The Disguise Can't Hide Everything

May 07, 2016:

May arranges for Reginald to meet her and undergo scanning

Offsite Research Facility


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

* OOC Time: Sat May 07 20:20:39 2016 *

It's the middle of the day. On a Saturday. And May has requested the assistance of a professional infiltrator to gain entry and glean data from what looks like a privately owned building in a light industrial part of the city. There's traffic nearby, everything seems just so completely … mundane.

Inside said building, May waits while Jemma continues her work. If they're wrong, this location will be compromised, but it's nothing they haven't prepared for. She's watching the security feed from a portable computer on the table in Jemma's lab space. Knowing Darrow, he should be arriving any moment now.

"Agent May?" The heavyset technician that's been sitting in the adjacent room working on the computer lines looks up. "Agent Darrow's ready to report in." He comes around the corner and in a surprising disregard for propriety, pulls out the chair next to May's position, and drops into it lazily.

"Agent Darrow, reporting in," he says, relaxing the drowsing Midwestern tones for a more cultured British tonal. He gives May a mischevious look, eyes twinkling despite what are now clearly obviously contact lenses. Whoever his makeup artist is, the guy deserves a spot on that costume makeup show. "Not bad, eh?" he inquires, grabbing his 'fat' and jiggling it. Even his -hands- look swollen. How did he do that?

Working on a Saturday isn't unknown for the biochem, particularly lately. There's a set of tests scrolling on her screen and on the bench she has one of those 084's, it's made of a different material though and a piece of Psyborg…

"I'm not sure Agent May…" Jemma's words cut off as the technician comes in. She's really not happy about having someone else here. The corruption in SHIELD is too rife. But May had said … so….

"Oh… Agent Darrow." the british woman sighs … as she turns back to her tests.

Melinda May narrows her eyes at the disguised Darrow. "I've warned you about doing that, Darrow." She closes the computer, then abruptly gabs the man by one falsly flabby arm and bodily hauls him toward what might pass for a dentist's chair. From the 1950s. She all but slams him into the chair and promptly slaps the first of multiple restraints into place. "Simmons. Is the scanner ready?" She first and foremost wants to make sure he's not already inhabited by a Daemonite.

Reggie doesn't resist May physically, mostly because it's not impossible she's stronger than he is. Also, that's a fast way to a broken arm. He doesn't shut up, though. "Ooh, severe Asian woman straps me into examination chair. 'Dear Penthouse, I never thought it could happen to me,'" he says, continuing that endless chatter.

"Hey Jem, how's my favorite lass from Devon?" he asks the fellow Briton. "Avoiding the rain, same as myself, I'd guess? Dreary, rainy London," he says, clucking his tongue.

He eyes the probes and examining tools, and cocks a brow at May. "Is this one of those 'fun' examinations, or am I going to get through this with my trousers on?"

"The scanner… yes, right." Jemma sets down the work that she's doing and walks over to the chair. "It is, Agent May." Despite the look of the chair, the 'helmet' that Jemma holds up is state of the art, sleek and elegant and very minimalistic. "Please put this on, Agent Darrow. The scan won't hurt or harm you." Hopefully the man complies easily. They'll be able to explain more, hopefully, when the tests are done.

Ignoring most of his comments, Jemma seems to be good at that, she answers one of his questions "I'm not sure who your favourite lass from Devon is, but I'm well, thank you."

Melinda May takes a small step back as Jemma hands Darrow the 'helmet' and pulls the small swords (look rather like large knives more than swords, really) from where she keeps them concealed under the back of her jacket. They gleam a little more white than the usual steel color under the fluorescent lighting. She stares at Darrow as if waiting for the chance to diembowel him or something.

"Wasn't I snooping around in Personnel and saw you're from Devon? No?" Reggie makes a disappointed noise and tsks, looking skywards. He tilts his head forward helpfully to let Jemma put the helmet on him, and cocks an eyebrow at May.

"So, inasmuch as I'm a good sport about most things, I have to confess a bit of disturbance here," he remarks pleasantly. "Restraints are only fun when there's blindfolds and feathers involved. The helmet and swords are not the sort of fun I typically go in for."

The helmet is fitted and with a few taps at her computer, brainwaves start to appear on Jemma's screen. It seems the biochem is in working mode.

May can see, and she's very familiar for what they are looking, that there's only one set of theta waves. No artefacts, no echoes, only Reginalds show.

It takes a few long moments before Jemma turns to May and nods slowly. He's clear.

"Someone in personnel gave out my address, so a SIGMA agent could try and abduct me." she notes to his admission of snooping.

Melinda May looks at Jemma and returns the nod before visibly relaxing and putting the swords away. "I'll give you one hint, Darrow. SHIELD is compromised. You've heard of the Daemonites?" She steps close again and undoes the restraints, then helps to remove the helmet thing again.

"Afraid not," Reggie says, shaking his head. "Sounds like that's the sort of thing that's a bit out of my wheelhouse, though. I'm more for stealing secrets and seducing spouses, not dealing with bad Latin-named monsters."

He reaches under his jumpsuit and releases a valve, the 'fat suit' under his clothing deflating with a low hiss, and he reaches into a pocket for some pills, popping them and swallowing without any water. "But fortunately for you, no one trusts me to begin with. I'm a wholly unreliable asset. But you can always rely on an unreliable man to do one thing—" Reggie grins at the women and starts peeling off the short beard. "Be unreliable."

Taking the helmet, Jemma shrugs a little. "When you don't know if your supervisor is actually an extra terrestial who appear to want to invade earth, I'm sure it really is in your wheel house."

Leaving the rest to May to explain for the moment, the biochem packs away that equipment and returns to her tests.

"Daemonites can inhabit the bodies of humans, use their knowledge and identities to further their own goals. We've already found proof of at least one division head that was being controlled by a Daemonite." May steps back over to the computer and looks at Darrow from there. "Have you noticed anyone behaving differently than their usual?"

"I'm not going to say one way or another, mostly because I have no idea if -you've- been compromised," Reginald points out, lifting one eyebrow. "It'd be a bit dull of me to inform a bunch of traitorous ghost…alien… things that I was on to them."

He hops off the chair and wriggles out of his jumpsuit, bundling the disguise up into a neat roll and leaving him in his short and an undershirt. His hands are already growing slender again, as if the bloated skin was medically induced, and reaches under the desk for another duffel bag, and starts changing into yet another disguise. "What sort of symptoms are most noticeable?"


Melinda May shakes her head. "None. Not until you call them out on it and they try to either fight or run. Typically they'll abandon their human host at that point. But they're impossible to kill and extremely difficult to disable." She hasn't even touched on Jemma's mention of SIGMA yet.

"Fantastic. I've got a walking cane and a course in introductory krav maga," Reginald says in witheringly dry tones. "Shall I just talk them down, or do you think they'd respond well to harsh language?"

He finishes dressing in his SHIELD jumpsuit and starts over to a mirror, where he uses a small bottle and comb from his disguise kit to change the drape of his hair. The color starts changing, too, from dusky brown to a rich red. "I take it this is rather serious, if you're bringing in the outside contractors to help out with it."

Melinda May crosses her arms. "Amongst other things. Have you studied up at all about WAND?" She glances over at Jemma, sees she's still working, and looks back at Darrow again. "Some of this is above your security level."

"I'm only allocated a C-5 series clearance," Darrow informs May, shaking his head. He pats something on his cheeks, applies some makeup, and flexes his fingers against his jaw as if testing the muscles. When he turns back… he looks like a strapping Germanic fellow, complete with the high cheekbones and prominent forehead. "WAND's well outside of my purview. I'm not even supposed to know about it," he points out to May, his voice becoming somewhat clipped and a bit nasal as he instinctively adopts some new personality to go with the disguise.

Melinda May nods slowly. "Then that may be why you're one of the few within SHIELD that we feel we can still trust. Though if I ever heard about you snooping around in Personnel again, I will cut your ear off."

Reggie clucks his tongue at May, brows tugging in a mocking resemblance of a frown. "Skulking about? Me? Perish the thought," he remarks with an absent wave of his hand. "You know I'm wholly unreliable. Can't trust a word I say."

He moves to a window, staying several paces back from it— smart man there, even in a safehouse he doesn't silhouette himself— and peers across the street, then looks at May. "So you've got me here, I've been scanned, and I've been briefed on the threat. Frankly, it's more than a little out of my wheelhouse. So, again, circling around— what is it you're hoping I can do?"

"Honestly? Not be one of the compromised agents. And now that we know you're not, at least in terms of the Daemonites." So clearly there is more that May is NOT saying. "And if you know what SIGMA is other than a Greek character and mathematical notation, you'd better share. Right here, right now."

Reggie shakes his head. "No idea. Again, a bit out of my wheelhouse. I'm reconnaissance and infiltration," he reminds May. "Not an analyst or a pointman. This is a sticky wicket, but it's well outside my area of expertise. Do we have -two- issues that need facing?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "Daemonites are bad enough— what the bloody hell is SIGMA?"

Melinda May gives Reggie a hard look, then in a few quick steps gets right up in his face. "Don't lie to me, Darrow. All I need is for Simmons to say she feels threatened by you." She is deadly serious. Because, really. Threatening Simmons is crossing the line, and that's happened far too much for her taste of late.

Reggie relaxes into a lazy slouch when May approaches him. Mostly because it would allow him to explode into motion if she starts swinging. "I have no idea who the bloody fuck— or what— SIGMA is," he tells May. "But, you know I can lie to you with a straight face on demand. Look-! the sky is yellow and I'm your mum in disguise." He lifts a brow at Melinda. "And you know good and well I'm not scared of getting hurt. So—" He flicks his hands out to the side, palms shrugging upwards. "You're going to have to decide if I'm self-serving enough that I'm incorruptible, or I'm just too good an agent to be stupid enough to get compromised by the… whoever, and then go straight to The Cavalry herself and try to bluff my way past her." He eyes May pointedly. "What's it going to be?"

Melinda May stares at Reggie for a moment longer, then steps back. "I've always thought you're completely self-serving, Darrow. But incorruptible, that's still open for debate. There's no way to know what your REAL face is trying to say." Is that a dig at his switching from one disguise to another without so much as a breather in between?

Reggie tries very hard not to slump in relief when May backs away. He mostly succeeds. "I know. I'm a terrible influence and a snappy dresser. The only reason I can even imagine anyone keeping me around is my impeccable track record or my impressive derriere. As you've been casting asperions on my skills for the last half hour and I've not -once- caught you looking at my derriere— my goodness," he says, leaning forward an inch with eyebrows raised in surprise. "Is it -possible- SHIELD's— what's the phrase— 'looking for any port in a storm?'"

Melinda May crosses her arms and shakes her head ruefully. "Not SHIELD." She's clearly implying something there, but is as usual not offering the full story. "You're free to go, but just keep this in mind — SHIELD HQ isn't a safe haven. Not anymore." She steps back finally, so Reggie has a slear path to the door if he wants to leave.

"Hmm." Reginald looks around, once, then walks up to May and offers her a handshake. "Well, good show then, May, but I think I'm going off for fairer climes. DSO asked me if I'd pop on by and sort some things for them. And I haven't seen Singapore in a day. Best of luck, May, I'll see you about, cheerio, whatnot." He cuts a two fingered salute at Melinda and— well, leaves. A bit anti-climactically, if one is to be honest about it.

Melinda May watches Darrow leave and makes sure the exits are secured behind him. And then, once she's back in Jemma's lab she slumps into a chair and takes a deep breath. And then she looks at the business card Darrow slipped into her hand.

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