Fish Out of Water

March 21, 2017:

A brief intrusion leads Agent May to the outer edges of the SHIELD complex and to the streets of New York, discovering a confused young Inhuman fresh from the cocoon.

East Side NYC, beyond the perimeter of the Triskelion.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

This time of night most things were dark. Lights still flooded certian areas of certian buildings, but there were definitely more pools of shadow at night than there are during the day.

Thus, this is the time of day the elf with silver hair weraing all black leather chooses to prowl about the exterior of SHIELD's HQ on the East Side of Manhattan. He's been here before, knows where the shadows are outside to avoid detection. And yet, tonight, he's on the sidewalk, more than visible enough, looking at one side of the building, a part of hte wall not bathed in the lights the rest of the building is. Not that this pool of shadow is completely foreign, but he is regarding it as if it were… or as if he were gauging how well it would hide someone scaling the wall into the Triskelion proper.


The last few days have been a little on the confusing side for Sloane L. Albright.

After her awakening— the people she's met, the things she's seen— she's had a little bit of time to consider her next steps, including contacting her family and friends, trying to reunite with them and figuring out what to do next, but … there's something that still, now, holds her back from just breaking out a phone— or at least getting a new one— to make those calls, leaving her to bum around the city:

It's the scales, the eyes, and the tapered ears.

Wearing a hooded sweatshirt under her dirty coat, her clothes still a bit of a mess, the young Inhuman crosses through the East Side in a way that seems appropriately aimless and tired, trying to see what's changed in the streets of New York in the last few months. Government buildings weren't really something she'd go to see any other night, but … oddly enough, there's some kind of solace to be found in at least a /few/ familiar sights in the city, even if one of them is the big weird SHIELD campus in the near distance.


A woman dressed in all dark colors — might as well be black — seemingly appears out of nowhere, stepping toward the silver-haired man staring at the tallest building on the SHIELD campus. "Don't. The walls have sensors. If you need to talk, come back here later or tomorrow night. I'll set aside time for you."

The young woman walking along by herself a block or so out has not escaped her notice, and she plans on addressing that next. Before someone with less … noble intent decides to.


Even if she's keeping her distance, the tall cluster of buildings that comprise the Triskelion are impressive and worth the long pause and the stare; while decorative lighting keeps parts of the building visible, the general area is dangerously close to being dark enough that one could squint really hard and maybe, if they pretend a bit, see stars. Standing in the light beyond fences and signs, she looks around again at the other locales.

Maybe she should call her parents and let them know she's okay.

Maybe— but she's seen her own missing persons posters, and it's kind of a doozy to see what she looked like there versus what she looks like now. At distance, though a little hard to see, she takes out her phone— an odd green film still stuck to the surface, jamming up the buttons and the display, then a quick look around. Her parents used to tell her phone booths were a thing, but… not quite, in this day and age.

From a distance, the hooded young woman looks to just be /standing/ there, though in the light there's an odd flash of blue when the light catches her just, /just/ right. She hasn't quite noticed May's presence just yet, instead focused on her phone and what little she can make out of her own reflection in the long-dead screen.


May starts toward the young woman after the tinsel-haired elf departs, her footsteps nearly silent even though she's not even attempting to be sneaky. She's walking down the sidewalk like she owns the place. And maybe she does. A teeny corner of it, anyway.

Once she's within earshot of the young woman with the now noticeably distinctive features, she calls out to Sloane, "You doing okay there?"


Like a damn ninja— and while Sloane looks at the phone still covered in slime, she finds her attention snapped back to reality when someone starts speaking. Her gaze lifts a little, looking one side, then the other; realization sinks in moments after that the elder woman is speaking to her. "Huh? I—"

Her eyes list left and right again, then she reaches up with one hand to tug on the top of the hood, keeping it a little closer to her brow. "Yeah," she says, her voice decidedly young. "I guess so, sorry, I— I-It's been a long day, y'know?"

At closer range, the source of that sheen is a bit more apparent— scales, layering across the back of her hand and knuckles, tapering off into skin again down the digits of her fingers. She seems to have the same across her cheeks; a tear in her tights around the knee shows a few more.

She's got that recent-hatched cocoon smell iconic to Terrigenesis.

"Sorry, I can — I mean I shouldn't be hanging out somewhere like this, right?"


May stops within conversational distance, but well outside of touching range, almost as if she has experience in talking to skittish individuals. Also, she's looking at the — damn, she's just a kid — hooded young woman squarely, probably less perturbed by her appearance (what little is visible) than someone from a sci-fi convention. Maybe she's a Vulcan.

"Probably not, but there are definitely sketchier places than this to wander around." Like… all of Gotham. Her eyes flick toward the slime-covered phone then back to Sloane's face.


When her hand lowers from adjusting the hood, her eyes peek out through the dim light and the shadows cast across her face— like the scales, like the film clinging to her and her phone, they too are Different, with irises that look as orange as fire. In all honesty, they sting a little bit, but she's also getting used to seeing the world in a much different way. "Hah, I guess, right? — I mean, Hell's Kitchen is pretty bad."

More than she realizes, maybe.

Her eyes follow May's down to her hand— and the dead phone— before she shuffles a bit, quickly tucking it back into the pocket of her hoodie and bundling her hands a little close to herself. "Sorry, I— uh— I'm not— y-you should probably stay away from me, I don't know, I mean— something's wrong, so…"


"If something's wrong, maybe you should get checked out by a doctor." Again, May is kind of weirdly unaffected by the scales and the flame-orange eyes. Of course, considering that she's fought demons and necromancers and used a bundle of bamboo reeds to repair the legs of the world turtle … her concept of what might be strange likely JUST a bit skewed.


Her shoulders curl forward a little at the advice, trying to think for a moment— who could she talk to about this? What kind of doctor would be willing to see her right now? Drawing in a deep breath, she closes her eyes for a moment before nodding quickly. Maybe that would be for the best. Call home, find a doctor, figure out what the hell is happening to her.

"Yeah," she says, hands bundling up a little. "M-Maybe I will."

Sloane shifts a little, stepping back from May while her gaze stays down; at this rate she'll remember the Calvalry's shoes better than her face. Hesitating for a moment, she looks up at the building, then back down at May— still not quite able to look the older woman in the eye— and asks, "Sorry, uh. … I know this is gonna sound weird, but … what's the date?"


"March twenty-first. Two thousand seventeen." And in May's experience, someone holding a cell phone and asking the date is more lost than average. "How long since this happened?" She nods slightly toward Sloane. "And when was the last time you ate something?"


March, 2017. Sloane's mouth opens a little, then her hand escapes the confines of the hoodie to push up against her brow, as though the thought just made her start having some pretty nasty brain pains. "Months," she says, the look on her face telling most of the story. "… holy shit, has it really… I didn't think… I mean, I thought… if I was lucky, it could've been just…"

When was the last time she ate?

Clearing her throat, a little hoarse, the young woman adds, "… this morning. … The hot dog guy wouldn't take my money." She doesn't add the, 'He felt sorry for me,' or 'he was scared of me,' or whatever that next thought could potentially be.

"I should probably call my roommate, or— oh God, my parents are gonna freak…"


"Would you be willing to trust me?" That's probably a bit of a leap, but May has to at least try. "I can help you get in contact with your family." And have a medic make sure she's okay as well.


A big leap— one that she isn't sure she should be making right now, but she's desperate and running out of options.

Sloane's expression reads skittish, tired, and a little scared— and rightfully so. Her hand lifts a little, in that vague, slow, 'slow down' way. "L-Look, I mean— i-if you have a phone I could use, that'd be fine, but I don't even know who you are, a-and I mean, I've seen all the shows before about how something like this turns out, you know? Like do you have some ID or something? I-I don't wanna like— I— S-Sorry, this has just been one messed up week…"


Good. This kid's disoriented, but not stupid. May nods and slowly reaches into an inside pocket on the black jakect she's wearing. She reaches past no less than three concealed weapons to pull out a simple black leather wallet-like thing. It's pretty much like what FBI agents always flash in TV shows. She opens it and offers it to Sloane to take. "Agent Melinda May. SHIELD." You know, like that great big building back there.


Rubbing her hands clean (or cleaner than before) on the hoodie, Sloane steps closer and takes the fold, staring at the badge and ID card, then up at May… perhaps, finally, for the first time. When she gives it back, the fresh Inhuman swallows hard, then nods— she's short on options, and maybe this could give her some kind of answers. Hopefully this won't turn into a big problem for her.

"Sloane," the scaled girl replies, not quite wanting to give up too much information right now. Smart, disoriented, and … still kind of paranoid, especially considering this lady doesn't seem too freaked out about how she looks. Not that it's a bad thing— just different. "Um. … I mean… where do we go next? I promise, I'll get right in and out after I call home."


Accepting her badge back, May tilts her head toward the Triskelion. "We have medical resources, a place where you can get a hot meal, a shower and a change of clothes, even a safe space to sleep for the night if you want." Of course, May WILL have to fill out the paperwork for all of that, but she's got the feeling that it'll be worth it. Especially as this is exactly what Coulson had asked her about just yesterday.

Besides, if she can't use her pull as division head to help someone, what's the point?

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