Owner	Pose
Jonathan Sims	There's been a lot of flashy weirdness going on at the gun range of late; the control booth people have probably been talking amongst themselves if for no other reason than it's /slightly/ out of the ordinary to see what is presumably a WAND agent actively firing magic down the range. Today, however, the magic isn't being done down the high-energy bays. The (not yet) WAND agent in question is just firing a relatively normal gun at a relatively normal target.     The difference, in this case, is that Jon has encased the target in a shield made of water. When the shield collapses under the pressure of distraction or just having enough bullets fired at it, the worst that happens is an outflow of water, and the water itself dissipates after a short time, so no real harm is done. It's leaving the target fairly untouched, however. Jon is, fortunately, a decent enough shot to keep within the target area even with the distraction of maintaining the shield.
Melinda May	Today, rather than magic down the high energy range, it's good, old-fashioned energy weapons being discharged there -- with their high pitched whines and explosive impacts. And it's May who's taking aim. She's been testing new prototypes all morning. As she wraps up the last round of testing, she glances to the techs who have been evaluating the tests. "The recoil is better," she notes. "But there's a weird vibration in the stock. You may want to look at whatever you're using for stabilization." She can't say for sure; she's no gunsmith. But she knows how to fire them and she knows what they feel like it. And that one is just a little off. As the techs move to start cleaning up, she takes her leave of them and makes her way down to the regular range, checking her phone as she goes. Deciding she's got enough time for a few rounds, she moves to collect some ammo for her berretta.
Jonathan Sims	It takes an /entire/ clip to finally make the water shield he's maintaining dissolve this time; Jon seems pleased with that as he steps back, sets the gun down, pulls off the ear protection he had on. And happens to see Commander May going by, which reminds him of why he knows her on sight anyhow. Which... sets off a whole cascade of other thoughts.     "Commander!" he calls, stepping far enough back to be noticed. "Commander May?" He's got the right badges, although who knows if she'd have any clue who he is.
Melinda May	May has, in fact, heard Sims' name. She's become the Chief's right hand, in recent months. So, there's a lot of info they trade back and forth. Her eyes glance briefly at his badge and then up to his face. "Agent Sims. Is there a problem?" Most of the time, people are coming to her with problems.
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at her. "No! Well. Maybe? Ahhh. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I just... ahhh..." He clears his throat. "You were involved in all that business with death gods fighting a couple of months ago." It isn't a question. "Did... the Chief mention to you that it's evidently... well, not starting up again so much as... not finished?"     He has to take a moment to blink away a memory, not his own, of the Commander falling beneath glass shards slicing through her tacsuit, tumbling down into the darkness, down the slope of a pyramid where... no, /no/, she's alive and clearly fine. He focuses his mind and gaze back on the present.
Melinda May	May arches a brow as Sims explains the 'problem'. A faint grimace pulls at her lips as he starts pursuing the whole Death God thing. "What do you mean 'not finished'?" There's a faint edge to her voice. She didn't enjoy discovering Hell is real, though she did find her chat with Isis enlightening. She glances again at his badge. WAND. Well. At least, he's actually got -- or getting -- some field training. That's a step up from most of them. And Carter did say that he 'showed promise'. So... she entertains the question a little longer.
Jonathan Sims	Jon sighs. "Well, for one, I've been having visions of the Bayt al-Hikmah, and I'm looking for a way down there. More /importantly/ it seems that something was... left unfinished. I'm still not sure what, because I have... well, I have the memories of the demonic copy of John Constantine to go off of. I've informed the Sorceror Supreme, of course, but... I know you were personally involved, and I get the feeling you might be drawn back in."     He hesitates a moment, then adds, "I know that sounds... vague, and I hate that it is. I know that 'the gods I serve have informed me that I need to make sure people are aware that they might be called upon to help finish picking up after the Death Gods had a squabble' isn't the, ahh, normal sort of intelligence SHIELD gets, but it's what I have. I... all I know is that you were with the group that met with the demon Constantine when he... shattered all those souls down there, and you disappeared down into the dark." A pause. "I doubt you want to talk about that with a recruit. But I feel I have to at least inform you that the business isn't over."
Melinda May	"It's magic," May says dryly. "I'm pretty sure 'vague' is a prerequiste." Along with 'obtuse', 'unintelligible', and 'royal pain in the ass'. She just has enough tact not to say as much. She studies him closely for a moment, recalling Carter's overview of him. She also finds herself recalling some of her encounter with Isis, and the way the goddess helped her with dealing with some of her personal crisis at the time. Finally, she gestures toward the door of the range. "Let's find some place that doesn't require ear and eye protection to talk. I think you'd better bring me up to speed."
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods, making sure to pick up the sidearm he'd been using to make sure it gets properly stowed away. Then he speaks as he follows her. "I'm not /entirely/ certain how much 'up to speed' there is, if I'm being honest. The one clear bit in my head is a road I probably can't take--the way these things work it's /always/ deeply personal. Something was... missed, I think? Ignored? I'm not /entirely/ clear on... any of it."     He eyes the Commander and adds, wryly, "Magic and mysticism actually /do/ have rules that make a /great/ deal of sense if you understand mythic forms, literature, or dream-logic. Understanding it doesn't make it any less /annoying/, however. I quite literally nearly went mad before I figured out that this was going on." Well, he /is/ an empath. He can probably tell what's not being said.
Melinda May	Melinda May is also an empath, thanks to an encounter with some Terrigen a few months back. So, that evens out the playing field considerably. "So I've been told," she replies. Yes, she knows magic has rules. She doesn't understand them. She just knows magic is a huge pain in her ass and almost always requires dealing with people who either piss her off or go off half-cocked. Often both. She really hopes Sims isn't like that. "I remember Isis said something to me about the fact there was something to be done in the real world to stop all of... whatever that was. Or fix it. Something only mortals could do. I didn't get a chance to find out what." She shakes her head. "And frankly, I'm not sure how much help I'd be. There's not a magical bone in my body."
Jonathan Sims	"Well, if you're a mortal, then that would make you /precisely/ the sort to deal with such things," Jon notes. "I'm not really, anymore. I'm not certain I ever was. And most of the people, ahh... volunteering to help me /directly/ aren't really, either. But I suspect this business will be multi-pronged. I'm trying to... I don't know, ahh, plan a bit? Make sure people with more authority than I are aware of all of this so we can maybe take a stab at being... proactive, rather than waiting for death to stop working again?" He doesn't /want/ to go off half-cocked, see? He doesn't /like/ doing that, even if, yes, he sometimes has to.     His tone turns a bit wistful. "You spoke with Isis? Directly? I serve Thoth, and the other gods of the Underworld, but I've... never had the honor. You must be, ahh... well. She must have seen something worthy in you, Commander. I wouldn't sell yourself short on dealing with magic."
Melinda May	May gives the younger agent a wry smile. "She was... generous," she concedes. Certainly, in her thoughts, there's the sense of profound respect for the goddess. May tried very, very hard not to piss her off while she was there. And the goddess seemed to appreciate her efforts. Still, she gives a shrug that's faint enough to seem to be little more than a brief twitch. "But, most of my experience with magic involves trying to keep some sort of magic user alive while they do the heavy lifting. I'm the bodyguard, Sims. Give me a flaming sword, and I can fight ice skeletons for days. Put me in Hell, and the only way I'm getting out is if some divinity somewhere takes pity on me." Nevertheless, she generally approves of being proactive. That's probably why she's such a feared trainer among the junior agents. "Do you have the basis of a plan, yet, or are we still in the threat assessment stage? Doesn't sound to me like you have a whole lot of details."
Jonathan Sims	"Threat assessment, yes. Well..." Jon hesitates, then says, "The /core/ of the plan, of /my/ plan, is to go down into the Underworld and discover whatever it is I'm supposed to find in the House of Wisdom. I /should/ be able to get around the stricture of bringing out nothing written, since I have perfect recall." He taps the side of his head. "Maybe that's why they tapped me for this to begin with. My grandmother really /should/ have been involved, but I think... I think she refused. Or was busy." He frowns. What could have been more important than 'death is broken?'     "Beyond that? Details. Who goes, beyond myself and Agent Blackwood and Dr. Strange... how we get there, what preparations are made... hard to say. And whatever /else/ is going on, that isn't my little corner of it? I have /no/ idea." A pause. "May I ask... /where/ you met Isis?"     He's nervous about it all, terribly so, but oddly determined. Whatever assessments Chief Carter might have made about his suitably for field work, he's evidently at least determined to /be/ in the field. Probably why he was practicing shooting... his own shield.
Melinda May	May doesn't have a problem with an agent who takes the initiative to learn how to defend himself and others. That's the true reason why she's such a feared instructor. She's very much of the opinion that her job is to make sure agents are equipped with the training they need to stay alive. She's not always successful, and it rankles her. But she won't begrudge the man his effort. She does, however, give another wry smile. "The House of Wisdom," she admits. "It took me a while to get there. There was a maze, with a thread of compassion woven through it that helped me find my way." She pauses a moment and her expression softens. "Isis led me with it, I'm sure." He's an empath. With any luck, he'll understand what she means by a 'thread of compassion'. It was, quite literally, a narrow sensation of emotion that guided her like a string strung to mark the trail. She chuffs out a soft breath, then. "So, you're planning on you, Blackwood, and Strange on this little expedition?" She can see that there's no real muscle on that team. No defender... bodyguard. "Give some thought to some sort of muscle along in case you come across something that magic alone can't defeat. When we entered through the Egyptian gate of the dead--" she doesn't know what it's called, only that Ma'at and the feather were involved-- "we had to fight the doppleganger of one of the mages. That came down to the Witchblade and me. I recommend Agent Pezzini, if she's willing. She can handle a heavy fight and has magical defenses someone like me won't have." Oh, she'd come, herself, were she needed. She figures she owes Isis that much. But she's not going to just step up and volunteer outright.
Jonathan Sims	Jon stops for a moment, on hearing the Commander had been to the place he's trying to go, then says, "Oh! You've /been/ there! That... might be helpful, actually. Wait, you went through the Duat? That's... not a bad option, really," he muses. "I suppose it makes sense that you spoke to Isis, then. That... /might/ be a decent place to start, given my own role in weighing the hearts of those who do /not/ go to the Underworld in the natural course of things."     He's thoughtful for a moment, then shakes himself. "I've spoken to Agent Pezzini, yes, but I don't know her all that well yet. I wasn't planning on /only/ the three of us, just that... well, those are the two I'm certain of. I have /multiple/ offers." He smiles wryly. "Most of the people I know these days are all too willing to pick up and dash off down into the lands of death, as if that weren't a key portion of mythic cycles all over the world. As if one doesn't come back... changed."     A hesitation, then, "If you'd be /willing/, well... you've been there before. Perhaps Isis would offer her aid again. Regardless, I would appreciate the help."
Melinda May	May resists the urge to sigh. She can feel his earnestness, thoughtfulness, and sense of need. It softens what would otherwise be a stiffnecked resistance. "You *do* come out changed," she says quietly. She did. She hasn't been able to explain it to anyone. But it's an undercurrent that has made her life a little more difficult... and a little easier... all at the same time. Thus, she nods to him. "I've been there. So... yes. I can go with you. I know Isis left me with *something* that was supposed to help. Some knowledge. But I was never able to make it fit." The most she figured out was that the natural order needed to be rebalanced before it could be restored. And the cult of the death gods, or whatever the hell it was, pould probably require a very physical, very final solution. She regards him a moment, considering the viability of returning to that place. "I have to ask, though... isn't there some caveat somewhere about never getting there the same way twice? Or does that just apply to places like Narnia?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon smiles. "That's why I'm not going to bother trying to go down to the Botanical Garden... but there might be a different gate into the Duat. /I/ didn't go, and nor did Gran, so whatever way an /Archivist/ might have to get down there hasn't been tried. And if that doesn't work..." He shrugs. "We'll figure something out, one way or another. I'm wary of those claiming we should just up and conjure gates. There's an... order to things, however powerful one might be."     A pause, and then, "I'll add you to my list, then, Commander. Thank you." He is, indeed, earnest; it comes out in his expression, eyes wide and smile wider. "I admit I'd feel more comfortable with someone so capable along. And I'll check in with Agent Pezzini as well."
Melinda May	May nods. "Do that. Tell her, if you want, that I recommended her." A beat. A wry smile. "I can always order her, if we need. She owes me." There's a glint in her eye as she says it, and the only reason Sims would know it's a glint of amusement is because he's an empath. She holds her emotions close to the chest. Most people can't read them. But May doesn't actually at all feel the younger agent owes her anything at all. She does know, however, that Pezzini *feels* like she does. Perhaps this will settle it for her. She straightens now. "Okay. Keep me informed," she tells him. "I'll... spend some time trying to remember everything I can about my trip into hell. Maybe there's something else that can help."
Jonathan Sims	"Just because it's the Underworld doesn't mean it's 'Hell,'" Jon notes. "It might help to think of it like that, actually. The Duat is quite the paradise, or so the old beliefs went... if an Egyptian wasn't worthy of the afterlife, of creating an /akh/, they just... got eaten." He makes a kind of 'poof' gesture with his hands.     "Still not a place the living usually go," he muses, "but from Osiris to Ishtar, Izanagi to Orpheus to, well, Jesus... there's a long tradition of descending and returning. I have faith we'll continue in that tradition." He smiles, and says, "I'll keep you informed, certainly. Thank you, Commander."
Melinda May	May gives the younger agent another wry smile, this one a little less humour filled. "Most of it was Hell, Sims." Maybe not classical Hell, but hellish enough. She was sure she was damned for most of her trip. "The House of Wisdom... wasn't. But a lot of the path we walked really was." She's not really religious, however. If forced to declare, she might call herself Buddhist, but even that's a stretch. Nevertheless, she knows more about a lot of mythologies than she often gives herself credit for. She nods to him, however. "Good luck, Sims. You know where to find me." With that, she turns on a crisp heel and heads off for an early meal. She'll need some time to refocus before going to back to work anyway.