2019-10-19 - Miss Popularity


Three visitorsAgent Barton, Agent Simmons and Consultant Jeriah Londonall come down to Mystique's holding cell to discuss a variety of topics.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Sat Oct 19 00:00:00 2019
Location: Triskelion Holding Cell

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Theme Song



Walking down the hallway more people than normal are stealing glances or staring after the man known as Clint Barton. Oh he'd always had some small measure of curious lookie-loos now and again when he wanders around parts of the building. Usually in the departments that don't see him coming around that often. When he stepped through accounting there were a few stares, some whispers, but they quickly slipped back to a veneer of professionalism which was to be lauded to be fair.
When he came down to Holding, however, some of them knew him well enough to ask as he passed by. "Barton, hey man. What happened in the firing range?" Capaldi was always pretty brusk and lacking in subtlety, which is probably why his career will probably be forever as a glorified security guard.
"You know me, Pete, just sometimes I lose it and shoot the place up."
"Hah!" The agent laughed as he buzzed Barton through while Clint filled out the visitor sign-in sheet. Not that Mystique was fully under arrest these last few days. She had been given some privileges, just… this was likely where they had her bed down. Also it gave people a place to find her when they had questions.
Such as the questions Clint had today.

Her little home away from home. To say she was not a fan of her surroundings was an understatement. She might as well be in a prison cell. Mystique was sprawled on the cot that was the version of a bed they allowed her. It was specially made, build as part of the wall, with no moving parts. That way no one tried to dismantle it to make tools and attempt escape.

As though one could escape through the clear forcefield barrier that made up one wall of the cell. It allowed them to keep a close eye on her at all times. She did have a small bathroom area off to one side with a commode and sink, thankfully behind a small wall. She had no illusions that she had privacy, pretty convinced there was a camera to be certain she did nothing improper while indisposed.

At the sound of the main door opening, she turned her head that direction, curious who might be coming down.

There's the click-click-click of shoes upon the metal floor as Clint makes his way down the hallway, strolling along and carrying a small manila folder under his arm. There's an air of nonchalance to him that sort of fits with his manner. It sort of sits there on the edge of being too nonchalant, as if if he started whistling things might seem a bit… affected.
But then he appears at the end of the hall where she's stored and casually 'tap-taps' the control pad not to activate it… but to signal to the controllers watching above he wants to enter. And so he does.
"Heya Misty." Clint's voice is light and casual as he enters and he tosses the folder on the slide out panel that serves as a 'desk' for her sometimes. "Came by to ask if there was anything you'd like to add to this debrief about Mr. Jigsaw." The guy who splits into a million pieces.

Seeing that it was Agent Barton, Mystique kept her smile to herself as she waited for his arrival. She remained sprawled on the bed, one arm folded u under her head as she watches him push the buttons to get entry. Then he was inside with her and throwing one of those manilla folders he loved so much on her table.

"So you caught him? Glad to hear it." Seems she knows who he is even without having used that name for it. After all, not that many people out there with that particular powerset. At least, that he might be asking her about. "Very good. Another piece of scum off the streets." She smirks a bit, unable to hide her amusement since he likely considered her to be one of those scum.

"No niceties, Agent Barton? Asking how I like my room or is my health good? You are a terrible visitor." She sits up on the bed, rising up to her feet and stretching a bit before moving to the table and picking up the manila folder.

"Yeah, ha ha. Thanks by the way." Clint leans back against the 'desk' with his arms folded over his broad chest. He's wearing much what she'd expect him to wear, the whole sneakers, jeans, black t-shirt and a loose grey overshirt. Nothing too exciting since clearly if he put some effort into his garb people would have even more to talk about.
"'Likely to go to pieces when you arrest him.' Thanks for that heads up, glad you thought it was funny." She makes no sign that she thought it was funny, but he just assume she does, in his mind's eye of her he pictures her laughing evilly like some mad genius.
"He's being questioned," Though with what they're doing to his computer-head really questioning or maintenance? Hard to say. "Just was wondering if there might be any more tidbits you'd like to impart about him before we, you know, put any more effort into him."

"I told you the truth," Mystique says and there is that amusement in her voice. She knew precisely what she was doing when she phrased it that way. It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the full truth. If they had expected other, they didn't know Mystique.

She flipped through the pages then paused at something, reading more slowly though there were no pupils to see where she was focusing or that she was scanning the lines of text. "When you get into his head, be careful of the failsafe switch. It will trigger when you get to any memories of kittens." She glances at him. "He hated them. Tended to be terrified of them, really. That always amused me that anyone could be scared of kittens. So he set up triggers in his own brain. See a kitten on the readouts, you are about to open the wipe mechanism he has built in and will lose any data."

"Yeah, seriously." Clint says as he nods his head emphatically in Mystique's direction as he keeps his arms folded. He tilts his head to the side and then adds, "I mean really, who doesn't like kittens?" He looks toward the door and gives a nod as if to himself though the handlers likely realize that that's the signal to take the last minute of interaction and relay it to intel to review for information. That kitten thing is possibly an actual thing to be investigated.
Then Clint turns back and adds, "I mean, get a dozen of them, some carrots, some onions, toss them in a pot. Bam, you got a stew going. Delicious." Indeed, for assuredly Clint loves him some kitten stew.
"Anything else jump to your thoughts that we should look out for?"

At his comment, Mystique's head snaps up and her eyes go very wide. "Please tell me you are kidding. What kind of person would eat kittens?!" She shakes her head a bit, setting the folder back down on the table now that she's done reading it. "And people call me a monster."

She moves back to the edge of her bed and settles on it, sitting comfortably as she considered the question. "Be certain to ask him about Juno. That's someone that is on my list I provided to you. She's a nasty one to be sure. He will have information on where she might be holed up at the moment. Give you a lead to her. Although you may have to lean on him a bit if you can't hack him."

Clint's lips twist into a wry smile as he eyes Mystique, likely that she reacts so strongly to his horrible… truly horrible joke. But noted, something actually /does/ trigger Mystique's righteous indignation beyond the whole mutant rights thing. He lifts a hand to the back of his neck thoughtfully, a casual gesture…
But another one the handlers probably notice as one of the signals or them to 'make a note of that interaction.' That having been done he tilts his head to the side, "But make no mistake, Misty. You kinda are the monster. Just, you know, a convenient one." Still not entirely caring for what they're doing with her instead of just tossing her in a deep dark hole and leaving her there.
"Tell me about Juno." He tells her, still waiting.

"Be sure to think on that…" comes the very british tones of Jemma Simmons from the corridor, accompanied by a holding cell door closing and footsteps echoing to just outside Mystiques cell. There's a tap on the door and it opens revealing the Cyborg'd Jemma Simmons.

"Ms Darkholme? I'm Agent Jemma Sim—- Oh, hello Agent Barton. I was asked to drop by and see Ms Darkholme. Am I interrupting."

"Why?" comes the immediate response from Mystique. "I already gave you the information. I am certain it is in one of those manila envelopes you people seem to love to carry about. You do know they come in other colors, yes?" she asks curiously as she leans back on her bed against the wall, folding her hands at her midriff.

She heaves a sigh as though she is horribly put upon by his demands for information. "Juno is the only name I have ever heard used for her. She works in the human trafficking. She isn't picky. Anything someone wants, she will get for them. She has a large network of clients. If you manage to find her, make sure you…" Her voice trails off as she hears the voice in the hallway. Whatever the warning was, it is gone in that moment.

As yet another agent arrives, she looks over this one curiously. She's meet Barton twice before. Simmons is a new face.

"Agent Sim, a pleasure to meet you." When she speaks, it is with a perfect London accent. "I'd offer a nice cup of tea but alas, they do not trust me with such things. Please, Do have a seat." There is one chair open across the table from the one Barton occupies.

Knock knock. That's on the wall just outside the holding area. A contractor that Clint knows pokes his head in and quriks a brow. "There you are, Barton. My, quite the crowd we've got here. Captive audience, I take it?"

This one isn't dressed like an agent. Raven's been around long enough to know what a soldier looks like when she sees one. It's something about the demeanor. The way they carry themselves. And… also the way they tend to gesture by knife handing. That's kind of a giveaway.

"Jeriah London." The man says by way of introducing himself.

In the direction of Jemma, Clint answers casually. "Debriefing. About the Jigsaw man initially." The archer doesn't move from his place, arms folded and leaning against the panel that is extended to provide Mystique with a makeshift desk. There's a manila folder that she has with the report of the operation to seize the man who blew apart into body parts.
He looks back to Jemma then, quirks an eyebrow, then back to Mystique. "But she was about to tell me about a person known as Juno. I'm figuring it's not the same gal as in the movie."
Back to Mystique, "Make sure we…" He asks, hoping for that bit of intel.
But then Jeriah appears to 'interrupt' and for a moment his eyes lift heavenward as if praying for him to be granted strength from Holy Saint Barton. Then he looks over his shoulder, "Yeah, I find she's the only one that I can make sure doesn't run off when I start telling my knock knock jokes." He then repeats for their benefit. "Just was trying to get more from her about that whole Jigsaw guy." With the pull apart limbs.

"What? Oh. Simmons. Agent Jemma Simmons. Biochemist and agent." And Cyborg but she doesn't draw attention to that. Jeriah's arrival has Jemma looking up "I didn't hear you coming." Strange thing to say. He probably knew she was there - after all she thinks loudly. "And that was terrible pun."

Jemma hasn't caught up on Ravens file just yet. In truth, being need to know - there's things that Jemma might not ever be aware of. "I was asked to give you a physical, Miss Darkholme and given I was down this way, I thought I'd drop in and give you the invitation myself."

Invitation. That she'll accept and be escorted to under armed guard.

"Juno, also known as Hera, the Roman Goddess of Marriage and Love. It wouldn't be surprise me, given everything that's who Miss Darkholme means. But don't let me interrupt."

Jemma moves into the room a little, leaving the chair for someone else and glancing at Jeriah. Wondering, loudly, whether he was looking for Clint for *reasons*

"Oh dear, another one," Mystique mutters as Jeriah joins the party in her cell. "I don't believe there is much more room and we ran out of seating places two people ago. Perhaps we should take this to a conference room? Or better yet, I know a lovely little place in Little Italy that has a linguine to die for. No? Mores the pity."

The new one is not an agent but he is no one to be trifled with either. Likely works with them, or he wouldn't have access to the holding cells. "Mr. London," she offers by way of greeting, a slight nod of the head but her pupil-less yellow eyes make it impossible to tell where she is actually looking. It also makes it difficult to read her expression since the eyes tell so much.

She sighs a bit, again suffering so horribly under these conditions. "A physical? Surely you jest. Or is this a way to obtain some of my cells for testing? I'm sure you can find them all over this room without subjecting me to being poked and prodded."

As for Clint's trying to get things back on track so he can get that warning? She doesn't seem to be cooperating.

"It's probably more to make sure you're in good health. Don't worry. They did one on me too. Probably won't use the cold metal instruments on you though." Jeriah swears Jemma had chilled her stethoscope before using it on him but that's likely because he'd been needling her for weeks.

"Actually it's kind of fortunate that you're here, Clint, as this involves her too." Or at least if she is 'Raven Darkholme' which is what the display outside the cell says.

"Though don't let me interrupt too much? I can get to mine in a moment. I heard something about Juno and human trafficking?" Which sounds slightly awful, really.

Fingers dig into the small sensitive portions of flesh next to the nose and just near the tear ducts, just two fingers digging in as if trying to relieve some aspect of what he may be seeing or experiencing, or perhaps lending yet another prayer for patience. He lowers his hand abruptly and nods, "Agent Simmons, if they haven't told you, Misty here is a shapeshifter, can change into anyone pretty much and does an impeccable job of it too. So ideally…"
He looks over his shoulder toward her, "Maybe can do the physical here if you can move the equipment?" Since Clint isn't exactly on Team Mystique hoping to get her out and about and working cases. Then again the brass does disagree with him sometimes.
But then Jeriah helps put him back on track, "And yes, please, Ms. Darkholme. Tell me what you were saying about Juno?"

"Oh, I'll warm my stethoscope up for Miss Darkholme." Jemma answers Jeriah before turning her one good eye to hold Ravens. "And yes, I'll be testing your cells and your blood. I'm curious but if you're going to work with SHIELD, we have to know how to heal you and what we should expect."

It's blunt, in a way, but direct. Jemma's not holding anything from the newcomer.

"I can't relocate my lab here, Agent Barton. Are you suggesting that we let her out because she might slip away?"

"Yes, about Juno? Then Jeriah can tell us his news."

"Juno is not a goddess. Other end of the spectrum. Pretty sure she's a demon. Smokes all the time. Never without a cigarette. Again, I know her by reputation only. A few powers, mostly involving hellfire. If you manage to get her cigarette away from her, it is what allows her to use her powers though. In this realm. Don't let her take you to the hell dimension she's from. There, it doesn't matter and you would be toast. Or toasted."

At Clint's suggestion, Mystique turns to look at him with a frown. "Agent Barton, a proper physical would require me to get naked most likely. While I appreciate that your friends in the monitoring room might enjoy that, I would not." For all her righteous indignation, the truth is she was almost always naked. She sometimes would wear clothes when it suited her but much easier to just emulate them with her powers. Not that this was information she has shared with them up to this point. "Though if you insist…"

Suddenly there is that ripple effect, like heat washing over the desert. Suddenly there is a second Agent Barton sitting on the bed in Mystique's place. "I'll just get naked this way." She hops to her feet, or he does, and reaches for the waistband of his pants. "After all, I think I might need a physical too. Had a little accident in the firing range the other day." He rubs at the hair on his chin thoughtfully a moment. "Accidental discharge and missed the target completely at that. I understand there is medicine available for such things."


Jeriah can't help it. It is in reality kind of freaky that this 'Raven' can do that so quickly and with such precision. It's a security nightmare and he instantly understands why Clint doesn't want her let out of the cell. However it's also funny. Yes, Jeriah was present at the 'discharge' and it was far from accidental but he has also heard that rumor going around. SHIELD folks are petty, sometimes.

So for the moment he tries to hide his amusement by glancing down and away. He'll get to his news just as soon as he's finished swallowing his laughter.

Clint uncurls a hand to the side toward Jemma and says, "Do what you gotta, doc. Figure you'll know the logistics in what you need to do." Since he doesn't. Though he glances over at the idea of Jeriah informing them about what news was available.
He'll listen to Mystique's tale about Juno and makes a note to himself about the cigarette as well as running a hand through his hair, letting the observers know he wants that bit bookmarked as well. But he takes a deep breath and then eyes Mystique sidelong. "Aren't you, like, always naked?" Since she's a shapeshifter and all. But then he shrugs his shoulders, "Fine fine, if you want to pretend to be modest knock yourself out."
Of course his casual attitude disappears when Mystique shifts into him and he scowls at her, expression turning a little grumpy as he murmurs. "This is your debriefing, not mine." No admission to an incident of one variety or the other. No fun.
"Though," He uncurls a hand and says, "I understand why you'd want to conduct your physical this way."
Then he clears his throat, "London?" As if asking for the damn news already.

"Actually Agent Barton…" Jemma says blushing brightly "I think this about to be your debriefing." She bites her lip trying not to laugh despite the colour that tinges her cheeks. "I can do some of the tests in here and when I receive clearance, bring you up to the lab when we're ready. Don't worry, I won't have you get naked."

"Another dimension? A demon? Perhaps that should be referred to WAND. Or we should call in a consult on the best way to handle this Juno." She looks to Barton, that's his show and he needs help, he'll ask for sure.

"Now Jeriah, when you've composed yourself, would you like to tell us what you have?"

"Of course you do," Clint says to Clint. "After all, I would be showing your attributes and not my own." A moment later and the ripple happens again, leaving the normal smooth blue skin and solid yellow eyes.

Mystique sprawls back on the bed. "Fine on the physical. If it might get them to allow me out of this cell some. I bring you all information and details about villains you never heard of yet I get treated like a common criminal. It's not right," she mutters although, like the other two, she turns her head to Jeriah. Apparently he has the full attention of the room.

"I got a run down on the interrogation report from the guy you apprehended the other day, Clint." Jeriah says, looking at the archer. Yes. The premature discharge was definitely not premature. "Turns out he's not the telepath and while he doesn't know the name of the person who is, he said that an AIM affiliated tech wizard named 'The Fixer' did know."

There's a name that Mystique might recognize. Paul Norbert Ebersol.

"For some reason…" Now Jeriah's attention turns to Mystique. "… the powers that be think that Miss Darkholm here might be helpful in locating him. Her. It. Whatever it is."

It's AIM. Hard to know. Could be a brain in a jar for all Jeriah knows.

"Yeah, ask all the corpses you left behind you what's right and wrong." A rare moment of judgment offered by the archer as he lets slip his true sentiment then makes it worse by adding, "No wait, let me guess. They were all bad people." Since he's heard that one before. Used it too.
Toward Jemma he cocks an eyebrow and says perhaps in the same vein of being all judgey, "I know you might be thinkin' that Ms. Darkholme is all ok and nice nice and charming. But don't get too comfortable palling around with her, doc." That said he pushes off and away from the desk, rising to his full height and unfolding his arms. His attention shifts to Jeriah.
"The Fixer, heard of him." And likely dealt with him in some capacity before. Then he looks at Raven once again while Jeriah finishes speaking and he nods slowly, "So she's going to be coming out and about with us in the near future?" He quirks an eyebrow sidelong, but keeps his attention on the shapeshifter.

"Unfortunately Miss Darkholme, you did infiltrate a SHIELD facility and it's the fact that you bought us something that has you here and not heading to prison." It's hard to tell who is the 'good guy' at times. Jemma quirks a brow at Barton.

"So the man that Agent Barton caught wasn't a telepath?" Jemma looks to Jeriah, she had heard what the man had said though. If Jeriah had missed it, he can pluck it from Jemma's memory banks easily enough. "They want information on something I'm working on. Don't they?"

So lovely when people want to share information. Mystique just rakes it all in, filing the data away for future use. It is what she does. Just overhearing the guards talking during a shift change was how she knew about Barton on the firing range. Not all the details and obviously there was something not shared through the rumor mill as she was learning now.

At the judgmental attitude from Clint, she gives a very rude snort. Yet, she says nothing, leaving the agents and consultants to work out the details. Although she does know who the Fixer is. Even possibly where to reach him. He was a good resource for someone like her.

"They seem to want access to senior agents as well, Jemma. Clint, the man you caught was a shill. He was being telepathically linked to transmit sight and sound back to the telepath so that they could snoop around without risk. It's a good thing that they weren't very good at the snooping part."

Telepaths. Generally speaking those are mutants, but none of the ones Raven knows are likely to have pulled off something like this.

"Anyway, that's what the PTB are saying." Jeriah hands Clint a small data tablet with the transcript from the interrogation and the Intel divisions subsequent recommendations. Attempting to get Darkholme as an asset and then using her to hunt down the telepath via the Fixer is one of them.

"You're awful quiet there, Mister Clint Darkholme."

He means Mystique but you know. She did do that impersonation.

Accepting the datapad, Clint taps it lightly against one finger as he swipes a thumb across it to get it to scroll but he doesn't go into the details of it. Not right now and not right here. He slips it into his rear pocket and hopefully doesn't sit on it later. For now he looks between the others.
By the breath he takes and holds, and by the way his eyebrows furrow as he looks at Mystique, it's clear he thinks aspects of this are a mistake, the whole involving the mutant shapeshifter being the main one. But as an asset she is useful.
"Yeah, Misty. The Fixer, going to need an angle on him. Something good. Might be enough to get you out of here and out in the world." Which, again, mistake. But the way the wind's blowing it's seeming like that might be more and more of a possibility.

"He didn't say what they wanted, Jeriah?" It's clear that Jemma's worried. Who can blame her, some of her research has already been stolen and the blame cast on Jeriah, then her.

"I assume, Agent Barton, that you're being allocated as Miss Darkholmes handler. What sort of tech and such do you think you'll need?" It's a round about way of asking how he wants to track. Shapeshifter and all - it's problematic.

"Will you help us, Miss Darkholme?"

"Fixer, aka Paul Norbert Ebersol. Yes, I can help in attempting to locate him. He has done work for me in the past." The faintest of smirks on Mystique's face as she considers.

"I don't believe I actually have a choice in the matter unless I want to say in here for the rest of my life. I will help you with your endeavor." Then her smile turns positively wicked. "A deal with the devil herself. This is going to be fun."

"Peachy." The hacker says somewhat mildly, stepping out of the cell so that the others can clear it and then walking down it a little ways with them. Once he's relatively sure they're out of earshot he speaks up again.

"For what it's worth I'm just the messenger on that one. Using hostile assets always reminds me a bit of my time in Afghanistan and THOSE guys couldn't wear my face if they managed to knife me in the back."

He shakes his head and glances to Jemma. "No, he didn't. It's possible he didn't know but the interrogations are ongoing."

Scritching his chin with a fingertip, Clint looks sidelong at Jemma and then Jeriah. Then he turns and starts to walk towards the exit, hands sliding into his pockets as he moves. The manila folder is left there for now with information on the Jigsaw man, but he follows out after Jeriah.
"Figure this is a conversation we want to have elsewhere. C'mon Teen Gang." That said he starts to head out as the exterior defenses whir to life just in case Mystique decided to make a break for it.
After that he's in the hallway and strolling along with the others. A nod is given to Jeriah, "Yah, not exactly my ideal situation. But we'll do what we can to mitigate the rick factor."
A few more steps then he adds, "I get the vibe that she's one of those types with their own internal codes of honor, that are sort of arcane and change on a whim? Is there a word for that? Oh right, asshole. I think that's the word."

"I'll be back to do those tests, Miss Darkholme." Jemma offers a smile as she files out the room after Clint. "You used operatives in Afghanistan, Jeriah." He never talks about his time there much and she tries not to ask him too much.

"I'm sure there's way we can track her, Agent Barton. Nanite tech that we inject into her - like Kwabena. What do you think, Jeriah? We've got that code now, don't we?"

The name, The Fixer or Paul Norbert Ebersol, doesn't really ring a bell for the biochem. "Funny that The Fixer worked for Miss Darkholme before…." Maybe Jemma's just getting cynical.

"We do but if she's a mutant without knowing more about her biology whether or not they work is a bit of a crap shoot." Jeriah points out. "There are probably ways. The best way would be to make it in her best interests to help us but…"

He shrugs helplessly. "Who even knows what those interests are? And yes, Jemma, we did. At least I don't have to speak Peshtu to Miss Darkholme."

Jemma's cynicism gets a chuckle and a glance to Clint. "Criminal world ain't all that big from what I understand." You're bound to run into the same people over and over if you do your job.

Stepping toward the elevator, Clint will stop long enough to hit the summon button and then lean against the wall there. He looks down the way back toward the cell, then turns his blue eyes back on them. "Maybe we could give her a lethal dose of radiation and then track her with a geiger counter?" He's not serious, but that graveyard line of thought he's evincing certainly is a bit toxic.
He takes a deep breath and griaces, rubbing his eyeballs again. "I… really need to get some sleep."
Of course that's the moment when the elevator /DINGS/ electronically and slides open to allow access. "Gonna try and grab forty winks in the old rec room, you guys need me I'll be there."
Though he does hold the door in case they want to get on and ride up the few floors needed.

"We could but she likely wouldn't last very long." Jemma peers at Clint as he rubs his eye. "Why don't you drop by the lab in the next day or so, I want to give you a checkup." She really can't say anything about being tired or working too hard but she can ensure the people she works with aren't hurting themselves.

"There's a room set aside in medical for Agents who need it. Better than the dinged couch in the old rec room." She adds.

Stepping into the elevator, the biochem considers Jeriah again "When I get the samples I need from Miss Darkholme, we can do some basic tests. See if there is likely to be any adverse reactions."

"We could probably irradiate her in a less lethal way and track her like that." Though she probably wouldn't appreciate that. Jeriah steps into the elevator. He needs to go up a bit and then check in on the engineering spaces. He's regularly there building or fixing something. Usually something related to his drones.

"Sleep well, Clint. Jemma, I think it's about lunch time yeah?"

"Roundabout," Clint says as he looks over at them and pushes the button for the main science level for them, but only after quirking an eyebrow to make sure that's alright. For his part, Clint is content to ride in silence… and then when he hits his floor and steps out… he waves a little and says. "Sure thing, Jemma. Seeya folks around."

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