Summary:Silk approaches Sarah Black to see if she can help Hod out of his prediciment of being a constant target. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's early on a warm, pleasant evening, and the Brooklyn side street in front of the building where Sarah Black lives is fairly quiet, only the occasional car or two driving past and a handful of pedestrians about. A twenty-something man on a bicycle rides past just before the front door of the building opens and the young British agent emerges onto the stoop. She's looking casual and relaxed, a slight smile on her lips as she glances up and down the street before starting down the few steps to the sidewalk.
The thing about New York City is - well, there's always something new, and unexpected happening. For example, when Sarah Black emerged out of those front doors today it is very unlikely she expected to have someone drop down in front of her, literally, from higher up on the building where most people haven't even bothered to look for the last quarter of an hour while she waited.
Said person dropping off the building and landing with an Olympic Gymnists grace might at least be recognizable to Sarah - Silk had been one of the Spider-People at some of the co-operative raids on the Nightfall, and had been given credit to some degree for helping Deadpool 'return' from his undead state after the last difficult encounter and given some access at the time to WAND prison facilities to do so. She was in their files.
The woman with the face-mask of red that left the top of her face exposed above the bridge of her nose and the black, white, and red costume looks to Sarah, and asks, "You are Sarah Black, are you not?" Her voice is friendly enough, curious, even.
She may be no Bobbi Morse, and certainly no Melinda May, but Sarah's reflexes are respectable enough for an agent whose primary role isn't kicking people in the head, as she dodges back a step and is starting the gestures of a defensive spell before she recognizes the young woman who just, ahem, dropped in, and stops before speaking the words that would activate her magic. That smile returns, as does at least some of her formerly casual stance, as she answers, "I am, yes. And while I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before now, you are the one called Silk, yes?" Her voice carries the accent of an educated Londoner, but not one putting on airs or trying to sound posh.
"I am," Silk agrees, she looks relieved. "Good. You know me. That makes things easier," she speaks, her voice friendly and sounding somewhat relieved. She pauses, looks around, "Sorry to drop in on you like this, but - I was hoping maybe you could help me. Can we talk?"
There's a beat. "Somewhere in private, I mean. It's - not something that I think we should discuss in the street."
"I'd invite you in, but my cat isn't always the best with strangers — which is to say, she sits in their laps and doesn't let them leave," Sarah replies, with a chuckle. "Rooftops seem to be a bit of a tradition with you lot, and it /is/ a lovely evening…" And with that, she makes a circular gesture with her right hand, and a portal irises open, oval in shape and edged with glowing traceries of magical geometries, the opening tall and wide enough for a person to comfortably step through. On the other side of it, a typical flat roof of a brick building can be seen plainly. Gesturing to the portal, Sarah asks, "After you?"
"I prefer the traditional way, but, … sure. I've always wondered what's on the other side of these things," she half-jokes to Sarah. But, she's at least aware of Sarah's connections, and therefore after a bit of hesitation she builds up her confidence and steps through the portal, a bit rushed - kind of like Harry Potter and Ron did at platform 9 3/4.
There's just the faintest tingling sensation as Silk crosses the plane of the portal, and arrives… on the perfectly ordinary roof of a four-story commercial building a few blocks away from Sarah's flat. Sarah steps through after her, casually and clearly completely at ease with traveling this way. Dismissing the portal with another gesture, Sarah says, "There. We should have privacy here. Unlike the roof of my building, where on a night like this, any of my neighbours might choose to be up there. So. What is it that we need to talk about?"
Silk looks around herself, getting her bearings. The city for her at this point, is quite easy for her to map out from the skyline. She's patrolled it enough, and her memory is practically perfect. It makes things far easier.
Then, her brown eyes turn to Sarah, "Huh. I think that's the first time I've actually not hated magic." Not that Sarah can see it, but she seems to smile beneath the red veil that acts as her mask.
"Right. To business. Well, you just kind of proved my first question to be inconsequential. You know magic. Good." She takes a deep breath that's quite audible. "I have a friend. Who needs your help. Or, the help of someone you might be able to reccommend."
"I have a friend, whose in dire trouble. And I am determined to help them. They have been marked as a traitor, by those with the magic of the Gods. By, possibly, a God. Or several. I want to help them get it removed."
Sarah listens to that, her expression remaining more or less neutral, save for her eyes widening a bit, to go with the rise of her brows and the slight parting of her lips. "I… can see why this would be a concern, yes," she replies soberly. "I'm not certain if I can be of help directly, but it's likely that I can, as you say, refer you to someone who might. Can you tell me more? Knowing the details of the situation would be helpful in deciding what to do next or whom we should speak with."
"The person I wish to help told me that he'd been marked, in such a fashion that any God of any pantheon could tell he was so marked. It was like putting a huge neon target on his back saying 'Kill Me'. Several attempts have been made on his life."
There's a twist to her lips, "You are aware of the - tussle in Times Square about a month ago? That was Egyptian Gods and Gods of the Inuit clashing, and when he appeared they basically stopped fighting each other to target him. I think it's something - well, arcane, that is hidden from this plane of reality. Only visible to those who either are of God-blood, or who have the ability to percieve magic. Each attempt on his life is getting more, and more dangerous."
Her jaw sets, "He almost was killed, this last time. Just a few days ago. I need to help him."
Nodding, Sarah says, "Yes, I've read the reports about the Times Square incident. What you've just told me answers several questions we had about just what happened there, actually. I'll say this — Whether one believes in the actual divinity of the various pantheons or not, they are clearly beings of great mystic power and not to be trifled with. More powerful than any human spellcaster, with the possible exceptions of the Sorceror Supreme and a very few others. If this mark upon your friend was laid by one of them, removing it may well require another of equal power — or possibly only the one who placed it can lift it."
The Englishwoman pauses for a breath, before continuing. "All of that is just conjecture at this point, though. And even though its removal may be well beyond me, I should be able to perceive the mark, which can only be helpful in determining who or what may be needed to cleanse it."
It is, at least, a start for her. A begining. She nods. "Spider-Man said you might be able to help. That's why I've come to you," she offers Sarah, sincerely. "I - really appreciate your willingness to at least look. The unfortuante thing is my friend doesn't know who did this to them, and they feel they've been set up. I believe them," states Silk, with absolute confidence.
"Any help you could provide, well, I'd be grateful for. And willing to repay in kind, when and where I could. I'm fairly useful in a fight," she hedges, with a half-smile in her voice, as well as beneath the veil.
"I will see if they would be willing to meet you. Hopefully I can talk them into it." Careful, Silk is. Not only does she not disclose their name, but their gender as well. It's pretty easy to see Silk entreats her confidences with absolute discretion.
"I know," Sarah replies, with a slight grin. "I have read your file, too. Not that it is terribly extensive, but your performance against Nightfall has been rather impressive." She lets that sink in for a beat as she opens the small purse hanging by its strap from her left shoulder. "Here," she says, as she offers a business card. "If we are going to try to help your friend, you should have a more convenient way of reaching me than perching above my doorstep." The card is white, with the WAND emblem/logo in light grey as a background, and crisp black lettering overlaying it spelling out Sarah's name and identifying her as a WAND Field Agent. Beneath that is the expected contact information. "Please don't share that around," she says.
Silk looks at the card, assures, "I will not share it at all," with a nod. The card, then, is neatly tucked into a hidden wrist-sleeve pocket that is seamless and indistinguishable from the rest of the costume. WHerever she got the costume, it's been made exceptionally well.
Silk exhales, "Thank you," she entreats to Sarah, earnestly. "I appreciate your offer more than you could know. I will be in touch. I shouldn't keep you any longer." A pause, "I'd ask if you needed a ride down, but somehow I'm guessing you can take care of that yourself?" A hint of humor, in that question.
"I think I can manage," Sarah replies, with humor to match. "I was going to see about getting something to eat before taking this little detour. I'd ask if you'd like to join me, but I fear that would be a bit awkward." She gestures to her own lower face as she's saying that, clearly referring to the mask covering Silk's.
"Maybe another time." She nods to Sarah, and then from her fingertip rather than her wrist, an organic web thwips out and lands on a building across the street several floors higher than their current position. "Take care of yourself." She nods, "Hopefully tonight won't be busy." And then she's jumping off, swinging so low that she passes over the oncoming traffic only by a few feet before physics and gravity catch her and propel her higher, forward, increasing momentum. Further weblines are shot out, and Silk begins to move faster down the straight line of the street, disapearing into the distance.