1857/SWORD Interview

SWORD Interview
Date of Scene:	08 August 2017
Location:	Rooftop in Metropolis
Synopsis:	Sarah has managed to find a contact number for SWORD; Priscilla has agreed to a somewhat paranoid plan to reach out and contact them. Imagine their surprise when their call earns them a face to face interview with Director Abigail Brand herself. Imagine Brand's surprise when it turns out she knows the mysterious Voodoo already.
Cast of Characters:	Voodoo, Rainmaker, Abigail Brand

---

Voodoo has posed:
How it is that Sarah found an actual contact number for this 'SWORD' thing Priscilla has no real idea. As far as she is concerned, the Amerindian beauty is a shamanistic genius who called up her spirit totem and demanded a phone number. That's just about the most she understands about such things. (What is an 'online forum', and why should she care? Nevermind.) What matters is that Sarah suggested Priss should talk to SWORD, and she gave her the number.

Priscilla's contribution to all of this was to pick up a burner phone from the package of them she purchased through an old HALO contact. And she put on her costume. It's the first time Sarah has ever seen the Voodoo wanted for crimes all over the world, most of them all covered up because they amounted to covert operations against alien forces.

Masked, costumed, armed, Priscilla then proceeded to pick a rooftop, and one stable enough to withstand a landing of a helicopter or similar-mass craft. Sarah was invited to join her, if she wished, though she was firmly enjoined to wear her own costume, and a mask. The mask is key. Voice vocoder is optional, but not a bad idea at all.

And so it begins. And the phone call goes a good ten minutes before the operators Voodoo has been put through determine she's not just a run of the mill crackpot. And finally one of those drones decides that she should be routed up to The Boss of all Space Cops: Abigail Brand. Which is where we begin: with a ringing phone, and the drone explaining to 'Director Brand' that they have someone on the line who has been inquiring about whether or not this 'SWORD thing' is for real and legit, and actually interested in policing alien threats. Because apparently this nutjob - going by the name of Voodoo currently - is interested in the possibility of a job.

Maybe.

Kinda sorta.

Rainmaker has posed:
    After a bit of bemusement, Sarah revealed that yes, in fact, she did have a costume, hidden away in her closet. Luckily the material doesn't wrinkle, which still fits perfectly fine.

    But she lacks a mask. Initial attempts to have her wear a bandana bandito style were resisted, but she finally relented by rummaging through Roxy's makeup case and pull out some old halloween makeup that she used to apply fierce looking warpaint, a jagged red 'mask' outlined in white and black that covers her eyes,with points that run down either cheek to stop near the level of her mouth, a smaller point running along the outside of her cheek to just below her ear. She definitely looks...different.

    She took the time to braid her hair as well, which took a bit to get done considering the pure volume. And...she did not have a vocoder. So she agreed to let Priss do most of the talking for this,if it worried her. She's here to be supportive and to watch her back, after all....not the one doing the interview. Or whatever this will be. She's standing back beside Voodoo, arms folded as she waits, though she can't help occasionally...well, glancing over. It's the first time she's seen Priss in all her finery, after all.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand is doing some of her most favourite work of all, paper work. Which of course means when the call comes into her office, she jumps on it like a starving hyena on the meat department of a Wal-Mart. She transfers the call to her earpiece, because where's the fun in having fancy future tech without using it? Sure, it's basically like a cell phone, but hey, it's the -small- differences that count. And this at least lets her make her way from her office towards the shuttle bay while she's talking.

    "This is Brand. So... you want a career in the illustrious world of saving the Earth from alien invasion? I'm not going to lie, if you've actually got the skills to do that, I'm not going to turn you down. I've got nothing but like... part-time as needed assistant right now."

    Brand clears her throat as she settles herself into the shuttle, beginning all the switch-flicking, button-pressing, and of course seatbelt-wearing required for takeoff. "If you want, I can meet up with you right now and we can do a little in-person interview. I... ah... just need to know a place I can park. So if you've got a vacant lot or a sturdy rooftop handy, that would be best. Parking authorities don't usually like me landing a shuttle by a parking meter on the street. They say it 'gets people worried'. As if shuttles were even close to the top hundred things from space folks should be worrying about."

Voodoo has posed:
The voice on the phone responds to Brand, apparently lightly amused by the woman's sense of humor, and doing her best //not// to sound shocked that the voice on the phone is //Abby//, the woman Priss met at the Club after the Daemonite attack. "Well, I have certain skills and talents. They have proven useful in dealing with alien threats in the past. I met someone who suggested I consider working for you people as a means to ... legitimacy? And perhaps a better paycheck. Not that I'm looking to get rich, but dental would be nice." Hey, Priss can do droll, damnit.

"I assumed you people would likely pinpoint my location when I called, so I'm standing on a sturdy rooftop currently." Voodoo explains. "I'm not alone. For the record, there's one other person on the rooftop: the one who suggested I consider contacting you." Hey, best not to surprise gun-toting space cops; they might forget their sense of humor then. That would be bad. Voodoo even looks up at the sky and waves, as if she expects a satellite camera to be zoomed in on her location. (Which she does expect; that's what Marlowe would have done, after all, and she's assuming these super-secret space cop people have at least Jacob's level of resources, even if they have to kill six trees for the paperwork to get his level of cash.)

Rainmaker has posed:
    Rainmaker, for her part (she feels like she should think of herself as Rainmaker rather than Sarah dressed like this) is being quiet, but has cocked her head as she listens to the side of the conversation she can hear. Her lips twitch at the mention of dental; she supposes Priss doesn't need medical nearly as much as others might. And the coverage for being an alien hybrid is probably through the roof anyway.

    The mention of being on a sturdy rooftop does get her scanning the sky absently...because that sounds like they might need something sturdy for something to land on. I mean, they're space types. EVERYONE seems to have dropships or shuttles or secret ripoffs of the SR-71 to fly around in these days, after all.

    She doesn't interrupt however, other than that. She's here, and if she's a silent presence for support, that's what she'll be for the moment.

    Even if she's bouncing on her toes a bit, a little excited that Priss is taking the step. She knows how much she's missed feeling like she has a place, and she's seriously hoping this isn't a mistake on her part to have poked her into doing it.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Abby has no clue she's about to meet a familiar face, even as she's bringing herself down to the indicated coordinates... on a stealth mode which is really more 'kind of stealth' than anything, replacing the roar of rockets or anything with an almost filling-rattling hum of some sort of fancy engine technology. She brings the shuttle in smoothly, landing it on the roof...although there's several long seconds before she cuts the engines, apparently just in case there's something wrong with the roof.

    Once the shuttle's parked and shut down, the pilot's door swings upwards, and Abby hauls herself out. In her suit in fact, instead of any sort of armored look... gotta put a good face on the company as it were. She clears her throat softly, arms crossing under her chest, gripping her elbows as she murmurs out dryly, "Well... secret meetings on rooftops. I almost feel like a -super hero-, y'know?" She looks Voodoo over, one eyebrow lifting, lips curling in an almost pouty little thoughtful frown. She'd -swear- she looks familiar... but no, she can't place having done naything with a sword-swinging costumed sort lately. She'd totally remember the kind of serpenty motif. And Rainmaker gets the same look over, though this is more of 'Okay, I definitely don't feel like I've met her.'.

    "So... uhh... which one of you wants a job? Or do you both want a job? I'm just giving jobs away, really. I could -seriously- use the help. The whole 'secret organization' thing makes job fairs hell."

Voodoo has posed:
The completely masked figure in purple with gold accenting and a sword raises a gloved hand and bracered arm. "That would be me." Voodoo offers, her voice altered still. Shapeshifting tricks for 1,000, Alex! "They call me Voodoo." It is, really, the one thing about all of this that could, maybe, possibly tip off Abby about what the heck is going on. Or rather who. Because if she was paying attention to the signage in that bullet-chewed strip club, she might have noticed posters about 'Voodoo,' the headlining dancer.

Priscilla gestures to Sarah. "This is Rainmaker. She's the friend responsible for suggesting you people might be ... a possibility." She does not mention Sarah found the number of the super-secret alien-hunting organization. That could go badly or something. "Moral support." she ammends. And waits.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Rainmaker nods in agreement, in her best stoic Native American style she can manage. She feels vaguely like a sell-out now. Like that terrible Lone Ranger movie. At least she's not wearing a headress made of moldy raven feathers, then again. She does waves casually to Abigail, but doesn't say anything, returning to keeping her arms folded under her chest.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand nods her head curtly... the name Voodoo does sound familiar, but she'd been a little more focused at the club on all the carnage, and the weird reptilian alien bodies... and the witness she interviewed who she really only thinks of as 'Priss'. She shifts her hips a little, just taking a slightly more casual stance as she considers this arrangement. "Well, Voodoo... I mean, I guess we can use your code name. Or uhh... hero name? Whatever it's called. We do definitely work with costumed sorts on a regular basis. It's not all sneaky spy stuff or laser gun fights." Sure, a lot of it is like... Men in Black style stuff, -and- laser gun fights. But hey, you don't sign up for the alien fighting secret organization to -not- fight at least a few aliens.

    "Well, I could definitely use the help. And, I mean, if you... have an entire outfit and a sword and everything, I'm -assuming- you've... had some dealings with either crazed costume antics or aliens in the past... I'm sure we'll still do some training and the like, and there's going to be -so- much paperwork to get your benefits and salary set up, but like... government life, what're you going to do?" She flashes a bright grin and chirps out, downright good humored she is! "I mean, once the paperwork's done, the painful part is over, except for the yearly vacation requests."

Voodoo has posed:
The raised eyebrow from Voodoo is not readily apparent, but it's probably in her physical bearing and attitude. Seriously? "I can probably do non-costumed work, too. I blend pretty well, when I want to." Not that anyone seeing Priscilla Kitaen would believe that. But she can look like anyone. "But yes. I have had training. I know how to fight. And I know aliens well. I should: I am a hybrid. Raised human, but I have two other non-terrestrial species' genetics inside me. I was part of a rogue CAT for several years. All they did was hunt down alien threats."

Priscilla waits a bit before she finally explains. "I have several 'talents'. The most important of those is that I can see aliens who are shapeshifted, possessing or mind-controlling a subject. And I have a talent for ejecting them, pulling them out of others to set them free." Will Abigail remember the signs of just that sort of thing from the club?

Rainmaker has posed:
    Some of this is new to Sarah too...she knew about Priss's mental abilities and shapeshifting, but not the seeing possessing aliens and ejecting them. She tries to not let that show on her face however, just letting Priss make her pitch to Abigail, who seems...not what she was expecting from a member of a super-secret government anti-alien threat sort of force. Not a bad thing...she has a sense of humor, and that does calm some of Sarah's inner nervousness. She hasn't had the best luck with quasi-legal secret government organizations.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand's eyebrows pop up for a moment at that description of being a hybrid, "Well... you've got me beaten by an entire non-terrestrial species worth of genetics... but I'm -also- half mutant, so I think we're tied as it were?" She chews her lower lip for a moment. "Hmm... you know, I ran into something like that awhile ago. A bunch of gun-toting schmucks with... little reptilian aliens half-pulled out of them. Or -sliced- out of them." She clears her throat softly and murmurs out, "I'd say you pass the introductory testing then. And if that -was- you, you saved some good, innocent people." Yep, good ol' innocent dancing girl... Brand definitely remembers -that- detail. "Well, if you want the job, it's yours. There's not -really- a uniform guideline right now unless you're one of the marines or tech staff, so you can dress however you want. The good news is, you'll be off to an easy start, we've had rumors of some sort of giant galaxy-threatening mixup going on somewhere in the galaxy, which usually keeps the -real- bad stuff distracted from trying to stomp all over Earth. So we're likely just to be doing some housekeeping for awhile, rooting out the sleeper cells and the like that are around."

Voodoo has posed:
"I was there." Voodoo admits to Brand. "I wasn't alone." Zealot was there, too, and did most of the slicing that day. But Priss is careful - Sarah's seen this before - not to //lie// to Brand, just to offer the truth with a shade on it that might mislead others.

"The reptilians are called daemonites. The other one who was chopping them up was a Kherubim. Her callsign is Zealot." Voodoo offers. Best not to get into how goddamned long both species have been around on Earth; it might break Brand's brain.

"What more would you want from me, to get started on the process?" Voodoo finally inquires. Best to ask this sort of thing up front; if what they need includes something she won't do, she'd better get that up front and face it head on.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah glances over to Abigail as Priss finishes her explanation, her arms unfolding. The left goes to rest on her hip, ther right starts to idly play with the tip of her braid where it hangs in front of her right shoulder. Still nothing to add, but she's curious what Abigail will offer too. How DO you get involved in a secret goverment thing? Inquiring minds want to know.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand holds a hand up, "Oh! Hang on, I left it in the shuttle." She spins about, leaning into the open door, rummaging... there -might- be a few muffled curses as she finally finds and comes out with a tablet, a few taps and swipes and then there's... well, a digital version of -horribly- wordy government paperwork. "You need to sign a few releases, I.e. you understand that going into space is dangerous, you absolve the government of any chronal displacement, blahblahblah... you know, the usual 'Hey, you signed up knowing you might wind up stranded with cavemen for a few months' stuff." She frowns slightly and murmurs. "God, no -wonder- it's impossible to find people to sign on for this on a permanent basis. "I mean, I guess after that I can offer you a room up on the space station. Technically we've got a teleporter, so it's not like you need to take a shuttle to and from it, I just... I mean, I've seen a lot of Star Trek, so I don't much trust teleporters." She shrugs her shoulders, "I mean, honestly I'm sort of building all this up on my own, and I'm trying to keep the red tape and bureaucracy to a minimum. I guess if you want to check out weapons you'd need to sign for them and the like, but honestly I'd just be happy for the help. Heck, you don't even need to get a uniform."

    Brand can't help it... her head tilts a little, clearly sizing up Voodoo... well, it's not a -uniform-, but she's already eye-catching enough that she'll have the super hero effect on local cops. Brand glances over to Sarah again and calls out, "You know, you could take my card too! I mean, if you ever want to sign up to like... go to the moon? Oh, also, full disclosure, you're -probably- going to wind up having to work with these costumed teenagers over on the west coast. They've got some enemy on the moon who keeps throwing monsters down to Earth."

Voodoo has posed:
Voodoo's eyes take one look at the tablet ... and they swirl and cross. Check please! But she takes the tablet, holding it in front of her and ... not touching it. At all. Not one tap. Just holding it in her hands like a snake about to bite her.

"I get that the work will be dangerous, and crap happens. My only deal is, I die, or get lost in time, you pay out the insurance like I tell you." Voodoo is pretty simple about such things. "I don't mind teenagers. Or monsters from the Moon. It's whatever."

Rainmaker has posed:
    For the first time, Sarah stirs from where she's been standing, then steps forward after a moment, up next to Priss. "I'll review that." she says in a huskier, deeper tone than normal. Okay, it probably doesn't work well, but she figures as long as she doesn't say a lot...

    She gently snags the tablet from the other woman's hands, then starts to scroll and skim through the legalese, looking for any red flag, but then stopping from time to time as she points Priss towards a spot she needs to press to approve or deny. Or maybe it's just a matter of pressing her thumb against the screen; hard to fake a fingerprint, usually. She does this quietly, as unobtrusively as she can, as if she's trying to help Priss not bring attention to it, and letting the other two women talk as she does.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand nods her head, and seems to figure Voodoo's just passing the drudgery of actually scrolling through the reams of boring, surprisingly typical legalese to her friend. Now that's friendship. "Oh, of course. Hopefully it never comes up, but your wishes will be followed, I assure you." She sighs and shakes her head with a low murmur, "I swear, the super heroes have the right idea of not needing a ton of paperwork. But then, I guess they don't usually build space stations and the like all the time."

    She clears her throat softly and lifts an eyebrow, "I don't suppose you've heard of any more of these... daemonites being around? We should probably uhh... try to grab a few in interrogatable condition. Or... hell, if -they- keep half as much paperwork as I have to, we can even just try to find one of their fronts and get that. Knock some heads and then... read some books?"

Voodoo has posed:
Voodoo does not like feeling helpless and stupid. But the alternative is not to pursue this, so she relents grumpily and surrenders the tablet to Sarah, then follows her advice, tapping, swiping, clicking and such. No tumbprints from her, with her gloves on. Glove prints, that's it, and they aren't leather. Pretty featureless.

"Daemonites?" Voodoo queries, and nods. "Yes. There are others about. The last nest I located I barred and burned to the ground. But if you need, I can help you find one. It may take a few days, but it rarely takes me longer than that." The alien huntress shrugs. "I am not sure how 'interrogateable' they are likely to be. But I figure as long as I don't let them possess you, I can let you decide that once you have some in custody?" she inquires, to confirm. These guys are professionals, after all. Not like her old team. They were amateurs.

Right?

Yeah. There's likely to be some mess before this all gets figured out.

Rainmaker has posed:
    The Amerindian woman continues to read quietly as the two talk, semi-listening, but more focused on the legalese. Because no one writes legalese to cover their butts as thoroughly as people in a government bureacracy.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand nods her head, one eyebrow lifting. "How exactly does that whole possessing people thing work? I mean, I've had training against psychics, sure, but... like... does it take time? Touch? Some sort of ridiculous giant alien goo tank?" She sighs and shakes her head slowly. "Well, once we find one, we should probably try and handle it ourselves, maybe I'll see if I can call in some other informal help. No point risking the troops getting all alien'd up."

Voodoo has posed:
"The possessing alien is in a stasis pod. Has to be within a couple of feet at most from the target subject. They can't survive long in our atmosphere, so they pretty much jump from tank to host, make physical contact, and then phase inside them. Takes at most a couple of minutes, usually a matter of twenty to thirty seconds. Takes me a whole lot longer to pry them out, usually." Voodoo explains. "Anti-psychic training can help you to push back against the control, but it won't keep the alien out of your body or your mind, just might slow them down, throw a wrench in the works now and then."

Done with the bad news and the worse news, Voodoo glances at Rainmaker and the tablet, obeying orders as she waits to hear Brand's feelings on this.

Rainmaker has posed:
    There's a faint flicker of distaste at the description...because ew. Aliens in your body. That's just...gross. As if the possession wasn't enough. She shivers a bit as she continues to read, paging down to the last of the signature areas and holding it out to Priss to touch one last time, offering it back to Abigail when she's done so.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Abby frowns thoughtfully with a low sigh. "Hmm... how do they do with fire? Like... crazy alien jumps at me, if I were to... grab it with fire?" Her eyebrows perk up, clearly she's not joking about this... but... yeah, Sarah's so right. Ew. She reaches out and takes the tablet back and flipping through, just making sure no giant red 'You missed a button' alerts pop out and then she grins downright happily. "Well! I guess you're officially part of the team now! It comes with many benefits. You get to boss around police whenever aliens are involved, and you get trained in the classic 'Shut up and stand at the door' glare to use on them. It's -great-."

Voodoo has posed:
"They're not especially vulnerable to fire." Voodoo answers, honestly. "They're not utterly immune, but they are pretty resistant to most low-yield energy attacks. They're also pretty resistant to physical attacks." Because something called a Daemonite couldn't possibly be //easy// to deal with. Damnit. "There is probably one more thing we should go over, now that we're working together." Voodoo glances at her tablet translator, weighing Sarah for a few moments in a pregnant pause. Something's up.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah raises a brow, just a bit, as Priss looks back at her. She's not sure what the look is for, but there's a quiet supportiveness in her emotions at the moment, as well as a bit of happiness that it seems to be working out so far. She's pleased for Priss, if nothing else. But the look has her wondering what exactly Priss is thinking of doing.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Brand sighs and mutters out softly, "Nothing's -ever- vulnerable to fire. Win the mutant power lottery, and get the -wrong- job to go with it." And then she tenses up a little, shoulders drawing up, body shifting a little as she stands up straight. "Oh... god... you're secretly like... one of those super most wanted super criminals, and now I need to get you a pardon too? ...Or... wait, no no, I'm not going to jump to conclusions." She takes a slow, deep breath, head rolling back slowly. "Okay... hit me with it. It can't be that bad."

Voodoo has posed:
"I hope it's not too bad." Voodoo admits. Then she steps forward, inhales deeply ... and reaches up to unzip, uncatch, and then remove her hood and mask, revealing ... Priscilla. "Uhm. Surprise?" Yep. Priss' voice reverted to normal too. Neat trick, right?

Oh God Oh God Oh God this is all going to go SO BADLY!

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah tenses a little as Priss steps forward, then takes off the helmet and mask. Oh. Well. Crap. She wasn't expecting that. She doesn't know Abby knows Priss already, of course, but just...showing herself like that, it's an expression of trust Sarah wasn't expecting her to do. Yet, anyway.

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Abby is not going to shoot Priss, because Abby is busy staring... she reaches up and pulls her glasses down even, staring over them, blinking slowly. "I... you... well... I guess that explains -how- you were so calm after that whole... thing." She quirks an eyebrow and murmurs dryly, "Well, I guess now I've got an excuse to follow up with you regularly without trying to think of some sort of excuse about -just- the incident at the club. I... wait, are you planning to keep your day job? I mean, we -are- technically a secret outfit, but like, you don't really... I mean... like, if you just want the secret job with me and then a bunch of free time, you can probably swing that..." Nope, Abby's not gonna be shooting Priss.

    She's just going to be flummoxed at how she got -all- the way through the paperwork without recognizing her. Talk about a blind spot!

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla inclines her head towards Abby. "I hope you would have followed up regardless, once you had figured out more and better questions." Priss offers the green-haired agent lady. "But no. I wasn't planning on keeping my day job. Not once the paychecks start for this gig." She gestures towards Rainmaker. "Someone convinced me I could do better for myself, and stop taking my clothes off for profit. Maybe only do it for fun, when I want to, not when it pays the bills." Awww. Poor Abby might have missed out on a chance to see Voodoo dancing. That's a shame.

Or is it?

"Anyway. I did not want to work with you in a lie. So I wanted you to know, Abby." Priss mentions. "But I would prefer to keep my name and identity out of the official files, please. At least for now."

Abigail Brand has posed:
    Priss gives a quick nod, "Oh, for sure. I mean, plus side of working on a space station is you don't even need to move for the job. And I'm -pretty- sure we can keep it all listed as 'Voodoo' for as long as you want. I mean, where's the fun in secret government work -without- just being a code name and being all secret? It's half the fun!"

    Brand doesn't even consider she missed out on her chance to see her act... heck, interviewing her in her dressing room was enough to dull her senses from picking up that the dancer was probably -too- calm for seeing a bunch of aliens get blenderized. But hell, Brand's almost ready to do a happy dance. She has a co-worker now! Not some underling, an actual coworker! With skills and drive and knowledge of these aliens!

Rainmaker has posed:
    Well...that turned out well, after all. Huh. She'll have to interrogate Priss (gently but curiously) about how THAT came about. She smiles a little bit as Priss looks back to her, a sense of pride in the other woman rising in her emotions. She folds her arms, then says in that same huskified voice. "Honesty is best...but maybe not where everyone can see it."