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aa_natasha http://aa.mudmagic.com/w/index.php/2012-08-15_Pleasant_Conversations
"I want to know what you remember of your time spent as my brother's slave," Thor replies.
"It's all in the reports." That seems to be all Clint wants to say on the matter, the answer coming neutral if a bit flat on the tip of his tongue, but he does add, "I don't remember much of it, and nothing that would be any use. Flashes of feeling where I shot my bow, and seeing my own hands, but nothing else."
Thor nods his head. He is silent for a moment, considering, with his head lowered a little. After the pause he glances up again. "Then I am at a loss. The Chitauri are not of any realm I know. My brother claims he has seen more of the cosmos than any Asgardian. And everyone he touches with that damned staff remembers not-a-thing." Thor grunts unhappily, frustrated. "Do you feel well, now?" he asks.
Natasha appears, sweat-soaked and casual in a tee and yoga pants, with a water bottle tilted up to her lips as she rounds a corner just in time to hear Thor's frustrated grunt. She halts on silent feet, staring at the Asgardian for a moment before her eyes narrow and she sweeps her gaze toward Clint with an interrupting, "Hi, guys."
"Better than you, by the looks of it," is Clint's easy answer, his shoulder rolling all the way upwards and around again in both a gesture and a testing flex before he shoves his brace into his back pocket. "Have you asked Selvig? From what I was reading about the reports he remembered /something/--" Whatever he may say on that is cut off at Natasha's appearance, his own meeting hers with a subtle tip of his chin towards Thor in a gesture of silent communication. This guy. "Hey, Romanov."
"Agent," Thor says after Natasha's greeting. He doesn't smile properly - he begins to, but winces. His hand rises to gently touch a bruise under his eye, just on top of his cheek. A moment later his hand lowers and he focuses on Barton. "I have not. Selvig has been busy. I will make an appointment," the final word is spoken with a grudge. Perhaps he misses his friend.
Natasha gives Clint a quirk of her brows in response, then turns her attention more thoroughly to Thor. Her steps carry her to Clint's side in unconscious habit, watching his flank. "You look like shit," she observes.
"You should see the other guy," Clint tells Natasha with a crooked grin, looking back to Thor briefly. "He was made of metal, that is. Not that he looks worse."
"I have seen better days," Thor agrees. "The Mighty Thor heals quickly, however. I will take to the skies soon, I assure you." He assures with another half-grin and a wince. After Barton speaks he adds, "I should get to the report, soon." He looks between the two agents. "How long have you two worked together?" he wonders randomly, and aloud.
"Doom?" Natasha startles, going abruptly serious and dark-eyed. "Here? Have you been debriefed?" She steadfastly ignores Thor's question, instead frowning at the Asgard's grin.
Clint answers for Thor again, explaining to Natasha, "No, he's been flying the red-eye to Latveria himself. I would have taken you as my plus one, but my invitation got lost in the mail." He also answers for Natasha where he adds, "Too long."
"I do not need you to answer for me, Barton," Thor replies. "However, he says the truth. Doom was not in Manhattan." He tries to cross his arms again and succeeds, though it is done gently.
Natasha is trying really hard not to believe this. You can tell by the way her hand goes to her temple, fingers pressing hard as she closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. She breathes out deeply. She opens her eyes. "You went to Latveria. On your own. And confronted Doom. Where, I presume, he handed you your ass." She cocks her head. "Did I miss anything?"
"With Chitauri tech. He got his ass kicked with Chitauri tech," Clint adds helpfully to his partner.
Thor FROWNS. He doesn't wince. "You can read my report, when it is finished," he replies, tone a grumble. His arms uncross and he begins to walk down the hallway.
At that, Natasha breaks off into a stream of Russian curses that Clint recognizes the sound of (he can probably even pick out a few words). Thor can probably get the gist of the /tone/, if not the words. It's not a happy tone. She does not chase after the Asgardian god. Maybe she's in too much shock. Maybe she just can't /deal with this/ right now. She presses the heel of her hand into her forehead and glares at the backs of her eyelids.
Clint stays where he is, with Natasha, only adding after she seems to be coming to a close on cussing, "Hey, come on. It's not all bad. We now have a lifetime of jokes to use against the Norse god of lightning." A pause. "Feel like a match?"
Thor doesn't exactly move at the best of paces. He does better than a hobble, though. Eventually he finds a door and opens it. It slams, shaking the wall around it. The poor secretary inside must be having a heart attack.
Natasha gives Clint a dark look, though there's an edge of resignation to it. "He's just made our job a lot harder," she says, because Clint clearly doesn't know. There's a beat before she digs out her sense of humor to reply, "You think that you can take me just because I've already worked out?"
"No, I figured I'd let you beat up on me until you felt better," Clint answers, glancing after that door slam with a slight wince before he nods down the hall towards a sparring room. That is where he moves for, fingers hooking on his pockets as he looks back to Natasha.
Natasha blows out a breath, watching Clint for a slightly-too-long moment before she dips her head and slips in front of him.
Natasha does not kill Thor.
http://aa.mudmagic.com/w/index.php/2012-08-15_Shoddy_Assembly
=NYC= SHIELD HQ - Midtown - NYC
The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division -- or SHIELD, as the branch is commonly known -- makes one of its few public homes in the heart of midtown Manhattan, not far from the bustle of Times Square. The lobby is drawn in lines of sleek, modern metal, with a good deal more security in place than your average city skyscraper, although the measures are perhaps not obvious to the trained eye. The front windows of the building allow sunlight to stream in during daylight hours; it is not immediately evident how big a gun would be required to dent them.
The summons comes from SHIELD, but Natasha's taken the seat at the head of the large, shiny table that takes up the majority of the space in SHIELD's briefing room. That's almost like it being an Avengers meeting, right? She's in uniform, all black catsuit and sturdy boots and SHIELD patch on her shoulder, and she leans forward slightly with her fingers clasped loosely in front of her on the tabletop. A large screen fills the wall behind her head. Thor's picture has been plastered across it. She's chosen a shot where he's grinning like a madman, in a way that makes him look slightly immature. Slightly. That's probably a coincidence.
Thor enters without fanfair, still bruised and beaten. His steps have acquired a limp, and he doesn't wear his armor. Instead, he wears a t-shirt and jeans, plus some old boots. Probably Coulson's. Thor is proud, though - he does not wince or squirm. He finds a chair that is probably labeled THOR. And he sits.
Steve got here a little early, because he is that person. He's not in uniform, because that is for combat, and his Army uniform is sadly no longer applicable. Thus he is in a new sort of uniform: khakis and button-down. He sits at his seat, hands laced on the table, frowning faintly.
Stark's not here yet. Is anyone surprised?
Bruce is here in a generally timely fashion. His uniform might even be similar to Steve's, except Steve is probably better dressed due to being conscientious and so on. He seems kind of inclined to hold up the wall by himself near the door at first, but when it becomes apparent that he will not escape notice this way, he scuffs the rest of the way in to find a seat. He eyeballs Thor in image and in reality and sucks on his cheek. Hill showed a good ten minutes early herself, though she was absorbed in a muttered conversation on her headset when she arrived. Which she's taken to the corner and is just now finishing up. A tap on her earpiece to hang it up, and she strides over to take a seat at the big, shiny SHIELD table. Thor is noticed, and looked up and down. Though it's a clinical sort of look, so she is likely more interested in his bruises and overall damage than the alien/god himself.
You know, it has to be pretty obvious something is going down when all the Avengers not only show up at SHIELD, but tromp down its halls in their mighty boots and/or goodwill clothing choices toward a briefing room. And with all the commotion going on lately, speculation among the Avengies (aka the little people) has reached new and varied heights. Heights that have only piqued the interest of the purveyors of most of those rumors. So, before the door can close behind Thor's bulk, Janet glides in behind him and flits off to a vantage point up near the ceiling. She's small, of course.
When they're everyone minus Clint and Tony, Natasha checks her watch. Her expression shows resignation, and then she looks up, clears her throw, waves her hand at the screen behind her, and then flicks it over to a gigantic copy of Thor's email. "You've all seen this?" she checks.
"It was a little hard to-- miss," Bruce murmurs from behind the muffle of fingers, currently hiding his mouth. His elbow is propped on the table, murdering elbow fairies. Thor swats at damned flies, before nodding his head. He reclines in the chair a little and gets comfy.
"Yes, ma'am," Steve says, his gaze flickering thin-lipped down the table at Thor. Bad Thor.
"Hard to miss is an understatement. Mister Odinson." Hill is addressing Thor now, of course. "What exactly do you mean by Asgardian declaration of war? I mean..." She takes a moment to try and boil down what she means. "...should we expect an...army of your...family on our planet?" She tries not to look too leery of the possibility, with questionable success.
"Fortunately," Natasha says, dry, "I doubt anyone in Latveria is likely to overestimate us based on what occurred." Her head turns and she fixes her gaze on Thor and his bruises for a moment before looking toward the group again. "Unfortuantely, we know they can beat up our resident god /and/ it turns out that Thor's pretty happy to zip across the planet and poke his face into a hornet's nest without so much as letting any of /us/ know." Her lips twist and her gaze slides to Thor again, as if awaiting an answer.
Oh, have we already started? Then it is time for Stark to dawdle his way in, tap-a-tapping on his phone with his thumbs. He pays little attention to others in the halls as he makes way along. They move. He walks. Good spatial memory keeps him from walking into the walls and -- oh, he's here. "Carry on," he says. "Don't let me interrupt." Like that was a concern. He is dressed in a suit, which means Pepper probably forced him out and made him be a good little CEO. The suit is well-tailored and accommodating of his flop into a seat. He wiggles and rocks forward, then back, trying to get comfortable. That might be more distraction than his entering late. "See anything neat while you were sightseeing?" he asks Thor.
"You're interrupting by being late," Steve informs Stark with a disapproving glance, as if he didn't already know.
"You're interrupting by complaining," Stark tells Steve without so much as looking at him.
Janet settles gingerly on a light fixture, wary of getting too close to the actual /lights/ while she studies the room. Her eyes widen at Hill's first question, but Tony's entrance distracts from too much initial dismay over declarations of war. She snorts at the exchange between the Ss below her, the sound too low for normal hearing to pick up.
THERE WILL BE A GREAT SUMMONING, AND I WILL STAND AS A PRINCE AMONST GODS! Thor's eyes seem to say. But his mouth says something very different, "I am Asgard. In this realm, I am its voice, its-" he frowns at Stark and Steve. "Would the lovers like to step outside? I am telling a tale of battle and goverment." AHEM. "I am its voice, its representation. Any other Asgardian in this realm is here illegally, and is prone to my justice. Therefore, I am the only representative of Asgard who will wage war against this would-be King." A pause. "I have considered attempting to recruit Valkyrie. But she has /other/ responsibilities. I cannot, in good faith, demand her support. Does that answer your question, Agent Hill?" Thor looks back at Tony. "Yes, many interesting things, you might say. You could say, in fact, that my reconnaissance was a success." He laughs happily, but only for a second. Pain shoots through his chest, so he is reduced to wincing and moaning for a moment.
"Basically, he's a one-man army, he's trying to say," Clint says, dropping out of the rafters finally by moving aside one panel on the dropped ceiling in the corner. Who knows how long he has been up there, but it actually hasn't been the /whole/ length of the meeting, having slid through SHIELD duct work in an attempt to sweep for bugs and secure their conference room. He nods, tightly, to Natasha to indicate positive results before moving to take his seat. "Go on, I was listening."
Natasha's head turns at the sound of Clint's voice, and she fixes on him for a beat with lips that curve slightly upward before settling into a frown again as she turns back to business.
Steve's glance flicks briefly upward, as if hearing the quietest hush of noise, before his gaze returns to those around the table. Or -- Thor, really. "Whether or not you're the only Asgardian on Earth, Thor, you're still associated with the Avengers. Doom could use your conflict as public justification for war." DON'T YOU FEEL BAD, THOR. He does not quite startle at Clint's sudden entrance, but he does blink.
"No. I want to sit right here and listen to your beautiful voice," says Stark with a twist in his chair that turns him away from Thor and then back. His eyes gleam despite an expression of faint distraction, suggesting /ideas/ which have little to do with what is actually going on in this room. "All night long. As you tell me all about his secret mountain lair. Although I guess it isn't much of a--." His pause as Clint drops in and updates stretches long and awkward. It's remarkable that he just picks up the flow like he never hiccuped to a startled halt. And yes, he /does/ startle. "--secret from what you said."
Janet startles at the panel movement, falling off her precarious perch, then overcompensating and flying back up too close to the light. "Ow!" she squeaks, flittering off in a new direction and generally flapping around a lot while she regains her balance.
Bruce tracks Stark's arrival with a flicker of dark eyes, and marks his interplay with Steve and then Thor, but doesn't comment. He blinks up at Barton's arrival, although it's hard to tell if this interrupts the beginning of an attempt of his to speak, since his mouth is still hidden behind the curve of his hand. The tension that ripples through his frame is only immediately apparent to the acute observer. Clearing his throat, he says, "I am pretty sure that you're going to be waging war on an /actual/ monarch, Thor. You know. Technically." He glances at Steve. "War with-- whom? Sounds to me like our boy Thor has already started one."
Hill blinks when Hawkeye drops from the ceiling.s fluttering around. And then Janet start Sitting up straighter in surprise, though she manages to contain her outward reaction to that relatively minor bit of flailing. "So he is." It's deadpanned at Thor's answer, and Hawkeye's summation, but she seems to find it mildly reassuring. Less alien invasion than she was maybe expecting. "One of my questions. Please, go on about your recona..." The moaning makes her trail off. She eyeshifts around the room. Is he too broken to provide useful information?
"Agent Barton, I will not remind you /again/. I do not need you to speak for me," Thor says, tone easier than it was earlier. Perhaps he has had a few drinks. "But what the Agent says is true - I am worth an army." He turns to Steve. "You have made a fair point. He may use my visit against us. He may simply use it against me." Thor leans foward. "But I will say that /each/ of us have our foes. Each of us our... problems. I underestimated Doom. Mock me if you will," queue Clint, "but I did not think a mortal man my match. I came for my brother, and found something much bigger." Thor grumbles a little. Voice rumbling, he continues, "I am not so sure that /we/ are at War," Thor says. "Although I would ask that each of you help me. Well." A pause. "I will not count on it. I will not make demands, or speak for anyone save myself."
Thor turns to Hill and Stark. "His lair, or whatever he calls it, is no secret. He resides in a castle. It is rather old - not as old as I, but by your standards, I think it is old." A pause. "Latveria seems pleasant enough, but there is an undercurrent of fear in Doomstadt, its capital. The people who attended me appeared tired, as if overworked. I have drawn a map of its layout." Thor produces a piece of paper with, Odin help the Avengers, a rough layout of the city.
Natasha's brows slide ever upward. "You want /our/ help, now."
"War, not war; Asgard, Earth. It's immaterial at this point," says Stark with a wave of his hands that converts to a point at Hill. "Unless you're thinking preemptive strike." Point. His hand turns up in query. "Place is tiny. It would only take what, one nuke? Pretty sure it would put you on the EU's shitlist, though, so probably not. Either way, what's done is done. What I want to know is what you /saw/," he adds, leaning forward in his chair and focusing on Thor. "You're killing me. Did you draw that with crayon? I'll show you to use the map-making software. I bet you can figure that one out. Like a big coloring book. What about his robots? Were they his? Did you see any?"
"America," Steve replies to Bruce. "It's a much different prospect than war with Asgard." His glance flicks briefly to Natasha before returning to Thor. "Well, obviously we have to take action against him. He attacked us here on our own soil. He's clearly working with Loki and Schmidt. We just have to move forward on this /together/ from here on out. No one goes in rogue."
Thor ignores Tony and Steve for a moment and focuses on Natasha. "Do you think me pretentious?" Thor asks. "Yes, I ask for the aid of my allies."
Natasha waves a hand at Steve, answering, "Oh, I agree with you. I agreed before Thor took a little solo trip to Latveria." Her gaze shifts hard-eyed to Thor. "It's the 'help' part I'm a little stuck on." There's a beat before she answers, "No. I think you reckless and stupid. And I think you're going to get someone killed."
"Uhm, hello." Stark waves his phone in the air. "ROBOTS."
Hill leans forward to look at Thor's map. "Is that drawn to scale?" Was that a joke? It's very hard to tell. Though Stark's crayon quip makes her //frown//, so if she was attempting wit she appears to regret it. She says nothing, nothing, about Thor's request for help. Though she does tap her earpiece. Maybe it goes straight back to Nick Fury. Or she's just fidgeting.
"I think you small and noisey," Thor replies. "And we will not discuss how many people you have gotten killed," Thor jabs.
Thor ignores Stark by narrowing his eyes. LALA.
"Do we have any intelligence back on Latveria that isn't from the USO show over here, though?" Clint questions of Hill as she examines the map, allowing Natasha to address Thor as he leans forward towards the other SHIELD employee.
The expression that spreads across Natasha's face is positively lethal. Maybe the person Thor gets killed will be himself. Her fingers press down against the table, and for a moment she sweeps her gaze across the group, studying faces.
Janet hovers near the ceiling, drifting closer to the table to peer down at the map in question. I hope she doesn't cast a shadow.
Stark is starting to look cranky, actually. It must be because he is just so much Natasha's partisan in everything. His hands flatten on the table, like he is about two seconds from pushing to his feet. He is briefly silent and his lips thin.
Thor focuses on Natasha. "Look at me," he replies, "and level. I will listen, I-" hands smack table. Thor looks up at Stark, frowning.
"Okay," Bruce says levelly from his perch, and lowers his hand from its shield over his mouth with a particularly grim expression. His tone mild, he says, "Guys. I am sitting here as the guy at this table asking you all to chill out."
"This isn't helpful," Steve adds on peaceably to Bruce's request.
"You know what's not helpful?" Natasha says quietly, coldly. "Sitting here pretending that we're a team that can get things done. Important things. Building clubhouses and patting ourselves on the back because we're an amazing /team/." Her gaze fixes on Thor. "/Lying/ to ourselves."
"And you know what /would/ be helpful?" Stark meets Thor's frown with an even glance that is at least a little glare. "If you started answering. We need to know what we'd be walking in on." PS, to Natasha: "Yeah, great start, by the way, on that teamwork. Dragging him over the coals for what's done instead of focusing on what we can do." "Do you feel confident he won't do it again?" Natasha challenges.
Bruce stands up, because maybe he figures the guy who is standing up may have a better chance of attention being paid him. He knuckles against the table and ducks his head. "The bad guys," he says, and he /almost/ manages to say it unironically but his mouth escapes him, quirking at its corner and shading a hue of dryness into his voice, "are working together against us. Romanov, come on. Listen to yourself. Thor, settle down. We've talked about this." What have they talked about? What is he referencing? Maybe he is trying to confuse the thunder god into submission? "Stark, were you able to pull anything useful out of Doom's robot bits? Most of what I know about Latveria I got off of wikipedia, personally."
Thor sits quietly, listening, gaze focused on Stark. "I will answer. Let us first-" he quiets for Natasha. After she is finished, he looks between the two, "Let us first work upon this matter of teamwork. What do you suggest, Agent Romanov? Anyone?" he looks to the room at large.
Thor turns and listens to Bruce. "I will /behave/. But I will not tolerate being called /stupid/. Nor should anyone here."
"Tony and Bruce are right," Steve says, which is how you know it's true. (Hah hah.) "We should be focusing on where we go from here. Teamwork doesn't happen by sitting around talking how you haven't done it. Let's try actually taking the problem at hand and developing a solution /as a team/."
Natasha has fallen silent, but there is nothing of /agreement/ in her expression. She's drawn it blankly smooth, hands clasped loosely in front of her.
Hill frowns and keeps her mouth during the exchange between the Avengers. Tapping at her bluetooth on occasion. She finally stands up, nods to Clint, and plucks a tiny remote control from her belt. It activates a fancy whiteboard when she wields it. And also seems to contain a laser-pointer function. Which she points at the whiteboard. For good measure, she clears her throat. Pay attention to my power point presentation, bickering heroes! It's probably your government's dollars at work. "We know a little. Not as much as we'd like, unfortunately. Until recently, Latveria's wasn't of enough interest to justify hefty intelligence-gathering," she says, clicking to some high-altitude map shots of the country. They look more impressive than Thor's drawing...but may have been pulled from Google maps. "Our high-resolution satellites should be able to get us some better pictures soon." And they will be to scale. "It's a small, isolated region that's done a very good job of keeping itself a world secret. But we do hope to glean some intelligence from one of Doom's agents we've managed to take into custody, but we haven't gotten too much out of her yet." For all the LASER POINTS, it's not the most enlightening presentation.
HA. Stark straightens in his chair and looks a little bit smug(ger) when /Steve/ is forced to concede that he is /right/. Answering Bruce's question, he falls more or less in line behind Hill's calmer, informative manner: "Doom's robots -- if they are his -- are exquisitely crafted, but not at all revolutionary. I can't tell anything about their software, yet. Flash-fried, fire-fried, fried-fried: I'm not sure if I'll be able to recover anything. Run on batteries, though. That's more useful than you'd think. That means they have a limit of some kind on use."
"How long?" Steve asks Tony, a bit hesitantly, like he is worried that everyone knows everything about batteries already and this is possibly a dumb question.
"Dunno," says Stark, and he sounds /delighted/ by that. "Working on it."
Natasha does not put her head in her hands. This is a testament to her amazing Black Widow Superspy skillz.
"Have you had Pym's robot come in for any comparison study yet?" Bruce wonders. "Not that I-- think that Pym is working with-- well, never mind." Bruce goes so far as to sit down again, his point made, and laces his fingers together neatly gainst the edge of the table. He clears his throat.
Thor sits quietly, studying Natasha for a few brief moments. Afterward, he looks at the table and listens to presentations. The Mighty Thor adds, "Doom has not released his technology into civilian areas. However, he wears a suit of armor. I saw no robots." If annoyance were palpable, it would be spraying off of him like a fountain.
"Long enough to break in and kick our asses, apparently," Clint says, including himself despite being on vacation, with a glance towards Natasha and a bare kick of his toes against her boot before he looks back to Bruce as the man speaks.
Janet drifts lower in the air, entranced by Hill's LASER POINTS, though her expression (You know, what could be seen of it when her face is about the size of pin) is pensive. "But where do they build them?" she asks, though the sound is more or less lost. Pym's name captures her attention and she stiffens in sudden agitation.
To this, Natasha does add, "Bullets to the knees slow him down. I think there might be chinks under the arms. Not certain." She glances at Clint with the kick to her boot, and after a moment something in her relaxes just a touch and she adds more easily, "For the most part I wouldn't count on /shooting/ him though."
"And no sign of Loki or Schmidt, I assume," Steve says with another glance in Thor's direction. And then he frowns, glancing back towards Hill. "Who--"
"Shut up about Pym's robot," Stark snippy-snaps at Bruce, not quite meaning it. "Batteries are way cooler than Pym's, anyway. These are new. Pym's aren't bad, but old tech." By which he means /stable/ and /well-tested/ tech. "I have some questions about his armor. When we're done here." He's oblivious to any annoyance that Thor might be splashing around. He's moved well past his irritated flash.
Thor looks up suddenly, frowning deeply. His eyes skim the space above his head. Several moments later, his head lowers and he grumbles to himself. After Steve's question, he replies, "That is not true."
Bruce lifts his hand in an splayed-open gesture at Tony, and says, "Slow down the robot, you mean? Or are we--" And then he stops as he glances back at Thor. Distracted, he asks, "What's not?"
"None that you mentioned," Clint replies, sitting straighter as Thor corrects Steve. He levels an expectant look on the Asgardian, waiting.
"Conventional weaponry doesn't seem to be very effective," Hill concurs with Natasha. Dryly. She remembers what Doom provides. It's unclear whether or not she picks up on Steve's question. It's the subject of Loki she pursues. "Mister Odinson, did you learn anything about the nature of the connection between Doom and the entity known as Loki?"
This time Natasha does raise a hand to her forehead to press her fingers into her temples.
Thor explains, "There was a man with black hair. His skin was pale," Thor continues to describe Schmidt, nearly to the T. Some things are wrong. "I was busy fighting," Thor explains. "I was going to ask you if this man was Schmidt. I do not think he was my brother." Thor focuses on Steve.
To Hill, Thor answers, "I did not. Unfortunately. They both value Cithauri technology, but that I knew before."
Steve's jaw tightens. To Hill, he asks, "Can we maybe get a picture of Schmidt for him to look at?" On your fancy digital whiteboard, of course.
Hill is happy to show off her whiteboard's abilities. Click, click, click. Black and white file photo of Schmidt from back in Steve's day. One more click. Red Skull. It has the look of a mug shot. "That's our most recent image. Taken when he was in custody." Before the epic clusterfuck/his escape, she does not add. Though it's sort of implied.
"That is the man I saw," Thor confirms with a grunt. "I thought him a relative of Doom's at the time. I wanted to ask Rogers before making mention of him."
"Whatever the connection, if it's based on Chitauri tech, it probably isn't a strong, lifelong, name-your-children-after-each-other bond," Clint points out, shaking his head slightly before looking dutifully towards the whiteboard before back at Thor.
Natasha presses her thumbs into her eye sockets, then lowers her hands to the table again, gaze flicking between Steve and Thor. "So that's two. Odds seem good that three's there, too. That's not a troika we can afford to leave alone."
"So--." Stark turns his phone in his fingers. "Nuke?" He doesn't seem to be /advocating/ that, mind you. He is sarcastic.
"My brother does not have allies," Thor explains to Clint. "He will use Doom as a shield while forwarding whatever plan he has fathomed," he adds, looking between Natasha and the ace archer. "/No/," Thor replies to Stark.
"I don't know, mutual payback strikes me as the kind of thing that'll do in a pinch if you can't get any blood brotherhood," Bruce remarks to his own knuckles. "Considering." WHAT'S OUR TEAM NAME AGAIN. He rubs his fingertips against his thumb, slanting a sardonic partial smile in Stark's direction. "Lower tech, less radiation, I could just go maraud the countryside or something," he says. "No?"
"That's not funny," Steve tells Tony with particular disapproving emphasis. Looks like somebody looked up that chapter of a history book. To Thor, he says, "He seemed allied enough when he was leading an alien invasion force. Whatever the nature of the alliance, he's working with Doom for now."
Natasha gives Stark a glance that suggests it's a /little/ funny. "Working with is enough to worry the hell out of me." Natasha shakes her head, red hair dancing across her shoulders. "We need more information."
"Well," Clint drawls to Stark's suggestion of a nuke, looking towards Natasha again with a lift of brows. "I guess if he can't be shot at, good old political assassination is out of the picture."
Hill //eyes// Stark. Unamused.
"My brother was using the Chitauri for his owns schemes," Thor replies. "This he all-but admitted to me. Remember, Loki is here to conquer this realm. Doom stands in his way."
"Your idea," Stark counters to Hill, selecting her unamusedness above all the others. He holds grudges. "I agree with Romanov. Information." He slants a look at Bruce and mouths the words, 'Hulk walkies?'
Bruce gives Tony a dirty look. Not unamused, though. It remains amused. "It's a lot easier to become Emperor of Rome when you are already part of the Triumverate," he points out. Where is he pulling this from. Go back to reading quantum physics, Banner.
"I am in no condition to travel," Thor replies. "And I am not a very successful politician or spy," Thor points out. "I do not think I am suited for the purpose of gathering any more information from Latveria," he concludes, a little sadly. He will miss Doom.
"Doom may eventually stand in his way, but right now we have to work from the evidence that they're working together for -- whatever end-goal they have in mind." Steve frowns as he fails to come up with this end-goal. "What would Doom want with them?"
"Fashion tips?" suggests Stark.
"And he's not asking you?" asks Banner.
Stark taps his chest. "Hero fashion only."
"Getting in unnoticed isn't going to be easy," Natasha says with easy presumption and a questioning glance toward Clint.
"You and I could do it. Play it just like Moscow," Clint answers with a tip of his hand, wincing slightly.
Hill frowns at Stark some more. Deep frowning. But she doesn't respond, gladly letting him lapse into banter with Banner. "Captain Rogers is correctly. At present we have to assume they're allied for some goal that's a threat to world security." She looks between Natasha and Clint, nodding. "Surely there have to be more subtle routes of infiltration than Mister Odinson attempted."
The briefest flicker of doubt crosses Natasha's features, but she doesn't voice it, not here, not amongst the /team/. Instead she says, "This isn't the Organizatsiya." "No offense or anything," Bruce says a little too lightly, "but is sending Barton to go hang out in Loki's bachelor pad really a great idea?"
HEY CUE! Janet drifts lower still, settling crosslegged on the table top before releasing the hold on her miniscule form and expanding to her still diminutive normal size with a snort. "You guys really aren't the most subtle," she says, agreeing with Natasha's statement.
"I did not /attempt/ infiltration," Thor replies. "The Mighty Thor does not infiltrate!" he booms. Janet might shake a little. "Thor conquers." And refers to himself in third person. "My approach did not work, however, as you said. Doom is obviously too powerful for me to handle alone."
Again, Stark startles: his hands tighten in their grip on chair and phone. He snorts, sudden and sharp. "You have an entire mansion made of glass, there. An glass /plantation/."
Bruce jerks straight in his seat in a startle that shows in his face with the widening eyes of an adrenaline rush. He grips both arms of his chair and, uh, isn't saying anything, give him a sec guys.
"It's not my strong suit, either," Steve admits re: infiltration, and then he's straightening right up in his seat and blinking rather /more/ distinctly. "Miss Van Dyne," he exclaims, surprised and strangled and disapproving all at once. DON'T DO THAT. Barton startles, but his startling comes in a flash of being on his feet, gun in his hand and pointed at Janet. It takes him a moment of recognition, and then he relaxes and eases his gun to the floor before his attention refocuses in more concern on Bruce Banner. He doesn't entirely put away his gun.
It takes approximately half a second for Natasha's gun to fix on Janet in remarkable parallel to Clint's. She doesn't bother to ease hers downward, and her eyes narrow as she keeps the shot aligned. "You wanna tell us what you're doing here before I put a bullet in your head?" she asks coolly.
"Who is this woman?" Thor adds, looking at the pixie. "She is beautiful." He leans a little to get a closer look and winces when his back strains.
Oh, oops. Janet lets her lips split in a sheepish looking smile. "I guess you wouldn't believe that i got lost on the way to the bathroom?" She looks at the guns and eyes point at her and winces. "No..." She holds up both hands in an I surrender gesture and adds, "Look, a lot has happened around here and I was just wanting some answers. But sounds like you could use me, and I can help. I want to help!"
"I don't think this is the time to get a date, Thor," Clint advises him, before his gaze slides sideways towards Natasha. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." His words are murmured, quiet, as his chin tips towards Banner's grip on his chair. Wait until there is a man not threatening to Hulk out to kill people, would you, sweetie?
"Walkies later," Stark carelessly antagonizes Bruce while eying Janet. His eyebrows inch upwards in a slow creep. "Fashion tips, huh?" That is how she meant to help Doom, right?
"She works for SHIELD," Steve says, with a quelling glance in Natasha's direction. Because, you know, nobody from SHIELD is ever evil.
Bruce is still sitting very still. He lifts his fingers carefully from the arms of the chair, eyebrows swept high.
"I know who she is," Natasha tells Steve, voice tight, but she does lower her gun slowly toward the floor and thumbs the safety on. "What I want to know is why she's spying on a meeting I'm pretty sure looked confidential." She eyes Janet hard for a moment, then breathes out a sigh. "Not that she's doing very /well/, if she didn't want us to know she's here."
"I'm providing a valuable test of your defensive security arrangements?" Janet supplies brightly, far too hopeful to be entirely serious.
"Hold out for a consultation fee," Stark unhelpfully interjects.
"Stark loves paying those out," Natasha adds.
"You weren't complaining," Stark says. The remarkable thing is that he /doesn't/ leer. "I do not want to date this woman. I am praising her abilities," Thor explains. He studies Janet. "This is the woman we need to infiltrate Doomstadt," he realizes, with a small grin.
Thor ignores guns. Perhaps he as forgotten that they are fatal.
Weakly, Bruce contributes, "Hank Pym's girlfriend?" This is sexist, Bruce. Someone hit him. No, wait, that'd be bad.
Natasha keeps track of Bruce out of the corner of her eye, for all that her attention seems to be firmly on Janet. "We can talk to Fury," she finally allows, just a little reluctant. "Her abilities might be-- beneficial. If she can sit in a room with /us/ and no one noticed--"
"No Moscow?" Clint questions, and he might even sound a little sad about that, as he finally slides his own gun away. "Worth a shot, though we'd need to arrange a cover identity and still get her /into/ the country unnoticed."
"Do you have any training?" Steve asks Janet, sounding more concerned than judgmental. "I don't want to send her into a situation she wouldn't be able to remove herself from if someone went wrong."
Stark rounds his thumb and index finger, the others fingers splayed in an 'OK' he flashes at assembled superheroes and superspies. "Good work, by the way, spotting her. I feel very reassured by your skills." (He didn't spot her either, but who would expect him to? That's right: NO ONE.) "Send her with backup, then. Romanov and Barton can go play Carmen Sandiego or whatever."
Natasha glances at Clint, brows quirked, then back to Janet. "We can escort her in," she agrees. "If we need to pull her out, it might take a bit more muscle. It's not risk-free." Her green eyes fix sharp on Janet. "No one's guaranteeing your safety. Are you prepared to deal with that?"
Janet moves suddenly, unfolding her legs and sweeping them underneath her to sit on her heels. Hope it doesn't startle anyone (Bruce). "Well, glad we're clear on that, blondie. It'll make our flirtations so much more fun," Janet tosses in Thor's direction, turning slightly in her seat (yes, still on the table) to look at Banner before nodding in agreement with Natasha's statement. "I can take care of myself. I'm good at not being what people expect."
"Apparently," Bruce mutters. He rubs at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, eyebrows drawing together.
Thor chuckles a little. "I like you," he replies. "But I am involved with another. Still, your ability is remarkable. I am impressed." He quiets afterward.
Steve remains worriedly unconvinced. "I don't know if this is a good idea," he says, but in that manner that will be easy to overcome for RP fun to happen.
"It was a good cover story," is all Clint says to Natasha with a flash of a grin, taking his seat with a look towards Janet to make an appreciative study of the woman, no matter what he said to Thor.
Natasha doesn't quite smile at Clint, but the expression in her eyes lightens slightly, and her voice is easier when she tells Steve, "Nothing we do is a good idea." "Well, I could always put my Sunday suit and go try to charm the information out of Doom if you think that is a better idea," says Stark to Steve, maybe to point out just how much worse the ideas could get.
"You have a Sunday suit?" Banner is focusing on the wrong part of this bad plan.
"You should have a Thursday suit!" Thor grumbles irritably.
"Stop confusing Thor," Stark tells Banner.
"And me," Janet interjects, slapping her knees lightly. "So. It's settled?" She looks entirely too eager for this.
Steve looks particularly unhappy at this turn of events, but clearly he doesn't think Stark's idea is any better, because he just sits there quietly.
"So specifically we're looking for recon on alien tech, robot manufacture, our missing stuff, Schmidt, Loki...?" Bruce ticks each of these off on his fingers. "Energy collection? Doomstadt ... street plans? Castle ... plans?"
"Polnyi pizdets," Natasha mutters under her breath, and finally she tucks her gun back away wherever it came from. "Best we've got," she says in English, and then glances at Clint. "Anything we can get. Our intelligence is too vague to even know what we need to know yet."
Clint tears his gaze away from the study of Janet to meet Natasha's look, his brows lifting in silent communication before he tips his chin. "Anything we can find without tipping them off," he agrees.
"And we'll be poised and ready to go in and extract her if it becomes necessary," Steve raises his voice again to say.
Bruce opens his mouth to say something, closes it over a slight, wry smile. Instead he says, "Okay."
"Bring me back a souvenir," says Stark.
"Okay," Natasha echoes, and it has the sound of finality in it.
"You don't want any souvenir Natasha'll bring back," Clint replies at that timing.
Hill increasingly looks caught up in...something inside her own head. Or perhaps in that earpiece she's still wearing, which from the little light on it is still open. She blinks and occasionally nods, like she's listening to something from it, but at least she doesn't try and carry on a conversation with it. A final nod, and the little light blinks out. It functions as an affirmative to the plan, whatever else she might be listening to.
"Alright! Go team!" Janet pumps her fist in the air and spins around to hop off the table. Natasha gives Clint a roll of her eyes before turning to fix them on Janet. A beat passes, two. And then she stands and heads for the door. There is only so much she can take, guys.
"See?" says Stark to Natasha as she passes. "More women."
"Right," Bruce agrees blandly, propping his chin on his fist. "Go ... team."
"It's a plan, at least," Steve says. "What else do we have to cover?"
"Go team," Clint agrees, leeeaaaning back in his chair with a look after Natasha as she heads out the door before he glances back to Janet. "We'll need to brief you. Maybe shove in a few firearms lessons before we go."
"The Mighty Thor will teach you the ways of hand to hand combat," Thor offers enthusiastically.
"Anything you say, boys," Janet replies cheerfully.
"Come on, Bruce, Stark wants to show you his robots since we have devolved into talking about ourselves in the third person," says Stark, pushing to his feet and heading to the doors. "I want to see what you make of the batteries."
"Be careful with her," Steve tells Thor worriedly. Brow creasing, he says, "Maybe I should work with you two." HOW MUCH CAN HE WORRY ABOUT IN ONE SCENE.
"Okay, Stark," Bruce says. He glances at Thor, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners, and does not compound the obnoxiousness any further despite an obvious temptation to do so. He just says, "See you guys later," before trailing off after Tony, slightly taller tugboat bobbing in his wake.
Clint glances after the retreating scientists and the door, and lingers another look. Then, he finally drags himself out of his seat with a, "I'll see you in 30, then?" Because obviously firearms are more important. Until then, he will go seek out Natasha to do their own meeting de-brief.
Read: gossip about the Avengers.
"I am aware that she may be brittle, Rogers," Thor replies. "I have trained many soldiers. You needn't worry." Thor doesn't protest his presence in training, however. Thor stands up, too, and avoids wincing.
"There's plenty of me to go around," Janet assures Steve, amusement lacing through her voice as she leans over the back of an empty chair, then nods at Clint's parting remark. "I'll clear my schedule." And then she pushes away and swans out of the room too."
Steve looks unconvinced, but with Thor not protesting his presence as a whole, he doesn't argue whether or not Thor knows how to be gentle. HE'LL JUST LEAVE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.
Thor follows Steve, moving slowly.
The Avengers...er. Assemble.
"I want to know what you remember of your time spent as my brother's slave," Thor replies.
"It's all in the reports." That seems to be all Clint wants to say on the matter, the answer coming neutral if a bit flat on the tip of his tongue, but he does add, "I don't remember much of it, and nothing that would be any use. Flashes of feeling where I shot my bow, and seeing my own hands, but nothing else."
Thor nods his head. He is silent for a moment, considering, with his head lowered a little. After the pause he glances up again. "Then I am at a loss. The Chitauri are not of any realm I know. My brother claims he has seen more of the cosmos than any Asgardian. And everyone he touches with that damned staff remembers not-a-thing." Thor grunts unhappily, frustrated. "Do you feel well, now?" he asks.
Natasha appears, sweat-soaked and casual in a tee and yoga pants, with a water bottle tilted up to her lips as she rounds a corner just in time to hear Thor's frustrated grunt. She halts on silent feet, staring at the Asgardian for a moment before her eyes narrow and she sweeps her gaze toward Clint with an interrupting, "Hi, guys."
"Better than you, by the looks of it," is Clint's easy answer, his shoulder rolling all the way upwards and around again in both a gesture and a testing flex before he shoves his brace into his back pocket. "Have you asked Selvig? From what I was reading about the reports he remembered /something/--" Whatever he may say on that is cut off at Natasha's appearance, his own meeting hers with a subtle tip of his chin towards Thor in a gesture of silent communication. This guy. "Hey, Romanov."
"Agent," Thor says after Natasha's greeting. He doesn't smile properly - he begins to, but winces. His hand rises to gently touch a bruise under his eye, just on top of his cheek. A moment later his hand lowers and he focuses on Barton. "I have not. Selvig has been busy. I will make an appointment," the final word is spoken with a grudge. Perhaps he misses his friend.
Natasha gives Clint a quirk of her brows in response, then turns her attention more thoroughly to Thor. Her steps carry her to Clint's side in unconscious habit, watching his flank. "You look like shit," she observes.
"You should see the other guy," Clint tells Natasha with a crooked grin, looking back to Thor briefly. "He was made of metal, that is. Not that he looks worse."
"I have seen better days," Thor agrees. "The Mighty Thor heals quickly, however. I will take to the skies soon, I assure you." He assures with another half-grin and a wince. After Barton speaks he adds, "I should get to the report, soon." He looks between the two agents. "How long have you two worked together?" he wonders randomly, and aloud.
"Doom?" Natasha startles, going abruptly serious and dark-eyed. "Here? Have you been debriefed?" She steadfastly ignores Thor's question, instead frowning at the Asgard's grin.
Clint answers for Thor again, explaining to Natasha, "No, he's been flying the red-eye to Latveria himself. I would have taken you as my plus one, but my invitation got lost in the mail." He also answers for Natasha where he adds, "Too long."
"I do not need you to answer for me, Barton," Thor replies. "However, he says the truth. Doom was not in Manhattan." He tries to cross his arms again and succeeds, though it is done gently.
Natasha is trying really hard not to believe this. You can tell by the way her hand goes to her temple, fingers pressing hard as she closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. She breathes out deeply. She opens her eyes. "You went to Latveria. On your own. And confronted Doom. Where, I presume, he handed you your ass." She cocks her head. "Did I miss anything?"
"With Chitauri tech. He got his ass kicked with Chitauri tech," Clint adds helpfully to his partner.
Thor FROWNS. He doesn't wince. "You can read my report, when it is finished," he replies, tone a grumble. His arms uncross and he begins to walk down the hallway.
At that, Natasha breaks off into a stream of Russian curses that Clint recognizes the sound of (he can probably even pick out a few words). Thor can probably get the gist of the /tone/, if not the words. It's not a happy tone. She does not chase after the Asgardian god. Maybe she's in too much shock. Maybe she just can't /deal with this/ right now. She presses the heel of her hand into her forehead and glares at the backs of her eyelids.
Clint stays where he is, with Natasha, only adding after she seems to be coming to a close on cussing, "Hey, come on. It's not all bad. We now have a lifetime of jokes to use against the Norse god of lightning." A pause. "Feel like a match?"
Thor doesn't exactly move at the best of paces. He does better than a hobble, though. Eventually he finds a door and opens it. It slams, shaking the wall around it. The poor secretary inside must be having a heart attack.
Natasha gives Clint a dark look, though there's an edge of resignation to it. "He's just made our job a lot harder," she says, because Clint clearly doesn't know. There's a beat before she digs out her sense of humor to reply, "You think that you can take me just because I've already worked out?"
"No, I figured I'd let you beat up on me until you felt better," Clint answers, glancing after that door slam with a slight wince before he nods down the hall towards a sparring room. That is where he moves for, fingers hooking on his pockets as he looks back to Natasha.
Natasha blows out a breath, watching Clint for a slightly-too-long moment before she dips her head and slips in front of him.
Natasha does not kill Thor.
http://aa.mudmagic.com/w/index.php/2012-08-15_Shoddy_Assembly
=NYC= SHIELD HQ - Midtown - NYC
The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division -- or SHIELD, as the branch is commonly known -- makes one of its few public homes in the heart of midtown Manhattan, not far from the bustle of Times Square. The lobby is drawn in lines of sleek, modern metal, with a good deal more security in place than your average city skyscraper, although the measures are perhaps not obvious to the trained eye. The front windows of the building allow sunlight to stream in during daylight hours; it is not immediately evident how big a gun would be required to dent them.
The summons comes from SHIELD, but Natasha's taken the seat at the head of the large, shiny table that takes up the majority of the space in SHIELD's briefing room. That's almost like it being an Avengers meeting, right? She's in uniform, all black catsuit and sturdy boots and SHIELD patch on her shoulder, and she leans forward slightly with her fingers clasped loosely in front of her on the tabletop. A large screen fills the wall behind her head. Thor's picture has been plastered across it. She's chosen a shot where he's grinning like a madman, in a way that makes him look slightly immature. Slightly. That's probably a coincidence.
Thor enters without fanfair, still bruised and beaten. His steps have acquired a limp, and he doesn't wear his armor. Instead, he wears a t-shirt and jeans, plus some old boots. Probably Coulson's. Thor is proud, though - he does not wince or squirm. He finds a chair that is probably labeled THOR. And he sits.
Steve got here a little early, because he is that person. He's not in uniform, because that is for combat, and his Army uniform is sadly no longer applicable. Thus he is in a new sort of uniform: khakis and button-down. He sits at his seat, hands laced on the table, frowning faintly.
Stark's not here yet. Is anyone surprised?
Bruce is here in a generally timely fashion. His uniform might even be similar to Steve's, except Steve is probably better dressed due to being conscientious and so on. He seems kind of inclined to hold up the wall by himself near the door at first, but when it becomes apparent that he will not escape notice this way, he scuffs the rest of the way in to find a seat. He eyeballs Thor in image and in reality and sucks on his cheek. Hill showed a good ten minutes early herself, though she was absorbed in a muttered conversation on her headset when she arrived. Which she's taken to the corner and is just now finishing up. A tap on her earpiece to hang it up, and she strides over to take a seat at the big, shiny SHIELD table. Thor is noticed, and looked up and down. Though it's a clinical sort of look, so she is likely more interested in his bruises and overall damage than the alien/god himself.
You know, it has to be pretty obvious something is going down when all the Avengers not only show up at SHIELD, but tromp down its halls in their mighty boots and/or goodwill clothing choices toward a briefing room. And with all the commotion going on lately, speculation among the Avengies (aka the little people) has reached new and varied heights. Heights that have only piqued the interest of the purveyors of most of those rumors. So, before the door can close behind Thor's bulk, Janet glides in behind him and flits off to a vantage point up near the ceiling. She's small, of course.
When they're everyone minus Clint and Tony, Natasha checks her watch. Her expression shows resignation, and then she looks up, clears her throw, waves her hand at the screen behind her, and then flicks it over to a gigantic copy of Thor's email. "You've all seen this?" she checks.
"It was a little hard to-- miss," Bruce murmurs from behind the muffle of fingers, currently hiding his mouth. His elbow is propped on the table, murdering elbow fairies. Thor swats at damned flies, before nodding his head. He reclines in the chair a little and gets comfy.
"Yes, ma'am," Steve says, his gaze flickering thin-lipped down the table at Thor. Bad Thor.
"Hard to miss is an understatement. Mister Odinson." Hill is addressing Thor now, of course. "What exactly do you mean by Asgardian declaration of war? I mean..." She takes a moment to try and boil down what she means. "...should we expect an...army of your...family on our planet?" She tries not to look too leery of the possibility, with questionable success.
"Fortunately," Natasha says, dry, "I doubt anyone in Latveria is likely to overestimate us based on what occurred." Her head turns and she fixes her gaze on Thor and his bruises for a moment before looking toward the group again. "Unfortuantely, we know they can beat up our resident god /and/ it turns out that Thor's pretty happy to zip across the planet and poke his face into a hornet's nest without so much as letting any of /us/ know." Her lips twist and her gaze slides to Thor again, as if awaiting an answer.
Oh, have we already started? Then it is time for Stark to dawdle his way in, tap-a-tapping on his phone with his thumbs. He pays little attention to others in the halls as he makes way along. They move. He walks. Good spatial memory keeps him from walking into the walls and -- oh, he's here. "Carry on," he says. "Don't let me interrupt." Like that was a concern. He is dressed in a suit, which means Pepper probably forced him out and made him be a good little CEO. The suit is well-tailored and accommodating of his flop into a seat. He wiggles and rocks forward, then back, trying to get comfortable. That might be more distraction than his entering late. "See anything neat while you were sightseeing?" he asks Thor.
"You're interrupting by being late," Steve informs Stark with a disapproving glance, as if he didn't already know.
"You're interrupting by complaining," Stark tells Steve without so much as looking at him.
Janet settles gingerly on a light fixture, wary of getting too close to the actual /lights/ while she studies the room. Her eyes widen at Hill's first question, but Tony's entrance distracts from too much initial dismay over declarations of war. She snorts at the exchange between the Ss below her, the sound too low for normal hearing to pick up.
THERE WILL BE A GREAT SUMMONING, AND I WILL STAND AS A PRINCE AMONST GODS! Thor's eyes seem to say. But his mouth says something very different, "I am Asgard. In this realm, I am its voice, its-" he frowns at Stark and Steve. "Would the lovers like to step outside? I am telling a tale of battle and goverment." AHEM. "I am its voice, its representation. Any other Asgardian in this realm is here illegally, and is prone to my justice. Therefore, I am the only representative of Asgard who will wage war against this would-be King." A pause. "I have considered attempting to recruit Valkyrie. But she has /other/ responsibilities. I cannot, in good faith, demand her support. Does that answer your question, Agent Hill?" Thor looks back at Tony. "Yes, many interesting things, you might say. You could say, in fact, that my reconnaissance was a success." He laughs happily, but only for a second. Pain shoots through his chest, so he is reduced to wincing and moaning for a moment.
"Basically, he's a one-man army, he's trying to say," Clint says, dropping out of the rafters finally by moving aside one panel on the dropped ceiling in the corner. Who knows how long he has been up there, but it actually hasn't been the /whole/ length of the meeting, having slid through SHIELD duct work in an attempt to sweep for bugs and secure their conference room. He nods, tightly, to Natasha to indicate positive results before moving to take his seat. "Go on, I was listening."
Natasha's head turns at the sound of Clint's voice, and she fixes on him for a beat with lips that curve slightly upward before settling into a frown again as she turns back to business.
Steve's glance flicks briefly upward, as if hearing the quietest hush of noise, before his gaze returns to those around the table. Or -- Thor, really. "Whether or not you're the only Asgardian on Earth, Thor, you're still associated with the Avengers. Doom could use your conflict as public justification for war." DON'T YOU FEEL BAD, THOR. He does not quite startle at Clint's sudden entrance, but he does blink.
"No. I want to sit right here and listen to your beautiful voice," says Stark with a twist in his chair that turns him away from Thor and then back. His eyes gleam despite an expression of faint distraction, suggesting /ideas/ which have little to do with what is actually going on in this room. "All night long. As you tell me all about his secret mountain lair. Although I guess it isn't much of a--." His pause as Clint drops in and updates stretches long and awkward. It's remarkable that he just picks up the flow like he never hiccuped to a startled halt. And yes, he /does/ startle. "--secret from what you said."
Janet startles at the panel movement, falling off her precarious perch, then overcompensating and flying back up too close to the light. "Ow!" she squeaks, flittering off in a new direction and generally flapping around a lot while she regains her balance.
Bruce tracks Stark's arrival with a flicker of dark eyes, and marks his interplay with Steve and then Thor, but doesn't comment. He blinks up at Barton's arrival, although it's hard to tell if this interrupts the beginning of an attempt of his to speak, since his mouth is still hidden behind the curve of his hand. The tension that ripples through his frame is only immediately apparent to the acute observer. Clearing his throat, he says, "I am pretty sure that you're going to be waging war on an /actual/ monarch, Thor. You know. Technically." He glances at Steve. "War with-- whom? Sounds to me like our boy Thor has already started one."
Hill blinks when Hawkeye drops from the ceiling.s fluttering around. And then Janet start Sitting up straighter in surprise, though she manages to contain her outward reaction to that relatively minor bit of flailing. "So he is." It's deadpanned at Thor's answer, and Hawkeye's summation, but she seems to find it mildly reassuring. Less alien invasion than she was maybe expecting. "One of my questions. Please, go on about your recona..." The moaning makes her trail off. She eyeshifts around the room. Is he too broken to provide useful information?
"Agent Barton, I will not remind you /again/. I do not need you to speak for me," Thor says, tone easier than it was earlier. Perhaps he has had a few drinks. "But what the Agent says is true - I am worth an army." He turns to Steve. "You have made a fair point. He may use my visit against us. He may simply use it against me." Thor leans foward. "But I will say that /each/ of us have our foes. Each of us our... problems. I underestimated Doom. Mock me if you will," queue Clint, "but I did not think a mortal man my match. I came for my brother, and found something much bigger." Thor grumbles a little. Voice rumbling, he continues, "I am not so sure that /we/ are at War," Thor says. "Although I would ask that each of you help me. Well." A pause. "I will not count on it. I will not make demands, or speak for anyone save myself."
Thor turns to Hill and Stark. "His lair, or whatever he calls it, is no secret. He resides in a castle. It is rather old - not as old as I, but by your standards, I think it is old." A pause. "Latveria seems pleasant enough, but there is an undercurrent of fear in Doomstadt, its capital. The people who attended me appeared tired, as if overworked. I have drawn a map of its layout." Thor produces a piece of paper with, Odin help the Avengers, a rough layout of the city.
Natasha's brows slide ever upward. "You want /our/ help, now."
"War, not war; Asgard, Earth. It's immaterial at this point," says Stark with a wave of his hands that converts to a point at Hill. "Unless you're thinking preemptive strike." Point. His hand turns up in query. "Place is tiny. It would only take what, one nuke? Pretty sure it would put you on the EU's shitlist, though, so probably not. Either way, what's done is done. What I want to know is what you /saw/," he adds, leaning forward in his chair and focusing on Thor. "You're killing me. Did you draw that with crayon? I'll show you to use the map-making software. I bet you can figure that one out. Like a big coloring book. What about his robots? Were they his? Did you see any?"
"America," Steve replies to Bruce. "It's a much different prospect than war with Asgard." His glance flicks briefly to Natasha before returning to Thor. "Well, obviously we have to take action against him. He attacked us here on our own soil. He's clearly working with Loki and Schmidt. We just have to move forward on this /together/ from here on out. No one goes in rogue."
Thor ignores Tony and Steve for a moment and focuses on Natasha. "Do you think me pretentious?" Thor asks. "Yes, I ask for the aid of my allies."
Natasha waves a hand at Steve, answering, "Oh, I agree with you. I agreed before Thor took a little solo trip to Latveria." Her gaze shifts hard-eyed to Thor. "It's the 'help' part I'm a little stuck on." There's a beat before she answers, "No. I think you reckless and stupid. And I think you're going to get someone killed."
"Uhm, hello." Stark waves his phone in the air. "ROBOTS."
Hill leans forward to look at Thor's map. "Is that drawn to scale?" Was that a joke? It's very hard to tell. Though Stark's crayon quip makes her //frown//, so if she was attempting wit she appears to regret it. She says nothing, nothing, about Thor's request for help. Though she does tap her earpiece. Maybe it goes straight back to Nick Fury. Or she's just fidgeting.
"I think you small and noisey," Thor replies. "And we will not discuss how many people you have gotten killed," Thor jabs.
Thor ignores Stark by narrowing his eyes. LALA.
"Do we have any intelligence back on Latveria that isn't from the USO show over here, though?" Clint questions of Hill as she examines the map, allowing Natasha to address Thor as he leans forward towards the other SHIELD employee.
The expression that spreads across Natasha's face is positively lethal. Maybe the person Thor gets killed will be himself. Her fingers press down against the table, and for a moment she sweeps her gaze across the group, studying faces.
Janet hovers near the ceiling, drifting closer to the table to peer down at the map in question. I hope she doesn't cast a shadow.
Stark is starting to look cranky, actually. It must be because he is just so much Natasha's partisan in everything. His hands flatten on the table, like he is about two seconds from pushing to his feet. He is briefly silent and his lips thin.
Thor focuses on Natasha. "Look at me," he replies, "and level. I will listen, I-" hands smack table. Thor looks up at Stark, frowning.
"Okay," Bruce says levelly from his perch, and lowers his hand from its shield over his mouth with a particularly grim expression. His tone mild, he says, "Guys. I am sitting here as the guy at this table asking you all to chill out."
"This isn't helpful," Steve adds on peaceably to Bruce's request.
"You know what's not helpful?" Natasha says quietly, coldly. "Sitting here pretending that we're a team that can get things done. Important things. Building clubhouses and patting ourselves on the back because we're an amazing /team/." Her gaze fixes on Thor. "/Lying/ to ourselves."
"And you know what /would/ be helpful?" Stark meets Thor's frown with an even glance that is at least a little glare. "If you started answering. We need to know what we'd be walking in on." PS, to Natasha: "Yeah, great start, by the way, on that teamwork. Dragging him over the coals for what's done instead of focusing on what we can do." "Do you feel confident he won't do it again?" Natasha challenges.
Bruce stands up, because maybe he figures the guy who is standing up may have a better chance of attention being paid him. He knuckles against the table and ducks his head. "The bad guys," he says, and he /almost/ manages to say it unironically but his mouth escapes him, quirking at its corner and shading a hue of dryness into his voice, "are working together against us. Romanov, come on. Listen to yourself. Thor, settle down. We've talked about this." What have they talked about? What is he referencing? Maybe he is trying to confuse the thunder god into submission? "Stark, were you able to pull anything useful out of Doom's robot bits? Most of what I know about Latveria I got off of wikipedia, personally."
Thor sits quietly, listening, gaze focused on Stark. "I will answer. Let us first-" he quiets for Natasha. After she is finished, he looks between the two, "Let us first work upon this matter of teamwork. What do you suggest, Agent Romanov? Anyone?" he looks to the room at large.
Thor turns and listens to Bruce. "I will /behave/. But I will not tolerate being called /stupid/. Nor should anyone here."
"Tony and Bruce are right," Steve says, which is how you know it's true. (Hah hah.) "We should be focusing on where we go from here. Teamwork doesn't happen by sitting around talking how you haven't done it. Let's try actually taking the problem at hand and developing a solution /as a team/."
Natasha has fallen silent, but there is nothing of /agreement/ in her expression. She's drawn it blankly smooth, hands clasped loosely in front of her.
Hill frowns and keeps her mouth during the exchange between the Avengers. Tapping at her bluetooth on occasion. She finally stands up, nods to Clint, and plucks a tiny remote control from her belt. It activates a fancy whiteboard when she wields it. And also seems to contain a laser-pointer function. Which she points at the whiteboard. For good measure, she clears her throat. Pay attention to my power point presentation, bickering heroes! It's probably your government's dollars at work. "We know a little. Not as much as we'd like, unfortunately. Until recently, Latveria's wasn't of enough interest to justify hefty intelligence-gathering," she says, clicking to some high-altitude map shots of the country. They look more impressive than Thor's drawing...but may have been pulled from Google maps. "Our high-resolution satellites should be able to get us some better pictures soon." And they will be to scale. "It's a small, isolated region that's done a very good job of keeping itself a world secret. But we do hope to glean some intelligence from one of Doom's agents we've managed to take into custody, but we haven't gotten too much out of her yet." For all the LASER POINTS, it's not the most enlightening presentation.
HA. Stark straightens in his chair and looks a little bit smug(ger) when /Steve/ is forced to concede that he is /right/. Answering Bruce's question, he falls more or less in line behind Hill's calmer, informative manner: "Doom's robots -- if they are his -- are exquisitely crafted, but not at all revolutionary. I can't tell anything about their software, yet. Flash-fried, fire-fried, fried-fried: I'm not sure if I'll be able to recover anything. Run on batteries, though. That's more useful than you'd think. That means they have a limit of some kind on use."
"How long?" Steve asks Tony, a bit hesitantly, like he is worried that everyone knows everything about batteries already and this is possibly a dumb question.
"Dunno," says Stark, and he sounds /delighted/ by that. "Working on it."
Natasha does not put her head in her hands. This is a testament to her amazing Black Widow Superspy skillz.
"Have you had Pym's robot come in for any comparison study yet?" Bruce wonders. "Not that I-- think that Pym is working with-- well, never mind." Bruce goes so far as to sit down again, his point made, and laces his fingers together neatly gainst the edge of the table. He clears his throat.
Thor sits quietly, studying Natasha for a few brief moments. Afterward, he looks at the table and listens to presentations. The Mighty Thor adds, "Doom has not released his technology into civilian areas. However, he wears a suit of armor. I saw no robots." If annoyance were palpable, it would be spraying off of him like a fountain.
"Long enough to break in and kick our asses, apparently," Clint says, including himself despite being on vacation, with a glance towards Natasha and a bare kick of his toes against her boot before he looks back to Bruce as the man speaks.
Janet drifts lower in the air, entranced by Hill's LASER POINTS, though her expression (You know, what could be seen of it when her face is about the size of pin) is pensive. "But where do they build them?" she asks, though the sound is more or less lost. Pym's name captures her attention and she stiffens in sudden agitation.
To this, Natasha does add, "Bullets to the knees slow him down. I think there might be chinks under the arms. Not certain." She glances at Clint with the kick to her boot, and after a moment something in her relaxes just a touch and she adds more easily, "For the most part I wouldn't count on /shooting/ him though."
"And no sign of Loki or Schmidt, I assume," Steve says with another glance in Thor's direction. And then he frowns, glancing back towards Hill. "Who--"
"Shut up about Pym's robot," Stark snippy-snaps at Bruce, not quite meaning it. "Batteries are way cooler than Pym's, anyway. These are new. Pym's aren't bad, but old tech." By which he means /stable/ and /well-tested/ tech. "I have some questions about his armor. When we're done here." He's oblivious to any annoyance that Thor might be splashing around. He's moved well past his irritated flash.
Thor looks up suddenly, frowning deeply. His eyes skim the space above his head. Several moments later, his head lowers and he grumbles to himself. After Steve's question, he replies, "That is not true."
Bruce lifts his hand in an splayed-open gesture at Tony, and says, "Slow down the robot, you mean? Or are we--" And then he stops as he glances back at Thor. Distracted, he asks, "What's not?"
"None that you mentioned," Clint replies, sitting straighter as Thor corrects Steve. He levels an expectant look on the Asgardian, waiting.
"Conventional weaponry doesn't seem to be very effective," Hill concurs with Natasha. Dryly. She remembers what Doom provides. It's unclear whether or not she picks up on Steve's question. It's the subject of Loki she pursues. "Mister Odinson, did you learn anything about the nature of the connection between Doom and the entity known as Loki?"
This time Natasha does raise a hand to her forehead to press her fingers into her temples.
Thor explains, "There was a man with black hair. His skin was pale," Thor continues to describe Schmidt, nearly to the T. Some things are wrong. "I was busy fighting," Thor explains. "I was going to ask you if this man was Schmidt. I do not think he was my brother." Thor focuses on Steve.
To Hill, Thor answers, "I did not. Unfortunately. They both value Cithauri technology, but that I knew before."
Steve's jaw tightens. To Hill, he asks, "Can we maybe get a picture of Schmidt for him to look at?" On your fancy digital whiteboard, of course.
Hill is happy to show off her whiteboard's abilities. Click, click, click. Black and white file photo of Schmidt from back in Steve's day. One more click. Red Skull. It has the look of a mug shot. "That's our most recent image. Taken when he was in custody." Before the epic clusterfuck/his escape, she does not add. Though it's sort of implied.
"That is the man I saw," Thor confirms with a grunt. "I thought him a relative of Doom's at the time. I wanted to ask Rogers before making mention of him."
"Whatever the connection, if it's based on Chitauri tech, it probably isn't a strong, lifelong, name-your-children-after-each-other bond," Clint points out, shaking his head slightly before looking dutifully towards the whiteboard before back at Thor.
Natasha presses her thumbs into her eye sockets, then lowers her hands to the table again, gaze flicking between Steve and Thor. "So that's two. Odds seem good that three's there, too. That's not a troika we can afford to leave alone."
"So--." Stark turns his phone in his fingers. "Nuke?" He doesn't seem to be /advocating/ that, mind you. He is sarcastic.
"My brother does not have allies," Thor explains to Clint. "He will use Doom as a shield while forwarding whatever plan he has fathomed," he adds, looking between Natasha and the ace archer. "/No/," Thor replies to Stark.
"I don't know, mutual payback strikes me as the kind of thing that'll do in a pinch if you can't get any blood brotherhood," Bruce remarks to his own knuckles. "Considering." WHAT'S OUR TEAM NAME AGAIN. He rubs his fingertips against his thumb, slanting a sardonic partial smile in Stark's direction. "Lower tech, less radiation, I could just go maraud the countryside or something," he says. "No?"
"That's not funny," Steve tells Tony with particular disapproving emphasis. Looks like somebody looked up that chapter of a history book. To Thor, he says, "He seemed allied enough when he was leading an alien invasion force. Whatever the nature of the alliance, he's working with Doom for now."
Natasha gives Stark a glance that suggests it's a /little/ funny. "Working with is enough to worry the hell out of me." Natasha shakes her head, red hair dancing across her shoulders. "We need more information."
"Well," Clint drawls to Stark's suggestion of a nuke, looking towards Natasha again with a lift of brows. "I guess if he can't be shot at, good old political assassination is out of the picture."
Hill //eyes// Stark. Unamused.
"My brother was using the Chitauri for his owns schemes," Thor replies. "This he all-but admitted to me. Remember, Loki is here to conquer this realm. Doom stands in his way."
"Your idea," Stark counters to Hill, selecting her unamusedness above all the others. He holds grudges. "I agree with Romanov. Information." He slants a look at Bruce and mouths the words, 'Hulk walkies?'
Bruce gives Tony a dirty look. Not unamused, though. It remains amused. "It's a lot easier to become Emperor of Rome when you are already part of the Triumverate," he points out. Where is he pulling this from. Go back to reading quantum physics, Banner.
"I am in no condition to travel," Thor replies. "And I am not a very successful politician or spy," Thor points out. "I do not think I am suited for the purpose of gathering any more information from Latveria," he concludes, a little sadly. He will miss Doom.
"Doom may eventually stand in his way, but right now we have to work from the evidence that they're working together for -- whatever end-goal they have in mind." Steve frowns as he fails to come up with this end-goal. "What would Doom want with them?"
"Fashion tips?" suggests Stark.
"And he's not asking you?" asks Banner.
Stark taps his chest. "Hero fashion only."
"Getting in unnoticed isn't going to be easy," Natasha says with easy presumption and a questioning glance toward Clint.
"You and I could do it. Play it just like Moscow," Clint answers with a tip of his hand, wincing slightly.
Hill frowns at Stark some more. Deep frowning. But she doesn't respond, gladly letting him lapse into banter with Banner. "Captain Rogers is correctly. At present we have to assume they're allied for some goal that's a threat to world security." She looks between Natasha and Clint, nodding. "Surely there have to be more subtle routes of infiltration than Mister Odinson attempted."
The briefest flicker of doubt crosses Natasha's features, but she doesn't voice it, not here, not amongst the /team/. Instead she says, "This isn't the Organizatsiya." "No offense or anything," Bruce says a little too lightly, "but is sending Barton to go hang out in Loki's bachelor pad really a great idea?"
HEY CUE! Janet drifts lower still, settling crosslegged on the table top before releasing the hold on her miniscule form and expanding to her still diminutive normal size with a snort. "You guys really aren't the most subtle," she says, agreeing with Natasha's statement.
"I did not /attempt/ infiltration," Thor replies. "The Mighty Thor does not infiltrate!" he booms. Janet might shake a little. "Thor conquers." And refers to himself in third person. "My approach did not work, however, as you said. Doom is obviously too powerful for me to handle alone."
Again, Stark startles: his hands tighten in their grip on chair and phone. He snorts, sudden and sharp. "You have an entire mansion made of glass, there. An glass /plantation/."
Bruce jerks straight in his seat in a startle that shows in his face with the widening eyes of an adrenaline rush. He grips both arms of his chair and, uh, isn't saying anything, give him a sec guys.
"It's not my strong suit, either," Steve admits re: infiltration, and then he's straightening right up in his seat and blinking rather /more/ distinctly. "Miss Van Dyne," he exclaims, surprised and strangled and disapproving all at once. DON'T DO THAT. Barton startles, but his startling comes in a flash of being on his feet, gun in his hand and pointed at Janet. It takes him a moment of recognition, and then he relaxes and eases his gun to the floor before his attention refocuses in more concern on Bruce Banner. He doesn't entirely put away his gun.
It takes approximately half a second for Natasha's gun to fix on Janet in remarkable parallel to Clint's. She doesn't bother to ease hers downward, and her eyes narrow as she keeps the shot aligned. "You wanna tell us what you're doing here before I put a bullet in your head?" she asks coolly.
"Who is this woman?" Thor adds, looking at the pixie. "She is beautiful." He leans a little to get a closer look and winces when his back strains.
Oh, oops. Janet lets her lips split in a sheepish looking smile. "I guess you wouldn't believe that i got lost on the way to the bathroom?" She looks at the guns and eyes point at her and winces. "No..." She holds up both hands in an I surrender gesture and adds, "Look, a lot has happened around here and I was just wanting some answers. But sounds like you could use me, and I can help. I want to help!"
"I don't think this is the time to get a date, Thor," Clint advises him, before his gaze slides sideways towards Natasha. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." His words are murmured, quiet, as his chin tips towards Banner's grip on his chair. Wait until there is a man not threatening to Hulk out to kill people, would you, sweetie?
"Walkies later," Stark carelessly antagonizes Bruce while eying Janet. His eyebrows inch upwards in a slow creep. "Fashion tips, huh?" That is how she meant to help Doom, right?
"She works for SHIELD," Steve says, with a quelling glance in Natasha's direction. Because, you know, nobody from SHIELD is ever evil.
Bruce is still sitting very still. He lifts his fingers carefully from the arms of the chair, eyebrows swept high.
"I know who she is," Natasha tells Steve, voice tight, but she does lower her gun slowly toward the floor and thumbs the safety on. "What I want to know is why she's spying on a meeting I'm pretty sure looked confidential." She eyes Janet hard for a moment, then breathes out a sigh. "Not that she's doing very /well/, if she didn't want us to know she's here."
"I'm providing a valuable test of your defensive security arrangements?" Janet supplies brightly, far too hopeful to be entirely serious.
"Hold out for a consultation fee," Stark unhelpfully interjects.
"Stark loves paying those out," Natasha adds.
"You weren't complaining," Stark says. The remarkable thing is that he /doesn't/ leer. "I do not want to date this woman. I am praising her abilities," Thor explains. He studies Janet. "This is the woman we need to infiltrate Doomstadt," he realizes, with a small grin.
Thor ignores guns. Perhaps he as forgotten that they are fatal.
Weakly, Bruce contributes, "Hank Pym's girlfriend?" This is sexist, Bruce. Someone hit him. No, wait, that'd be bad.
Natasha keeps track of Bruce out of the corner of her eye, for all that her attention seems to be firmly on Janet. "We can talk to Fury," she finally allows, just a little reluctant. "Her abilities might be-- beneficial. If she can sit in a room with /us/ and no one noticed--"
"No Moscow?" Clint questions, and he might even sound a little sad about that, as he finally slides his own gun away. "Worth a shot, though we'd need to arrange a cover identity and still get her /into/ the country unnoticed."
"Do you have any training?" Steve asks Janet, sounding more concerned than judgmental. "I don't want to send her into a situation she wouldn't be able to remove herself from if someone went wrong."
Stark rounds his thumb and index finger, the others fingers splayed in an 'OK' he flashes at assembled superheroes and superspies. "Good work, by the way, spotting her. I feel very reassured by your skills." (He didn't spot her either, but who would expect him to? That's right: NO ONE.) "Send her with backup, then. Romanov and Barton can go play Carmen Sandiego or whatever."
Natasha glances at Clint, brows quirked, then back to Janet. "We can escort her in," she agrees. "If we need to pull her out, it might take a bit more muscle. It's not risk-free." Her green eyes fix sharp on Janet. "No one's guaranteeing your safety. Are you prepared to deal with that?"
Janet moves suddenly, unfolding her legs and sweeping them underneath her to sit on her heels. Hope it doesn't startle anyone (Bruce). "Well, glad we're clear on that, blondie. It'll make our flirtations so much more fun," Janet tosses in Thor's direction, turning slightly in her seat (yes, still on the table) to look at Banner before nodding in agreement with Natasha's statement. "I can take care of myself. I'm good at not being what people expect."
"Apparently," Bruce mutters. He rubs at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, eyebrows drawing together.
Thor chuckles a little. "I like you," he replies. "But I am involved with another. Still, your ability is remarkable. I am impressed." He quiets afterward.
Steve remains worriedly unconvinced. "I don't know if this is a good idea," he says, but in that manner that will be easy to overcome for RP fun to happen.
"It was a good cover story," is all Clint says to Natasha with a flash of a grin, taking his seat with a look towards Janet to make an appreciative study of the woman, no matter what he said to Thor.
Natasha doesn't quite smile at Clint, but the expression in her eyes lightens slightly, and her voice is easier when she tells Steve, "Nothing we do is a good idea." "Well, I could always put my Sunday suit and go try to charm the information out of Doom if you think that is a better idea," says Stark to Steve, maybe to point out just how much worse the ideas could get.
"You have a Sunday suit?" Banner is focusing on the wrong part of this bad plan.
"You should have a Thursday suit!" Thor grumbles irritably.
"Stop confusing Thor," Stark tells Banner.
"And me," Janet interjects, slapping her knees lightly. "So. It's settled?" She looks entirely too eager for this.
Steve looks particularly unhappy at this turn of events, but clearly he doesn't think Stark's idea is any better, because he just sits there quietly.
"So specifically we're looking for recon on alien tech, robot manufacture, our missing stuff, Schmidt, Loki...?" Bruce ticks each of these off on his fingers. "Energy collection? Doomstadt ... street plans? Castle ... plans?"
"Polnyi pizdets," Natasha mutters under her breath, and finally she tucks her gun back away wherever it came from. "Best we've got," she says in English, and then glances at Clint. "Anything we can get. Our intelligence is too vague to even know what we need to know yet."
Clint tears his gaze away from the study of Janet to meet Natasha's look, his brows lifting in silent communication before he tips his chin. "Anything we can find without tipping them off," he agrees.
"And we'll be poised and ready to go in and extract her if it becomes necessary," Steve raises his voice again to say.
Bruce opens his mouth to say something, closes it over a slight, wry smile. Instead he says, "Okay."
"Bring me back a souvenir," says Stark.
"Okay," Natasha echoes, and it has the sound of finality in it.
"You don't want any souvenir Natasha'll bring back," Clint replies at that timing.
Hill increasingly looks caught up in...something inside her own head. Or perhaps in that earpiece she's still wearing, which from the little light on it is still open. She blinks and occasionally nods, like she's listening to something from it, but at least she doesn't try and carry on a conversation with it. A final nod, and the little light blinks out. It functions as an affirmative to the plan, whatever else she might be listening to.
"Alright! Go team!" Janet pumps her fist in the air and spins around to hop off the table. Natasha gives Clint a roll of her eyes before turning to fix them on Janet. A beat passes, two. And then she stands and heads for the door. There is only so much she can take, guys.
"See?" says Stark to Natasha as she passes. "More women."
"Right," Bruce agrees blandly, propping his chin on his fist. "Go ... team."
"It's a plan, at least," Steve says. "What else do we have to cover?"
"Go team," Clint agrees, leeeaaaning back in his chair with a look after Natasha as she heads out the door before he glances back to Janet. "We'll need to brief you. Maybe shove in a few firearms lessons before we go."
"The Mighty Thor will teach you the ways of hand to hand combat," Thor offers enthusiastically.
"Anything you say, boys," Janet replies cheerfully.
"Come on, Bruce, Stark wants to show you his robots since we have devolved into talking about ourselves in the third person," says Stark, pushing to his feet and heading to the doors. "I want to see what you make of the batteries."
"Be careful with her," Steve tells Thor worriedly. Brow creasing, he says, "Maybe I should work with you two." HOW MUCH CAN HE WORRY ABOUT IN ONE SCENE.
"Okay, Stark," Bruce says. He glances at Thor, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners, and does not compound the obnoxiousness any further despite an obvious temptation to do so. He just says, "See you guys later," before trailing off after Tony, slightly taller tugboat bobbing in his wake.
Clint glances after the retreating scientists and the door, and lingers another look. Then, he finally drags himself out of his seat with a, "I'll see you in 30, then?" Because obviously firearms are more important. Until then, he will go seek out Natasha to do their own meeting de-brief.
Read: gossip about the Avengers.
"I am aware that she may be brittle, Rogers," Thor replies. "I have trained many soldiers. You needn't worry." Thor doesn't protest his presence in training, however. Thor stands up, too, and avoids wincing.
"There's plenty of me to go around," Janet assures Steve, amusement lacing through her voice as she leans over the back of an empty chair, then nods at Clint's parting remark. "I'll clear my schedule." And then she pushes away and swans out of the room too."
Steve looks unconvinced, but with Thor not protesting his presence as a whole, he doesn't argue whether or not Thor knows how to be gentle. HE'LL JUST LEAVE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.
Thor follows Steve, moving slowly.
The Avengers...er. Assemble.