11862/Drops of Jupiter: Decontamination

Drops of Jupiter: Decontamination
Date of Scene:	29 July 2020
Location:	Centennial Park, Southside, New Troy
Synopsis:	Unsure of how to handle a potential contamination scenario due to the spores, Shannon calls for help from Miss Grey. The two get her cleaned up, decontaminated back at the mansion, and even plan an impromptu slumber party in the War Room just to be safe!
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Phoenix

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Nightingale has posed:
     Messages had flown back and forth through the aether, with Shannon hunkering down out of immediate range behind some trees not far off from the Swan Carousel. At least it would serve as a good landmark for Miss Grey. Sodden, streaked with mud, and chilled to the bone from the bizarre set of circumstances that has rendered the park a snowy mudscape with streaks of ooze being washed away into the sewers, the young mutant can only wait for help to arrive. Her part was done. Now she had to protect those she loved back home.

Phoenix has posed:
Outside the boundaries of the park, a plain but sleek black car pulls up and parks. It's the kind of car that subtly suggests there more to it under an unassuming hood. From out of it steps Jean, who's soon making her way through the trees right for where Shannon is. The redheaded woman uncharacteristically has her hair tied up and pinned to the back of her head, and she's sporting what almost looks like low level military gear with black pants tucked into high black boots and a black, close fitted t-shirt. Over one shoulder she's carrying a bag that looks to be some sort of waxed canvas, while her other arm is occupied by holding an umbrella. Everything is unmarked and plain.

"You do have a knack for finding trouble, hm? Can't say it's not just a little bit familiar." The woman says as she comes into view, her features calm and maybe just a shade amused even given the circumstances. "Circle of life, I suppose. How's the situation?"

Nightingale has posed:
     A sigh of relief escapes Shannon at the familiar sight of Miss Grey. Okay, so she was liable to wind up with some extra chores around the mansion for this one, but it would be for the best. At least she was alive to tell the tale! Thankfully, it does appear her little brown bag had escaped the muddy melee. However, there were muddy streaks along her jeans, her sneakers were covered in the stuff, and there was mud on her forehead and cheeks.

     A wry smile tugs the younger woman's lips upwards, and she shrugs. "Yeah, I go for a normal outing to see a really cool antique carousel that's still in working order, and the fertilizer hits the fan. When will I ever learn, normal, simple outings never are?"

     Chuckling for a moment, she sobers ever so slightly, slipping into AAR mode. "Situation seems largely contained. Between Thor and one or two of the others, he summoned a storm, they turned it into sleet, and it slowed down the spores. Hulk did what Hulk does, and I stomped a few of the little baby ones into the ground myself." Gesturing towards where some of the runoff hasn't quite reached the sewers yet, she continues. "That marshmallow fluff-looking stuff is what's left of the spores. I don't know if you want samples for study to see how to deal with the things."

Phoenix has posed:
"Rookie mistake." Teases Jean. "Always presume that the most normal situations can go south. At least then, you aren't so surprised when they invariably do." She glances towards the distance scene with a faint wrinkle of her nose. "...reminds me of the end of Ghostbusters." She mutters. "I can grab some for Hank to look at, though I don't have much in the way of collection gear on me. First we get you sorted. You're my primary concern."

She gestures towards a nearby park restroom. As she walks, she rolls the bag in front of her so she can remove a smaller pouch on the front and then hands the bigger bag over. Inside, there's a plain shopping bag with a set of Shannon's clothes and shoes grabbed in haste from her room. There's also a larger bag like one would vacuum seal spare clothes in folded around it. Lastly, a large spray bottle of foggy white liquid. "Go in and take the contaminated clothes off first and put those in the big bag. Everything. Then seal it. The bottle in here is a decon spray. I can't confirm it'll work on this, but something is better than nothing. Spray yourself down, saturate your hair, and where you're standing for good measure. Then you can put the new clothes on. Everything else can go back in this bag, then, and we'll dispose of it when we get back and get you a proper shower."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Oh gawd. Not my first aid bag, too! That was a present from Sam when I first got here last year!" Shannon frowned slightly. "Think that could possibly be decontaminated?" She makes no protest, however, about the clothes, taking the bag, the spray, and the contents into the restroom. Thankfully, the place is deserted after the mycelium melee in the mud, leaving her privacy to divest herself of her muddy clothing and make liberal use of the spray. While it can and does saturate her hair, it does not stick quite as well to her feathers. However, it does bead up and run off, hopefully taking any lingering spores with the residue. A white mist actually begins to float out of the doorway to the restroom, with intermittent hissing sounds as the spray is used on every single surface she comes anywhere near.

     When she emerges, Shannon's got some fresh clothes and sneakers on, her hair is plastered to her head with the decontaminant spray, and mostly everything is in the bigger bag, sealed away. The one exception is her first-aid bag, which she is holding by the drawstring with two fingers and holding it out in front of her. "I don't care about the clothes, but if this can be saved, that will be a win. There might be some swabs in a plastic bag in there, better than nothing for getting a sample of that muck." She frowns a little, thinking for a moment. "It seemed to be mind-controlling people to make them dig and plant more spores, so... watch out."

Phoenix has posed:
"No promises. But, we'll try. Just seal it up for now." Jean says before moving to stand guard at the entry. It's not like anyone is likely to stop by, but the call of nature doesn't care about things like miniature warzones. At least the spray isn't terribly offensive but there is the dull odor of chemical. As Shannon returns with the bag held between her fingers, the woman points to the rest of the bags. "Keep it sealed for now and spray that hand off. The smaller bag I took off has some basics that I grabbed on the way out the door. Here."

She holds out the umbrella and a set of keys to Shannon just as her powers form around her in a veil of pale pink, the water cascading down off of the telekinetic barrier. At that close of a range, Shannon could feel the slight outward pressure formed by the barrier. "Head on back to the car and warm up, you can throw those things in the trunk. It's parked right there through the trees and will light up when you get close. I'll go grab a sample and a few pictures and meet you there. Ten minutes max. If I'm not back, there's an emergency button on the console that'll call in the team. Press it and stay in the car." And with the larger bag's clutch-sized companion in hand, she heads off towards the site.

Nightingale has posed:
     One item in particular in the little brown bag has long since been laminated, apparently a particularly cherished item. It seems to be a calling card with a number on it. With any luck, the plastic was enough to protect it. Shannon sprays the little brown leather bag, its contents, and particularly that card, before sealing all away in the bigger bag. The umbrella and keys are accepted without question, the young mutant trotting off towards the vehicle without so much as a peep of protest--but a look of gratitude.

     With any luck, perhaps samples might be collected safely, and the answer of how best to deal with the mycelium menace found.

Phoenix has posed:
Jean is gone for seven minutes. Maybe eight or nine if you started the timer when Jean started walking away or when Shannon hit the car. She's still got the bag which is zipped up and her telekinetic shield going until she hits sidewalk. She drops it then, which means she's likely to get soggy, but better than people gawking at a woman surrounded by rose light. She slides her ay into the driver's seat with that clutch bag still in her hand and zipped up securely.

Nightingale has posed:
     Whew! Shannon had indeed started the timer at just that moment, so by the time Miss Grey made it back to the car and slid into the driver's side, she was about an inch away from going for the panic button. Her shoulders slump with relief, and her wings droop from being just plain out tired from the unexpected warzone in the park. "Thank you," she murmurs, slumping back in the seat. "Please tell me you've had to bail out A-team members like this, and I won't feel like quite such an idiot..." She's trying to put a wry smile on it, her tone lightened by a hint of good humor.

Phoenix has posed:
"You're not an idiot. What were you supposed to do, run? Besides, we haven't quite covered things like chemical, biological, and radioactive contaminations yet in class. Bit of an awkward subject for Home Ec." Jean states as she taps a button to start up seat warmers. The car may look basic on the outside, but inside it's a monster of tech with numerous tantalizing buttons. Secret screens? Weapons? Rocket boosters? Who knows. The emergency button at least is obvious, embossed as it is with an X.

"Anyway, I have a test tube of it. The benefits of being able to hover means I shouldn't have stirred up the muck. I'll take the long wayto the far end of the Blackbird hanger. There's some showers you can use there that'll work better than the spray. How fast did people react when they were hit by the spores?"

Nightingale has posed:
     "Pretty fast," Shannon replies. "Maybe a minute or two at most. Heck, I even saw Miss Lane get hit, and for a minute it looked like the stuff was going to do a number on her, too. But she shook it. The gentleman reporter she was with, he didn't shake it. He actually got hit pretty hard, had some of it in one hand. It was sending some pretty angry red lines up his wrist." She wrinkles her nose, and sighs softly. "Trust me, I was real glad for first aid classes. Hopefully bought him some time putting a tourniquet a bit farther up his arm, slow the spread of the stuff. But yeah, it acted fast and hard. So... chances are I got lucky, but I didn't want to take that chance. Not coming back to the school."

Phoenix has posed:
It's a longer drive, when going out of their way to reach the secretive exterior entrance to the hanger. You can't always have a giant black jet flying low over Westchester and expect the mundane folks to be okay with it. It has the benefit of giving things time to make sure Shannon doesn't try and garden in the back seat.

"Possibly an immune system reaction? Not sure. Our luck it's probably alien. Things like that always seem to be. Or from another dimension... reality. We'll see what Hank can make of it, once we make sure there's a secure area of the lab to mess around with it. Seems like you're okay, but the extra treatment doesn't hurt. We can have you crash down in the sub-level over night since things are on a separate cycle, the air included - just in case of events like this where we need to lock the base down. We can hang in the War Room, fire up a movie. It'll be fun." Says the woman with a quiet chuckle as she pulls down the long and winding road through the woods at the far end of the lake.

Through hidden bunker doors and long underground drives, they reach the familiar hanger. From there, it's time for epic showers, turned over spores, and some well earned snacks.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon just grins, chuckling. "Wouldn't even mind if it's Spaceballs again. Actually got Jeremy to watch that and wouldn't you know, he even wants to go to the Renn Faire in Salem Center this fall? In a /kilt/ no less." She giggles madly, her pale azure eyes twinkling with mischief. "Should've seen his face when I had to explain to him about the ummm, traditional way to wear a kilt. He opted out of that part."

     Snacks, a movie, and bunking down in the War Room with a cozy sleeping bag and a pillow. Maybe finding trouble had its perks sometimes.