Totally Avengers

March 07, 2018:

A cadre of heroes (+ Rocket) traces a strange alien signal to a rusted-out tug in the river.
GMed by Valkyrie

A rusted tug down by the river


NPCs: Spud, Giant Sloth, Balor the Cyclops, Tiny Pink Girl


Mood Music: [*\ None.]

Fade In…

SHIELD, various other government agencies and nosy tech-savvy so-and-sos tracked something entering Earth's atmosphere on the 22nd of February. Since then, there have been various pockets of unusual activity. Some of them are hard to sort out from the general weirndess that happens on their little corner of the galaxy, but others have been a bit more conspicuous.

A giant talking centipede in a bodega, for one.
A crocodile woman in white leathers with metal claws, for another.
And, a few whispered reports that another Asgardian other than the known ones might be somewhere on the planet.

Not all the activity has been reports of weird-looking troublemakers or superstrong god-like beings. Some of the weirdness is in the form of energy signatures. Dani Moonstar tracked one to a junkyard in Hoboken, though she couldn't pinpoint its exact location. A similar blip popped up on the radar just a few hours ago. It's coming from a container ship terminal - more specifically, the rusted out husk of an old tugboat. There's reports of decidedly un-humanlike shapes milling about - four to be exact. Most seem to be larger than average, with a few reports of extra limbs.

The energy signature is the more concerning thing. The power it's giving off doesn't exist on Earth - and the frequency it's activate on is one no one has the technology to tune into - if it's a signal at all.

Rocket is a unique case of kinda-sorta affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D. and very much a nosy tech-savvy so-and-so. But since he's mainly freelancing, reporting weird spikes of activity that come up on the radar doesn't really seem to be a thing he considers doing, and although he's had his interests in poking around for this mystery blip, it's mostly been set on the back burner in favor of other, more mundane things. Like babysitting. Or ditching babysitting duties. He's the most responsible!

Today, it's the latter. Rocket's not actively seeking out trouble. He does have a small radar-device of some kind that he's cobbled together, slapping the side of it with a clawed hand as he wanders along the street, ignoring stares as he's made no effort to disguise himself the way he usually does. Which…really just mostly consists of tucking his tail into his pants or jacket. Also, he's got a massive rifle of sorts slung across his back that can't possibly be a Supersoaker.


Strange technology showing up on Earth? SHIELD is, usually, one of the lead agencies that gets called in on such events, just because of their experience with them over the last seventy-odd years. Mention of oversized giants with overmany arms, well, that's also par for the course - but it also means that SHIELD Agent Sally Stojespal came prepared.

The HOPPS, a totally-not-a-bunnygirl-suit themed Stark armor, is something that he'd put together for his intern as a means of keeping her alive, and it's done champion service in that regard. It's also got some fantastic sensor and detection suites, as well as a half-dozen minidrones that disconnect from the back and shoulders, and make their way to scatter over the tugboat's hulk.

Camera feeds, infrared images, low-light, whatever data Sally can get from the drones she's recording for analysis later. They'll at least get something if the little drones can sniff out what's going on. "Myuriy, bring drones…five and six into a higher pattern. General search. One through four, remain on station."

Are they alone? She'd love to be sure of that, considering the potential danger. Not quite alone, it seems - Six reports in the pleasant news of other personnel arriving, including one of the Avengers themselves. And an acquaintance from afar.

"Rocket. Good to see you tonight." Respectful, and honest.


"You sure? …I'm on my way. Tell Curtis Estabrook Elementary we'll have to do the Reading a Cap-Ton of Books party next week. It works out better, maybe we can get Falcon to show up for it with the reschedule."

The tire screeches a proud wail as Captain America wheels his custom made Harley Davidson toward the source of the disturbance. The advantage of a planned public appearance is that Captain America is READY FOR ACTION.

?Downside is that he's disappointing children with rescheduling. As they would say with a 'text' or an 'emoticon': :(

But soon he is on the scene, Captain America using the bright light of his bike to herald his high speed advance. "Everyone who is reporting into this mission, check-in! We need to make sure that this place is secure as quickly as possible. Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than an unknown threat near a highly populated city."



That was the sound of the car parking — specifically, the car that Agent Stojespal came in. It's also the car Ms. Marvel came in and was trying very hard not to lean her head out of and shout for the absolute ridiculous fun of being in something that COOL. It's half a step under a power suit. A very small half a step.

She jumps out, costumed in all her finery, and is immensely proud to speak into her VERY OWN COMMUNICATOR OMG: "Ms. Marvel checking in! …The one from Jersey City. Not Captain Marvel." It's going to be a while before she believes people know she exists.

She doesn't go diving straight in, though. She slips behind a stack of packing crates, peeping around it: "Just let me know where you want me."


Various technical doodads of varying levels of sophistication pick up different sets of readings. For the mundane, off-the-shelf style equipment (aka SHIELD standard issue) there is definitely A Thing Not of Earth here. For the more smartypants gear, it registers a few blobby things that don't conform to conventional heat signatures of your average earth-bound types of mammalian lineage. It also picks up a continually strengthening signal of some sort - the kind that is giving off a bit of radiation that can't be any good for fertility levels.

For the real keen gear? Yep, you got yourself four aliens, two over eight feet tall, one somewhere in the six foot range and another at about four foot and change. And they're definitely working on a transmitter, and that signal is pointed up. Two are clustered around the device in the rear of the tug, while one seems to be keeping watch near the hole towards the front of the cabin area. The smallest one - one that reads fairly close to human, seems huddled in the corner of the cabin.

There is a sort of crude jamming frequency that's set up that dampens the signal, but doesn't snuff it out entirely. That's why even the sophisticated tech couldn't read much until they got closer. There are a few civilians nearby who might be alerted if things get messy, but they're not close enough (hopefully) to end up collateral damage.


Fingers twist and adjust knobs on the device in his hands that only Rocket knows what they do- theoretically, anyway. He knows what he'd been aiming for when he'd stuck everything together, and right now he's getting some veeeery interesting signals.

"Heya St-ojespal," he says offhandedly, managing to catch himself as he glances up and over, brows arching at the sight of the armor. "Something pinged you out this way too, eh?"

He looks ahead, scampering easily up another set of crates, hunched low as he peers between the tug and his scanner. "Looks like someone's having a private party out there. Ain't Terrans either, I'll tell ya that much." He's more interested in the signals coming from there, or rather what's causing them. A grin tugging at his face, he pockets his scanner and then hops back down, starting closer along the dock as he pulls his rifle around in front of him. Well, no one told him not to go on ahead, but then no one told him he was supposed to be working with a team either.


The motorcycle's headlight - as well as the glorious drumrattle of a well tuned Harley-Davidson powerplant - give Cap's arrival just the right amount of warning before he broadcasts. "Sir! Agent Stojespal, sir." Oh good, the one who can't shoot straight to save her life, possibly literally.

Kamala - Ms. Marvel - gets a thumbs-up. She hadn't expected a situation to develop quite so suddenly after laying out SHIELD's offer to the Inhuman, but apparently no one was watching this particular pot and it managed to boil over at just the right time.

Her drones flit about the tugboat, sneaking occasional glimpses up close from a window when they can. "Whatever the initial readings were…" Sally trails off in a moment of frustration as detection levels wobble. "Absolutely there is still something present, possibly dangerous. It appears to have something blocking the signal, a jammer? I am not sure."

A glance at Five and Six. "There are several civilians…it does not seem that they are in the immediate area. Shall I draw them away to safety, sir?"

The helmet pops up and open, faceplate shifting aside to give the Sokovian an unobstructed view. "Yes, it was sensed as well. We happened to be closest," she adds, with a nod to Ms. Marvel. "And…Stooge-pal is fine." She gives the raccoon a blue-eyed wink of amusement, before adding her own zinger. "After all, considering the company…"

She's just teasing, grinning at the cannon-happy creature, but maybe it's nerves masquerading as bravado.


With a simple flick of the foot, the kick stop for his ride is put down, allowing Captain America to get off his trusted ride of choice. There is a glance given to all gathered as the WWII war hero assesses the situation. Unsurprisingly, it is Rocket that gets his attention first, but for now, he merely gives the raccoon a nod and a simple "Rocket" before looking toward the rest of the people gathered.

"Greetings, Miss Marvel, not to be confused with Captain Marvel or Marvel Girl. Glad to have you out here. Always nice to see the new generation of American citizens doing their part to make a better world." A lot of people like the name Marvel that he knows. It's strange really.

As Rusalka offers her report, Cap nods in approval. "If its advanced tech from here or elsewhere, jamming's more than likely. We'll need to get visual the old fashioned way, so just be careful. As for the civilians, let's focus on trying to get a bead on the unknowns and then we can assess what we need to do. Understand the situation as swiftly as possible, then plan." Steve likes to plan, but it seems it is hard for him to unless he knows what to plan for.


Kamala is legit going to cry right here, and she doesn't have time for that. She does take a moment to stuff her fist in her mouth, though, and count to ten so she doesn't squeal loudly enough to cause damage to everyone's comm units.

Instead, she takes a deep breath before offering up: "I can get in sneakylike. Unless anyone here can be invisible. I can make myself super small." She's not going to try turning herself into a bird again. It always looks so WEIRD. Instead, she ensmallens herself and starts sprinting toward the boat. Unless she's told otherwise, in which case… she won't do that thing.


Things have been acting weird! …er! Kind of! Of late. On a sliding scale of weirdness, the past weirdness probably rates at around a six or a seven, which is much higher than 'the Shocker is destroying Spider-Man's favorite ice cream shops because he's mad at his name getting made fun of again' but sliiiightly below 'Yogi the Bear went mad and ate a whole pic-a-nic basket of New York City Power Grids, or something.' So. Decently weird.

Which means Spider-Man is on the case! … Kind of! It's more like 'Spider-Man noticed something was up by pure coincidence while fiddling with (not breaking any of it shut up he knows what he's doing) Titans Tower's super cool monitoring technology and decided to go check it out.' It's great. Super great.

He feels like a scientist adventurer!

"Man, I feel like a boy scientist!"

… Or that.

"… I mean. Man. Man Scientist. I feel like a fully grown adult Scientist Man."

There. That's settled.

And so it is that the Sinister Spider-Man — no wait, the Spectacular Spider-Menace — no, dammit — so it is that the arachnid guy of poor public relations makes a phenomenally silent landfall near the others by that hollowed out tugboat, aged and well-rusted. Well.

"Oh my god! It's Captain America! OhmygodohmygodI'vealreadymetyouIshouldhaveamorelowkeyreactiontothisohmygodI'msorryohmygod!"

Silent as in his landing doesn't make a sound.

"Sorry! Oh my god! Sorry! I shouldn't be freaking out, we're, like — we went through an otherworldly sphincter togetherrrrrrrrrrrr I just realized I shouldn't have said that out loud, why do I keep bringing that up, ANYWAY. Hi. Hey! What's the score. How's it going. What're we doing. I am here - to - help! Like, you know, Avengers style. … Is this an Avengers thing??"

A second passes. Lenses shutter in a blink.

"Oh hey, Ms. Marvel! — Holy crap, are you an Avenger now??" Give him a second. He'll be good to go pretty soon. Just has to… get all this out of the way. It's a necessary process.


There's movement within the tug, from the figure guarding the entry. Then, there's a sudden flash of light and anyone moving towards the tug will taste…peaches? It's a fuzzy, sweet sensation in the mouth, in any case. It has the side effect of shorting any tech that's gotten too close. That includes Sally's drones, unless she draws them back in time.

Safe to say, the aliens know they have company.

The blobs inside shift into action, drawing what seems like weaponry. At least, the gear the heroes are wielding is pretty sure they're not wielding supersoakers either.

The only figure not moving is the smallest one that seems to huddle further into the corner. One of the big figures stays near the transmitter and near the small figure, while one large and one just-tall creature moves to the front to join the guard.

They get their first glimpse of what they're facing as one of the figures emerges onto the deck. He's eight feet tall with four arms and a single yellow eye that takes up most of his head. He has pretty much no neck to speak of and looks like he might once have had a tail at some point. He's wielding a massive gun attached to a powerpack on his back. He lifts it to look through the scope and points it in the direction of the heroes.

A tall figure moves up beside Balor the Cyclops. He's much more human in proportion, but he looks like what would happen if Picasso painted a humanoid potato in a neutral palette. There's one eye on his forehead and another where a left ear would be. Mouth and nose are somewhere in the middleish of his face.


"Huh, didn't know you guys were havin' a party either," Rocket mutters at the S.H.I.E.L.D. and Others gathering. Well, he's not letting them distract him from- oh hey, movement. Should he give the others a head's up? They can probably tell by now what's going on, right? Riiight.

Anyway, Rocket doesn't want to give his position away as he moves in, ducking behind whatever posts and cargo sits between him and the tug. His fur goes on end at the flash of light just beyond, his back pressed against another crate as he peers around. He takes another glance at his scanner, furry brows arching. "Well that's very interesting…" From the readings he's getting, definitely something from way out of town, and by that he means beyond this system. Inwardly, he's putting dibs on that piece of hardware.

When he sees movement he ducks back around the crate, extending his rifle from its compacted position. Time to lock and load? Is there a plan here? He's always got one. Anyway, they're armed, so it's fair game to start shooting first, right?

Rocket throws himself around the crate and takes aim at the biggest target- or at least the one aiming the biggest gun. No shout, just pulls the trigger to try beating him to the punch. His own rifle sends off a bright pulse.

"Heh. Han shot first."


"Yes sir. I have some visuals, but they are not perfect, and…" The helmet snaps back shut, the HOPPS internal HUD bringing up the feeds. "I still see no other - wait…no, there is no one else on the grounds. A shadow, I think?" She's not sure what it was she'd spotted, but zooming out and searching from Five doesn't show anything else.

Kamala's fist finds its way to her mouth, and it looks to the junior SHIELD agent as if she's about to cry. Nerves? Fear at such a thing? One gauntlet raises to gently pat Ms. Marvel's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

And suddenly it's raining men. Boys. Spiderboys. Spideradolescentmaleyouthsabovethevotingage. Something. Rusalka does not shriek in surprise, only because she'd had a half-second proximity alarm as the shadow she'd seen earlier drops to the ground next to her. "Ah…" Sokovian accented through the helmet, Sally's voice just drops off as she nods.

Avengers. Totally Avengers. Bozhe moy, tse Lyudyna-pavuk! Oh she reads that newspaper, purely for laughs.

Back to work, as Cap and Kamala bring up their suggestions. "Sir. If there is advanced technological jamming…Mr. Stark built a holographic stealth system into this suit, but I would not completely trust it against something…alien. It might be affected by the jamming. I agree with Ms. Marvel-"

A pulse of some kind of energy rushes over everyone, leaving that bizarre aftertaste in their mouths. It's enough to rouse a certain napping demigoddess for a moment. Pickled peaches, she thinks at Sally, before slumbering once more.

Some help you are!

Meanwhile…"Sir! I've lost…three drones, some sort of jamming pulse." She was right about her stealth systems, then. Come on, Three, come back, you can make it! There's still enough feed from Five and Six that she can swing them back around, being further away, and at least see the readying creatures.

"Myuriy, concealment!" Time to stealth up for as long as it'll last, and give them a false target to worry about. "Duplicate self, by the crates ten meters to the left, get their attention!" If everything works properly, the HOPPS disappears - and reappears quite ostentatiously a short distance away…shaking its rear end and blowing kisses, taunting the tug's occupants into gunfire.

…shaking its rear end and…

Mr. Stark we are going to have a talk about preprogrammed routines.


"Spider-Man!" Kamala switches over to the Titans frequency. "Hi! Hey, good to see you; I'm not an Avenger, I was just having Doom Dogs with a nice SHIELD agent! Can we even double-dip like that? Be an Avenger and a Titan? QUESTIONS FOR LATER ALSO DO YOU PLAY WORLD OF BATTLECRAFT I KEEP MEANING TO ASK — "

It's the smallest of the creatures that Kamala is heading toward. Partly because she is now the smallest person here, having shrunk to the size of perhaps a mouse, but also because she wants to know what the other big guys are guarding. She switches back to the main frequency and hisses into it: "Slipping through their lines to check on the one in the back. Boy, their trigger fingers are itchy."


"— huh, does anyone taste peaches? I'm not having a stroke, right? Is it burnt peaches or burnt toast that means you're having a strooooh wow that's a big gun."

He senses the danger before he sees it, of course; those finely tuned extra-sensory abilities of his kicking in the exact moment that fuzzy taste filters through his mask to tickle at his tastebuds. And then he actually -sees- the danger, in the form of a VERY BIG guy who looks like Mortal Kombat had a furious mating session with Gears of War (man he needs to keep that in his pocket for later) and God's very funny idea of what a cubist portrait of Mister Potatohead would look like in real life.

And so, with his spider-sense ringing, and Rocket going all High Noon, Spider-Man does the sensible thing and just kind of jumps into the air and try to shoot webbing into the face of the big, very dangerous looking guy with the super 90s UltraMurderGun.

"Take that, villain!" declares Spider-Man. A second passes as he flips through the air. "… ARE you a villain? Because you LOOK like a villain and now I realize taking cues from a gun-toting hair-trigger sinister-chuckling trash panda probably isn't the wisest call so if I mis-identified you I am -so- sorry but if not — take that, villain!"



The aliens were NOT expecting anyone to shoot first. If they survive, they might find solace in the fact that a Terran wasn't the one who shot first, so their estimation of the native species of the planet may not have actually been off. Spud just barely avoids getting his arm blown off. Balor hefts the big laser pistol and fires. It makes impressively spacey-sounding laser noises and cuts a hot path across the entire distance and doesn't stop until it hits something - and then it slices through that.

But the thing about a mining laser is that it's a scalpel. The laser itself is devastating, but only in about an inch of surface area. Which means Spidey can Spidey-dodge if he's quick about it. It's just like those Mission Impossible lasers except really, really deadly. The webbing hits the gun and glues his hands to the trigger, which…only makes his grip a bit better. The second sort of his his…lack of neck area and gets in his giant eye which leads to furious blinking, "THE TERRAN EJACULATED INTO MY EYE! WILL I GET A DISEASE?!"

Spud gives his companion a look, then raises his bigass gun and starts firing more concussive blasts, laying down a layer of suppressive fire to stop the heroes from getting any closer. The dancing decoy does the trick, because it does draw a good chunk of Spud's fire if only for a moment.

They have their eyes on the heroes. They are not, however, looking for ensmallened humans.

Those who are still looking at the scanners would notice the sudden dying down of the signal as the two figures towards the back of the ship start to move around equipment. The thing is clearly powering down. Another kind of signal is slowly powering up, though it has a completely different signature to the transmitter.


Real or not, the holographic decoy doesn't survive the barrage of concussion-cannon fire from whatever Spud uses. The fine laser and image processing system isn't damaged, but where it's projecting turns to a cloud of shrapnel and debris, and Rusalka gets an idea.

Where's the best place to attack an enemy from? Where they think they just destroyed you. She skitters backwards and around towards the now-scrapped machinery, ordering the suit into an even dark grey color. Much easier than arguing with the holography…

A quick check of the others, especially over the drone network. Three manages to make it back to dock, while Five and Six return to the tugboat and give their feed. "Something is changing! There is…there are two more ah, beings at the back of the vessel. They are operating something, it appears; the signals are changing along with the jamming. I cannot determine precisely what it is yet."

Meanwhile, yenotchka - Rocket Raccoon of Space - is in trouble, getting pinned down by something with an even bigger gun than his. It's probably pissing him off; less being shot at and more being outdone for firepower. Maybe she can help, Sally thinks…and, charge - with a long blast from the repulsors in the boots, Sally makes a low and fast leap before dropping into a skid when she hits the ground, and aiming the built-in ICER at Spud and what's left of his companion.

A long burp of fire as she dumps the whole magazine, hoping these things have nerve cells in large clusters that might enough resemble brains that the dendrotoxin can put to sleep. Otherwise, skidding to a halt, life is going to suck


NOBODY EXPECTS THE tiny hero! The Kamala-shaped mouse-sized heroine goes scurrying on board the ship, sprinting as quickly as she can. It's lucky she's in pretty good shape — it's that much longer a distance to run. Because tiny.

She's gotten used to seeing a lot of things from this angle and this size, but she's never really become used to it. The world is strange when you're this small. It's not MADE for people her size. Enormous shoes. Legs like trees. Trees like… like REALLY BIG TREES.

"I'm heading for the two in the back!" she hisses into her comm. "There's a lot of…" Huff. Leap. "Weird space stuff back here. Are these aliens? These are aliens! All this stuff came from SPACE! Er." Leap, roll, sigh. "Sorry. It's also… rusty back here. Someone has not been taking good care of their belongings. Or just didn't have a lot of choice."


"Eja — it's my SPIDER-FLUID AND IT'S SPIDER-CLEAN, YOU — okay, I realize, that came out wrong, but you just — gotta use your head, man. Is that a head? Do you -have- a head, or is that just, like, your butt, because to be honest, if you think people ejaculate out of their hands, I don't really know what is going on with you anatomically-wise and — oh my god laser!"

And this would be the sound of Spider-Man ranting as he does whatever a spider can; preternatural reflexes and a finely-honed spider-sense means he sees that mining gear being fired off before it even is, sending him literally bending in ways that should be theoretically possible in mid-air; the beam of red sears a hot path -just- beneath his spine, burning through the material of his suit just a little bit with a "holy crap hot hot hot!!" from the spider-vigilante. He turns, considers his trajectories and the suppressive fire and the fact that the cyclops is… blind? maybe?

And he does the smart thing.

Which is to say, he fires off a line of webbing right into the tug-boat and -yanks- to send him careening towards Balor as Rusalka - hopefully - draws Spud's attention, flipping through the air with every intent to -ram- his feet into the angry, blinded alien.

"Seriously, dude. There's like. Sex-ed classes -everywhere-. … Though I think like 90% of them just teach abstinence… wow. Depressing. Thanks for bumming me out!"

FAPPO (which is, of course, the sound boots make when they hit an alien in the face)


Sally's drones get their first picture of the creatures at the back. As their device powers down, so does their dampening field. She can see through the rusted metal to get an image of a…

…giant sloth and a young girl who is about six shades of pink. Which is also what Kamala gets to see when she tiny-scurries towards the back.

The sloth is not perfectly sloth-like or even perfectly giant-slothlike, but she's got enough sloth-like features to be labeled as such. She scoops up the pink child in one arm, and hefts the strap of a transmitter onto her shoulder. The device is slowly losing power. She's also tapping with long fingers at a device in her hand.

The pink child looks afraid and nestles into the sloth's arm.

"There there, child. Don't worry. Your uncles will keep the bad Terrans away. Quiet, now," her voice is incredibly soothing and kind. "We'll get you home soon." Then she says something into a transmitter that doesn't parse at all.

The same sound sparks into the ears of Balor and Spud. Balor is trying valiantly to scrape Spider-spooge out of his eye. "SPIDERS ARE NOT CLEAN!" he declares in a roar, seconds before he gets FAPPED in the head. He's solid, but he drops with a grunt, mining gun slipping from his hand and dropping into the water. He curses something in not-English, then slaps a device on his arm. He vanishes in a swirl of energy.

Spud has been hit with the ICER and is convulsing violently. He fights it, but then slumps into unconsciousness, weapon dropping to the deck. He has an identical device that he tried to reach for, but failed.

Meanwhile, the sloth-woman taps a similar device on her wrist and the pair dissolve into their own pool of Star Trekkian light.


Okay, so the nice thing about having a team of some sorts is that it takes off all the concentrated firepower on you and disperses it. Rocket decides he's fine with this.

The raccoonoid leaps back out into the fray once things no longer seem to be trying to punch through his cover, swinging his rifle about in preparation to fire. -but then he sees the thing he'd wanted to get his hands on as it goes blooping into the water. "WHAAAaaat no!"

With a growl Rocket aims to fire but his target in question vanishes. The other one keels over, disappointedly. "What the glarkin'…." He grumbles and makes a grab for his scanner again, banging it against his thigh a few times before the screen turns up. Looking for signatures of the one that had disappeared, to make sure if they'd really gone and vanished completely or…


Shoot enough ammunition, you'll hit something eventually. There's a relieved sigh as Spud starts convulsing and finally drops to the deck of the tug, the cannon of his coming loose. Sally's quick to retrieve it, looking it over but touching nothing that looks like a trigger based on how the alien had been holding it.

She isn't immediately paying attention to the drones at the moment, but they're recorded - Sally does spot the other two 'beaming up' somewhere. "Do not touch that device!" She's pointing at whatever…oh the hell with it. The communicator to tell Scotty to beam himself up. Phil would be proud of her thought process, even if that show predated her mother.

Instead, Five retrieves it - the little drone searching for the teleporter and gripping it, just in case it accidentally finds itself on a star ride to wherever David Bowie has gone to.

"Is there anything else? Did they all disappear?" …and how is she supposed to detain this giant grey alien? A request for scene clearance from SHIELD gets sent in, before she turns to Rocket. "You are alright?" She'd heard that shout as the gun hit the water, but didn't know why.


Oh. Oh.

Ms. Marvel embiggens herself again and calls out once the aliens are gone, stepping out onto the deck and calling out: "It's okay! Don't hurt them!" Yeah, well. That's a little late. "They just wanted to go home, guys. There was — a mom and her kid, I think. Not sure about. Species? And these were uncles, and she was a sloth, and there was a little pink girl and, um."

Kamala looks out at the Super Out Spud and clears her throat.

"So I think we're maybe done with the fighty bits here."


Rocket compacts his rifle with a jerk of his arm, slinging it back behind him as he starts closer to the tug. He steps on top of the fallen alien that remains, still looking at his scanner even as he goes over closer to the water's edge where the mining apparatus had been dropped. A frown touches his face as he sniffs at the air.

"Teleported," he says with a scowl, glancing over towards Rusalka and Ms. Marvel, who may as well have just appeared out of nowhere given he'd missed how she'd gotten onto the boat itself. "Can't have gone too far, but even if I work a configuration for the residual signature, they'd be long gone from wherever they appeared." He looks over at Kamala. "A kid? Huh. Well, none'a them were from Terra, I'm pretty sure of that much. Might explain why they were trying to beam something out though…"

He takes one longing look back at the water before moving towards the interior of the tugboat. "Let's see what all they got together in here…"



The Sokovian just lies back a moment, staring up at the sky, as the drone feed repeats - reshowing the moment of conversation between the aliens at the end, after Ms. Marvel yells her warning. For a moment she worries, feeling like the bad guy…but in fairness they'd opened fire first, with weapons a lot nastier than what was used on them.

At least everyone is alive after this misunderstanding. Even the big grey alien, currently being webbed up by Spiderman. And Cap, meanwhile, made sure of the safety of the others nearby - after they'd demanded selfies and autographs, of course. Such the price of figureheads.

She climbs to her feet, following Rocket over for a moment, curious about what has his attention…oh. OH. "Mm. That is true, but what were they beaming out…ah. I have confirmation that a containment team is on the way, and medics." A moment to acknowledge the report, then she stares down into the water.

Her voice is damn near petulant, considering the amount of oil, bilge juice, and other such garbage there must be. "This is never going to clean off…" Splash. And then a few seconds later, bursting out of the water with the mining cannon thing. She'll hand it off to Rocket along with the Spudgun.

"I am assuming, as the local non-resident weapons specialist, you can figure out a way to make safe these …things?" Merry Christmas, Rocket.

And then there's a glance to Kamala. "We will find out more soon. Care of children…that is something SHIELD believes in. Ask Captain America." If she can ever get past the squee, that is. Stepping out of the armor, and doing her damndest to stay dry, she retrieves it from its briefcase form. "Ms. Marvel. May I take you home?"

Heated. Seats.

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