right."     He takes a breath. Lets it out. This is... hard. "When I was a member of the Eye of Ra, Priest Legatee--which means I was set to take over when the High Priest, Elias Bouchard, died, though I was not his second--the stated goal of the cult was to create an avatar of Sekhmet on Earth who would destroy all corruption and evil in the world. I... have since come to suspect it was something more like 'destroy Elias Bouchard's enemies and give him immortality.'" He smirks down at his wine. "But cult leaders rarely tell their followers the truth of things. Agnes does not appear to be aware that she has the connection to Sekhmet, and she believes Elias is her father. I am /certain/ he is not." His voice is... hard. "I knew her parents. I was there when she was born. How he even knew she survived I'm still not certain."     He hesitates, then says, "Elias Bouchard is a wizard of no little power, a /body-hopper/ according to Zatanna," he gives her a glance, eyes still a little wide at that, "and utterly ruthless. The other members of the Eye of Ra are /more/ so. Elias prefers subtlety over brute force--what I recall of the others in those positions..."     He looks to Moon Knight. "Raul Bushman was Elias' second, when he was alive. If that gives you any sense of the... brutality Elias surrounds himself with. And evidently, they have some kind of connection to the Brood of Uraea."
Zatanna Zatara	Phoebe's magic sparkles in the air, making Zee look her way with a grin. As the two approach, she comments sotto voce, "Much better. What were you two doing? Playing Santa Claus?" Another god in the mix, she thinks glumly, and vampires. PLate forgotten as Jon elaborates on the Uraens and their progenitor, murder board straightens Zee in her seat. She turns to Jane to hike her eyebrows who doesn't figure on it either. Who has not committed a stupid, regrettable mistake? Not Zatanna. The sympathy warming her expression as relates his time in the Cult becomes a frown at Bouchard's name. She stands and puts her plate back on the ledge when he finishes. Addressing the group, "Did you feel the chill in the air when he mentioned that....Bouchard? He is pure evil; he body hops by placing his eyes into the victim's. He is extremely dangerous."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe's dark eyes look over to Zee as she gives a soft reply of: "I was... attempting to see into the past with something I'd seen the other one do. I /thought/ I had enough of the working, but it sort of..." Phoebe begins, and then for emphasis makes a soft 'booomf!' sound, her fingers crackle with energy in demostration, and she shakes them out a little bit before she gives a fierce little smile to Zatanna "I /almost/ have it." she replies to her mentor, sister-in-arms and friend, and then straightens up as she listens, leaning forward as she takes out a notebook and begins to write.     Her eyes narrow a moment, and she picks at a bit of carrot as she straightens up, her nose wrinkling. "Puts his eyes in his victim's sockets? ... *ew*." she breathes out.     "So everyone up on the murderboard is a potential victim. Maybe it would be best to move everyone out of the curio. ANd maybe start wearing goggles." she adds, though there's not such levity in her voice.
Morrigan MacIntyre	"I don't mind at all, Doctor Foster. Feel free to have a seat." Morrigan tells her fellow Doctor. Then she's sitting back to listen again. So much information going out at once and not enough time to take it in before the next thing is given. Thankfully her eyes were not crossing. She didn't have things to add, but she was making mental notes about this man named Elias, because anyone who cut peoples eyes out was a proper psycopath.
Jane Foster	Jane busies herself with sorting out vegetables and dipping them into the hummus, a reasonable portion added to embellish the flavour of each. She sits next to Morrigan. "Irappu has its own strange meaning, but separate linguistically or culturally from Wadjet, had I to guess. Though not beyond the realms of reason, given the Indo-Mediterranean cultural exchange stretching back to the Greeks and Punt." She takes a small nip of a carrot and goes awfully quiet, having heard the news of being on a wanted poster for fanged things. Her chewing completely stops for almost a minute. Swallowing the hummus is hard, no matter how beautifully prepared, going down like a handful of obsidian spearheads or an atlatl trapped in her throat. "If he's disembodied, does that make him vulnerable? Or you steal one of his..." Caught up in the moment, she looks for the proper word. "His vessels, can he hop on to the next one? I wonder how much of a risk he poses to the young woman. That practice makes me worry a bit more about Irappu. Maybe it's not that important but I would remiss not to mention that the philosophy behind it means shedding your physical shape to transform into the next stage of existence. You'd call it death. The concept is that being born embodies you, an emphasis on the act of becoming in a body. Irappu is the reverse, losing your body. Just something that stuck out to me. Sorry to have a derailment." A pained smile lasts a second. "Though you add the idea of eyes being windows to the soul or a source of seeing as the dead saw, knowing all they knew?" She leaves it at that.
Marc Spector	Moon Knight goes completely still at the name Raul Bushman. A gloved hand slowly rises to caress one of the sharp crescent like projectiles at his belt. The silver glow around him *intensifies.* "Bushman..." he says, the rage dripping from the word with visceral hatred. "Then I feel I have done the world a favor in destroying him when I did."     He lets out a slow breath and the glow returns to the calm soft glow it was before. He looks at Zatanna, then Jon, then Jane. "Valid points all... and ones we need to be aware of. I think the clear point here is that we are all in danger directly. The Mission is guarded well, but it is not impenatrable. If a large enough force comes here... there will be trouble."     He lowers his hand from his belt, seeming to realize the unconcious tick he was displaying with it. "Which is why it is important for us to locate their lair and strike at them first." He looks around the room.     "I will need help from all of you," his eyes track to Tara, to Phoebe, to Zatanna, to Jon, hitting those near to them in between. "To end this threat. I am not forcing you to take part if you feel you cannot handle such threats. But... association alone will make you a target eventually, I am giving you all a chance at agency in directing your own fate. In determining how you will stand against the forces of injustice."
Tara Tsabedze	Another sip of the wine is taken as Tara's tail starts to violently jerk to and fro. The tension in the room shot up, she could feel it. She has not been a part of the world outside her tribe for very long, there were many, MANY things she didn't know, and this was one of them... but she could /feel/ the anger and tension from those around her regarding this Elias Bouchard. "I am always at your call," she states firmly to the Moon Knight. "You have my claws and my magic when ever you need them." That is when her golden feline eyes take a moment to look at each person present, "The same goes for each of you as well. I realize we do not know each other, that you know nothing of my abilities or magic, but my purpose is to serve, to heal and to protect. No matter the cause, if you need my assistance, I am there."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia steps out from the shadows. "The Irappu aren't to be trifled with," she says. "When they kidnapped me it took two of the Brotherhood's best agents and a three thousand year old vampire to rescue me from them." She shakes her head, "Well, I say 'rescue', but by the time they got to me I had already died. The vampire who came to my aid turned me so that I may continue on." She bobs her head at those assembled. "I'm sorry I am late. I was held up on the Asteroid." To those who are new she introduces herself. "I'm Lydia, vampire and mutant." "If this man transfers his consciousness through his eyes, then I suggest that we take them from him when we finally meet." She glances to the others. "At the very least."
Jonathan Sims	"I..." Jon hesitates, looking between Zatanna and Jane. "I don't... know? I didn't even... know about the other business. I mean, women should be safe from him, I know he'd /never/ take a female vessel unless he had to, he's a misogynistic git, he'd want a man with magical train--"     He stops, a celery stick with hummus on its end suspended in mid-air. Gapes at nothing. "/Oh/." He swallows. Whatever he just realized, he tucks it away for later review.     He changes the subject. /Very/ firmly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Bushman, before. When the name came up... well. It wasn't in a place where it was appropriate to mention." Therapy, that being. "But I'm here to help, naturally, same as Tara."     He glances to Lydia. Smiles, if wanly. "Well, at least maybe you'll get your chance for some vengeance, hmm?"
Jane Foster	Food can stay on the plate. Moon Knight glows, and Jane needs neither magic, vampiric senses, cat-like reflexes, or anything else to determine that food will remain safely on its plate without intervention. She cannot trust herself to strike home. Instead, she looks at Jon when he pauses. "Big red flag, huh?" Maybe she's twigged to something. "Right. At risk from unexpected directions. I appreciate the clarity." She repeats that back to Moon Knight to be absolutely sure, and blows out a lengthy breath. Going quiet, like Mo has, gains a respite to try to put the missing pieces together. To a point. Introductions get pre-eminence. "Evening, Lydia. Jane Foster, astrophysicist and good at getting myself into interesting situations." She smiles for the first time in a while. New faces are good things. "I'm still figuring out what I can do to help out here. There may be a few angles and until that is clear, I'm all ears."
Phoebe Beacon	"So of anyone here, you'd be the most likely target, given your past, experiences. Although that would put Tim at risk if he's going to continue any sort of research--" she trails off, looking to her partner-in-crime fighting quietly, and then she gives a huff. "Luckily, you'd probably rock a set of goggles." she jokes wanly to him, and she folds her hands a moment, stretching her fingers out as she considers.
Marc Spector	Moon Knight nods to Lydia. "That's assuming he allows up a chance... if he is as powerful as he seems to be attackign him directly may prove difficult" he replies. "But it is something we will certainly try... once we confront him properly."     He nods to Tara, and the others who add their assistance before focusing on Jane. "I am certain that your placement here at this meeting is more than simple coincidence, Dr. Foster" he says with fondness in his tone.     He pauses and looks to Jon. "I understand your reluctance in mentioning him, given our past..." He pauses. "Is there anything else... I feel as though I am forgetting something..." There is a sense of preoccupation in his posture and expression.
Tara Tsabedze	Tara shifts slightly in the chair, setting the last little bit of wine left in her glass aside. "I am uncertain how I can assist," she says plainly as she stands herself up. "But no matter my lack of knowledge, I am ready to assist when the time comes. For now I am afraid that I must depart." Taking a moment to offer her phone number to each person there that didn't already have it, she pulls the hood of her cloak up over her head. "I need an education about what we are facing, as it is not knowledge I have. In the mean time, should anyone need me, please call."
Jonathan Sims	Jon's attention is grabbed, first, by Phoebe. "He won't get a /chance/ to have another 'likely target' if I can help it." The mere /idea/ that Elias might target /Tim/ seems to infuriate the Archivist, but he holds it in. No need to explode in front of all these people.     Instead, he nods to Tara as she leaves, and says to Moon Knight, "The only thing I can think of is that we need to find the lair of the Uraeans, and you're currently trying to find it in the twisting maze that is the sewers and tunnels beneath New York. As for how you can help, Dr. Foster...?"     He gives her a bland sort of look. "You know," he says, "I feel like perhaps we should talk in private sometime. It's possible you might have more to offer than you think." Does she... /know/ about whatever makes her glow to telepathic Sight? What if she doesn't??
Jane Foster	"If it's a convenient time, I am going to retreat back to my office and draw up plans at least for security. You need something researched, you can bring it to my attention." Jane laughs a little, acknowledging any measure of awkwardness that might be there with a bit of social ease. "It is lovely to meet you all. I'll take up with Old One-Eyed if he led me astray. Or the stars in their jangling graces." Her smile rises again as she rises, and makes her way out of the Mission a bit slowly. It's pretty! Deserves to be admired.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nods at Marc. "Of course. Just... if the opportunity presents itself... go for the eyes." She looks thoughtful for a few moments. "I have an idea that might shed some light on where the vampires may be, if they're hiding out in the sewers." She clasps her hands behind her back and starts to pace, scowling. "There's a group of mutants who live underground. They call themselves the Morlocks. They might know something but dealing with them is dangerous." She stops pacing long enough to look up at the others hopefully. "It's something, right?"
Marc Spector	Moon Knight nods to Jane. "Thank you. For being here and for listening. I look forward to whatever endeavors we can work on together" he says as she departs.     He looks to Lydia. "Do you think they would be amenable to a meeting with some of us?" he asks the woman. "You and Jubilation are our avenues into the mutant population... if they would be willing and could possibly exchange information... I would be more than willing to offer them compensation. Even should they live beneath the earth, the moon affects more than simply the surface."
Jonathan Sims	Jon's jaw drops at 'Old One-Eyed.' Okay now there are /two/ thousand questions, and /still/ only one of them is 'can I have your autograph.' Ooof. He makes a mental note to tell someone before he goes down /that/ rabbit hole. Whatever's going on with Jane Foster, he can figure it out when the world isn't ending.     Then again, when /isn't/ the world ending?     "Alright, so... we need to protect Agnes, because Elias will likely come for her. Whoever else he might target, she's his likely priority just now. We need to be on the lookout for vampire attacks, in Queens and otherwise. We might potentially ask for help mapping out the tunnels from... Morlocks. Anything I'm missing?"
Lydia Dietrich	"I don't think they'd be amenable to meet even /me/ who's got an obvious mutation," Lydia says. She shakes her head, "Their reputation is that they resent anybody who can live on the surface without being bothered /especially/ non-mutants. This is one of those instances where I think I can get more out of them if I go in alone, or with Jubilation or other Brotherhood members." She doubts she could get Jubilation on board to work /with/ the brotherhood, though. She shakes her head at Jon. "That sounds like that's just about it," she says.
Marc Spector	Moon Knight nods. "While I am loathe to have you go in unaccompanied... we do need to find their lair and if this avenue is the other lead we currently have... I fear we have to take it." He frowns and looks to one side before looking back at Lydia. "See if you can contact them. But be careful and at the first sign of trouble... abort." He takes a deep breath, clearly uneasy about sending one of his allies into danger without assistance.
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods. "Right, well... questions, then, or just... ahh... mingling?" He waves a hand. "I never know how to... end these things. Give me a nice official conference and then socializing /afterward/." He dips some more celery into the hummus, glowering. He doesn't like the turn the conversation took at /all/.     Then he sighs. "I should check in on Agnes, shouldn't I?"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nods at Marc. "Of course. One of the people I'm thinking of brining along is a teleporter just in case that needs to be necessary." She gives Jon a sympathetic grin and a friendly pat on the arm. "You should. You're overdue. Do you want me to be there with you?"
Marc Spector	Moon Knight nods to Jon. "You should..." he says before turning and looking to the statue behind him. He seems to be listening to something that only he can hear and he nods. "I need to go on another patrol. There is... turbulence in the air tonight. Something on the move." Or maybe he just needs to get out the aggression he felt at the memory of his old nemesis. "I will return." He strides forward and drops out of site behind the statue of his patron.
Jonathan Sims	"Wai--ugh. I /hate/ when he does that." Jon shakes his head and looks around. People have filed out, or are talking amongst themselves. It's quiet in the Midnight Mission, and he needs to go home tonight--it might be the last chance he gets for a while, given everything going on.     He swallows the last of his wine and grabs a plate. "I think I'll bring some of this to Agnes," he says quietly. "I... think I need to talk to her on my own. There might be things she'll be willing to say to another..." He smirks. "To another /cult member/, that she might not be willing to otherwise." He sighs. "Or... maybe not. But I..."     He swallows. There's something oddly haunted in his gaze. "I just need to talk to her, is all. Thank you, though, Lydia."     Then he turns to head down toward the basement.