Amateur Magic, Formal Clothes

January 04, 2015:

Spitfire, May and Jericho and Oracle take down a HYDRA Occult operation at an interagency gala

Battery Park Hilton

One of the nicest hotels in Battery Park. Also the scene of a Stark Industries Gala several months ago.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Jericho Trent… really, really shouldn't be here. This is one of those events. You know, black tie affairs. Formal gathering. Meet and greet important people. He hates formal gatherings. And formal clothes. He has ever since he was actually in the Army. But the real reason he shouldn't be here is that this is a SHIELD event. Well, kind of. It's an interagency get together. Foster camraderie, give folks a chance to meet one another. Give the bigwigs a chance to subtly talk plans and contingencies. Not all meetings are done in dark back rooms behind triple locked vault doors.

And Jericho's not on the guest list.

To be fair he's not masquerading as a guest. Guests don't have full access to all the facilities without being watched and anyway there's no way he was going to even think about trying hacking the systems to put himself on it. Too easy to be spotted too much risk. So he's infiltrated the hotel staff. It's a trick he's pulled before. Er… at this Hotel, actually, now that he thinks about it.

Why is he here? Well, a while back he recovered HYDRA files on - among other people - his friend Agent May. Files that indicate that they're planning to use occult forces to murder her. She's aware of course, but he's recently had indication that something connected to that plot may be afoot. Unfortunately he's not sure if it's related to May or another target he doesn't know about. Damn HYDRA occultists and their blood magic.

So he'd sent May a slightly cryptic text indicating that he was 'in the area' and pinged the Oracle, asking her to help run support for him. "Any HYDRA network pings yet, Oracle?" He murmurs as arranges a buffet table.


Fortunately, or maybe not so fortunately, just recently Oracle had found a tracking device on a car that Agent May has taken from the SHIELD car pool. It was fortunate, because she had managed to find where the signal was being sent to and get a good feel for which frequencies HYDRA had been using. Of course, identifying which satellite the signals were being bounced from helped too.

The Information Goddess has used all that information to setup up monitoring of HYDRA systems when Jericho requested support and is now running scans to see what pings up.

"Nothing yet, Aspect. I'm monitoring that satellite I identified the other day and watching all frequencies to see what pops up." The redhead leans back in her chair, expecting this to require some patience.


Truthfully, Jacqueline Falsworth-Crichton had no intention of getting drawn into interagency politics here in the US. She told MI-13 that in no uncertain terms when she left her homeland for her American sojourn. If SHIELD needed a hand, they could jolly well go through official channels and get one of the SAS teams to hop to… And yet, here she is, bedecked in an appropriate, fashionable-yet-tasteful gown, with her hair done up and a modest set of jewels at her ears and throat. There's no weapon concealed upon her person; she doesn't need one… and any agent worth their salt in the room damned well knows it.

Damned bureaucrats. She swallows a grimace, keeping her face perfectly pleasant, perfectly polite, perfectly… well… British. In her right hand she carries a martini glass, its contents half-gone. Eat your heart out, Mr. Bond. If the Crown wants her to play popinjay, she might as well put on the right show. And a little homage to Sir William and Ian never seems to go amiss in the Land of Liberty.

She takes a slow, circuitous route from one edge of the room toward the buffet. Because she can.


Melinda May hates these 'schmoozing' functions. She usually avoids them. In fact, she'd be avoiding this one now if it had not been for a text from Jericho that was baffling enough to prompt her to reply with 'Speak English, please'. When he sends back that he is going to be at this event and would like her to be there as well, she spends about three seconds trying to decide whether or not to throw her phone against a wall. Then, she goes to get dressed. Trent, you SO owe her for this.

Pulling up to the venue fashionably late in a hired car, May steps out of the vehicle and into the building, her SHIELD ID actually working better for letting her in than an invitation would. Her winter wrap is checked in the foyer, and she steps into the venue proper wearing a red dress.

And she's NOT smiling.


Jericho might actually break just a little if he saw May right now. He probably will when he does see her. Right now he's on the opposite end of the room doing his 'I'm boring and unimportant' thing. Which, when one is hotel staff, is easy to pull off. He fixes a tray of seafood over a heater and politely moves out of Jaqueline's way. His HUD is scolling as searches and facial recognition work overtime. It's not as easy in a group like this with so many people having very classified lives. A lot of times all he can pull up is a name and basic vitals. Sometimes he doesn't even get that.

"Keep looking." He murmurs low unaware that there's a good chance Jaqueline can hear him. "That trace you mentioned the other day was coming from this area. I'm going to see if May's showed up yet and then search the work spaces."

Giving a polite smile to the Lady Falsworth-Crichton, the 'hired help' turns to move across the room.

Oracle's screens light up with an active network trace. It's actually not far from the hotel at all and it's… rifling through google images at an alarming rate, searching a lot of things related to 'lesser key of solomon.'


Oracle can and does get bored when doing these types of operations, and quite frankly, she's curious. Tapping into the hotels security systems she brings up the feed of the room the soiree is being hosted in.

As the trace shows active traffic, she sits forward and frowns "They're active, tracing the source" HYDRA is not stupid and the trace takes a few minutes to achieve, going through several hops out of the country, round the world and back to an apartment, located 2 blocks away. "Whoever or whatever it is, is close. Co-ordinates for you Aspect" the map references and a street view image of the building is transmitted. "They're searching for images… of the 'lesser key of solomon'. Want to fill me in on that Aspect?" Oracle does tech, not this magicky, witchy type stuff… maybe it's time she learned more though.


Jacqueline gives the young man by buffet a light nod; she's not one of those aristocrats who sees the 'help' as invisible. More things can be learned from them than anyone, she's often found. As she turns to pick up a light canapé, she plays her best pokerface as the young man's voice reaches her. So. Someone's running an op. Here. Amidst a bunch of spies. How… terribly cliché, actually — in an entirely Hollywood manner, of course. In fact, it amuses her. And to think she thought the night would be boring.

The question is, however, who's May and who is this youngster working for? The marchioness finishes her canapé, takes a last swallow of the martini, and sets the glass down casually. She drifts subtly after Aspect, but never without someone else nearby with whom she can smalltalk or otherwise use as 'cover'.


Melinda May stops just inside the room where everyone has gathered, her eyes scanning everyone in the place. She recognizes LOTS of faces here, but she has yet to pick Trent out of the bunch. Okay, fine. She starts across the room toward the buffet, familiar with Jericho's usual MO. If he's here in the room right now, he's almost definitely not wearing a tux and swanning about like Pierce Brosnan or someone.


"The Lesser Key of Solomon is a seventeenth century demonological text, divided into five books. It mostly relates to how to summon a list of seventy two demons using various circles and ritualistic trappings." Jericho murmurs, unaware he's being followed as yet. After all why would a British noble have reason to follow the help? "Which squares with them using magic, but the last time we saw them do this it was with the trappings of Mayan Blood Magic so it's a shift in their MO. Unless… they're adapting and synchronizing the methods for some reason." He's had a lot of exposure to magic but he's not a mage.

The information is quickly isolated on Oracle's traces and sent to a cell phone in the Hotel, though not, it seems, in the actual room they're in.

Help does not usually walk up to the guests, so instead Jericho finds himself 'by chance' next to May, giving her a side long look that tells her that she just broke his world a little. "Hey May." He says quietly as he fusses with his wrist. "Glad you could make it out. God, I hate cufflinks…"


Oracle nods at Jericho's explanation and watches the search being conducted "They're looking for images, which would indicate they're probably looking to create something, a trap or a spell…. I'm not sure on the phrasing there."

Watching the security cameras for the room Jericho is in, Oracle sees May and conferences Jericho's and Mays comms unit. "Hello again May." just as she notes the woman in the floor length grey gown seemingly following Jericho.

The blonde is good… drifting through the crowd unobtrusively, stopping and engaging in small talk when Jericho pauses, but still, the fact that she seems to be taking the same route as the hacke makes Oracle frown. "I think you have a tail, Aspect. Blonde, floor length strapless gown."

As the search concludes and the text message is sent, the redhead kicks off another trace. "You have company in the building. Reginald Carver, supposedly in town for a UN Conference, but works for a known HYDRA front. The information that was being searched has been sent to him.


So. Now Jacqueline knows who May is — the dour little Asian woman in the red dress. At least, she's striking enough to easily keep tabs on her. And the waiter… well, he makes a very good secret agent, from the point of view that he's relatively non-descript and forgettable… and thus someone she will keep forefront in mind.

It's the discussion of the Lesser Key of Solomon that catches her ear, however. One doesn't spend years with the UK's foremost counter-paranormal squadron without learning a sharp thing or two about the occult. Especially given her heritage. (Who needs Van Helsing, anyway?)

But, really, the least the Crown could have done was sent her in with a few toys of her own. She doesn't relish doing everything the hard way. Then again, if she's quick enough, maybe it won't matter.


Cufflinks. Seriously. May quirks an eyebrow at Trent and says in an equally quiet but still deadpan voice, "I will give you five hundred dollars right now for a pair of flats." Then she hears Oracle's voice and reaches to tap the little comm unit in her ear as acknowledgement on the pretense of adjusting her earring. "Go, Trent. I'll handle Strapless." She then turns to start toward the buffet again, making it look like she's going to simply brush past Jacqueline on her way. She doesn't appear to have any weaponry concealed under her dress, but then she's carrying a gold clutch purse and has a length of gold silk sash knotted decoratively at her neck to possibly pass for a necklace.


Jericho nods and moves for the door that May just came out of. Moments later his voice comes through for both May's comm and Oracle's. "Okay, Sitrep: HYDRA network lit up just after you got here, May. They're running image searches on demon summoning techniques. Paired with Mayan Blood Magic I have no idea what they could be up to, but I'm headed up a couple of floors to check this lead out. No idea why that woman was tailing me."

As the hacker moves up Oracel's boards light up again. Someone just texted a cell phone belonging to one of the wait staff with the following latin phrase: 'Mundus vult decipi.' The world wants to be decieved.


Hm. Unless her ears deceive her, it seems Jacqueline's been 'made'. Well. Not such a surprise, this being a room full of spies, after all. Which means she'd also be a fool to assume unarmed means not-dangerous. Furthermore, if someone's fool enough to think to summon one (or, God forbid, all) of the 72 Lords of Hell here, Spitfire doesn't particularly think she wants to take the time to dance with the dour American. Thus, as the Asian woman approaches, Jacqueline shifts around the gaggle of young gentlemen she was beguiling with entirely fabricated tales of the pleasures of high society London, putting them between her and the other woman. And, as the young waiter fades towards the door, there's an unexpected breeze through the corridor, the Lady no longer to be found in the main ballroom.

(Damned speedsters.)


"They're moving on something." Oracle advises the pair "Text message to someone in that room, latin phrase 'Mundus vult decipi'… I can't pinpoint the exact person, but I suspect it's staff, but I can do this." Oracle sends a phone call to the waiters phone, routed across several services to make tracking back to her impossible. "May, look for a member of staff with a ringing phone."

"I don't like they're using the phone network, I'm going to interrupt cell reception there unless you give me good reason not to Aspect."

Checking the video feed from the room again, Oracle see's the grey gowned woman is gone and pulls up the rest of the building feeds. Knowing May will have realised the woman has gone "She's either magic or really, really fast but I'm not seeing her on any security feeds yet."


Melinda May is only about halfway to where the strapless gown woman is when the blonde steps away from the men she'd been chatting up and then abruptly disappears. She mutters darkly, "Ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng," and turns her attention toward the various waiters and other staff working this event. One of them is using their phone. Who is it?


It's a young brunette by the service entry door. She's looking at her phone like something's wrong with it as it rings up an unknown number. There's also something nervous about her whole manner. Like an athlete before a big game.

"Don't interrupt. Reroute. Pull them all to you if you can. We don't want them to stop talking while they're still telling us things. But put their messages in some kind of limbo." The electronic kind, not the one he visits. "Wait, the blonde did what now?" Great…

Jericho is just getting a large leather case about two feet long and six inches wide out of a maintenance closet near the stairwell that he intends to go up. Apparently he needs to look out now, though, since his tail vanished. "Keep your eyes open May. I really don't want to find you in a pentagram."


Before even attempting that manoeuvre, Oracle checks her security systems are in full operation, this could well make her a target both from HYDRA and Government agencies.

The redhead in the Clocktower, partitions part of a server farm located 'elsewhere' into a sandbox that will store the messages and routing information for later analysis. Hacking into the cell provider networks, Oracle routes messages sent to phones in a two block radius of the hotel to that sandbox. "Done Aspect. I'm saving the messages into storage, with routing information, for later analysis."

The comment about a pentagram has her frowning a little "They'd need to have that inscribed or drawn somewhere, correct? Maybe I can find it." Turning her attention again to the video feeds, she checks as much of the hotel as possible to see what she can find - demonic symbol wise and grey strapless dress lady wise.


Given Oracle's reach, and Jacqueline's rather public identity at home, it probably wouldn't take the information goddess long to figure out the strapless blonde might have some useful expertise in this game. As it is, however, it's likely she'll at least catch the cell phone exchange and possibly deduce from the source of the signal and the context of the conversation, that the Lady Crichton is nestled in a stairwell nook not so far from the room in which Aspect works, conveniently in a security camera blindspot.

"Robert," the Brit says to her driver/Joe Friday, "two things: fetch the holy water and patch me into the ruddy Shard. The ruddy Yanks have a damned occult conspiracy happening under their noses. Switching to earpiece." And then, she's going hunting.

So much for this gown. She loses more dresses this way…


Melinda May spots the young brunette fiddling with her phone and detours that way. She plasters a hopefully innocent looking smile on her face and approaches the girl. "Hi, sorry, would you happen to know where the powder room is?" If the girl's face shows even a flicker of recognition at May, she'll find herself and her phone being dragged through that service entry door. By the neck if need be.


Aspect rounds into the stairwell and starts going up. Spitfire knows her business, she's out of easy sightline and while he's watching Jericho is far more concerned with stopping whatever's going on. "They won't have drawn their circle in view of any cameras." Now away from the party he's not so quiet. "But they were using an obsidian orb as a focus before. See if you can video of anyone hauling in some oddly shaped mesoamerican artwork." Up he goes two floors and into the hallway. Like all hotels it's a row of doors to rooms and suites. The hacker stops infront of 315 and flicks his case open. Out comes something that looks like a multitool but quickly unfolds into a wicked curved sword. At the same time silvery metal flows out through his shirt and wraps around his forearms like bracers. "Okay. Breaching in three, two, one…"

May's question gets a slight look of panic. Yes. She does recognize her. "It's er, right around the -eep!" May drags the girl back into the service area to find… there's a circle drawn here. It's been drawn in animal blood (probably culled from steaks) and set about with small candles. There's also someone just about to pour out what looks like a cup up spirits. He looks up in alarm and dumps it all out.

"This is Control." Jaqueline's earpiece comes to life. "Spot of bother there, Agent?" As he's asking Lady Falsworth-Crichton may feel arcane energies swirling about her, unformed.


"Acknowledged Aspect." Oracle scans the video feeds again, whilst bring up another window to replay the last several hours of survellence footage (fast forward of course) to see what she can find. "Aspect, May, Looking back through the security footag, several hours ago, by the timestamp, a strange odd sized package was delivered and taken to the kitchen area, but there's no sign of it now." the redhead frowns "May, I've lost visual on you, you're in a blindsport."

Jacquelines comms to her driver and then the incoming comms are intercepted. "Found the blonde, well her comms anyway. She's british, seems to know the occult. May be friendly, but it's impossible to tell at this point."


"You might pass on to whomever it was thought this evening's soiree a good idea that he was sadly mistaken," Jacqueline replies dryly. "Who do we know that's actively searching for the Lesser Key of Solomon and has a jonesing to take out SHIELD and as many of their allies in one spot in a mystically spectacular fashion? Because I'd like some clue of who I'm dealing with before the fireworks start—" She breaks off suddenly as the sensation of magic surrounds her. Several uncouth phrases flash through her mind, though she's too well-bred to say them aloud. "If SHIELD has a Department equivalent," she sighs, tying up her skirts and kicking off her heels so she can move, "you might let them know I could use a hand keeping their tails out of the fire." And then there's short-flaring fire crackling down the hallway and through the stairwells as she races to catch up to Aspect even as he breaches the perimeter.


Oh HELL no. "Service area. Now," May barks out for Oracle and Trent to hear, then she's all but bodily hurling the girl in her grasp at the circle-drawing man. She's not at all studied in the arcane, but what little she does know (gleaned from movies and tv shows, mind you) is that if you mess with a spellcaster's careful drawings, they have to start over again from the beginning. With that in mind, she turns and promptly kicks over one of those rolling mop bucket things in an attempt to send dirty mop water all over those candles and circle of blood. DAMNIT. Flats. $500. Really.


The rush of water snuffs the candles out and whatever the circle was doing it seems to have stopped, at least in to May's senses. The HYDRA occultist lunges at May, as does a second now coming out of the back where there's an odd, heavy looking black orb stuffed in a closet with a lot of central american stonework. What did May just stumble onto? The ritualists are armed with knives, not guns, at least, but they're definitely not happy to see May of all people there.

"There are rumors of HYDRA dabbling in dark arts, but they're uncomfirmed as yet." Control informs Jaqueline. As the arcane energies swirl around her they take shape and finally slam into her. It's a blood magic spell. One meant to affect and compel vampires. It's… not gonna work. Someone hasn't done their homework nearly well enough for that and even if they had, Jaqueline's no ordinary creature of the night to be called and compelled.

Aspect kicks the door open just as he sees Jaqueline out of the corner of his eye. He turns to face her, blade in hand. Inside the room a man and a woman are standing over the body of one Reginald Carver, US State Department. There's a mirror pentagram drawn up here to the one that's in the service area below. "Hang on May! I'm engaged." Shots ring out from the room. Clearly, they're not happy to be interrupted and Aspect's not sure if Jaqueline's hostile or not.

Oracle's sandbox lights up like a chrstmas tree. Both parties have called for help, though it's not doing any good. All the traffic's being routed into her database and not being transmitted at all. Thankfully.


The sandbox is ignored for the time being, Oracles put some keyword alerts on the system and they're not being triggered just yet.

Jacquelines signal is finally traced, it's well protected but with a small amount of tenacity Gothams Information Goddess has traced to a British Government building "She appears to be British Government, Aspect. Conferencing the comms. By the conversation she's having with her 'control' they are aware of HYDRA and arcane." Whatever is said by 'Control' and Jacqueline now will be heard.


If Dracula couldn't compel Jacqueline, there's no way in Hell anyone else will. As the blood magic slams into her, however, she skids to a stop, out of reach of Aspect's blades. Her eyes glow with golden light and both her fangs and claws have become evident. "You," she says, pointing a sharp fingertip at Aspect, even as she gives his unusual accoutrements a once over, "are no longer my primary concern." Given the snarl in her voice… isn't he lucky? "You, however," she says, staring past him to the pair standing over the dead body, "are." They may come to regret that. Quickly.

Again, that crackling of speedster fire. She blazes past Aspect, fists closed, fully intending to knock the pair not only on their asses, but out for the count at the same time. She's had years to learn to pull punches enough to keep from killing regular folks. So, if her fists connect, they're not likely to die. But they'll wake up with one helluva headache.


Melinda May scoops up the mop from the overturned bucket and with an abrupt yank separate the mophead from the handle. Instant bo staff, yo. She uses the mop handle to fend off the first occultist's lunge, promptly spinning it to thwack him on the top of the head and then use the recoil from that to take a swing at the second, just-arriving occultist. She's not letting them anywhere near her with those knives, and this space is too confined for the small sash whip she's wearing as a necklace. And, as much as she hates heels, she'd rather put up with them than fight barefoot in bloody and filthy mopwater. Just no.


One of the occultists goes down in a heap and into that dirty mop water. The other two in the room (the original girl and the new arrival) try to grapple May and drag her down. They've clearly had some training, but then who has out trained May? Not many people, that's who.

"On the way May." Jericho sends down as he too runs into the room. But not to fight. No, he'll let whomever the British agent is deal with the two ritualists. He heads out the window, traces springing to life as amber wings catch his fall and he glides down into the service area, through another window with the sound of shattering glass. That blade sweeps out and he catches one of May's assailants on the arm enough to spin them. "Hi there. Oracle, kill their comms. Scramble everything." Whether he's greeting May or the man abou to get a swording is unclear.

Back in that room… well Jaqueline is fast. She's strong. And she's angry. And they were in no way expecting anything supernatural that they couldn't control. It's the work of about ten seconds for the well dressed British lady to put both HYDRA schills down.

Which gives her time to both see where Aspect went and to note the odd, cobbled together nature of the spell used in the room. Part Mayan blood magic, part european demonology, part… something she's not likely to have seen before. All working together in a disturbing whole. And the worst part? They seem to have targeted her though whether on purpose or by accident as a target of opportunity is hard to say.


Killing comms, if she could bring a blanket down over the area, would be easy for Oracle but it's not that simple. Her team needs to communicate the others do not. That means the redhead has to pick and choose which signals to allow or disallow into the area.

Setting up a series of filters, based on her teams comms channels including that British one, Oracle jams mobile and radio signals in the area. "Aspect, confirmed. Signals jammed. Acknowledge please."


"I'll just wrap up here, shall I?" Jacqueline says dryly, as Aspect crashes through a lower window into the service area below. She stands for a moment to take in the scene, puzzling for a heartbeat over the unfamiliar bits. "Robert," she says, then, pulling her cell from her clutch, "kindly bring my case from the trunk, would you please? Sharpish, please. Room 312." Of course, if Oracle's scrambling the signal, well… she'll be peeved, later.

She continues to move swiftly, sensing time is of the essence. She takes photos of the ritual with her phone, tucking it back away, and then moves to examine the two she clocked. Binding them with strips of bedsheet she'll doubtlessly have to replace later, she checks their bodies and pops out whatever cyanide teeth or other 'self-destruct' systems they have… because, really, she wants to talk to them later.

Robert's no speedster, but he knows what 'sharpish' means. And it doesn't mean 'in your own good time'. Thus, by the time she's ready to follow Aspect down to the lower level, the ex-SAS-man-turned-chauffeur has arrived at a flat out (normal soldier's) run. "Thank you, Robert," the blonde says as he hands her the case. "Do keep an eye on these two for me, would you please? We shall be having a very stern chat, later."

Then, there's the flash of fire and an empty case and empty ballgown flutter to the bathroom floor while the driver makes himself comfortable on a chair whereby he can see his charges, the door, and the window.


Melinda May is just about to have trouble with the occultists when Trent shows up and pulls one off of her. That leaves Little Miss Texting. Too easy. May straightens up, gives the girl an unimpressed look, then stops her before she can run away and downs her with one good punch to the face. That's just so much more satisfying than anything else. "There's an object in that store room over there. Looked like black glass."


Jericho's blade flashes twice. Then there's a thud. His eyes are gleaming bright amber in way May's only generally seen when he's angry. "That'll be an obsidian orb. It's a ritual tool, used to channel Mayan magic. Or their version of it." What on earth happened to Jericho's life that these are conversations he has with May.

"Strapless dress lady is a british agent of some kind. She took down to more HYDRA ritualists upstairs." Also she's fast though Jericho doens't know just how fast yet.

"Oracle, lockdown confirmed. Good here. We're about to clean up so you might want to wipe your network traces."

He look back from the closet over to May. "You okay?"


Back in the Clocktower, Oracle nods as she stretches. "Acknowledged Aspect. Anyone on our team hurt? Clearing traces now." Her hands move over her console, deleting any evidence of where she had been. In the sandpit she created, are all the messages that had been intercepted before the comms scrambling.


A breeze whips in through the open window, along with a crackle of flame. As both die down, the British woman can be seen standing outside the mess, just inside the room, by the window, wearing what, frankly, looks like a speedskating suit that's had a thin layer of padded armour added to it in strategic locations — limbs and joints, mainly. The red-visored hood is pulled back, blond hair falling out of the updo from earlier. There's no trace of fangs or claws. She's very composed. "Well, well," she says with a dry smile, carefully stepping over glass and around smears of blood. Her nose wrinkles slightly at the mix of mopwater and beef ichor in distaste, though it clears back to pleasnt quickly enough. "And here I was worried this evening was going to be boring." She flashes the two Americans a winning smile, but then regards the mess of HYDRA bodies. A soft 'hmph' that's more an acknowledgement of what she sees, rather than any sort of judgement. Then, she looks back at the pair.

"Falsworth," she says by way of introduction. "MI-13." A beat. Her head cants. "Are all your interagency bashes so eventful?" And, if so, why are they three the only ones that responded. (Oracle notwithstanding.) "Because, I have to say… This lot are a just a little over the top, as far as entertainment goes."


Melinda May nods to Jericho and sets the mop handle aside. And lo and behold, she's still wearing her heels. Okay, so she's going to have a couple of bruises from this and she might have popped a seam on her dress, but really, both of those are inconsequential in the long run. Then the blonde woman is abruptly there, and her change in attire earns a briefly furrowed brow. "Trust me, this is not normal."


"Agent." Jericho nods to 'Falsworth'. Oracle can probably hear and she may be able to get something on the woman later but Jeri's not going to out the secretive hacker by addressing her. He knows what that's like, needing to hide. "No, this was a bit of unscheduled entertainment. Courtesy of HYDRA." He glances out. The noise has been heard, no doubt and people will be checking soon. "May, don't let anyone you don't trust take that Orb. I should leave before there are pointed questions."

He moves over to the window and glows amber again, spreading his wings. "Nice moves back there, 'Falsworth'. Thanks for the cover. May can bring you up to speed, if she thinks it wise. But given that you kind of already know…" Couldn't hurt that much. "May, I'll be in touch." Beat. "Nice dress, by the way." And then he's out the window and winging away.

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