2019-10-14 - Housewarming Agogo


T'Challa's Housewarming brings out Rivera. It's a riot.

Log Info:

Storyteller: {$storyteller}
Date: October 14, 2019
Location: T'Challa's Apartment

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It's taken a few weeks for Mari and T'Challa to get things in place for his house warming. It's more than just a housewarming though and special contingencies have been put in place.

The guest list has been pared down and the rest of the guests are really trusted agents. Those that Agent May thought had strong mental fortitude. If Rivera shows, those are going to be needed.

They've decided to host this on the upper level of the apartment. The large room opens out onto the deck with the pool. It's a magnificent view.

Currently, Mari is circulating amongst the guests. Greeting people and generally playing Hostess. At the moment, she's talking to Simon Greenway - a McCabe Board member - and Howard Frosch, a contact a T'Challa's. These are *not* SHIELD agents.

If Clint ever gets fired from SHIELD he'll have a fine future in the world of mixology. Wearing the white jacket required for the help, Hawkeye has settled into the role of bartender behind the wood and chrome bar that sits nestled out of the way on the deck. He's got a good number of customers, clients all asking for this drink and that drink. And weirdly enough, Clint knows most of them.
"Rum and coke? Comin' up."
"Whiskey sour? Here you go, sir."
"Screwdriver? Exciting choice, sir."
The Avenger is getting into it, affecting a truly with it voice, and giving the original double fingerguns ala Isaac from The Love Boat.

Emma makes an entrance, as usual, dropped off by her driver this time, exiting the Rolls, she enters the doorway with the presence and bearing of royalty. In truth she /does/ look rather regal. Once inside she'll find the people she was asked to protect the minds of, and will quietly and undramatically shield them and then create a 'party line' once more, now, this most likely will be a new experience for Agent May — and if she's not willing, she won't be linked or shielded, Emma's not going to argue the point. Regardless, for those who are willing, they'd feel something, lord knows what, sort of distance them from the room, and then a voice, Emma's voice only /too/ clear, no distortion, no background noises. «You're all under shields, and I'll maintain the communications link. More secure than any comms, no matter how heavy the encryption.»

She's dressed in a gorgeous hand-crafted gown with a revealing cut-out and a lot of lace to go with the cape and train. Sick that her dress probably costs more than most people's cars — and be worn once. She moves straight for the bar, but Clint would here in a private sending. «Ginger ale, please.» Even as she says. "Some bubbly, if you please." For the moment she's not paying T'Challa or Mari any attention, no doubt they've got people to greet anyway, she can approach after she has her camo-drink.

T'Challa is of course here. Well this is his place after all. A palatial penthouse on three levels at the top of a rather ritzy Fifth Avenue address. The security and agents might be wondering if after everything is done he'll let them use the pool? Or possibly not. But he is here. In formal but very traditional garments form his country, which are looser and more flowing than the tailored suits he usually wears. He has been making the rounds and greeting people for sure, keeping an eye on things and playing his part. He's glad he's on 'mental comms' though.

"This reminds me of a court function." He mutter-thinks to the rest of the group. "Which in case anyone was wondering, is full of boring self important people. The similarities are staggering." Fortunately since this is a trap there are fewer boring self important people here than might otherwise be and a LOT of plants and allies.

Being in charge of the SHIELD detail means having to be in the middle of everything. And that means having to dress the part. At least this time Agent May had enough time this time to have a say in her outfit.

Anyone familiar with fashion might pick it out as a bit of a mishmash — a very clearly Chinese style jacket with long, flared sleeves and a high standing collar over a overtly Punjabi floor-length skirt, intentionally open in the front to reveal slim-fit trousers. And flat shoes. The entire outfit is black, with the sheen of real silk, and dripping with matching embroidery on the jacket, skirt, trousers, and even the slipper shoes.

Pausing by the bar, May says something in Mandarin to Clint that is supposed to be the name of a drink order but was a previously agreed upon code word for a status check. And a glass of sparkling water with grenadine in the bottom to resemble a mixed drink.


Unlike the others, Mari is sipping a glass of sparkling white. Sipping being the operative word - she's been holding that glass for a while now and the level has hardly moved. A trick she's learned from a number of these.

Now, now, T'Challa. Under normal circumstances I'd say let them get a few drinks under their belts. Most of these are *hilarious* when that happens. Today though, I hope Rivera shows sooner than later.

Over by the doors that let people out onto the deck, there's a small commotion as one of the women guests jostles another, causing drinks to spill over. "Watch what you're doing, you oaf."

"Don't you talk to me like that… You're just jealous I got that job you were going for."

It's starting. Those who are sensitive to it, will feel the emotion ramp up over there.

I'm heading to the deck to put myself in the open. Be ready. Rivera will want to crow about upsetting this. T'Challa, remember - you're very upset with me about this.

Clint and May will see the small group near the bar start to tense and eye each other unhappily.


Double finger-guns for Emma, "You got it, sweet lady." Clint says simultaneously in the real world as in the mental link the image of him speaking is a polar bear in a snow storm for whatever reason. « Ginger Ale. Roger. » Even as he goes about filling her order, making a nice champagne flute of bubbles and everything, non-alcoholic.
Then when May makes her way around the front of his bar he gives her a wave and a wink as he says, "Hey there, darlin'." He'll likely pay for that later, though he does at the least remember the drink order, though for her he adds the sparkling water, the grenadine, and then a cherry on top as he slides it over. "Because you are just toooo sweet." Fingerguns. Next order.
Then on the mental link the polar bear says, « Situation Normal though people seem grumpier than normal. » Though he does try to mitigate it as he leans across the bar, "Hey folks, I got this Opus One Champagne that this one guy got, drank a bit, and then wandered off. Want to help me finish it?"
Since hey, even these snoots won't turn their noses up to $1000 a glass champagne.

Being Emma, she gives Clint the bartender a very stern look and a quirked brow at the familiarity. She takes the drink with a faint, and patently false, smile. A brief nod to Agent May. "I love your top, the gold embroidery really stands out." And then she turns towards T'Challa as he makes the rounds and with a polite nod, disengages to move towards him. Over the link. «There's a spike of negative emotions over by the argument, that's not natural ill-temper, but augmented.» A pause. «I love your polar bear, Agent Barton, I had no idea you harbored a furry self image, most interesting indeed.»

And then she approaches T'Challa, a hand extended to the man. "Your new home is absolutely stunning, Your Highness. Thank you for the invite."

Does the Polar Bear have a coke? Yes T'Challa has seen those. He starts moving in Mari's direction, looking perturbed. Going to put on a show folks. Please don't let the guests kill eachother. It will never come out of the flooring.

When Mari makes the deck T'Challa is only ten or so paces behind her.

"Mari. What exactly is the meaning of this?" The voice is heated and while he's not yelling it's not exactly quiet either. Putting on a show indeed. The comments he makes are vague enough that it COULD be about a number of things…

May accepts the drink and added cherry with a nod, setting the ornate dangles hanging from the ends of her Japanese-style hairsticks to waving and hopefully distracting as her eyes flick toward the other barflies who seem to be less than pleased.

If any of them seem unswayed by Clint's offering of a VERY high end champagne, she takes a small sip of her fake mixed drink then offers the nearest — regardless of their gender — a small smile that could very easily be interpreted as flirting.

Do not say a WORD, Barton.

"Thank you," she says to Emma, bowing her head politely, even as she's again eyesing the others around as Frost moves on.

« Team, be on the alert. Target may be approaching. I want to know the instant there's a visual.» May's 'voice' in the mindlink could only sound MORE robotic and inflectionless if it were a perfect match for Majel Barret Roddenberry.

"Is that the type of swill he drinks?" Comes a reply to Clint. People are really getting antsy near Clint and May. Pushing and jostling and starting to call each other names and make accusation.

There's not a few mutters of 'you slept with my husband' or wife. Or disparaging comments about trust funds and the like.

Of course, dealing with them isn't going to help. They need to stop this at the source.

Mari doesn't comment on the Polar Bear that Clint projects, as she makes the deck and tries to calm the two women. "T'Challa. I told you had it in hand…" another vague comment. "I thought it's what you wanted."

"Ah ha ha ha. See Mari, you can't keep your man happy either. First your Board and now him." Rivera appears, dressed as guadily as she usually does.

It's a good thing that Emma is shielding T'Challa - she can feel the push against the shield as something tries to manipulate T'Challa's emotions. Negative to Mari but extremely positive to Rivera.

At the same time, the two women lunge at each other and go rolling across the deck.

« I'm taken. » Is Clint's response to Emma on the mental comm frequency, as if that shut down all possible repartee between himself and the White Queen. But he continues on with his little gig over in the corner of the deck, set not to break character until there's a call for direct intervention.
So, for now, he holds to.
Back on the channel in response to T'Challa the Polar Bear, still enduring the snowstorm, replies with a growl. « You ever see The Terror? » He doesn't elaborate but just sort of keeps doling out drinks, pouring some of the champagne at request, smiling and smiling to the people around him.
To his credit, however, Clint says not a word about May and her unapproved illicit non-regulation smile.
However as things take a turn near him, Clint keeps pushing the Opus One and doesn't even take any umbrage when people consider it swill. He hands out a glass here, a glass there. But he pointedly stays near the bar, just in case.

A blink as T'Challa turns without acknowledging her, were they not in a link she might have taken genuine offense, instead she just turns on the Ice Queen act and sets her drink down, and turns towards the exit. She watches the approach of Rivera like a hawk, and then her gaze narrows as the woman makes things escalate further all around them. «Rude.» Whether to Clint's response, or Rivera's power usage - not clear.

«I am going to see if I Can disrupt her efforts, I cannot shield everyone, but I might be able to do something better.»

And then Emma Frost, the White Queen, focuses her will. A pencil thin lance of pure psionic energy invisible to the naked eye, but semi-tangible to those that it passes as a chill to the air, like a ghost, it leaps towards Rivera, a psionic blast of tightly focused power aimed at disrupting her concentration.

And hopefully giving her a migraine that will linger for days.

T'Challa has Emma's shielding and the present she gave him. But when he turns around it's not a face that is angry or well disposed or any other kind of emotion other than the cat who ate the canary. He gives an upward gesture with one hand.

And two armed ghosts appear behind the woman.

"Rivera. Just who I was waiting for."

In a sane world she wouldn't fight. But T'Challa is virtually certain at this point that she will, and that Clint or Emma or someone is going to need to put her down. That's if she doesn't try to turn the crowd against them.

Which she very well might.

"Appreciated Emma." T'Challa wanted to play up the 'he's angry and lost his emotional control' bit and very thankful that someone like Emma ISN'T taking offence as that would be bad on a number of levels.

"Agent May, Agent Barton, how are we looking?" He can't spare the attention from his 'bodyguard' right now so he has to rely on them.

Good thing Clint didn't comment as it didn't seem to make a difference anyway.

Hearing Emma announce that she's trying to take down Rivera has her abandoning Clint to deal with the people requesting drinks and starting across toward the deck herself. She moves in a seemingly unhurried manner, but deftly avoids knots of people and in one notable spot ducks under a man's outstretched arm to keep moving. « On my way to your position now, » she informs T'Challa. « Everyone else is a bit riled, but nothing out of control. » There's no need for her to say 'yet' if she has her way.

She gets to the deck a moment after Emma's psionic attack against Rivera, and focuses on the woman with every intention of putting her down and making sure she stays down. The rest of the SHIELD agents might get a pass on the woman getting past them all. Maybe.

Don't worry, T'Challa, she promised no bloodshed.

The crowd at the bar really get rowdy. There's a dozen people there, at least two of them SHIELD agents, who are affected. Pushy and shoving, there's a least one fist thrown, and someone lands heavily against the bar as Clint pours a glass of champagne.

Mari's hit by the struggling woman and is trying to keep them from each other. The silhouette of a rhino and an ape behind her. "Ladies, please …" beat "Call your spirits off, Rivera…"

Rivera starts as T'Challa's guards appear behind her, throwing herself at the Wakandan, a little confused as to why he's not as affected as she thought he should be. "But your highness, I'm the one that wan-" That's when Emma's mind blast hits and the woman falters - but she's not stopped. Someone has very good shields.

Fortunately, Rivera's path puts her right in Mays way - and there's ghostly guards behind her.

The bartender says quickly to those around, "Bar's closed, help yerselves." And with that he ducks back underneath it, pulling out the grey plastic weapons case and unclicking the double biometric locks. He grabs the collapsible bow from its foam housing and twists it slightly, causing the double wings to snap out into place with the string whirring taut as it self-adjusts the tension. Then the hip quiver is affixed to his belt and he rises back into view.
A step back and away from the bar, giving some room and letting him set up on the periphery of the gathering, rising up to stand with one foot on a chair and the other on a tabletop. Somewhat high up, good view, nice angle on Rivera. He nocks and makes ready for them to call the shot if they need it.
« Ready. »
Though when a bottle is broken on the edge of the bar and one of the nearby patrons seems about to gut another, Clint grimaces and says on the comm line, « One sec. » He grabs one of his arrows from the quiver and jams it into the belly of the worst rioter, ZAPping him with a tazer shock that likely ruins his night.
« Ok, ready now. » He'll keep ready in case /either/ area gets out of control.

When Emma's … whatever she does doesn't completely take Rivera down, May steps right up to her and taps the woman's shoulder. "Excuse me," she starts, then pops the woman in the face with a small but quick and well-placed punch. If that somehow doesn't take her down, May will simply hit her a second time. It's honestly a little bit fun.

But of course she'd never admit to that aloud. Instead, she all but barks at the other agents in the mindlink. « Get this room under control. Now. » Then she's looking at Mari and T'Challa to make sure they're both okay.

T'Challa simply turns in a rather dancelike fashion and levers Rivera toward the approaching May. It is said that the power of a King is not to act but to get others to act on his behalf and it's certainly true that the Wakandan doesn't seem to feel the need to get his hands particularly dirty here. He motions his bodyguard - which is dead it bears repeating - forward and they move up mostly to prevent the woman from escaping. May or Mari will put her down. He is sure.

Ow. That looked like that hurt. He makes a mental note never to get on Agent May's bad side. Something Clint surely already knows.


Clint is jostled as he makes his way through the crowd, but he handles that … neatly with his tazer arrow. By the time he turns, Rivera is being socked on in the kisser by May.

The gaudily dressed woman looks so stunned - first Emma's mind blast and then May. Still, she lines to swing at May anyway. «Now Barton» Mari mutters into the mindlink.

The tazer is all that takes to finish Rivera off and drop her like a sack.

Meanwhile, Mari is holding the two women apart from each other - taking sratches and slaps as they fight. "Ladies, please." They start to calm down once Rivera is out … as do the other partygoers.

One of Mari's people gestures to the SHIELD agents to help clean things up, leaving the small group on the deck when an unconscious Rivera.

"Does she have anything on her? We'll need to question her when she comes to." Mari asks as she turns the two women back inside.

Rivera does. In a hidden pocket on the inside of the jacket she's wearing, there's a key. A key … to a safety deposit box.

At the signal, Clint brings up the arrow nocks it, fires in one smooth motion, then he casually slings the weapon over his shoulder as the target is down. He looks around as things start to resolve, nodding to himself as he saunters over to get an eyeball on their quarry, then look at the others around him.
On the telepath channel, Clint's Polar Bear says succinctly, « That's why I get paid the big bucks. »

I thought it was because you were an endangered species. With Coke sponsorships. T'Challa replies with a small smirk. He's standing now about six feet from where the unconscious Rivera is. A gesture dismisses the african ghosts and he peers inside. Yes, the people are not destroying his house. This is a good thing.

"A safety deposit box. Could it really be that simple? Now we just need to figure out which box in the city - hopefully in the city anyway - it belongs to."

Hence, interrogation. But not here for obvious reasons. Well, not unless she comes to and just gives up the goods anyway.

May wordlessly offers the key to Mari, knowing that Rivera's jealousy of McCabe will be their best bargaining chip against Rivera when the woman wakes. "I can have her taken back to SHIELD for holding if you wish, T'Challa, though I am equally willing to ask her a few questions regardless of locale." « All agents, sitrep. »

She inwardly is almost a little disappointed that she didn't get to employ her hairsticks. Oh well. There's always next time.

It's something. Finding the deposit box is going to be a like a needle in a haystack unless Rivera spills the beans. Whether she will or not, it won't be just now - the woman is out.

Though she does moan and twitch. Maybe May could stab her with her hairsticks just in case.

« The guests are calming down and the servers are offering refreshments. They're a bit confused but none the worse for wear. » There might be some grudges come from this, but no one really wants to be on T'Challa's bad list.

Mari joins the group, checking everyone for injuries. "You have my thanks, all of you. Without you, we couldn't have done this. I hope you're not going to run off. There's still food and drink." There's a nod to T'Challa about SHIELD taking Rivera. I do hope we can be present when she's questioned.

« Nominal. » Is Clint's reply on the shared telepathy channel. He gives a look over to T'Challa and Mari, lifting a hand as he gives them both a nod. "I did my thing, I think…" He looks over toward the bar and his lip twists up a little as he motions to it with one hand, bow still slung over his shoulder.
"You mind if I… go back on duty? Looks like there might be some thirsty people around here as this whole mess gets straightened out." Since really that's what everyone needs, more drinking.

As much as she'd like to punch the woman again to make sure she stays down, May refrains from doing so. It's … not sporting. She nods with a slight bow to Mari and T'Challa. « Acknowledged. Maxwell, Gomez. Escort Rivera to somewhere secure. Everyone else, exfil as planned. » That last means agents here posing as partygoers will take their leave randomly throughout the evening, those mixed into the catering staff will follow the caterers.

May, for her own part, waits for the two singled out agents to bundle up Rivera and sneak her out, then follows Barton toward the bar with her still nearly full and miraculously unspilled drink. "A bit more, please. But no more grenadine." « You put in too much. »

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