13888/You're Fired!

You're Fired!
Date of Scene:	15 October 2021
Location:	Eastchester, The Bronx
Synopsis:	Nat and Alex ponder the future.
Cast of Characters:	Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)

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Phobos has posed:
    "Sure, I'll be fine. Go do your stuff." Were the words that had followed after her as she departed the safehouse. Just a handful of them delivered casually with an easy smile given just moments before a small embrace and a kiss before the departure. Perhaps a murmured sweet nothing but the comfort was brief and passed quicker than one would wish.
    Which left the young Olympian there in the old Victorian house that had at one point been a family's home. Another time had been a safehouse. And only recently a thing akin to home for two secret agents. Only now... it was more one secret agent.
    And as that thought preyed upon Alexander's mind, he rested his hands on his hips as he considered the house and then murmured to himself casually. "One secret agent, and a bum." Since he had been suspended indefinitely without pay. A nice government way of saying fired but not in a legally binding sense.
    Which led to the blond athletic man wandering around the house for the first couple of hours and straightening. Cleaning. Fiddling with this or that. Yet that only gave a solution to boredom for the first few hours. After that...
    Well then came working out.
    Two hours after that? The grim spectre of indolence reared is ugly head and left Alexander perched on the edge of that worn out couch, his fingers steepled together as he looked the place over. Looked around again... then shook his head and murmured, "Right then."
    And with little further fanfare he wandered down the steps, snared his coat from the rack and left to re-enter the real world.
    Which left the house empty. For now.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Her day had mostly consisted of her reading reports on upcoming missions, consulting with a few people for coordination. There was some email tag back and forth with others. Even a few phone calls. Honestly, it was just a horribly boring day. She'd rather have been at home.

So when the time came, she was immediately on her motorcycle and headed that way. Took it into the backyard as she arrived, so it was out of sight behind the fence. Then a walk to the front, pulling out the hidden key, unlocking the front door. She stepped in, put the key back, then closed the door and locked it behind her. "Alexander, I'm home," she called out unnecessarily.

She trotted up the stairs. Once there, she stopped. Not because Alexander was there but something else was. Something that was certainly new in their household.

She glanced around a moment but realized that whoever brought it was long gone. Then she walked back to more closely examine their newest acquisition.

Phobos has posed:
    Whomever had made the delivery at the least knew that the downstairs was only a cover, a shell and illusion to present some hint of normalcy for anyone that might wander by and peek in a window, or if a solicitor gets the gumption to step up to their porch. For on the first floor is the normal decor, the antique furniture, the homey atmosphere. A normal delivery person would have, if they had the courage to enter, left the package there. This person, however, carried it up the stairs into the main living area and training hall where the two operatives made most of their life together.
    For it was there in the middle of the room on the edge of the training floor, that a rack had been left on its own. A single suit hung from the rack, a one-piece combat suit it seems with a series of kevlar pads and some... ceramic? plates that were molded and contoured for the figure that was to wear it. It was a basic black, though with some grey highlighted areas along some of the joints where it was meant to bend and shift. There was no insignia nor identifying marks save the stylized SHIELD eagle that adorned the right breast and pocket area. Alone it might seem as little more than a bulky scuba suit. Yet it was the accessories that perhaps made it. The harness, the gear webbing, the miniature displays. But the black helmet with the mirrored visor on the front was what stood out the most. A single piece, like a motorcycle helmet, though there were small buds near the mouth and over one ear that likely were sensor clusters. Very similar to the Tactical Response Team helmets, but perhaps a hint more advanced or stylized.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
A slow circuit around it, a check to see if there was anything around it. A look at the verious things which went with it then back to the suit itself. It was made for someone much taller than her. And built very differently.

No doubt who it was meant to adorn. Yet, he was suspended. On adminstrative leave until they gathered enough to fire him officially. They all knew that is what it meant. She truly doubted that they would let him stay on.

So why was there a fancy tactical suit which was not the type meant for official agents in their house?

She moved to the couch area and sat down, eyes never leaving the suit as she pondered.

Phobos has posed:
    There were elements to the riddle, and during one of her circuits around the thing she might have found the designation upon one of the displays that simply showed a string of letters and numbers which to most of SHIELD's operatives wouldn't mean much. But to some with the right clearance to have read some of the older reports, to have seen how some of the files were designated even some twenty years ago... they'd be able to discern some hints.
    For the string of characters on the display shows simply an Omega symbol, followed by the letters L and O standing for Lateral Operative, then a display of threat level operations that being 8 meaning threat level 8 and above, followed finally with a number 1 a dash, then a 9. Meaning the operative would have no interface with the organization beyond a mission by mission basis, and the time investment... minimal.
    Perhaps it would be food for thought until there was the distraction of the front door opening and closing. This time, however, the voice calling out was decidedly masculine and Alexander's.
    "Hey, I'm home. I'm an invading alien seeking to add your biological and technological distinctiveness to my own."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You going to assimilate then?"

That was called out from upstairs by Natasha. She was grinning to herself at hearing his comment. Now he'd turned into the Borg. So many things she needed to tease him about there yet she wouldn't because she had now admitted she got it. Or maybe it was another one but that's where her brain went. Having been alive as long as she had, she'd seen a lot of stuff in media. Shows, movies.

She remained on the couch, waiting for him to come up and see their newest room decoration. It should be well worth the wait. She had taken her time to work through the numbers. They were things she recognized. Though they were a rarity. It was an unusual thing to see happening. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she'd seen it since joining SHIELD.

Phobos has posed:
    All the old sounds, that lovely tinge of familiarity. In the past it might have been warning signs for someone like her, that things were perhaps becoming too comfortable, that a change was needed, moving on. Though with Alexander things were rarely so simple. Yet there was the sound of him dropping his bag at the base of the stairs, then the thump-thubba-thump of his steps carrying him up the stairs. His hand appears as he grabs the rounded rail and swings around to face her as she's settled in that spot on the couch he had been in only a few hours ago.
    And then he draws up short as he espies the suit rack and the uniform it contains. Which has him pausing, eyebrows beetling for a moment before he utters a simple, "Huh."
    With curiousity and trepidation he eyeballs the thing, then looks over at her and gestures. "This your doing?" Knowing perhaps that it's not for her considering she is very very tiny.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
It was true. It wasn't designed for a petite female. It was more for a giant sasquatch person.

"I was going to ask you the same question. I came home to find it here. So seems like Santa came early this year. Unless you prefer Hannukah. Or what is fitting for Greek gods?" she asked curiously.

She didn't push off the couch but gave him the space to look over the suit on his own.

Phobos has posed:
    "Mmm," Alexander says as he slooowly walks forward to the suit that clearly is made more for a normal human-sized individual, less a sasquatch and not fitting at all for a tiny russian midget. Still, it did have a sleekness to it that shared some similarity with some of the suits that she may have worn in the past.
    "The twelve days of Dionysos, though yeah, surprise surprise, it's on December 25th too." As he says this he starts to walk around the suit, but doesn't touch it. As if touching it might unlock its evil secrets or something similar. "Also Dionysus is kind of a prick." The way he pronounces the name is subtly different from the earlier version for some reason. Weird Greeks.
    "I haven't heard anything official, have you?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The different in pronunciation is heard but it isn't something she's familiar with. The secondary one is the one she's heard in the past. She hadn't read enough mythology yet, though she had started, to know about this other information. Twelve days. She wondered if there were particular gifts for particular days now but that was neither here nor there in this moment.

"I've not heard a word. Just came home and found it. The number assigned seems to imply some things. Basically an agent that is brought in for special assignments but isn't on the payroll officially. They don't exist on paper."

She considered and looked it over then him. "It seems to be tailored to fit your measurements."

Phobos has posed:
    It's when she offers those last few words that he's stepped close enough to start poking and prodding at the armored suit, pushing two fingers under the helmet and lifting it up to get a peek underneath. His brow quirks and he says over his shoulder, "This could just be your elaborate attempt at getting me into a cat suit equivalent for your own nefarious purposes."
    Though she can't see it directly, she likely can imagine the half-smile that's there as he smirks a little, might even be able to see it in the reflection of the window nearby. Still.
    He turns to look back at her, "How should I take this message?" He asks her directly, knowing that he's likely out of his depth. "Or is this a message? Or what is it?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Well, if my theory is correct, you'll likely be receiving notification soon that the inquiry has found it is best to release you from SHIELD. Due to refusal to follow orders during a stressful mission basically. It'll be phrased all polite and fancy but still will be a dismissal."

Natasha nods toward the suit. "But when there are missions that require some extra firepower, you may be brought in as a consultant. AKA an ace in the hole that will need your sort of special abilities. You will be anonymous, a mystery to the other agents on the mission, but assigned as needed. Case by case. You will be paid for your assistance, under the table, to keep it from being in any official records."

Phobos has posed:
    As she speaks he listens and at a few points nods along with her words. But when she gets near the end his brow furrows and he frowns a little. Those pale hazel eyes distance in thought, and thoughts he doesn't share with her which is a rarity when they're at home. Instead he just runs a finger along the collar of the suit, then lets his hand fall away. The next moment he turns his head slightly to look back in her direction.
    "If that's the case, then what do you feel I should do about it? Accept it?" Since for some reason that does seem to make him a little uneasy.
    He looks away and then starts to step past the suit, and away from her. Though he pauses at that window. Hands resting on the sill he hunkers low as if to try and see the sky better, eyes lifting upwards. "I mean, when I think about it. What's done is done. There's no just... going back to how things were." For many reasons.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"That's completely up to you," is Natasha's response in a gentle tone of voice. "I can't make it for you. It's still being a part of SHIELD but in a way that you will get no acknowledgement. No one will know who you are. No one will know what you do. The only person that will likely know is Fury and me. And I am only saying me if you let me in on what you do."

She considers a moment, shifting to tuck one leg under her, and the other bent at the knee with the foot resting sole atop the cushion she's sitting on.

"I think it's basically Fury's way of acknowledging you are an asset to SHIELD. While recognizing that due to your abilities, you are beyond what a regular agent can be."

Phobos has posed:
    "I don't need the... I don't know, the acknowledgement." Alexander turns around and sits on the window sill, his hands bracing against the frame as his legs sprawl forward crossing at the ankles. Slouched there and looking restless, he frowns and looks to the side, then scrunches up one eyeball and looks back at her. "I think one of the reasons I wanted to..." He looks to the side again, then back as he waves a hand. "Wanted to do the whole thing was to. I dunno. Connect with people. But I feel like this would make me more of a... thing. I don't want to become... I don't know. More isolated."
    Then his eyes widen a little as his lisp twist sour, "Then again, that's selfish isn't it? Sure I'll do good and help people so long as it's a way I can connect with them. The doing of the good should be sufficient."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You will not have the comraderie of being part of the team, no," Natasha acknowledges as she shakes her head. "That is gone. But it is a way to still help people, if that is what you want to do. It's completely up to you though. I will support you in your choices."

She smiled softly as she shrugged. "It's a very different mindset from most people, yes. To serve without being seen. To be part but apart."

Phobos has posed:
    "I just," Alexander looks again at the suit, then back towards her, then the suit. He takes a deep breath and crinkles his nose. "I'll need you to let me know if I'm starting to lose touch. Call people mortals unironically. Do mean things just because I can."
    He pushes himself up to his feet and starts to cross the room toward her, turning to the side as he gets close and reaching to fluff a pillow before he lets himself collapse upon the sofa near her. "I mean, mean things to other people. To you it's ok. Since we are all smoochified." As he says that last he fails in keeping a straight face, but then he's leaning over to close the distance and slip an arm around her shoulders, to draw her in for a gentle embrace as he curls up close.
    "Man." He ends up saying as he looks at the suit. But he doesn't elaborate on that sentiment.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
As he pulls her close, Natasha wraps her arms around him. Snuggling in to a comfortable position there. Then she glances up at him.

"You can still be close with people. In fact, I recommend it. I am sure your friends miss you. They've asked about you."

She leans her cheek against his shoulder, thinking about it a moment. "Unless you are concerned they will have a problem with you now? I don't think they will. You'll not have to work unless you want to. To keep you from going stir crazy. The contractor work will pay a lot, if you choose to do it. But if not, lots of opportunities for you."

Phobos has posed:
    "Yeah, it's just sort of a way forward and feels like I should. But I don't know. It feels like everything has such... gravity." One hand rests along the side of her head gently stroking her hair as he frowns and looks off distantly for a time. She can hear his heart beating steadily, the warmth of his skin against hers, the slow even breathing as he ponders matters.
    Then he shakes his head and tells her, "Distract me. Tell me about your day and everything. Give me something else to think about."
    So very demanding.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"It was a long day," Natasha says. She understands what he is needing. She understands the details of it. She's been there. "Reviewing a few possible assignments that we'll be looking into in the next month or two. Answering emails. It was a boring office day. Nothing really going on."

She sits up a little and holds up a finger. "I got a manilla folder cut. They are far more painful than a paper cut for some reason. But not as bad as a cardboard cut. That's true torture."

Phobos has posed:
    "Ya big wussy." Alexnder says in that roiling rumbling tone of his when he's grumpy and growly, teasing, but his heart isn't into it. Instead he takes her hand in both of his and very gently examines the wounded area even as he peers closer. Then, having surveyed the lay of the land he touches his lips to the small almost invisible cut and gives it a gentle kiss.
    "There, healed." He pulls her close again and then lets the next few moments drift past them, just sharing the nearness and warmth of the two of them entwined on the couch.