2133/After Action Report

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After Action Report
Date of Scene: 23 August 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: So after Priscilla's first op for SWORD - wonderful disaster that it was - she really should finally tell her Boss all about it, and they should discuss what to do about it.
Cast of Characters: Voodoo, Abigail Brand




Voodoo has posed:
Given that Voodoo turned in a prisoner, there's already been a very brief after action report filed regarding the incident several nights ago. Nevertheless, given all of the implications of the event - and Priscilla's own questions on tangential subjects - she has decided that she should actually give a real and complete reporting to her Boss. (Besides: Abby is cool!)

So, after her latest training session, the costumed alien hunter makes her way through the Station, nodding to this and that different SWORD and Alpha Flight staffer or member that she has come to know or at least recognize. But she really doesn't let herself get distracted away from making a beeline for Abigail Brand's office.

Hence the admittance-requested chime that just sounded.

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby's doing... well, more of that most disliked portion of her job, paperwork. Although the pile's far more manageable than the first time Priss came by her office, just a few files as she presses the control to let the door open. She looks up from her work and flashes a wide, genuine smile to Priss.

"Oh! Come on in, please. I'm sure we have a lot to discuss." It's easy to pick up Abby's feelings, happiness at seeing Priss, but a bit of concern, no doubt from the brief report she read over.

Abby doesn't quite leap to her feet as Priss enters her office, but there's a certain speed to her standing and crossing her office to guide Priss to the comfortable couch off to the side. "Now, what can I help you with today? You didn't crash a shuttle or anything riiiiight?"

Voodoo has posed:
Feeling Abby's concern, Priscilla breaks 'protocol' - despite being in her fully masked state - to hug Abigail firmly on their way to the sofa. "Hi." she offers, and then chuckles wryly, shaking her head. "Nope. No shuttles crashed. And no one blew holes in me today." Hey, things are looking up!

"But I figured after the clusterf**k the other night's op turned into, you might want to talk about it." Priss does not say 'And I thought you'd want to see for yourself that the giant holes blown through my body are all healed up', but she thinks it. And once the door seals, she does peel her mask up and off, shaking out her hair; she doesn't mind showing her face to Abby, so long as no one //else// sees it right now. Trusting Abby is natural; trusting big government agencies not so much.

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby nods her head with a low sigh and murmurs dryly, "Well, that's good. I mean, I don't recommend -either- as a rule of thumb." But there's a definite wash of relief as she hugs Priss back and confirms she definitely -feels- the same as the last hug... so she must be doing okay despite those horrendous gunshots. "That does remind me I need to visit our new guest and... register some displeasure with them."

She sighs out and quirks an eyebrow, head tilting as she murmurs out dryly. "So, care to give me the details that -didn't- make it into the official report? You know, just to... keep me at ease I guess?"

Voodoo has posed:
And with that, Priscilla gently but insistently pulls Abigail down onto the sofa with her. Because talking about this is one thing; 'shouting' it across the room is another. She wants Abby closeby. And totally not because she might want to hug, cuddle, or otherwise maintain physical contact. Nope. None of that at all.

Why does no one believe? Bah!

"Well, let's see. You know what the original mission was: you assigned me to go check out a supposed alien tech weapons deal going down on the Lower East Side." Priscilla begins. "I was on the transfer pad, and told Markins to drop me off at the coordinates of my last call-in on my phone. I figured that would put me by my bike, so I could ride across town to the location."

Priss makes a face at this. "Markins pulled up the location of my last //personal phone// call. Different device, and much different location. So he dropped me off on a rooftop in Harlem." She sighs, and shrugs. "I told him not to worry about it, and figured I'd just do the rooftop race express. I made it about two blocks ... and then a hole suddenly and very explosively appeared in my left shoulder. Threw me on my butt and spun me around like a top." Prscilla shudders with remembered agony.

"I was running past the apartment of a friend; force of habit, I was checking in to see if she was home and how she was doing, without really stopping or calling, when the shot hit. So I apparently telegraphed the pain and an image of where I was." Priscilla doesn't sound like this upsets her, but she's giving accurate intel on the situation. "Anyway. He kept firing, blowing the brick and mortar to shreds. Thankfully, my friend decided to come upstairs and check things out. I popped up to warn her when I heard her shout; that's when he blew a hole right through me, center mass." She sounds amazingly calm for the fact she's describing what should have been a no questions asked end of life moment.

"My friend pulled me under cover, and then decided to go deal with the shooter." Priscilla grins. "Sorry, but I was mostly blacked out for this part. She flew around, surprised him, and monkey-grabbed his arse before he could lob an RPG over the rooftop machinery to finish me off. Then she dropped him off, disarmed. And I called it in, as soon as I could talk at all without coughing blood all over the thing." It's that simple, right?

"And for the record: A: No, I have no idea how he knew to be set up there. And B: No, I did not read him telepathically. I wasn't sure how you guys operate on courts, but most of them frown on my means of gaining 'confessions'."

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby's eyebrows go up as she goes down, settling in close to Priss, one leg crossing over the other, stretching out in front of the couch as she leans shoulder to shoulder.

You know, as is the standard posture for taking a debriefing from your best agent. Totally.

Abby's lips curve in a thoughtful little frown, "Well, I can think of a couple ways he'd know how to set up there. Aaaand... well, we're a little... flexible on mindreading. Our suspects usually don't wind up in regular courts and all."

Abby lifts her arm, wrapping it around Priss's shoulders and pulling her in closer after that shudder of remembered agony, giving a firm little squeeze. "We'll have to... inquire politely about all this with him. You know, before I most impolitely explain to him why shooting holes in my good friends is frowned upon and not conducive to a comfortable life."

Abby can't help but let out a nervous little laugh then, both eyebrows lifting as she peers into Priss's eyes through those ever present shades and murmurs dryly, "So, still happy to be on the team? I mean, I'd say you -never- had to deal with this while dancing, but... well, we both know at least one time that wasn't true!"

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla is not shy; hasn't a shy bone in her body, this one. So Priscilla accepts all of the hugs and support she's offered, unstintingly. She soaks it all up, and meets Abby's eyes despite the glasses. (She's also nice enough not to reach up and take the glasses off.) "Actually, yes. I'm still happy to be on the team." She grins wryly, and nods. "This way, I had backup. I was finding it hard to call it in, but it showed when I called. And that's a lot better than things have been for me for a while."

"If you want me to poke around in his skull later, I'll be happy to help." Priscilla promises. "Since it won't screw up any court cases or anything." But honestly, she'd be just as happy to let Abigail have her way with the jerk; she somehow imagines Brand can get water from a stone; she has that air of competence.

"To be honest, one of the reasons I wanted to talk about this was to tell you about my friend. In private, and not written down, until we decide we're ready to write it down." Priss offers. It's quite the lead-in, and she knows it.

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abigail nods her head with a warm little laugh. "I suppose that's a fair point. But I think I might keep... a bit more of a personal eye on who's handling your transportation arrangements for awhile. Just in case." Her eyebrows perk up and she reaches up to pull her sunglasses off, revealing eyes narrowed downright playfully.

"Oh I see, -and- you have a... friend you want to discuss? Might this be in the sort of way that I kept -you- off the books?" She tilts her head and murmurs out, "I mean, anyone who's a friend of yours -and- knows about... well, the sort of rooftop escapades you get up to is probably someone I'd be quite interested in knowing." She clears her throat. "Officially, of course. As a matter of Earth's security, and surely not because I'm trying to socialize more. Of course." Her lips just -barely- twitch in a little smirk for a moment. Abby's learning humor! Or banter!

Voodoo has posed:
Abby's warming up, relaxing, and laughing eases a good bit of Priscilla's tension. She lets herself laugh as well, smiling. "I won't look askance if you want to keep an eye on my transportation for a while. That'd be a lot better than transporting down into a clusterf**k again." She's not blaming the guy; she has no idea how this happened, and she's not making assumptions. But she would clearly prefer to avoid this in the future. Those f**king explosive depleted uranium shells //hurt//, dangit.

"A bit." Priss admits, nodding to Abby when asked if this is perhaps a bit like how Abby is keeping Priscilla's name off of her records, using only her nomme de guerre so far. "She's also a really good egg, socially speaking. I haven't exactly explained to her about ths new job of mine. But before I did that, I wanted to talk to you about her." Because someone with those talents might be worth cultivating for SWORD.

"Her callsign is Taboo. Genetically, she's normal human. But thanks to some alien jerks - Daemonite Cabal alien jerks - she is bonded to a symbiotic lifeform. It's related somehow to vampired. Don't ask me how." Priscilla is in no way a scientist, and never will be. "But anyway, it drains some of her blood to power itself, and does a lot to make her very tough and adaptable in the process. Armor. Shapeshifting the stuff into weapons, tools, wings. Heightened senses. Physical enhancements."

Priscilla continues. "She ... she did some time a while back. Got caught while on a job for the Cabal. When she got out, she left them behind." Sound like anyone Abby knows? "She's scraping by right now, in the civilian sector." Priss raises her hands, palms out. "I'm a newb, and not in charge. But I think she has a lot to offer. Enough to be worth you checking her out, maybe meeting her when you're ready." Which is why Priss wanted to tell Abby all about her. "Then I can leave it up to you to do what you think is right."

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby nods her head and murmurs out softly. "Well, given how spectacularly taking a chance on you has worked, I've got no problems meeting your friend and seeing if she'd be interested. I mean, the more people I've got who understand the sorts of threats we're going to be facing, the better we'll be."

Of course, Abby's not writing any of this down, but she's keeping mental notes, callsign, abilities... hey, if Spider-Man's buddy or whatever can work with an alien symbiote, no reason she can't have one on -her- team, if anything it makes more sense for them to be on her team! She nods her head further at the mention of doing time. "Well, it's not like costumed sorts don't get at least a -bit- of a pass on doing time."

Abby grins lopsidedly and perks an eyebrow, head tilting as she murmurs out. "So, how should we set the meeting up? I mean, I don't think we should go with 'park on the roof of some garage' again like when I brought you -your- paperwork. Maybe like... a diner or something? Low key. Pie and milkshakes or whatever."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla smiles warmly as she feels how genuinely Abby feels the words she offers of how well things have been working out with her and SWORD; it's reassuring. And she is glad to hear and feel that Abby agrees with at least her logic in thinking an introduction with Taboo would be a good idea.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you, first. I wouldn't want to mention anything to Taboo until I was sure you were OK with that." Yes, Priss is being a tad paranoid about how far she goes with some things; she doesn't want to blow up this opportunity from stupidity if she can avoid it. "I thought, if you were good with it, I'd talk to her. See how she'd like to handle it." Put the new person in a position of control over the situation, and hopefully de-escalate the stressors before they can even begin.

"Then we set up a meet if she'll agree, the way she wants it." Priscilla continues. "Since her ID is in secured records, I'm guessing she'll be OK with meeting in public, out of costume. But it should be her choice." Just as it was Voodoo's choice how to meet SWORD herself when the time came. "But I'll suggest the pie and milkshakes. I know she loves them, and so do I." And Priss would like to be there; support for //both// of her friends.

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby nods her head and can't hold back a little grin. "You know, I'm starting to feel bad. I think I might be underpaying you for how great you've been." She sighs and shakes her head, "Oh well, I'll just have to come up with some non-monetary bonuses to show my appreciation. I'm sure I'll think of something." She grins downright -tauntingly at that, all the better to at least keep Priss wondering about her friend/boss's plans. After all, she has to have -some- schemes going on, otherwise she's not being Director-y enough!

She stretches her arms up above her head with a little groan, "Well, I'll let you handle telling her about us, and explaining how things work, see if she wants to try helping out and whatnot. No pressure, of course." There's a little twitch of a frown, "And I'll handle questioning our new guest who shot you, and run down some ideas I've got for how he might've known where to camp out. But I'll handle that later."

Voodoo has posed:
"Good. I'll leave all of that in your oh-so-capable hands." Priscilla teases warmly. Then she reaches out, gently takes hold of Abby's shoulders, and turns her away from her. "Face that way, now." She doesn't explain. She just waits, and then starts working on massaging Abigail's shoulders, neck, and then down her spine and ribs to her hips and back up again with that same unerring sense of exactly where and how hard to push, twist and manipulate to have the best effect.

And if Abby has secret plans for non-monetary compensation, she probably shouldn't let the telepath give her a massage. Not that Priss goes looking for what her boss has in mind. It's just something to think of in the future.

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby's pretty much defeated in an instant. Those massages are just too relaxing, and she's not nearly as stressed as she was. So it's fairly easy to reduce fierce Director Brand into low noises of approval and relaxation, her body swaying, back tensing just a touch now and then as her empathic friend works out knots and tension and makes things just plain old better. "Well then, that's... yep... me and my capable hands..."

There's a few flashes of course, something about how Abby intends to pay Priss back for all these massages some day, somehow. Buuuut she's a little too lost in enjoyment to have a -specific- plan to pick up on.

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla keeps up the massage for a bit, and then just gently pulls Abigail's back down against Priss herself, as she holds her and just lets her relax. "There. That's better." she murmurs. So few others ever seem to see the real Abby inside Director Abigail Brand; Priscilla cannot help the urge to bring out that woman, the real woman inside, and let her shine in private. Her instincts tell her this is what Abby needs, and she has always trusted her instincts.

Abigail Brand has posed:
Abby nods her head almost lazily, throat clearing softly before she murmurs out, "Yeah, I feel... pretty better. I mean, I should like... schedule my workouts around your visits. This is -way- better than a hot towel or an ice pack on my shoulders." She -almost- sounds like she's joking, but... well, of course Abby pushes herself to 11 when she works out. That's just what she does. But at least now she's relaxed, and she's got things to focus on, a problem to solve, and maybe even a new friend and ally to meet in the future. All in all, this is the best after action report she can think of.