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Cute Little Monsters Clawing at the Door
Aug. 14th, 2014 05:14 pmSharon isn't certain whom she's pissed off in the latest upset at SHIELD, but it must have been someone in a position of power. Not many people could dictate that Sharon be sent on a mission to track down some mutant with a wannabe bad-boy attitude. The file hadn't held as many details as she'd wanted; all she really knew were some of his business dealings and his name, Daken. That, and he had abilities similar to Wolverine's.
Which meant that whoever had sent her on this mission hoped he would kill her.
But Sharon is more than just a SHIELD agent. She's a dutiful SHIELD agent. And finally, after all these weeks, she's tracked Daken down to Madripoor for his latest business venture.
She hates Madripoor.
Wearing a dress that Tony had designed to mirror the capabilities of her SHIELD uniform while doubling as appropriate formal wear, she approaches the gambling table and glances at him while watching the proceedings. This will be easier to do if he thinks she's just a flirtatious woman looking for a good time, and not a SHIELD agent with knives and a pistol strapped to her legs.
Which meant that whoever had sent her on this mission hoped he would kill her.
But Sharon is more than just a SHIELD agent. She's a dutiful SHIELD agent. And finally, after all these weeks, she's tracked Daken down to Madripoor for his latest business venture.
She hates Madripoor.
Wearing a dress that Tony had designed to mirror the capabilities of her SHIELD uniform while doubling as appropriate formal wear, she approaches the gambling table and glances at him while watching the proceedings. This will be easier to do if he thinks she's just a flirtatious woman looking for a good time, and not a SHIELD agent with knives and a pistol strapped to her legs.
PSL :: Unbalanced
May. 8th, 2014 07:46 pmSharon is up early the next morning. She's careful not to wake Jason, but she doubts she'll succeed. Jason would be an excellent agent, if he ever had the inclination to be one.
She silently makes her way through the cave, ducking into the neighboring cavern that leads outside and walking barefoot out to the edge of the foliage. The brush is thicker here; she can barely see thirty feet. She doubts anyone is watching them. God, this is a good place to be. She lifts her face to the sun and takes a moment before moving into the trees, on the lookout for fruits and vegetables. The cave has to have a food source nearby somewhere.
She won't be able to present a great breakfast to Jason, but maybe she'll be able to offer something edible that doesn't come out of a can.
It isn't long before she returns to the cave with a handful of rose apples and a couple pomelos.
She silently makes her way through the cave, ducking into the neighboring cavern that leads outside and walking barefoot out to the edge of the foliage. The brush is thicker here; she can barely see thirty feet. She doubts anyone is watching them. God, this is a good place to be. She lifts her face to the sun and takes a moment before moving into the trees, on the lookout for fruits and vegetables. The cave has to have a food source nearby somewhere.
She won't be able to present a great breakfast to Jason, but maybe she'll be able to offer something edible that doesn't come out of a can.
It isn't long before she returns to the cave with a handful of rose apples and a couple pomelos.
(no subject)
May. 5th, 2014 09:21 pmSharon had sat in the coffee shop, watching the office door, for six hours now, and she had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Part of a spy's work was watching for hours on end without taking a break.
Beside her, she had a stack of books on science and history, and directly in front of her, arranged so she could keep an eye on the place, was her laptop. The windows had been arranged to show her a camera-eye view of the back of the office, as well as the front.
She figured that eventually, someone inside would notice and come to have a chat with her.
She could admit that spies had an odd way of doing business, but it was more fun than walking in and announcing what she wanted to the world.
Beside her, she had a stack of books on science and history, and directly in front of her, arranged so she could keep an eye on the place, was her laptop. The windows had been arranged to show her a camera-eye view of the back of the office, as well as the front.
She figured that eventually, someone inside would notice and come to have a chat with her.
She could admit that spies had an odd way of doing business, but it was more fun than walking in and announcing what she wanted to the world.
(no subject)
May. 5th, 2014 09:21 pmSharon, for all intents and purposes, was dead. She remembered the explosion. She remembered sacrificing herself to save Earth.
But if this was the afterlife, then she was in an afterlife no mortal had ever imagined. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like a room of mirrors. Sharon stared at her reflection, quietly astounded that it looked so familiar for something she'd never thought she'd see again.
She wasn't sure how long it was before she started exploring the room. It seemed to be a domed room, no exit available at all, and it felt like eternity and yet no time at all before she got the idea of pulling the mirrors off, one by one, until she found one that opened like a door. She slid through and found herself in a passage that wouldn't have been out of place in an eighteenth-century mansion.
She frowned. What sort of afterlife was this?
"HELLO?"
But if this was the afterlife, then she was in an afterlife no mortal had ever imagined. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like a room of mirrors. Sharon stared at her reflection, quietly astounded that it looked so familiar for something she'd never thought she'd see again.
She wasn't sure how long it was before she started exploring the room. It seemed to be a domed room, no exit available at all, and it felt like eternity and yet no time at all before she got the idea of pulling the mirrors off, one by one, until she found one that opened like a door. She slid through and found herself in a passage that wouldn't have been out of place in an eighteenth-century mansion.
She frowned. What sort of afterlife was this?
"HELLO?"
PSL :: Better Late Than Never
Apr. 22nd, 2014 08:59 pmThe lights and sounds of the city threaten to overwhelm her. The air lacks the fresh scents of Zola's dimension, where strong scents usually meant danger. The concrete is hard and even beneath her bare feet.
She doesn't know how she got here. She vaguely remembers climbing the steps of the old subway station, but she doesn't remember how she got to them. It was as if her mind couldn't process her surroundings or actions until she started seeing familiar things again. She'd last been here with Steve on a SHIELD mission.
Steve.
She stood at the top of the stairs, trying to remember. Steve was important. So was SHIELD. She hadn't forgotten, it was just that over time, they hadn't seemed real anymore. But they were real. She'd lived here, once, thinking that it was the only life she'd ever have. She'd been stupid in her youth. So unbelievably stupid.
Brooklyn. She'd lived in Brooklyn, with Steve. He'd had a place made of brick, with a holographic wall... And SHIELD had been- There was an HQ in New York. She could go and report in.
She turns and walks toward Brooklyn. She eyes the people around her warily the entire time, wondering if they'll try to kill her. Were they more like the Phrox, or were they mutates? She walks for miles, expecting attack with each step, but it never comes. She walks all the way to the brick building that overlooks the Brooklyn Bridge, and then she stops.
Now what? How long has it been since she was last here? So many years for her that she'd lost count, but for him... She wasn't the person he knew anymore. She was someone he might not want anything to do with. After all, he'd never come to save her. She'd hoped, in those first decades, that he might. He never gave up. It had been one of the things she'd liked most about him. But he'd given up on her.
And why shouldn't he? She'd caught her reflection on the way here. She couldn't remember anymore what she used to look like, but she knows she doesn't look like other people here. Her clothes had been stitched together and patched so many times they might not qualify as clothes anymore. Small blades are tucked at various points, most of them handmade. Her hair had grown out since her last hair cut, hanging all the way to her waist, and she'd collected it in a sloppy braid that was too frizzy and dirty to be called fashionable.
Not to mention everything she'd done since left alone in that place... No. He wouldn't want anything to do with her now.
And yet she can't make herself leave. She can't even take her eyes off the building. She'd felt safe there once, she remembers that. But she can't remember what that safety felt like. She'd felt at home there. She can only dimly remember that feeling, but that iota of memory is enough to keep her there as she tries to piece more together. Not even the lights or the constant sound of traffic and life can make her look away, though she often tenses and reaches for a weapon, only for her hand to go slack again.
She doesn't know how she got here. She vaguely remembers climbing the steps of the old subway station, but she doesn't remember how she got to them. It was as if her mind couldn't process her surroundings or actions until she started seeing familiar things again. She'd last been here with Steve on a SHIELD mission.
Steve.
She stood at the top of the stairs, trying to remember. Steve was important. So was SHIELD. She hadn't forgotten, it was just that over time, they hadn't seemed real anymore. But they were real. She'd lived here, once, thinking that it was the only life she'd ever have. She'd been stupid in her youth. So unbelievably stupid.
Brooklyn. She'd lived in Brooklyn, with Steve. He'd had a place made of brick, with a holographic wall... And SHIELD had been- There was an HQ in New York. She could go and report in.
She turns and walks toward Brooklyn. She eyes the people around her warily the entire time, wondering if they'll try to kill her. Were they more like the Phrox, or were they mutates? She walks for miles, expecting attack with each step, but it never comes. She walks all the way to the brick building that overlooks the Brooklyn Bridge, and then she stops.
Now what? How long has it been since she was last here? So many years for her that she'd lost count, but for him... She wasn't the person he knew anymore. She was someone he might not want anything to do with. After all, he'd never come to save her. She'd hoped, in those first decades, that he might. He never gave up. It had been one of the things she'd liked most about him. But he'd given up on her.
And why shouldn't he? She'd caught her reflection on the way here. She couldn't remember anymore what she used to look like, but she knows she doesn't look like other people here. Her clothes had been stitched together and patched so many times they might not qualify as clothes anymore. Small blades are tucked at various points, most of them handmade. Her hair had grown out since her last hair cut, hanging all the way to her waist, and she'd collected it in a sloppy braid that was too frizzy and dirty to be called fashionable.
Not to mention everything she'd done since left alone in that place... No. He wouldn't want anything to do with her now.
And yet she can't make herself leave. She can't even take her eyes off the building. She'd felt safe there once, she remembers that. But she can't remember what that safety felt like. She'd felt at home there. She can only dimly remember that feeling, but that iota of memory is enough to keep her there as she tries to piece more together. Not even the lights or the constant sound of traffic and life can make her look away, though she often tenses and reaches for a weapon, only for her hand to go slack again.
PSL :: Trouble with Gingers
Jan. 1st, 2014 07:20 pmSharon moves one of the plates a fraction of an inch and tells herself to stop fidgeting.
She moves the fork and knife over a bit.
She glances at the clock. Jazz music plays softly, and she can hear Steve in the kitchen. With her cooking skills, it was only natural that he should take over.
After checking her earrings in the mirror and brushing some hair out of her face, she slips into the kitchen and watches Steve as he works. She doesn't speak, instead thinking of how Natasha should be here, that surely, SHIELD can find a way to restore her memories.
In the end, she swallows. "It's going to be weird with just the three of us." She'd tried to invite Sam, but he hadn't been able to come. She wishes she and Steve had more close friends they could invite. Ones none of them had slapped or tried to kill or gone to war with recently. Ones who would feel at home at an intimate dinner and not advertise that this dinner is to help Bucky feel better.
Though he's likely figured it out already. He isn't an idiot.
God, she wishes they could find a way to give Natasha her memories back.
She moves the fork and knife over a bit.
She glances at the clock. Jazz music plays softly, and she can hear Steve in the kitchen. With her cooking skills, it was only natural that he should take over.
After checking her earrings in the mirror and brushing some hair out of her face, she slips into the kitchen and watches Steve as he works. She doesn't speak, instead thinking of how Natasha should be here, that surely, SHIELD can find a way to restore her memories.
In the end, she swallows. "It's going to be weird with just the three of us." She'd tried to invite Sam, but he hadn't been able to come. She wishes she and Steve had more close friends they could invite. Ones none of them had slapped or tried to kill or gone to war with recently. Ones who would feel at home at an intimate dinner and not advertise that this dinner is to help Bucky feel better.
Though he's likely figured it out already. He isn't an idiot.
God, she wishes they could find a way to give Natasha her memories back.
Tu Shanshu :: Suspects List
Nov. 14th, 2013 10:53 pmNote: The suspects list can be found in two locations - on the wall in her bedroom (she takes her work home with her, okay?) and in a notebook where she keeps up with details about the case (which I need to update posthaste). So unless your character has been invited to her room or has been allowed to look at the notebook by Sharon, they wouldn't know what's on her list. Sorry! Not sorry.
( Suspects list )
( Suspects list )
PSL :: The blood that won't come out
Sep. 26th, 2013 10:00 pmTwenty minutes, and not only had the two infiltrated the lab undetected, but they still had an hour and forty minutes before their transport was due to leave. Plenty of time to find out why several of the villages around this AIM base were turning up empty, their cemeteries desecrated. As far as SHIELD could tell, all people, including people who had been buried for decades, had simply disappeared.
Natasha knows more Russian than she does, and she lets Natasha take point on the computers as she explores around the lab to see if she can find anything.
"Medieval weapons," she calls over her shoulder, looking at several axes lined on the wall. "Axes, swords, bats, cricket bats..." What the hell have these guys been doing in their off-time?
Wandering further into the depths of the lab, she holds a hand to her nose. It reeks.
And no wonder. Is that a decayed arm? She crouches beside it. From the looks of the arm, it's from someone who's been dead long enough to partially mummify. What the hell is going on here?
Natasha knows more Russian than she does, and she lets Natasha take point on the computers as she explores around the lab to see if she can find anything.
"Medieval weapons," she calls over her shoulder, looking at several axes lined on the wall. "Axes, swords, bats, cricket bats..." What the hell have these guys been doing in their off-time?
Wandering further into the depths of the lab, she holds a hand to her nose. It reeks.
And no wonder. Is that a decayed arm? She crouches beside it. From the looks of the arm, it's from someone who's been dead long enough to partially mummify. What the hell is going on here?
