2014.02.20 - The HQ

A fine, typical, busy morning at the Beyond Corporation Metrocenter. All 33 floors, each dedicated to some aspect of Stagg Industries' global marketplace presence, were buzzing with activity. Thursdays were always the worst for this, for some unknown reason. The front lobby had a few random meetings, and was surprisingly quiet. Most of the office workers weren't hanging out, though, and were either coming or going. Two security guards were working at the front desk, both attentive and quiet.

The Creeper gets to hang out in the lobby! He never gets to hang out in lobbies. Of course, the front desk security has called upstairs about him, already. Several times, just to reconfirm. He's siting in one of the waiting chairs, staring at the Starbucks. If sitting includes laying his back on the seat and propping his legs on the wall, green hair dangling to the floor. "Hey, you! I got a grande for ya!" "Double Foam was my nickname in high school!" "DO YOU THINK I'VE HAD TOO MUCH CAFFEINE?!?"

Lunair is - still sort of uncertain about some of this. But she's paying a visit. And while her fashion sense is terribly odd, aside from her strangely distant expression, she seems to fit in alright. She's kneeling now in front of the aquarium peering at the fishies. Who doesn't like watching them a little? She looks over her shoulder, spotting the Starbucks off in the way - or at least, the line for it. She stands, and looks around.

The Creeper got a surprisingly amiable treatment from the security staff. In truth, they'd already been instructed about the potential appearances of costumed/strange characters. Only one of the two guards spoke: it was a woman, she was stocky and muscular, and smiled pleasantly to The Creeper, introducing herself as 'Marian'. She paged up to Simon Stagg, who merely sent her a message back, which kept to herself: 'Stall them'.

"Please have a seat. Simon will be down as soon as a meeting is finished." When Creeper left the desk area, she looked over to her co-guard, flashing a nervous look.

Typhoid Mary drags her ass in at too-fuckin'-early-o'-clock, and she looks to be in a foul mood, indeed. She's walking a little funny and seems to wince from time to time. She's got claw marks on her ribs, under her ladywibbles, and she's got teeth marks on her neck that seem to go just slightly beyond love-bites. She makes her way up to the front desk and, when the receptionist doesn't respond fast enough, she slams a hand down on the desk. "Ring up and tell them Typhoid's here," she says in a grumpy voice, scowling. Then, when she's half-turned toward the bank of seats, she spots Creeper and shakes her head, 'Oh, no. Uh uh.' Instead, she goes to the Starbucks and gets herself a big, fat coffee. She's got a hangover to beat the band and she's sore as hell. She's not putting up with a whole buncha bs, today. Gingerly, she sits down at a table at the Starbucks and waits. She stands out enough to know they'll know her when they see her. She drinks her coffee and keeps to herself, wincing from time to time.

*Ding!* is the obnoxious little sound that one hears every time one of the elevators behind security open; a constant stream of them is the norm here, as people come and go. Marian's co-guard glances over each and every time someone passes. He's the face-checker. *ding!* *ding!* *ding!*

That last one reveals Simon Stagg, dressed as per usual in a sharp, dark, fancy suit. A young man is next to him, babbling something about merchandising estimates, and Stagg completely and utterly ignores the man, as if he weren't there. The young man gives up and heads off. Stagg glances over to Marian, and she simply smirks and directs her pointy-finger over to The Creeper and Typhoid, in turn.

Stagg marches over to The Creeper, chipper and loud: "Welcome, welcome! It's wonderful to see you!"

Meanwhile, Moon Knight is coming out of the /other/ elevator. He's been looking around the building, coming down to grab a coffee before visiting more floors. He stops as he spots the crazyfest, sighing, as he turns to Stagg, stepping out completely. "I don't actually think it's that wonderful to see them, in my opinion. They're crazy. Er than me. Except the young chick.". He's glancing towards Luna with this remark. "So, why exactly are we here? I do have to say this base is awesome, makes me miss Langley.".

The Creeper reaches up and grasps his toes, pulling them down to reveal the pointy red hairs jutting out in between them, like tiny patches of weeds. "You've got some craaaaaaaazy tastes, then, my brotha! I'm not even happy to see me! Pardon me if I don't get up, I was out doing a little late night hoodoo and I landed on my kerfloxus and it's got my cattywhompus all fersnigget! SO! This is the place! I admit, for a secret HQ, it seems kind of open air, but the chairs are nice and Boobzilla seems to like the coffee!"

Fishies, fishies. Lunair has decided to get a drink from Starbucks, too. Perhaps a nice hot cocoa or some weird, exotic tea. Yes, indeedy. Then a pause as Stagg arrives. Her eyes widen. Time to see this. Although, she'll likely see from the line anyway. A concerned look crosses her face on seeing Mary's state. And then suddenly, a Moon Knight! Lunair blinks owlishly at him. She tilts her head. Opens her mouth. Closes it. "I think - her name was - it wasn't Boobzilla for sure..." Was it M-- shoot. Lunair goes cross-eyed.

Typhoid Mary responds to Creeper's nickname for her with a nice, warm middle finger jabbed skyward in his direction. When Lunair leaves the aquarium and moves into the Starbucks section, she responds, trying to remember her name. "It's Typhoid! Typhoid Mary," she barks, but not in an overly loud voice. Fuuuuuuck, but her head is throbbing. "Anyone have some aspirin, or Valium?" she grumbles, not getting up from where she sits.

Moon Knight is also moving into the Starbucks area, trying to stay as far away from Creeper and Mary as possible, moving more towards Luna who gets the Sanity vote from him.

Stagg smiles and listens to The Creeper, even though in truth he probably only understood about a third of it. "You are not 'secrets'. I'm happy to have you on my team here at Beyond Corporation." Stagg's loud tone subtly suggests she's saying all this for the benefit of everyone in the lobby, not The Creeper. He turns back to Moon Knight: "Crazy is in the eye of the beholder," he says, smiling to Moon Knight, giving him a sort of salute-like hand gesture. "This building handles all of our business components, not just your department. Our meeting space will be the penthouse." In the distance, Marian the guard's eyes light up, and she shakes her head in disbelief. 'Why do these freaks get to hang out up there?' she wondered.

Soon Simon Stagg noticed both Typhoid and Lunair, and waves his hands over to them. "Please, let us gather upstairs for our first formal meeting." The man looks almost hyperactive in his excitement of spotting the two. He steps back to the front desk before moving onto the elevators. "Marian, can you please provide Mary with some Ibuprofen?"--he doesn't wait for a response, and moves on. Marian does, in fact, keep a bottle of this around, and two capsules are slid onto the desk in anticipation.

Typhoid Mary gingerly gets up and makes her way to the front desk. She reaches forward and grabs the pill bottle, tilting her head back and downing about ten of them without liquid, then slams it on the desk. "It's a seriously bad headache, MARIAN," she grouses, putting emphasis on the receptionist's name. Then, she makes her way toward Stagg, to follow him to the meeting. "Stay the fuck away from me, Creeper. I'm not in the mood," she warns pre-emptively. Indeed, she seems to be rather out of sorts, and walking slower than usual. She must really be sore.

The Creeper makes a pouting face at Mary, "Oh, my contrary one! You do but would me with the dagger of thy one-fingered disdain! Forsooth!" he says flipping over and landing on his fet, dropping down to one knee, "I wouldst offer thee my troth, every solid inch of it, and, 'pon the name of my murdered father, King Chicken-fucker, I hereby swear you my eternal ribaldry!" He pops up, starting to march, "Let us go forth, merry band, and declare ourselves for England! For rotten old Denmark! For the good ol' cotton pickin' USA! Spacious skies! Amber waves!" He stands in front of the elevators, looking at the others still trailing, "Well? Coming?"

Simon Stagg waits for all four of his morning arrivals to gather into the elevator, even making effort to hold the door open for them. One of the random office workers does a double-take at this, not just because of the strange looking people with Stagg: but it struck him as especially odd to see Stagg acting like this. He had never seen the man lifting a finger to assist *anyone*, much less hold open an elevator door. Once inside the elevator, Stagg tapped the "33" button at the top of the long stream of numbers. There was a sign next to the button that said: "APPROVED PERSONNEL ONLY." The ride up took about 60 seconds, and the doors opened to reveal an very expensive, lush greeting area at the center of the 33rd floor. From here, there was a lot of expensive art, glass, and couches. In the four corners of the floor were large executive offices. Down a hallway, one could see a bar, which went on to an opening to the roof.

The door to the roof was closed, but it looked enormous, and highly landscaped. It had nature areas, trees and grass. It had a large, clean, brightly colored pool. And in the distance was a landing pad with two vehicles on it. One was a helicopter, and the other was a fantastical, sci-fi looking kind of spaceship.

"Let us meet over by the bar. I find the seating there most comfortable," Stagg said, gesturing towards the bar.

Lunair steps into the elevator with the others. She seems surprised, but smiles politely. "Thank you." She seems well mannered, if a bit - odd. Her emoting doesn't quite keep up with her voice. As if she has to think about her expressions and words simultaneously. It's a work in progress. Her eyes widen a bit as she looks around.

She is used to higher class things but - ooohh! Landscaping. And plants! Definitely plants. "Sure thing."

She looks worried to Mary. "Do you need -" Pause. Support might be a bit much. She looks to the others.

As they step forward, Moon Knight's not going near the bar or the plants yet. He's staring at the vehicles. "That. Holy shit, I've flown something like that before." He says at the military helicopter, before turning to the much fancier ship. "And that is something I /want/ to fly. The hell is she made of? What's she run? Top speed? Weapon systems?" He's fan-boying like crazy, before he coughs, turning back and heading towards the bar. "I also have a personal pilot, as well. He's a french dude. The french are good at that shit."

Typhoid Mary, from all appearances, is barely aware of her surroundings. Or, if she is, she isn't that impressed, despite the luxuriant nature of the building and rooms. Or, maybe she's just in a really bad mood and a lot of pain. It's hard to tell which comes first. She follows along the conga line of people, looking at the various things pointed out, one arm hugging her midsection, the other holding her giant coffee cup. When Stagg mentions a bar, she makes the first signs of a better mood, "Thank fuck for that." She makes her way as quickly as she can to the bar and puts a little hair of the dog that bit her--so to speak--in her coffee. Then, she rejoins the group. Leaning close to Lunair, Mary groans at the pain the movement causes, but she whispers something in her ear while Moony wets his moon suit over the technology crapola.

The Creeper just starts bouncing up and down on a leather sofa, springing up and up, the springs straining and squeaking, "Cushy! My buttocks shall be pleased! Bring them offerings of women and salve!" he declares.

Simon Stagg pulls himself behind the bar, a motion that seems so smooth one would suspect he'd done it thousands of times, and within a few seconds there's a martini in his hand. He looks over to the couches, somehow wordlessly indicating that everyone sit, and presses a button on an electronic device against the wall. "Miss Smith," he says to the device, presumably an intercom, "We're having a meeting now."

Simon Stagg moves excitedly over to an open, black chair--it looks a little like a movie director's chair, and sits. "Now, now, I know that you're not the sort to want endless detail. But if I have your efforts for three assignments, I do have some ground rules to cover. Some broad strokes."

"I was just doing some of those!" a voice called out from behind. It was Tabitha Smith, clad in a bikini, rubbing her hair with a towel. After taking one step into the seating area of the bar, she stopped in her tracks, and looked at the group. "Oh shit," she quickly said. She pointed at Moon Knight and Typhoid Mary, remembering them from the diner. "I met these two at an... incident." And then to Lunair, she grinned, "I've met this one before, too." Then she looked over to The Creeper, giving him an uncomfortable snarl. "Who's this asshole?"

"Tabitha. These are part of the team you'll be working with. I suggest you treat them with respect--you may need them." Tabitha rolled her eyes and went to the bar to make a drink. She knew she was going to need it.

Lunair listens as she's whispered to. Her eyes go wide as saucers for a moment. "Oh. I hope you feel better soon." She's - clearly a bit surprised. But she also has /no clue/ what to do with that information. A dire lack of socialization early on has left her a little behind the horse race. She stays with the group and heads to the bar. The nature stuff has her attention, really. "You like to fly?" She offers to Moon. Then pauses. French people are good at flying? Must defenestrate one sometimes -- then she remembers Fantomex and his UFO. Huh. They DO fly a lot.

There's a smile back to Tabitha. "Hello there!" They've bumped into one another, it seems! Hmm. A bar, huh. Another place she's technically not allowed.

Typhoid Mary seems reluctant to sit, but she eases down into an arm chair that's not too low to the ground and allows her to stretch out a bit. Plus, it keeps Creep from sitting next to her. She splays out, and groans to herself, drinking her coffee and waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in. She listens to Stagg, watching with furrowed brows as he seems so...excited to be doing all of this. Then, Tabitha comes out and Mary's memory is jogged. "You! With the onion rings! And, fire!" she growls, narrowing her eyes. "Do you realize how much trouble you... Never mind! Never mind," she groans, and shakes her head... She sips her alcoholic coffee and slides down deeper in the chair.

The Creeper looks up from his bouncing as Tabitha enters, the bikini'd girl getting a literal eye bulge, mostly because Creeper grabs them and squeezes, pulling them a little out of their sockets. "Awoo-ga!!! I'm going to like it here! Mmmmmmmmmm, you can call me Daddy, but most folks call me Creeper! How do you feel about long, romantic boat rides. The driver of the Gotham Garbage Scow is a friiiiiiiend," he snickers, somersaulting and landing on the couch in a seductive pose, lying on his side, hand on his lower back, butt popped out, chest thrust forward, his face in a grotesque pout.

"You bet your ass I like to fly." Moony grins, pouring himself a drink. "If the US military's used it, I know how to fly it. Planes, helicopters, a lot of this shit." And then he's pausing, spotting Tabitha. "Oh shit, this is not a fun reunion. What other people have I met that you're bringing into here? Huh? I am starting to feel like this is a way to make me go crazier than I am." And then he pauses, again. "Can we see the ship?"

"I'm well aware of that 'incident', Tabitha," Stagg responds, sliding out a folder from under his seat. He quickly plucked out two photographs, displaying them for everyone. Tabitha, however, doesn't look or care. The photographs reveal surveillance footage of a crowd of costumed people in front of a diner. One has it exploded, the other has it unexploded. "That incident is what drew me to the attention of some of you. I've already met with your 'Deadpool'--he's the one who'd suggested I contact you, Lunair." Stagg puts the photographs away and continues. "Now, I hate to be brash, but we ought to bring up the most important points during your stay with Beyond Corporation. We have three operational guidelines--they are absolutely essential. If you wish to be paid--if you wish to continue to have a place with us."

"First, no pullin' out yer junk," Tabitha interjects, rounding the bar to sit nearby Mary, her comment aimed at The Creeper.

Stagg ignored the comment completely. "Our most important imperative: we will not be discussing specific activities of your missions. Not with the media, not with associates, not with family, not with drinking buddies, and not even with other Beyond Corporation employees. Not without my consent. Is that clear?" The final question, Stagg broke his usual charming, happy persona and looked completely serious. Fiery. Returning to a smile, he continued. "Our second point: no killing or serious injury to your teammates is acceptable, nor *any* Beyond Corporation staff... not without my explicit approval."

"I see," There's a polite smile to Moon. Lunair blinks again, her eyebrows lifting. There's not a lot of love lost here, is there? Then a pause at Creeper. She's - just going to quietly accept this. She looks to Mary. "Would ice or a warm pad help? I - am not a doctor," She admits. But hey, she's not heartless. As to Stagg and the others, she listens again.

"Oh! He's my boss!" Beam. Lunair is a sidekick, and a fairly iligent one, too. "Okay..." She nods. Pause. No killing. But then, few creatures are as cruelly and hilariously inventive as teenage girls. Lunair can work within those parameters.

Typhoid Mary rolls her eyes at the stipulations. She tolerates Tabitha sitting on the side of the arm chair, so long as she doesn't touch Mary's sore spots--which are clearly visible with her jacket open and all. To Lunair, she shakes her head, "No, thanks, cutie pie. I'm gonna go see a doctor after this wraps up. Hopefully, she'll fix me up in a jiff." Turning to Stagg, "So, can we get a move on, please? My pleasant mood is wearing thin." Ha. Her 'pleasant mood,' indeed. She takes another deep drink from her coffee and cants her head at Lunair. "He's one of my roommates, so we'll be seeing more of each other, most likely," she adds, regarding Deadpool.

The Creeper rolls his eyes at the junk rule, "Okay, but I think we should institute a bare chests policy!" he declares, opening his torn up shirt and pinching a strange, blackened nipple, "It'll put our enemies off-guard...And I never, ever kill, wouldn't dream of such a thing, it's never crossed my mind, my life is an open book, I have nothing to hide!" he says. He also doesn't point out to Stagg that, technically, they're talking to the media -now-, although he doesn't think Stagg knows that he and Jackie Boy are...cohabiting. Still, Creep lets Jackie boy listen in, just to be contrary.

"The last point is obvious: all mission objectives must be completed. You don't get paid for standing around," Stagg says, directing his eyes to Tabitha, looking at her almost like a judgmental father for a split second. Returning to his happy demeanor once again, Stagg continues.

"You have clearance to all 33 floors of the building--there are indeed useful resources here and there. Research tools, equipment, computers. You can consider the building your headquarters--though I ask you to speak of secretive matters carefully..." Stagg directs his towards the large glass wall to the side: the rooftop in full view. "The Shockwave Rider is our experimental aircraft when we need more long distance travel. It's top speed is Mach 3. It's equipped with quite a few weapons we've cooked up in the laboratory," Stagg says, grinning at the mention of the lab. "All of you will be offered training on its operations and piloting, should you wish."

"Yeah, when're you gonna get to the good stuff?" Tabitha says in agreement with Mary, half mumbling, while sipping her drink. Her chin was resting on her hand, and she slumped in her seat.

Moon Knight nods at the rules. "Understood, you're hiring a mercenary group, didn't think it'd be any different. Though, Point two is a bit vague. Are you giving them permission to /injure/ teammates and employees as long as they don't kill them or put them in a coma? I think..that's a bit crazy." Moony is /slightly/ a sense of reason! "So, how long have you been stalking us, anyways? If you know my identity, that's a bit unfair." Moon Knight grins, pausing to listen to the rest.

"Understood." And then Stagg explains the vehicle, and he's pausing, mouth dropping. "Holy shit. Can I fly it? Let me fly it. That is a crazy amazing ride.... but, one more question.... what are the consequences for breaking these points?"

"I'm on the clean-up crew, Poon Tight. I'll fix your red wagon," Typhoid Mary says sweetly.

The Creeper says, "Not Poon, MOON! Our boy's all about the poop chute! Anatomy, Mary!"

Lunair has to stifle a giggle at the exchange between Moon and Mary. Ehehe. "Well... there's probably worse punishments than death." That's ominous. She looks to Mary and nods. "Okay," She pauses. And smiles. "Cool." She seems glad enough. Deadpool could probably use a roommate who is around more than Lunair. Lunair really mostly pops into clean, bring supplies and learn from the Mighty Deadpool. Then she - looks uncertain at the Creeper. It is now apparent she really has no clue what facial expression to manifest.

She rubs the back of her head and looks over the bar to see if there's anything good and not too alcoholic. "Sure. I've been meaning to get my motorcycle license, too." Lunair is apparently actually a really good driver, given her age. But most people don't think that when she's bothering people with laser cannons and the Twerker.

Stagg chuckles, "Very well." He ignores most of Moon Knight's questions intentionally--he thought it best to avoid conversation about prickly little details. But he does say this: "Violation of those three rules is termination... of contract." While saying this, a flat screen monitor lowers from the ceiling, flush against the wall opposite to the open area of the rooftop, it's little electronic movement buzzing. When in full view, the face of a pretty, 30-something red haired woman appeared on the screen. She looked nerdy yet professional, well groomed.

"This is Anna Brightly," Stagg said, directing his finger to her. "She's a former employee of Stagg Industries--suspected of corporate espionage, and the inheritor of a family fortune. She left the company five years ago, and her company _Light_ has been buying up numerous, enigmatically worded patents... we suspect amping up for a massive product launch. This, my friends, is the competition. She is extremely ruthless. I want you to infiltrate her operations, destroy her R&D department, and generally make her life miserable. I suggest you spend time amongst yourselves preparing--we're going to only get one shot at this. She has a press conference--a large press conference scheduled in two weeks. That's our deadline."

Typhoid Mary has no interest in learning to pilot anything, nor in infiltrating anything. "Why don't I just...kill her? Seems the obvious and easiest route," she says, her tone one of boredom. "I mean, I can kill her whole R&D department, but cutting the head off the snake is usually good enough to ensure the rest of it's dead, know what I'm sayin'?" she continues before taking a hearty slug of her alcoholic coffee.

"Because if she's killed, that puts suspicion on Stagg. Not the best plan, we have to play it careful." Being in the CIA has given Moon Knight some knowledge on how to do missions like this, drinking his glass of alcohol. "I believe we should do this with as much stealth as possible. Explosives, perhaps when her lab is closed."

"Right, 'cause explosives in her lab aren't gonna draw any attention, either. Fuck, you act like I'm some amateur. I can make it look like a fuckin' natural death, dipshit," Typhoid Mary whips back.

The Creeper says, "Explosions are so subtle!! My suggestion is to put something in the water supply that gives them all the runs, then run in while they are all pooping like Vesuvius and snatch up the beakers and test tubes!"

"Natural death right before a press conference, and that doesn't call suspicion? Really?", Moon Knight quickly shouts back. "Explosives are less fucking tracable than a bunch of mercenaries running in and stabbing everything. She's rather young for a natural death, don't think it'll bite.". He obviously /really/ hates Mary. "What about hacking? Delete their files, perhaps. Can anyone here do that?". Yes, Moony is trying to play reasonable with a bunch of psychos. Well, he is one, so.

"Goddammit, Creeper, stop stealin' my words, you sideshow reject!" Typhoid Mary scowls at Creep. Then, to Moon, "You moron! Natural death can include accidents, as well. You ever heard of a fuckin' faulty brake line? A trip and fall down the stairs? Not everything is stabbing with knives. I can give you a demonstration, if you want," she growls, a fireball popping up in her hand.

Lunair pauses. She thinks. "Well, the problem is - I guess if it's like any other business, there's half a dozen hungry replacements waiting to take her place," Lunair points out. "And would do so gleefully while riding on a sympathetic press. Death makes most people out there sad," She notes. "It also wouldn't stop her R&D from continuing. Which is why, sure, you could whack her or something, but then..." She taps her chin. "I think in theory, we could do both. Perhaps hijack something she has in R&D and get killed then, or something along those lines. I'm not really so much at this sort of option," She admits. "I really don't know," Lunair admits.

Stagg chuckles at The Creeper's suggestion, merely because of the visualization it brought of Anna's discomfort. "We have reason to believe that Anna is more valuable to our company's long term interests alive than dead," Stagg says directively. "She is a thorn in my side, but she may still have use. She is one of the world's foremost expert on experimental lasers. I want to destroy her company--not her," he says menacingly. "Accountability and blame is not a problem. Though I'd prefer none of you are actually apprehended. As our city has its share of metahuman 'protectors'." Stagg scowls momentarily at the thought. "Killing Anna will only be necessary if she interferes directly somehow, while you're there."

"Fine. No killing precious Anna, unless she interferes," Typhoid Mary grumbles. "But, tell that sad fuck over there to keep his goddamned mouth shut or I'll fuckin' sew it shut for him," she points at Moon Knight. "I don't know WHY you wanted us on the same team. I can't stand his guts and he can't stand mine."

"I'm a fucking trained Marine, CIA agent, and merc. I can handle myself... where's your damn credentials?". Moon Knight's ignoring the fireball mostly, but he's putting down his alcohol and moving /far/ away from the bar for now.

"Basically," Stagg continues, "I want it to look like a bunch of lunatics broke in."

Tabitha cracks up, "That shouldn't be a problem."

"I leave it to you, and your expertise, to plan the operation. I highly suggest that you not underestimate the Bright Company's security," Stagg says, finishing his martini and standing up, folder tucked under his arm. "It was a pleasure meeting you all again. I have another meeting to attend to. I'd like to stress how important each of you are to me," he says perkily, and begins to head towards the hallway leading to the elevator. "Make yourselves at home."

Oh geez. Lunair frowns a little. She seems amused by Creeper's suggestion, though. "I see. And okay,"She nods. "I am sure if nothing else, there's nonlethal methods of dealing with her. Thanks," She waves. 'See you." Then a pause at the next line. She glances between the Mary and Moon. Oh boy. Deep breath. "Well, I guess I'll check out that garden stuff. Wonder what's behind here..." Bar exploring time. "I have no idea what that is," She admits. A peer at the bottle. Hmm.

She seems at a loss when it comes to dealing with Mary and Moon. "I could give you light sabers." Those always cheer people up, right? "I dunno if the silencing guns work." Shrug and she ducks back down.

"I can handle her security. I've done worse." Moon Knight grins, before moving from his spot towards the Shockwave to check her out a bit more. "Typhoid. I don't know why he paired us up either, but I wish it didn't have to be."

"'I'm a trained Marine, CIA, asslickin' soldier boy,'" Typhoid Mary mocks Moon Knight in a whiny voice, letting the fireball extinguish. "Son, my credentials are the thousands upon thousands I've murdered in cold blood. You wanna be another one, you just keep flappin' your 'ick-suckin' gums," she yells, throwing her coffee at him--which is mostly empty, but it's the spirit of the thing. "Shut the fuck up, you useless sack of military grade-S shit."

"You know what? Meeting is over, so I'll be on my way. Let me know if and when you come up with something. I ain't stayin' in this room with that waste of oxygen over there," Typhoid nods in Moon's direction. "Pansy-ass pasty son of a..." she can be heard to be muttering to herself as she walks out of the room and into the elevators.

"You guys're more dramalicious than a bag of starving koalas," Tabitha said, jumping out of her seat the moment Stagg had left view into the elevator. She quickly joined Lunair behind the bar, rummaging through stuff. The back of the bar was almost entirely drinks, but a small metal combination lock box was at the bottom, along with an old fashioned, black metal key. Tabitha didn't care about that, but began making a pile of small hard liquor bottles which she intended on taking with her when it was time to go.

The rooftop area had a lot of time and effort put into it to make it look grand. In the distance was the trophy: The Shockwave Rider, an impressive aircraft. It had large, Iron Man-esque repulsors on its back, suggesting the ability to hover, as well as several large, orange-colored canons embedded in the front. On its side was an entrance way compartment--a bit small, but certainly easy enough for a large-sized person to enter. A security camera loomed from the outer-wall of the building towards the vehicle. The nature nooks looked quite comfortable for sitting and taking a peaceful moment. Tabitha, having not much else to do, flanked Lunair's side like a sudden-buddy and asked her curiously, "Whatcha think of this crazy sitch?"

Lunaira the explora? Not really. Lunair is just curious. "Huh." A small, black metal key. She picks it up to examine it. Something to look around. She loves a good treasure hunt. Or maybe she'll just peer at it. She looks to Tabitha, hming softly. She turns the question over a bit. "I don't know. The steady employment is nice. But something is going to come to a head sooner or later. Hopefully no one actually loses their head," She admits. "I am not sure. I think things will gel a bit more when something needs to be shot, stabbed and/or blown up. How about you?"

"Blowing things up is like breathing air," Tabitha says with a peppy smirk, shuffling herself in a goofy kind of walk towards the rooftop area. "We're like the A-Team, yo. But sassier."

Tabitha spun around and began to walk backwards towards the pool. "Only one thing to do when you're stuck in the loony bin," she says instructionaly. She suddenly leaps headlong backwards towards the water. "Dive in, and enjoy the crazy show!" she says, hitting the water with a mighty splash.