2578/Knowledge is Power

Knowledge is Power
Date of Scene:	24 September 2017
Location:	West Harlem - Mercy's Garage
Synopsis:	Sam Winchester checks up on Mercy. They discuss the magical item Hydra possibly has and Sam borrows several magical tomes for research.
Cast of Characters:	Mercy Thompson, Sam Winchester

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Mercy Thompson has posed:
The garage is mostly back to normal.

Peace and quiet are back. The majority of foot traffic through the garage now are just visitors; mostly customers.

For Mercy, it's both a welcomed relief, but beneath that there's still also a pang of melancholy. For a minute the garage was full of life. Full of voices. Activity. It was nice. Almost like the pack. Now Mercy must once again get used to the silence. Something that can be done, yes, but something that she hasn't had to do for years.

Nonetheless, all of that is easily pushed aside with her daily work and currently her daily work is taking more hours than normal to complete. It's easy to see why - a Ford Fusion sits within her garage and a quick glance will show the catastrophic damage done to it. Truly, it looks as if some giant carelessly stomped upon the car. The top of vehicle is crushed downward and all of the glass has been smashed from both windshields and all windows.

And that is where Mercy Thompson can be found. She's currently circling the car slowly, muttering to herself. "I should have told her to pray for a miracle. Well, let's see if the frame survived." If it has, then maybe there's a chance, are the unspoken words there.

Like most days Mercy's side door is open to the parking lot, inviting those people who are welcomed inward.

The only other thing to note is a large gray shipping container. The box is open and reveals the contents quite neatly - books. So many books. Large books, small books and medium sized books. The crate and the books themselves give off the tang of magic, old and new, and even for those that might not be able to sense things an 'air' about the crate can definitely be felt. A subtle vibration that causes the hairs upon a person's arms to stand upright.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam Winchester may be known for having good timing. He'd actually slipped out fairly quickly. Fred needed to go cocoon. He had his brother to worry about. And he didn't want to crowd people up. He thought maybe Claire needed her space, and was closer to Mercy. And that Barnes needed his. And then? There was a lot of derailment, a lot of demons and horror and general yuck. But /eventually/ the man is ready to check in with the coyote. He wanders into the garage and tilts his head at the Ford Fusion. "What the heck happened to /that/ car?"

As greetings go its not the best, but he's so startled by the sight of the crushed vehicle all other thoughts are driven out of his mind.

Books also draw his eyes, not necessarily because he can feel the magic-- sometimes he gets a little twinge these days, but it's very hit or miss-- but because books /always/ draw his eye. He loves libraries and books in general, even if his interest is largely specialized.

Still, he resists the urge to go and paw through said books in favor of actually getting the story about this car and greeting his friend like he came to do. He's in a blue collared plaid shirt and a tactical jacket on, the casual uniform, today, instead of his 'agent' clothes.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Ironically, if Sam were to ask, Mercy would likely mention feeling similar thoughts as his; in regards to giving people space.

It's a difficult balance, trying to be there for a person, but not crowd or smother them. It's something he's likely very familiar with.

Either way, the coyote hears the approach of the tall young man and when he arrives, he'll find the coyote already turned in his direction. There's a brief moment where her expression reads tense, but at the sight of the familiar figure that tension disappears. "Evening, Sam." Begins the coyote, before his question causes her attention to turn back to that poor Ford Fusion.

A grimace flashes across the coyote's expression, "You know, I didn't actually ask what crushed it." With that, a wry note of humor enters her voice, as she switches her attention back to Sam, "Probably because I was shocked someone was asking me to actually try and repair it."

"And while normally I'd say /no/, let's just say there are some extenuating circumstances. So, I'm going to try." But not this moment, not with Sam here currently, and so, Mercy takes a step away from the crushed car. As she walks toward Sam, she'll automatically scent the air. Looking to see what can be found with his scent; specifically the demonic portion of it.

Even with her sniffing the air so, she still asks, "How've you been doing?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
There has been no change. Ever since that moment in the junkyard when he tapped so deeply into his nature as to be able to fling the Winter Soldier into a magnet the meld has been what it is. Dark and light, mingling inside of him, familiar, human good old boy scents mingling with the scents of perdition. It doesn't fluctuate as much anymore. It's just his scent, for better or worse. His intake has been relatively even, enough that any fluctuations in the strength of his demontouched nature are difficult to detect. There have been some...in potency and dosage...but the changes are no longer registering by smell.

"Guess it could have been any number of superheroes," he says matter-of-factly. He can see some giant man in a metal suit crushing it, or someone throwing it, or some other such nonsense that seems to happen on the regular now that enhanced humans are a thing. "How about you?" he asks. "I'm sorry it took me so long to check in with you.

He doesn't really notice, of course, her scenting the air motion. He slides his hands into his pockets and gives a sheepish smile. "Things got...hectic."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
When his scent returns as normal, well normal for him, a faint trace of relief touches her features briefly. Then that expression is shuffled away as the conversation continues onward to superheroes and their antics. A grimace is offered then, as the coyote says, "Right. Or supervillain. Though the bits of story the young woman told me makes me think it was an unintended accident."

Just with heavy consequences for the car, it seems.

His apology is waved aside, as is his explanation, "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine and so is the garage. We were all put through the wringer there, so I understand. I'm just glad we all survived. I really thought we were walking to our deaths there." She adds grimly, even as she steps over to the work bench that holds the crate of books.

The few books upon the tabletop will idly be shifted around, stacked from largest to the smallest. "We all had to deal with what we saw during those visions. I know it wasn't pretty for any one of us."

There's a slight pause from the coyote, as she considers her next words, but after a heartbeat or two of thought, Mercy finally asks, "How's Fred doing?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam dips his head in brief acknowledgement about the visions, but that's all he wants to say about that other than: "I've been trying to research the spell, as best I can. I don't understand what the purpose of it was, exactly. I can't do much with the remembered runework, but I've got Fred's friend Wesley on it too. And then there's the matter of the nonsense they injected into Claire's arm. I've never seen anything like it, have you?"

He just assumes she's shown Mercy this if she was willing to show it to him, but either way the issue has to be figured out and it means sharing some information about the spell itself.

He gives a brief, apologetic smile, too...its possible jumping straight into 'work' isn't exactly good friendship behavior. It's what he knows though, and thus, he does. Still, she asks about Fred, and a smile touches his lips. "She's bounced back," he says. And, when she needed to step up, she most certainly did. Not that he wasn't willing to let her make couch forts in his apartment for as long as she needed to do so.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"A trap of some kind." Mercy states to his question about the purpose of the spell. "That's the best guess I have. To ensnare anyone that came for Claire." The mention of Fred and her friend Wesley is nodded at, but before anything can be said to that, Sam mentions Claire and the injections.

The coyote grimaces at that reminder of what happened to her friend, and the mechanic shakes her head. "No, never. I'm going to bring Liam in on the research." She'll motion to the pile of books in front of her, as well as the crate so near, "It's what I have here. Let's just say the pack has some resources in the magical world. I've called upon them." Again, is the unspoken word there.

And while Sam mentions the 'seen' part of Claire's ordeal, Mercy doesn't quite catch what he means there, but perhaps with her next words he can helpfully enlighten her. "She mentioned the liquid they used to circumvent the power of the shard. I wish we were able to get a sample of it. I'm sure that would have helped."

And now it's back to Fred, when Sam reveals her current state. "Good. I'm glad. I checked in on her and she told me a little about her vision."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"There might be a sample in her arm," Sam says slowly. "Though whether she'll feel good about giving it up is up to her." He pulls out his phone and shows Mercy the photo Claire consented to let her take of the strange black veins running through the part of her arm around the injection site. "I imagine she'd tell us if it were spreading or anything. But it's concerning that it's sticking around."

He frowns down at the books thoughtfully as Mercy mentions Fred discussed her vision. "I'd hate Volkov for that one alone," he says darkly. And he has other reasons on top of that, of course.

"He all but put her back there. I talked to Sergeant Barnes about him. He's as convinced as I am that psycho sorcerer is still alive. He and I talked about going to walk the site to see if we could find any indicators of where he might have gone, or any more hints about his magical goals."

He then gestures to the books, unable to resist kneeling down to have a closer look. "May I?" he asks. Obviously he's not going to sit down and start reading right now, but he does want to get a quick glance at some of the titles, if nothing else.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
A sample in her arm.

That brings Mercy's eyes right back up to Sam. "Excuse me?" She says, "What do -" And now he has pictures. The coyote will stare at the photo that Sam shows her. It's a horrified stare. "Oh my god." She says quietly at the sight of those black twisting veins. "She didn't tell me about her arms."

Almost Mercy reaches for the phone, but in the end she stops herself. Instead, the mechanic expression turns grim again, anger beneath that expression, "I hate /all/ of Hydra." Mercy echoes, when Sam admits his hatred of Volkov. "All of them. They need to be /destroyed/." The coyote ends with, her voice holding a terrible note of finality to it.

And while Mercy could have lingered in that moment of hate, she doesn't, not when Sam says 'Sergeant Barnes'. Hearing that name jars Mercy out of her head and back to the present. "I can come too. I might be able to get a scent trail or a magical trail. Something that we can possibly follow."

When Sam gestures to the books Mercy nods. "Go ahead. In fact, you could probably take a few back to your apartment if you like. Claire described the thing they had as glass-like. I'm thinking we should trace down anything that's glass, crystal or even stone. Some stones have glass-like properties." The books themselves are all old and while a good chunk of them are in English, there are many books in Russian, German and French.

The titles that can be read run the gambit of personal journals to actual grimoires. The pack sent everything up that could potentially hold the knowledge of this unknown artifact.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Her 'excuse me' makes Sam start, like maybe he did something bad. He says, "Um," and clears his throat before she actually looks at the photos and realizes what he means. Then he relaxes, and realizes...yeah, it was kind of a weird statement. Sadly, it may also be a true one. "Though maybe we shouldn't all mob her for it though, or even mention I showed you. It can-- be-- a lot of concern over stuff that's happened to you, or suddenly everyone knowing all about it can be-- difficult."

He nods when she says she can come, sounds like a group expedition to him. "There's still a little-h hydra we gotta find a burn too."

She says go ahead /and/ that he can take books, and his eyes light up. The boyish grin on his face is unmistakable. "I'll take good care of them," he promises. He carefully shifts through them, trying to decide on three to start with, trying to decide which will offer the best use of his time and attention.

"Glass-like stone," he murmurs, frowning. "And any spellwork they did on it may have changed its properties as well."

At last he selects one journal and two grimories to start with. He chooses the oldest of the journals. "Local history too," he decides. "Sometimes location matters, right? He could have done the spell back in Russia, but he didn't. Maybe it's just cause he was handling the Winter Soldier here, and the Winter Soldier had targets, but...I get the impression they're like wheels-within-wheels kinds of douchebags."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The coyote rubs her forehead for a long silent minute, then she nods. "I'll ask Claire about it." Mercy states, meaning the other woman's arms. "In a roundabout way so she can explain it to me. I won't tell her you told me. Your secret is safe with me." With those last words there's a flash of humor from the mechanic, even if this isn't necessarily an amusing sort of conversation.

The mention of the hydra, little-h, earns a nod from Mercy. "Yes, I haven't forgotten about that. I'm hoping when we go looking for it we'll find it already gone." But the tone of her voice clearly tells how unlikely she really thinks that is.

His thoughtful murmur about the shard possibly being changed, through Hydra's mechanics, allows a thoughtful expression to wash over her features. "Huh. I didn't think of that. I wonder if it started out as something else and it's now changed."

But that train of thought is cut off with another shake of her head, "I think we should focus on how Claire described it to us. If we looked at everything that could potentially be the powerful artifact we'll never find it within our lifetimes, and I have a sense time isn't on our side with this." When he pulls out the journal and the grimories, Mercy will glance at their titles. There's a nod for what he's taken and then, "Just a word of warning - some of the books seem to have some unintentional booby-traps upon them. I'm assuming from leftover magics from those who originally held them. Just be careful when reading anything out-loud and such."

And while location does matter and Mercy does agree with his thoughts, she doesn't necessarily comment on that. "Yes, agreed. Wheels-within-wheels and everything is somehow connected. /Everything/. I wish we could just scry out the damn thing. Or him." And for Mercy to swear, she must truly feel a certain way about Volkov and that magical shard.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"I don't hope that. If it's already gone we won't find it again until it kills a bunch of people," Sam says glumly. "But Sergeant Barnes did say he's still bound to it and might still be able to control it. So that's something, at least."

Unintentional booby traps, read out loud. "I will," he says grimly. That's how Fred ended up in Pylea. It's probably good pracatice not to read stuff aloud if you don't know what it will do anyway, but he wouldn't know it if someone sunk a secondary spell into the pages of the thing. He mentally marks this as 'just bad stuff research' and not 'a fun new source of hedge spells' research. Just in case.

"Yeah, I'm not trying that again," Sam admits, about the scrying. His mouth sets into a tight, grim line. "Did Liam have any theories? About what Volkov is after, or this thing Claire is describing?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Well I meant -" Mercy begins, but her words trail off again as surprise flicks across her features. "What? The hydra is bound to him?" Asks the coyote, disbelief easily heard within her tone. "I didn't realize that." And it causes her to frown as she considers what Sam just revealed to the memories from that particular night.

"Is that why it stopped attacking us." Murmurs the woman and then her gaze darkens slightly. Whatever caused that darker look isn't spoken of, however, as the woman shakes her head.

"Well, if it is bound to him then that should make it relatively easy to find it. He can call it for us and we can take care of it." Comes the harsh seeming words from Mercy Thompson, "Whether it's by slaying it or possibly sending it back to wherever it came from."

As for Liam and his thoughts, Mercy shrugs slightly, "Not anything he mentioned to me. He's going to help me with the books." A gesture is given to the crate and the books upon the work bench, "And likely do research on his own, as well. I'm hoping we'll be able to figure out what it is with all of us going at it. We can't let this thing stay in Hydra's hands. Or Volkov's."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"He said something about that, yeah, though it might have to be in hearing range or something like that," Sam says thoughtfully. "He didn't say I don't think that he can just summon it, but I didn't dig too deep into the specifics of how all that worked." It was a conversation he was navigating oh so very carefully, a minefield with a dozen trips and triggers along the way. He was just trying to get through a whole conversation without making James Barnes too uncomfortable, without touching any trauma spots. When nearly the whole man's life has been one big trauma, however, such things are...beyond delicate. Delicate to the nth degree.

"Yeah. I'm running some searches in the WAND databases, but...don't expect much. I thought it was strange how excited they were to get their hands on my copy of my Dad's journal. Turns out they don't know a lot. They have a little lab, and a few cubicles. Like it only recently graduated from two desks and a closet. They've taken no precautions at the Triskelion against anything magical at all. All that data mining capability and they didn't have any real case-search functions set up. Most of their focus has been on artifacts, which tracks-- a lot of /SHIELD's/ focus is on keeping bad artifacts and weapons out of people's hands-- but cursed artifacts and objects don't seem to come up nearly as much as creatures trying to gnaw off other people's faces. Long story short, the Feds are ill-prepared."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Well, when the time comes we can ask him how best he can communicate with the hydra." Mercy says, understanding some of what was unspoken there. It is like running through a minefield and praying you don't trip a wire, or worse.

The mention of WAND and SHIELD and the actuality of just how unprepared they are earns a frown from Mercy. "I'm not surprised. Magic is always a hard thing for most people to accept. I suppose we should be grateful that they've even got a department around to look into the magic and the fae."

The mention of SHIELD keeping the bad objects out of the hands of supervillains causes the coyote to cross her arms. "Honestly, Sam, if we find this artifact, I don't even know if I'd want them to take possession of this shard. The room we found Claire in all but radiated power. If they can't block or shield that power in some way I'd be worried it might affect the people watching over it, or the things around it. And, with what you said, it doesn't sound like they're prepared in any way to protect that sort of artifact." Her head tilts now, "If we do find it I'd suggest giving it to Liam. I think he could keep it safe for us." And while she isn't one to often bring up Liam's capabilities, tonight she does. Only because Sam has seen the Mind Stone and likely understands some of how powerful that artifact was.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Yeah, no, I agree," Sam says firmly, standing up from where he was still sprawled on the floor next to that box. "Sorry, I was rambling about them, not trying to suggest we hand anything over to them. My first choice would be /destroying/ whatever it is, if we can do it safely, but letting Liam take charge of it is a good second choice."

Well. This /is/ the man whose solution to the magic mirror was ultimately to pull out his Beretta so he could fire on it until it stopped doing whatever it was trying to do. Not such a big surprise that 'smash it' would be the Winchester solution of choice.

He takes a left turn, though, from magic and mayhem, looking around the garage. "You should meet my brother when you and he aren't getting shot at," he says, because as far as he knows the only time Mercy has ever come into contact with Dean was when they were in the middle of madness. "He's a great mechanic too, and a real car nut. You two might have something in common, and he could stand to integrate into the neighborhood a bit more."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The mention of destroying brings forth a nod from Mercy, "Agreed. I just worry it might resist us destroying it, but really that's neither here nor there. Not until we find the thing. Well, not until we first /identify/ the thing."

Which feels like it's going to take quite some time.

The left turn into something other than magic, mayhem and SHIELD, doesn't seem to phase Mercy. She'll go along with the shift to something less worrisome, something more normal between friends, "Tell him to come over. You can even dangle the Ford Fusion in front of him, if you like." Her gaze turns to that car for a minute, "Because really, I'm going to need /all/ the help I can get with that. It really is going to take a miracle to fix it up."

Then it's back to Sam, "But seriously, if you can get him here I will gladly put him to work. I know a little bit about lone wolves resisting 'integration'. I can help with that."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Well I'm not trying to make us out like we're the Borg," Sam says with a laugh. "We were just taught 'no ties', ever. And we're at that point where we're starting to think that's crap. I started to think it a lot faster than he started to think it. Just--" Sam clears his throat.

"Don't let his rough edges get to you," is what he settles on. Because Dean can very much have them until someone earns their way to 'like and trust', and he doesn't think Mercy's going to get off easy just cause there's a crushed Fusion involved. Then again...Dean can be hard to predict sometimes, even for him.

"I should get out of your hair," he says with a flash of a smile. "Apartment's open if you ever want to come hang out, as long as you don't judge our Beer Bottle Forest." Because there usually is some sort of forest or city of empties growing all over the apartment, despite Sam's attempts to keep the mess under control. And with that, he slips out.