2438/Oh Agent, Where Art Thou

Oh Agent, Where Art Thou
Date of Scene:	13 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Aqualad, Voodoo

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Aqualad has posed:
Though Kaldur has Priss' number, it's a little difficult to set up a casual meeting. Particularly with her retreat to safety among her allies in SWORD, she's both figuratively and literally ringed in among allies looking out for her well being.

The phone call had been a little awkward-- Kaldur doesn't qute have the hang of phones yet-- but his concern had been sincere enough, hoping Priss had recovered from her wounds and inviting her to visit him the next time she found herself in the area with some free time.

Titans Tower was the most secure place Kaldur could think of, and so it is to there that he invites Priss. The dark-skinned Atlantean waits in the Ops Center, bare arms folded over his chest, and regards the monitors with calm impassivity. Priss had not been explicit about how she would arrive, but Kaldur stands ready to welcome her by sea or air when she comes in range.

Voodoo has posed:
By land! By sea! By air! Or in this case, by light beam. It's not a zeta beam, but one couldn't tell that from the visual without advanced energy scanners, as a golden beam of light transliterates into a purple- and gold-clad raven-haired mocha-skinned woman with a sword across her back, a communicator and a blaster descending from the belt at her waist, and a full-coverage mask over her features.

Voodoo looks around herself carefully, confirming that all is as it shold be. Then she reaches up and does something funky around her neck, and then peels the mask up, up and over her head, revealing ... a certain mocha-skinned dancer and her naturally purple-hued eyes.

"Hi, Kaldur. Thank you for the invitation. I hope you don't mind the method of arrival. I can fly the shuttles, but we only have so many of those. The teleporters are usually the better means of getting around." Priscilla offers, with a little wink for the Atlantean.

Aqualad has posed:
Kaldur disengages the mild alert informing the Tower of a teleporter's inbound arrival on the platform, and faces Priss. He provides her a formal half-bow, ducking his head and shoulders. When he straightens, meeting her wink, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he relaxes his otherwise immaculate posture as a signal of welcome.

"It is no trouble at all, Priss," Kaldur tells the purple-clad dancer. "I'm pleased you accepted my invitation to visit. You look to have recovered from your wounds," he says, sounding relieved.

"Please, join me. I thought you might be hungry, so I took the liberty of ordering pizza. It's in the common room," he says, gesturing at the doorway that leads towards the Titan's living quarters. "I have been told by my friends here that pizza is almost universally popular, and it seems to be holding true so far."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla smiles broadly. "Yep. I recover pretty quickly; one of my many advantages. But thank you very much for wanting to check." Hey, Priss may be very friendly, but she does not have so many friends in this world that she would turn down another good one.

The purple-costumed woman steps down off the platform and extends her gloved hand to Kaldur in welcome, then thinks better of it and just hugs the Atlantean. "That's really sweet of you. Good thing I'm not like most of my dancer friends; I can eat carbs for all I'm worth and not gain much weight. And I love pizza. Lead on."

As they make their way, Priscilla makes a point of looking around; she has never even seen Titans Tower, let alone actually visited, so this is a thing for her. "It's really nice to be off the station for something other than just home. I haven't been off-station except to my apartment in a few days, now."

Aqualad has posed:
Kaldur is a bit standoffish, but not antisocial. Propriety is an important part of his upbringing, and the customs of the surface world elude him a little at times. So he's in fact grateful when Priss moves in and hugs him, and returns the embrace with a sincere affection, wrapping his thick arms around her shoulders and squeezing.

"It is an advantage of Atlantean physiology that we must swim everywhere," he tells her. "There are few of my people who carry much body fat, save for those who live in the coldest depths."

He brings her into the common room, chasing the scent of pizza-- sure enough, two boxes are on the table, along with plates and some cutlery. One cheese, one a meat lovers.

"I know it must be frustrating to be so constrained. But it is a prudent move, at least until you understand your adversary better," Kaldur reminds Priss gently. "It would not do to let your guard down prematurely and walk into an ambush."

Voodoo has posed:
"For me, it's a toss-up between my alien physiology and my lifestyle." Priscilla offers honestly. She follows Kaldur, and sniffs out the pizza quite eagerly, cutting out a slice of each and putting them on a plate. But she eats slowly, concentrating more on conversation than digestion.

"Well, the biggest problem is that while I know why they are after me, I don't know for sure which faction is behind this. I have some theories, but currently no good way of testing to see if I'm right." Priss offers, not at all sounding like an exotic dancer as she does so. "But I'm staying under cover until we figure that out. Not as much for my safety, as for that of any civilians in my vicinity of they find me again."

Aqualad has posed:
Kaldur's still figuring out pizza. The crust is a bit unpredictable (good New York pizza) and he ends up holding up the large slice in both hands on his fingertips and attacking it awkwardly from below as the point of it droops downwards.

He looks at Priss and nods, chewing hastily and setting his wrists on the table's edge so he doesn't have to juggle the pizza now that it's in place. "That seems the prudent measure," he agrees. "There is a civic obligation to protect the weaker members of society, and if your presence endangers them, you are doing the right thing with discretion."

"I know you are well supported by your allies in orbit. But if the Titans can be of any help, we are willing to assist you," he reminds Priss. "Admittedly, that support might be more strong backs than intelligence gathering, but... the offer stands."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla is a good bit more fastidious - and experienced - in her pizza eating. As such, she sits down, and folds a slice in half length-wise, then nibbles away carefully. But she doesn't criticize Kaldur for his effort; everyone has to learn at some point.

"I appreciate the offer. I'll tell you this much: if I can get a lead on where the idiots behind this can be found, I may very well take you up on that offer." Priss comments wryly. "I want to lay a serious smackdown on them, make sure they don't get uppity too quickly afterwards. And while we have a good many agents in SWORD, we don't have a lot of metas." Currently, there are two. Three, if they count Abby, and she's the bloody Director.

Aqualad has posed:
Priss is having a much easier time of it, and Kaldur blinks at her technique. He fiddles with the pizza for a few seconds, gets the knack for folding it, and takes a bite. He grunts in surprise at how effective that is and silently toasts Priss with his slice in thanks.

"Even if the Titans cannot be of aid, you have mine," Kaldur promises Priss. "I will lend whatever assistance I can."

He frowns a little. "I have learned that few of the Titans are ... 'full time'," he says, borrowing the phrase. "Which is curious, because their talents are of immense use to the community. Atlantean warriors have no other duties but to serve the King and train. What is it you do as a civilian? I have never seen you in your current raiment-- is this the costume of your profession?"

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla salutes Kaldur back, smiling, and chews on another bite of her pizza, glad to have taught Kaldur by the best and easiest way imaginatable: example. Monkey see, monkey do. It works.

"This?" Priss offers, gesturing at herself. "Well, I guess now, yeah. This kinda is the costume of my profession, now. I recently joined up with SWORD. That's my job, now. Though most of the agents of SWORD don't know my face. They only know me as Voodoo." That would explain why Priss appeared from the teleporter with her face completely covered. "Until recently, though, my job was working as an exotic dancer." That might take some explaining, but Priss has no shame about it, and is happy to clarify matters. Yep, she used to dance, peel her clothes off, and get paid by the bills people tucked ito what little she was still wearing. And she used to make pretty darned good money at it.

"I didn't know about my nature, or my abilities, until i was an adult. A young adult, but still an adult." Priscilla explains. "I was found by a group of secret supers, who were engaged in a sort of hot and cold running clandestine war with alien forces that have been on Earth for thousands of years. Their modern incarnation is the Cabal." Priss makes a face. "My old team disbanded about two years ago. I left a bit before then. Long story. But I went back to dancing, traveled the world and the country. I did what I could to help when I found folks in need of it. But I kept a pretty low profile." Until everything fell apart here in Metropolis lately.

Aqualad has posed:
Kaldur nods approvingly at Priscilla's explanation, seeming to have no trouble with it. He finishes his first slice of pizza and reaches for a second, keeping his attention on Priss as she clarifies on her current situation.

"Dancing is a noble profession," Kaldur tells Priscilla. "There is a tradition in one of the Atlantean nations that the warriors are often recruited from the dancers. It requires tremendous focus and strength to swim through the rigorous choreography, and there are members of the magus school who use their sorcerous talents to augment the dance. I have seen performances of the Royal Theater that are of staggering beauty."

"I find it interesting that your talents were unknown to you. It is a common complaint among many of the warriors I have met," he remarks. "Atlantean youth have their talents assessed early and regularly. My parents thought I would join the sorceror's tride, at one point. Regrettably," he smiles, "I found myself pulled towards other pursuits."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla nods. "Well, our society is not et up that way. There's no universal assessment out there for powers. And for many, their powers only develop later in life." Of course, Priscilla's powers probably started when she hit puberty, but she didn't notice them; they were too subtle. But her point is still valid.

"I was recruited by my former team into their war because of my talents. Specifically, my Sight. I can see someone who is not themselves: possessed, mind controlled. And I have the ability to eject those others. Given that the aliens we were fighting have the ability to possess human hosts, and they do so regularly, it was a vital ability." And still is.

Aqualad has posed:
"A useful talent to possess," Kaldur agrees. "Particularly as these Cabal seem to be expert infiltrators. Many wars have been decided well ahead of the battle because of the presence of a single agent in the right place."

He looks out the window at a passing low plane; there's no chance of it seeing into the reflective glass of the Tower, but it's still a little odd to see something swimming through the empty air so easily.

"We were discussing this two days ago-- the dangers of certain spirits or specters. My magical talents are not as refined as some," Kaldur admits. "I am familiar with the theory, but if it is not a creature I can strike with my hands, then my options for managing the problem become much more narrow."

Voodoo has posed:
"Well, if you should ever need a hand with a problem like that, I hope you know you can reach out to me. I'll do anything I can to help you." Priscilla offers Kaldur, smiling. "After all, you've certainly helped me, more than once." She grins, her smile turning downright impish. "It would be downright unneighborly of me not to turn that kind favor." She delivers this last with a syrupy-thick and sweet Southern accent.

"I'm pretty sure that the Cabal is sending agents after me now, the same way they did back then, hoping to either eliminate me, or capture me for their own ends." Priscilla explains. "Until now, I've always kept moving, never staying in one place long enough for them to realize where I was before I was gone to somewhere else. This time, I stayed in one place. I put down roots." And in spite of herself, in spite of how right all of that feels most of the time, a part of Priss can't help feeling she made a huge mistake.

Aqualad has posed:
Kaldur doesn't get the reference, but the accent is funny sounding, so he chuckles silently and a grin flickers across his face. Very much the warrior-- neither boisterous nor any louder than he needs to be, but still sharing a warm moment with a friend.

The idiom she uses is, also, lost on him, but Kaldur uses some context clues after thinking it over for a few minutes. "You have some smart and capable friends and allies, Priss. Even the best warrior knows they are stronger as a team than standing alone," he tells he, studying the woman's intense, exotic features as she visibly mulls over the decision. "I hope you will consider letting us help you."

Voodoo has posed:
"Of course I will accept help, Kaldur. I already said so." Priscilla answers. "But accepting your help doesn't remove the stain of those who have already been hurt by their attacks, and doesn't find me the bastards we need to pound on to make this stop." And Priss feels guilty; it's the empath thing, because every other person's pain is her pain. It's impossible for someone else to 'not be real' to Priss if she gets anywhere near them.

Aqualad has posed:
"That is not your fault, Priss," Kaldur tells her, gently but firmly. He hesitates, then leans across the table's corner and gives her arm a gentle squeeze, trying to get her momentarily downcast eyes to flicker up.

"A warrior is not the cause of an invading army. And you should not feel guilt for something over which you have no control. There is only so many days of fighting we have in us before we must rest. Any commander knows this, and does not demand their warriors fight beyond that point."

He releases her arm and sits back, upright again. "You are a good person, Priss, if my sense don't at all deceive me. Only a good person has that sense of guilt for the innocent around them."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla nods a bit, looking up at the last to meet Kaldur's gaze, even if it doesn't quite remove tha vague haunted pain in her eyes. "I know I didn't make it happen. But I didn't keep running, either. I chose to stand my ground, and they brought the fight to me I knew they would, and innocent people got hurt. Some have even been killed." And that sucks.

"I appreciate the confidence." Priss offers, with a nod and a shrug. Then she finishes her pizza, with perhaps a mite less gusto than before. "So. How long have you been with the Titans?" Change of subject!

Aqualad has posed:
"Only two months," Kaldur concedes. "I originally came here as part of a diplomatic mission," he explains. "King Orin moved from the surface to serve Atlantis. I was selected from among the Royal Guard to return the favor to the surface world, in whatever way I deemed best."

He takes a breath, lets it out. "I was intending to rally with another submariner but she returned home, to her people," Kaldur explains. "I encountered the Titans quite early on and they invited me to join them. I have found it an excellent arrangement; my King serves the League, and I serve the Titans, learning what I can. The ways of surfacers are strange but not unpleasant; I saw a 'horror film' two nights prior. It was most entertaining."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla chuckles softly. "A horror film, hunh? Glad you enjoyed it." She shakes her head. "I've never been much for horror films." she admits. Then again, a lot more of her life is like a horror film; that causes them to lose their entertainment value. "Sorry your friend went back home and left you here alone. It can suck, being alone, leaving behind the people who helped us get somewhere we need to be." Sounds like the voice of experience, right?

Aqualad has posed:
"We had only met once," Kaldur informs Priss. "I had hoped something might come of it, as we were from far different parts of the ocean, but--" he shrugs his bare shoulders, muscle rolling under the skin. "She has her duties, as I have mine."

"Still, I have made some fast and strong companions in my short time here. I had expected surfacers to be flighty and transient, but they are allies as stout as many I have had under the surface. It's been... a surprising pleasure to be here, in your world," he says, flickering a smile at Priss.

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla nods. She knows how those things can happen. "Yep. I have met some really good friends. Some of them I've even managed to keep." But others left her, or she left them, or both. That's just the way life is. "I'm glad you have found people and experiences that have meant something to you, and been pleasurable. That's the sort of thing that makes life worth living, and threats worth facing."

Aqualad has posed:
"Pizza has been a welcome addition," Kaldur says, with a low laugh. "The food on the surface would is strange and delightful. I had never had beef or cheese before," he remarks.

"The friends I have made have been a key component, yes," he nods. "Both in making me comfortable and helping me learn more about the ways of the surface world. I appreciate your patience with me," he tells Priss. "I know I have surely trespassed in some unintentional way, and I have been met with encouragement instead of censure. I only hope to maintain a cache of goodwill before I make some glaring social mistake," he says, before grining again.

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla chuckles softly. "You haven't trespassed with me, Kaldur. Much as I like you, if you had I'd have made it very clear." It's a force of habit for her, something of a lifetime she has had to work with and adapt to. Then she winks. "But I will admit, I'm really good at patience for good people. And you, Kaldur, are good people."

Aqualad has posed:
"I thank you, Priss," Kaldur says, ducking his head with a chuckle. "I will consider that remark high praise. You, too, are 'good people'."

He rises, then. "However, I must return to my duties, and I am sure I have detained you over-long from yours. But you are always welcome here, my friend," he tells Priss. "Whether you seek aid or merely company."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla stands and extends her arms, embracing Kaldur firmly, if briefly. "I will reach out. Probably often. I'm like that." Priss offers, winking as she steps back, accepting Kaldur's escort to the teleport pad so that she can summon her return trip. But before she puts back on her full mask - it allows nothing at all of her face or neck to show - she does have one more thing to offer. "Kaldur, it was high praise. The highest, my friend. Be safe and be well. I'll see you soon." Then, soon masked, she picks up her phone from her belt and makes a brief call, to be surrounded by the corruscating golden energy of the teleport beam.