2013-01-26 Deadpool Steals a Widow!

It's been a fairly normal day on the helicarrier Ajax. Not as big as the ARGUS, the pride and joy of the SHIELD armada, but still a war machine with a fearsome reputation and a special assignment for consignment of confiscated weaponry.

On board the Ajax, Captain Darius is speaking quietly on the bridge with Widow and Carol, their conversation illuminated by the brilliant blue of the skyline over New York.

A faint warning light goes off nearby, and a technician signals to the Captain. "Sir. I have a security failsafe alarm near the primary reactors," he informs the Captain. "Cameras and internal scanners don't detect anything, but we're definitely showing a short in the system. It's near the reactor core," he adds, describing the location where nuclear-grade materials are stored prior to being burned in the reactor.

"I suggest running a back trace on the warning. It's possible this could be a red herring to get us looking one way while someone screws around somewhere else." throws out Carol as she looks up from a readout she was looking at. She was checking the load out on the next recon flight going out. After all, her air force experience had best come in handy one way or another. "If you want, I can give it an external examination..." she adds, straightening up with a glance at Natasha. After all, she's not even sure what the other woman's ID is, let alone her expertise.

With a sigh, Widow mutters something in Russian. Probably a string of profanity. She's been especially quiet and demure lately, and was rather pleased that her conversations with Darius and the agent Carol Danvers were not of the 'What Have you been up to?!'-inquisitory sort that she's expecting when she finally makes it aboard the ARGUS. Carol just accepted her as 'Natasha. Another SHIELD.'--refreshingly simple. She shuffled in her chair, sipped a ginger ale, and looked out the window, until the alert came on.

"Calm never lasts," she declared.

The technician nods and starts going through the file system. "You're... right," he says, sounding surprised. "It didn't originate with the reactor at all. It came from the science bays. But those are completely unrelated ships systems," he frowns. "There's no way... Unless someone was trying to redirect a security feed!"

He messes with some buttons, and the camera image flickers from camera to camera for a few long seconds. The technician stops, alarm on his face. "Captain-?!" he declares. The readout on the bottom of the screen shows 'High Security Storage- Lab 03.' On the screen, surrounded by shadow, a man in black and red is systematically ripping open boxes of classified equipment and tossing guns and weapons and god knows what else into a duffel bag at his feet.

"Well, I must admit.. that's a bit brazen." offers Carol as she places hands on her hips. Her head and face are suddenly covered by the red helmet and mask that materialize about her even as she's heading for the lift. "Radio check." she says, talking into her earpiece. "Someone run a check and load whatever we know about this guy trying to clean us out, please?" she asks.

"I think I'll confront whomever this is... in the red and blue rather than JUST blue." she offers, her costume likewise replacing the SHIELD blues. It's that new suit, the full covering one that doesn't look like a damned bathing suit. The sash is still there though! She likes... the sash.

As soon as the video is visible, within mere seconds, Natasha swoops out of her chair... and, with an kicking-arc, she's on the platform, pausing a moment to say, "No, you don't!"--darting as fast as she out into the hallway, sprinting to Lab 03. She was happy to have not taken any of her gear off, she thought, tightening her belt just a hair while running.

"Don't you leave me Lucy," the figure sings to himself. He is busy shoveling guns and gear from lockers to a bag, systematically and quickly loading up the duffel with a pile of weaponry.

At the sound of the door opening behind him, the figure turns to face the doorway. "Wow. Took you long enough to get here," he says, holding something at his side. "Recognize a remote deadman's switch? I've got ten pounds of semtex hardwired to the hydrogen fuel cells starboard and aft. Don't bother tampering with them," he adds. "They're tamper-proof. I release the button- and boom!" he declares, gesturing. The light catches his face, and a broad, grinning skull faces Carol in the doorway.

"No positive ID," comes over Carol's headset. "No read on him. Security backup is on the way. ETA 2 minutes," the security guard adds.

Over her comm, Carol just says calmly as she regards the masked man there. "Launch all aircraft. Get all personnel off the craft immediately." she says. She sounds like she's in control at the very least. She wants him to hear her giving that command too. Then she regards him as her helmet and mask melt away to nothingness, just her striking face and blue eyes there. "Okay, so you claim you've rigged explosives. They go off... I'll survive. The question is, what condition will you be in after that? And... how much fight will you have left?" Her arms fold under her bustline then and she leans on the doorframe, "For that matter, why are you grabbing the small arms when the heavy weapons are the next locker over?" she asks.

Only a few steps behind, Natasha dead halts six feet from the entrance, peering into the lab as best she can. While Carol engages the man with chatter, she takes a good ten seconds to examine the contents of the lab and assess its general vulnerability.

Carefully picking a safe spot, she triggers her Widow's Line and its tight, strong wire darts at a 45 degree angle, past and over Carol's shoulder, and into a beam attached to the ceiling. Sending the line realing in, she does a harrowing maneuver--twisting around Carol to not hit her, and landing with a hard, metal thump, right next to the burgler.

"Well, aren't you just full of questions!" the figure sneers. "The fact is, you can't possibly comprehend my plans! They are plans full of awesomeness, and brilliance! Why, it reminds me of a time when I was a young man, just learning the rules of the game." The figure paces back and forth a bit. "I realized you have to fight. Fight! And fight to win! And when you fight to win, you win the fight! Now, I'm winning this fight! I hold your precious helicarrier hostage, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" The figure slaps its stomach and belly laughs. Like, literally, villainous, manical cackling. When Widow slings into the room like a spider-man impressionist, he just turns and points and laughs at her as well- keeping the detonator well away from everyone's reach.

On the bridge, the navigator is consulting with a technician. "Right. Try to stablize the power flow. Captain," he calls to the bridge commander. "We're experiencing a power drain coming from forward navigation. It's the same one from yesterday, but the system reset isn't fixing it. It looks like the camoflague field is drawing a hundred percent more power than normal. We'll have to do a manual reset of both the grid and the engines to get them to stabilize."

The captain growls, then nods. "Right. Set her down," he orders. He picks up the ship microphone. "Now hear this. This is the captain. Security teams, prepare to repel boarders. All hands, battle stations. We're taking the Ajax to the dirt for an emergency systems restart."

"Captain. This is 'Colonel' Danvers. I specifically ordered you to evacuate. Abandon ship. Keep a minimal bridge crew to set her down, but get all aircraft and all nonessential personnel -off-. We have a lunatic here who claims to have placed explosives on the backup fuel cells. Get... them... off... now." says Carol into her comm. Now she's getting angry. She told them to do this already and now the Captain is off on a hair to do something totally unrelated. "And... boarders?" she asks, her head tilting to one side. "Agent... I assume you can handle this petty thief here. I have a feeling I'm going to need to be elsewhere.... immediately." And she turns to go find the source of this niggling little vision of danger she's having, to go chase down the threat of the bombs.

Internally wincing, Widow wonders why she's been a virtual magnet to crime and chaos since she arrived stateside this week. This was the last straw, though--sure, she'd been dreading explaining her time in Tokyo and filing the official report of her total and utter failure, but she'd be *damned* if this skull-faced knuclehead was going to be the one to stop her. It was curious, however, how he managed to get inside. No time for forensics... she thought, musingly, while taking a long, leaping step directly at our man.

At a speed, and with a certainty unexpected, it was merely 2 seconds before Widow had pulled the now-secured Widow's line and was already wrapping it *around* the hand holding the deadman's switch.

Sneering while speaking, cocky yet intimidatingly gruff, Widow spat-out, "This is what we used to do to terrorist interlopers where I was trained." At the end of his sentance, his hand was wrapped with a freakish tightness, not allowing any switches to get unleashed. "This is what you get for forcing us to land," she thought, knowing all too well that it wouldn't be but a minute or two before the ship was grounded.

The figure laughs at Carol. It laughs at Widow. It starts into another monologue as the widow's line tightens around his wrist- and with an electric 'spark', passes right through.

"When I was a young man, I learned the art of..." the hologram drones on.

"Colonel Danvers, don't give me orders on my boat!" the captain declares over the intercom. "And when will you get your ass down to Lab 03? He's almost done packing up the gear! We don't track you on our cameras! Where are you?"

Carol is too busy tearing semtex from the hydrogen cells and disabling the pressure plates. Only someone capable of superhuman speed could do so safely, without the timing mechanism slipping and triggering the detonators. And there's still one storage container to go as the Ajax descends to the ground, landing heavily in Central Park and scattering panicked park attendees in all directions. Landing struts grip the ground, the helicarrier just small enough to 'stand' when it lands on solid ground.

Security backup nowhere in sight, Widow standing alone with a hologram, an unknown thief somewhere on board, and Carol busy disarming bombs. It's a typical day for a SHIELD agent, really.

It was such a nice field, quiet, secluded, good view of the sky, away from the city lights, a gentle breeze, the clouds passing over the full moon, the brisk (yeah right, brisk?) -7 degrees celsius (or 19 degrees fahrenheit, take your pick) air, and nothing special going on to disturb the peace and quiet, allowing one to think and contemplate life. Caitlin Fairchild was enjoying all this, resting her head on her large duffle bag like an overstuffed pillow, pondering Colonol Fury's harsh and painful yet true and wise words. The farthest thing from her mind was having to dodge a SHIELD Craft landing on her.

Kipping up Caitlin grabs her duffle and back handsprings out of the way so she isn't crushed, shocked to see that SHIELD has come to her. Nick said his people would find her when she found a new place to live, but this is a bit rediculous... plus she hadn't used the card yet, so how'd they track her to this field of land?

With a frustrated growl, followed by a sharp sigh, Widow skitters out of the lab... and is thrown against one of the walls of the outer hallway as the ship lands awkwardly. Her shoulder giving a little yelp of pain, she shrugs it off and begins her sprint outwardly, "Anyone this daring will surely have anticipated a landing," she spoke aloud, as she crossed through numerous hallways, already plotting the quickest path *out*. Outside, indeed, and she found a small emergency exit. Kicking it with the hell of her foot, while remembering the last time she had to do this very same feat, she poped the door open, one of its bolts popping out and hitting her in the stomach. She slid out the door, and her eyes blinked for a moment, standing there in the sunlit Central Park afternoon.

She's not the only one. Across the ship- at dozens of exits- the call for a general debarkation was echoed, and in places the Captain's counterorder wasn't relayed. Dozens of stations are abandoned as personnel flee the ship, exiting fore and aft and amidships. Combined with the cloud of dust around the ship and the angry crowds gathering, it's rapidly becoming a giant cluster of confusion. There's a very good chance the saboteur could simply walk off the gangplank without a look backwards.

"Widow! Do you read?" the captain demands on her radio. "I'm getting security problems all over the ship! External airlocks, internal locks, all the labs, security, the reactor room- it's insane! Get anyone who's debarking back on /my ship/!" the Captain shouts. "Then get your ass down to Lab 03 and tell me why Danvers hasn't apprehended the thief! I want to know why I'm still watching him breaking into the weapons labs!"

Taking a quick appraisal of the situation, Caitlin tries to recall her military training, especially why a landing for something like this would be performed. Figuring caution is the better part of valor, she leaps into a tree, climbs into its branches, hanging her duffle well out of sight and at a level most people would have difficulty getting to, then takes off her jacket and drapes it over her duffle, so it too is out of sight and out of general stealing access. With her belongings stowed and secured, she ascends even higher, getting as high as the branches that will support her considerable allow, and then she begins to bounce.

Slowly, as she builds up a good amount of tension and recoil, she prepares, and then using the upswing of the branch and her own powerful legs, she propels herself skyward at an angle to land her atop the same craft that would have landed atop her only minutes before. The branch did give out from the downward force of her legs, but the process did its job, and at the last moment she tucks and rolls, landing like every Olympic gymanist wishes they landed, 10+ scoring stick the landing perfection, and possibly even soft enough to not alert anyone as she breaks into full run across the top towards the far side where she hears the commotion. Probably not going to make anyone happy about the boot prints on the roof, but her solid 25mph running should get her right into position to hit anyone who looks out of place and not wearing a SHIELD Uniform disembarking..,

It was one zigzag to another: Widow barked back into her communicator, tempered just slightly: "Widow here. I'm on it." Throwing herself into a swooping leap, she vaulted in front of what she could assess, was the largest throng of fleeing SHIELD agents--taking a somewhat predictable path between a clearing of trees. Making a landing that was pronounced, intentionally, she stood firm, with a commanding expression at the group, to meet their gazes. She spoke loudly, yet calmly. "Get back on the step. Darius orders."

Just after saying this, she quirks an eyebrow, noticing Fairchild's fancy movements. She pretends to not care, but she's curious. Still, she had orders. She pointed at the ship, and within a moment, she herself, too, was heading back--right into the emergency extrance she flopped out of moments ago.

Slipping back inside, she spoke on the security channel: any listening patrol agents still inside, the Captain, and computers: "Where do you think our intruder is?"

At Widow's orders, the teams salute and just as quickly, jog back into the ship. There are scuffles as security teams meet the debarkers, and the process grinds to a halt as people are re-validated by the security teams before being reboarded.

The door to the command deck in front of Cailtin slams open, and the SHIELD elite teams- their personal meta-response unit- barges onto the deck, just as Fairchild closes with them. "Open FIRE!" the team leader roars- just in time for Fairchild to slam into him going full tilt. An all-out melee ensues, guns going off and SHIELD agents throwing their full weight and some meta-human skill at Fairchild to try and suppress and subdue the would-be 'intruder'.

"The intruder's on the command deck! She's on the deck!" the Captain screams into the microphone. "The camera feed is a ruse! We have an intruder on the command deck! Security to the carrier deck!"

S.H.I.E.L.D. Maria Hill says via radio, "... Copy... Captain Darius, sending backup and medical teams to your location; I want- (Just get them MOVING) -I want constant updates on the situation."

Fighting Shield Agents, attacking ones, misguided ones, completely insulting ones, doesn't matter, that wasn't in the plan. Caitlin could surrender, but that would just mean she'd be detained, which means the real problem that they've mistaken her for has a chance to get away. Now, there is a difference between fighting and defending, and Caitlin knows how to do both. She dodges, bobs, weaves, and completely avoids every throwing an attack at anyone, however, she has no qualms against turning attacks on herself into opporunities... throw a punch and she flips or throws the puncher; show off she can pull Matrix Bullet Time limbo dodges is little problem, and sort of fun too; shoot a cable to tie her up and she turns it into a way to pull the shooter and swing them into their buddies, or better yet grab it, dash, slide, and use it to instead tie up the shooter and a couple of his squadmates all into a nice neat package. All the while she tries to shout, "Not trying to fight here." "I was coming to assist." "Thought you might be in need." "Just direct me to your problem, and I'll help." "Sorry, hope this doesn't get you docked pay." "Hey, my eyes are up here." "You know, if you calibrated these energy modulators to a 7 interval cycle instead of a 3 interval cycle, you'd get 32x the potential impact while quartering the power supply consumption." "I'm just saying, it is a way more efficient setting. I could probably do it and show you guys how in 15 minutes, really." "Oh, tell Nick... um, I mean Colonel Fury, that I decided to complete my Electrical Engineering and Computer Science Degrees with Princeton online and at annex locations, and maybe add Psychology and molecular Biology Majors." She really seems to hope they'll get the idea, and maybe communicated her progress to Col. Fury.

Natasha, deeply suspicious of Captain Darius' ability to correctly account for the happenings of his ship, breathes her fourth sigh of the day. It as one of those days, wasn't it? Redirecting herself back towards the ship's deck, she was lucky that, albeit the complete opposite direction she was previously moving, it wasn't far. Getting there, she spent two minutes... just watching Fairchild fight. Sure, she probably should've gotten involved--the other SHIELD agents were quite obviously out-classed here. But she recognized this lass, and knew she wasn't our intruder... she arrived on the scene *after* the landing, not from the ship. Probably one of Xavier's strays, she thought.

Regarding this situation as a total clusterf**k, she headstrongedly pulled up the security computer panel *herself* and began an intensive scan of any clues for an intruder. She knew these systems, after alll.

The Ajax, vanguard of the helicarrier fleet, is down on the ground in Central Park. There's dust, angry crowds of scared residents, and a few dozen confused SHIELD personnel milling around on the ground in an evacuation formation. Inside the carrier, alarms are whooping and security is galloping in all directions as one alarm after another goes off.

Atop the carrier itself is a scene of some dismay. Caitlin Fairchild has, apparently, taken it upon herself to launch a one-girl invasion of the Ajax. And the meta-team sent to stop her got knocked down /hard/.

The guys on the response team ain't exactly mooks, but they're not in Caitlin's league, either. They don't go down easy, but they do go down, leaving Caitlin standing alone... on top of the helicarrier... surrounded by ten downed, unconcious, or disabled SHIELD meta-response operatives.

"We have complete reactor shutdown!" the navigator tells the Captain. "We're initiating a restart of all systems, but it'll take ten minutes, at least. Security is still going haywire, but we have good news- Colonel Danvers has managed to shut down the explosives on the secondary fuel tanks."

"Tell her to get her ass up to the carrier deck!" the Captain bellows. "I want her and the backup team to intervene /immediately/! We can't let her get through security!" He activates the ship microphone. "All security teams not assigned to secondary or higher details, report to the command deck! Apprehend and detain the woman on the security monitors!" The image of the fellow on the ship's internal monitors who has been looting Lab 03 is replaced by an image of Caitlin's face, looking somewhat confused about the turn of events that led to the assault team failing to apprehend her.

Maria paces the bridge of the Hellicarrier ARGUS impatiently, eyeing various monitors as she passes. "Talk to me, people, I need a visual crash site, now." After all she can't expect collateral damage estimates from a bunch of crash victims, not right now anyways. Or, more prudently, if the ship can be salvaged, but that's neither here nor there. Picking up the Captain's communications she activates the comlink. "Supplemental orders, bring any non-SHIELD-affiliated Mutants or Metahumans ALIVE, I want to know how these people got into our ship. Note, we do not necessarily need them in one piece, over."

The helicopter still certainly had the profile of a S-70; the marking themselves would look perfectly normal to anyone looking over the New Jersey coastline, as a reputiable aviation rental company, with a properly registered tail number. That's before the electric shock when through photovolic paint, and the markings changes from bright and eye catching to black, with a subdued grey crest of SHIELD on the side.

The men inside had gone through a similar transformation after being picked up, going from retail workers, cooks, buinesses persons, and percisely one deli owner to black clad, balaclaved operatives, loaded to the hilt with advanced assualt weapons, combat armor, imaging systems... and a few random gadgets that just might come in handy. And they were all here for one purpose: Because the New York station chief was having a /lousy fucking day.

The leader of the group brings his hand up to his covered ear, before his modulated voice speaks. "All right people, you heard her. Munitions switch out! LTL! Let's move it!" He says, before returning to the radio, and subvocalizing under unsure gazes. "Command, Agent Geiger. I've got LTL, but the drone take shows downed personell that are supposed to be trained for this situation. Are we sure this is wise?"

"Okay, so... we landed, and -then- this superhuman person boarded... -after- the ship was boarded by parties unknown?!" exclaims Carol into her com. Her helmet helps keep her voice from having the wind distort it. She comes flying out of one of the ports in the side of the craft, arcing upwards before doing what can only be called an immelman without an airplane and turning it into a dive down towards the deck of the carrier.

She sheds velocity just right, her powerdive turning into a graceful landing with her legs spread just a bit more than shoulder-wide as she eyes Fairchild.

"Okay lady, I don't know who you are, but... this is done now. Stand down." She pauses a little bit and adds, "I have a feeling this is a bit of a misunderstanding, but if you don't back down now, you're not going to get the offer again.... and I'm not just trying to feel better about myself by making someone else back down. I really don't -want- to fight if it can be avoided. So please... will you come with me so we can sort all of this out ma'am?" ... respectful and yet an authoritative tone she has there. To emphasize her point, she dissolves her red helmet and mask there back into nothingness, hoping that exposing her face might make her seem a bit less... threatening perhaps.

Chagrin crosses Caitlin's face a she looks around at the guys she trounced, mainly by turning their attacks against them. She really came to help, and did say so while dodging, flipping, tossing, and countering, but the guys obviously weren't listening. When someone shows a simple skill to use their mouth instead of heavy weaponry, Caitlin is all too happy to raise her hands, "Definitely a misunderstanding. I leapt onboard, intending to be of assistance. I figured the only reason this ship would land here was some crisis and figured anyone with basic military training and powers would be of use. These guys just were a bit zealous and didn't give me a chance to talk." She keeps her hands up and her shoulder's down a bit, to show submission as best as a 6'4" redheaded powerhouse that trashed a team designed to handle metahumans can do.

Just as Carol was arriving on deck to confront Fairchild, Widow slipped out of the area and had headed back to the lab she and Carol had previously visited before the ship landed. It wasn't much of a lead, but there must've been *something* else going on, with the persistent looped image even after the camera reset. Based on all the buzzing in SHIELD communcations, it was only a short matter of time before some heavy forces would arrive and sort out the battle on deck. She hoped Fairchild wouldn't be a corpse in the process--but based on watching her fight for a few minutes, she had her doubts of that.

After another of her many sprints (boy she really got to know the layout of this ship), she was soon standing back in the room that previously had the creepy hologram decoy. Lab 03. Taking some moments to take in the whole scene, scanning it up and down to see if she could find anything--a clue, a trace, that might help her investigate this attack and theft.

"Oh, damnit." The man in the mask isn't standing there alone anymore. He's standing next to himself. On every security monitor, Lab 03 has been getting looted by the same character for 10 minutes. Now there's two of them. Several large duffel bags are on a pallet loader, ready to go. The hologram flickers and laughs manically as Black Widow enters.

"Well, aren't you just full of questions!" the figure sneers. "The fact is, you can't possibly comprehend my plans! I-" The other figure presses a button, and the hologram abruptly vanishes in a fizzle of light. "Well, uh, I see you- um. Damnit. I really should have turned that hologram off," he says. He fiddles. "I had something for this. DAMNIT. Eat knockout gas!" He aims a nozzle at Widow and promptly blasts her in the face with a compressed air of some kind. In a single inhalation, something that makes chloroform look like a few drinks hits her.

"Intruder in the..." Widow screams into her radio. She moans, then collapses. The figure, swathed in a cloak and wearing a skull-faced deathmask, grabs her and tosses her into an empty bin, relieving her of her immediiately visible weapons. "Swwweeeeet. Stole meself a hot assassin chick!" He looks up at the camera and, grinning, Fonzies.

Whistling merrily, a SHIELD technician wheels the dolley out of the room and towards the hangars. As he goes, he presses a button on a device thingy.

"Captain!" the navigator shouts. "We're showing a major coolant leak over the hangar deck! We have to evacuate the crew and the ground transports before the armaments blow!"

The Captain swears mightily. "Ajax to command! This is the Captain! We're evacuating our hangar deck due to a coolant leak! Our systems are going insane down here! I think our intruder might have planned this!"

Maria's brow furrows slightly, but she shrugs her shoulders. Generally she doesn't like having her orders questioned, but these are... unique circumstances. Granted, that's ALSO the kind of situation you would require absolute obediance in, but Maria is not without understanding. "Those same trained personnell have just been through a plane crash, Agent. If any are lucid and mobile, work with them. Otherwise, secure the vessel and crew.. You have your orders. Danvers, restrain the compliant and remove her from the-" The aborted radio call from Widow blasts in Maria's ear, then promptly stops. Maria brings one hand to her ear, "Agent Widow, I do not copy! Agent- will somebody get down there!!"

Martin Kavanagh had his piece on the record, and, in this situation, that's all the fight that he's going to bring to this party. "Copy, Command. Geiger is moving forward in S-70C with SHIELD markings. Any active air defenses watch your fire-" He starts, before the helicopter is over the downed helicarrier, hovering over the flight deck; normally, they'd fast rope down, but the area wasn't filled with mines and the enemy's powers were unknown. The call coming to him about a downed agent and the need to evacuate the hanger deck compete for attention, as does the unidentified woman and-

Martin just groans. "Great. The drunk woman with the power of a God. Hepburn!" He yells, a woman turning to him. "You're on hanger detail with Team A; assist in evacuations and see if you can secure munitions. Team B is going to assist in this situation and secure the unknown!" He yells, as the groups pile out of the helicopter. The first team moves quickly over to the island structure, seeking entrance and a quick way down, while Martin and the other half bring up their weapons, keeping their distance. "Unknown Individual! This area has been declared restricted access under relevent resolutions of the Security Council. You are to leave this area immediatly or surrender to us here! There are no other options!"

The second team is quickly moving down to the hanger, the leader waving people by and up the stairs as they move to see if /anything/ can be done to save this massive ship from being a new modern art installation in the Park.

Okay, things are starting to get under control. The explosives were disarmed, and now the woman on the deck is standing down. Carol has had just about as good a day on the job as she -could- have when a maniac comes a'callin'. She just begins to relax as a few things happen at once. Her comm blares with the beginning of Black Widow's call that is cut off. She's turning her head and lifting a hand to her ear as she overhears that and she says into her comm, "Agent! Intruder where?!" A brief pause and she calls in on the general command frequency. "Danvers here. Where did that transmission originate?"

Then... Martin blares over the speakers. She narrows her eyes and adds, "And someone inform whomever is up there that the unknown has -already- stood down and submitted. So throwing out the order to vacate or surrender isn't helping. Please...." she adds at the end as she looks to Fairchild and raises both brows and her shoulders in almost a helpless shrug, "Clarify though. Do I take in the unknown, or respond to the location of the transmission when you provide me with that location?"

Black Widow is currently having a deep sleep. A nightmare full of thousands of swords, arrows, knives, and spikes chopping at her every which way, like she were caught in a pit of sentient weaponry, hoping to tear her to bits. She can not wake up, and the cutting of her flesh is grueling and seems like an eternity of torture. Yikes!

The evacuation is going quickly. Everyone's grabbing anything handy and throwing it onto a truck to drive off the loading ramp. It's an emergency- everyone's pitching in. Vehicles, drivers, anything that will roll or explode is getting evacuated. Among them is an armored halftrack, all in black with the SHIELD logo stamped on it proudly.

A major flaw in military communications is the 'squelch' function. There's never been a good workaround for it. Even high-end digital features aren't sufficently designed to override, say, a command-level master override unit. Like the one Natasha has. And the one that is, now, taped to an iPod. 'Sympathy for the Devil' explodes on every SHIELD headset for a mile in every direction, overriding every command and instruction given. It throws the entire command structure into disarray.

Things get even more complicated when someone triggers a volley of smoke grenades. The downdraft of the Ajax's cylcone turbines creates a whirlwind vortex of smoke, filling almost half of Central Park with dense, impossibly opaque grey fog. Between the heat of the updraft and the intensity of the fog, it leaves almost everyone effectively blind to the tanks scattering in all directions- and the one lone tank trundling down 42nd and Beaker, turning down an alleyway, and disappearing into a parking garage. The driver, a SHIELD technician in coveralls, whistles merrily as he vanishes into the shadows with Natasha Romanov in a crate in the back seat.

Having already surrendered to Carol, Caitlin is quite perturbed that another obvious fool is thinking with his little brain and talking with his sphincter. She just said she was hear to help, repeatedly to the guy who couldn't stop attacking her long enough to listen, and now they're knocked out by being knocked into one another or tied up with their own capture weapons. She has half a mind to pull a Hulk, leap onto the helicopter on her way to 'vacate' the area, and teach this guy that talking out your rear end only makes things more shitty then they already are. She takes a deep calming breath, lowering her hands since she has been given the option to leave, and starts to do just that, stomping right at the gun wielding guys, reaching into her back pocket, "Since you want me gone, and have been soooooooooooooo nice to allow me to vacate, I guess I will. Just tell Colonol Fury that Miss Fairchild was here to help, but instead of accepting aid from military trained metahuman who can survive and walk away from getting struck by Thor's lighting, you decided to threaten her with violence while neglecting whatever threat would force a craft like this to land... not crash mind, you as anyone with eyes can see the landing struts that almost squished me while I was laying on the glade are completely lowered and intact." She then pulls out the credit card Fury gave her, "and if you'd check your little beacon detectors and transponders, you'd find I'm being tracked for my own good by Colonol Fury." preparing to give Martin and his team a display of her strength in a harmless, yet potentially intimidating way... leaping over them.

"Geh!" Maria recoils from her own earpiece as music begins blaring through it. "The hell?" She grunts, putting it back on reluctantly, "Agents-" And THEN the smoke screen! Her monitors become useless, and Maria becomes effectively blind and deaf to the situation on the ground. "Agents on the ground do you copy? Do you copy?" She grits her teeth and half turns, "Find out where this is coming from, and stop it!"

Martin's men are rather up on edge at the moment as their weapons point toward the unknown, who is surrounded by knoked out men and women. Whe she approches them, and reaches her hand out, it's only a hand held up by Martin that stops people from firing. "Lady, don't fuck with me right now. I've just been on a long helicopter ride, and I know shit about this situation, and you are approching me and hiding you're /goddamn hands/. What kind of stupid-" He says, before looking at the card. "It's called compartmentalization. Google it!" He says, simply, before being leaped over. "And I'll be telling him about this, goddamn it! Superpowered /assholes/-"

This was right before every man and women on the team winces and yells, slamming radio units to shut them off. There's a brief moment of confusion as the team from underdecks moves to the top. "It's a mess down there!" THe woman yells, as they're frantically batting at radios. Comms aren't working, boss! We're blind and deaf over here!"

Martin has to move to using the comm system God gave officers, and raised his voice as loud as he could. "All Task Force! Cycle frequencies! I don't care if it's FRS with a privacy setting, I want comms up!" He reaches into his pocket, grabbing a flare and firing it up, throowing it for the still hovering helicopter. "We're going mobile! No one does this and /hides/."

Lastly, he looks at Carol. "Well? Are you done? I'm sorry for the mix up, but, like I said, I. Do. Not. Know. Shit. I need some help here."

Sucking her teeth for a moment, Carol is definitely clear here. Eyes clear... behavior far less erratic than the last time Martin saw her. She reacted a bit to the comms thing, but initially just flicked a hand up to turn it off. Now she flicks her earbud back on and starts a frequency cycle. She lifts gently into the air and says, "I had her surrendered. She was fine until someone told her to leave..." That done, she finds a frequency and says, "Seriously, a smoke screen is stopping us? Come on people... thermal, radar. Sonar for god's sake, these things land in water. Motion sensors... or... how about this?" she calls as she surges into motion straight up before arcing and diving back down... arms out as she blasts through the upper edges of the smoke at several hundred miles per hour... helping to disperse much of it before her direction takes her off in the direction of Fairchild's leap. She wants to apologize to the young woman at the very least.

The smoke doesn't help Caitlin's aim in her jump. She tucks her card away in her pocket in mid leap, and then lands in a tree the wrong way, ripping her jeans and shirt as she falls through the branches, grumbling as branch after branch breaks under her weight. Thankfully it wasn't the tree she put her stuff in earlier, so she just has to walk back to that one and get her duffle and jacket, but the top is now even more midriff revealing, the sleaves are ragged tatters, and her jeans look like they were gashed by dozens of blades. She sighs as she rights herself and slowly looks for her footprint at the base of the trees until she finds the one she hid her stuff in and ascends back into it, perching there and watching the smoke covered ship for a while, just resting and contemplating a bit more.