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[thesandersinitiative]

What do you mean by Virgil and Remus being roommates, Logan?

"Statistically speaking, each successful incidence of Doctor Storm managing to contain himself only bears poorly for each subsequent try of his temper," Logan starts coolly, briskly following Joan down the hall, "Just because that particular powder keg hasn't blown doesn't mean you're anything more than lucky when you stick around to watch other people light matches. And when Doctor Storm looses control again--"

And at this, Logan stops, and faces the camera with such sincere intensity in his gaze that it is clear that it is not bias or fear formulating his distaste and distrust of Virgil: it is fact, "--and he will, I hope for all our sake that he is far, far away from here and from all of you. Because it is clear, none of you recruits are willing to see him for the threat that he is. And I sincerely hope, none of you will pay for it."

"Logan," Thomas says sternly, striding ahead of Patton in a burst of speed that nearly has him tripping over his own limp, as he trails one hand across the steel paneling on the wall for balance, "Listen to me. I made the call to keep Virgil on board, okay? He's staying, and you're gonna need to drop it. He's my responsibility, just like Dee is, and just like you were. If you want to be helpful, maybe stop trying to poke the bear just so you can say I told you so when he tries to rip off your head!"

"Thomas, he is dangerous," Logan insists, "We're containing a god in a cage that only has a 63.84 percent chance of containing Storm at full power for longer than a sixteen hour period! Remus may be an unknown but at least he can control himself! Surely, if Storm's work is so essential to the operation he can do it offsite where he's less likely to kill the two thousand SHIELD operatives running this base!" "The last thing we need is Virgil out of our sight! I briefed you myself on Remus's spear, and so long as Virgil is here and under direct supervision he isn't being brainwashed!" "How'd that work out for Agent Ekans?" Joan glances over their shoulder, swiping their keycard for the elevator and jamming down with their thumb, "How'd that work out for Talyn? Thomas, deprogramming a baby HYDRA agent is one thing. Dee doesn't spit out bullets when you shoot him. I know you've taken responsibility for this, but how are you gonna feel if you set a monster lose on a helicarrier of people you know just to prove a point to yourself?"

The elevator doors open.

"I'm not talking about this anymore," Thomas says, shooting a glare at Logan and Joan, and even one at Patton for good measure, who had already said his piece, and wasn't going to have his opinion swayed, "We have a real problem to deal with, not hypothetical. Consider your objections resoundingly ignored. Virgil stays. For better."

The elevators doors close. Joan silently swipes his card again and the elevator goes down, down, down to the containment level.

Or for worse.

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Moving on... What usually happens in sheild once someone is taken prisoner like this?

“Usually,” Thomas stresses, “Nothing like this ever happens.” He rubs his ribs, wincing at the bruising there, and most likely the corresponding the horrible memories of Dee turning on him, nearly killing him, and then being buried alive. 

“Usually it’s a kill on sight order,” Logan corrects in his most helpful tone. “So that SHIELD does not have to worry about the potential dangers of a prisoner someday escaping.”

Patton frowns and makes a face behind him, but doesn’t actually attempt to interrupt him.

“The only time where they could not kill the destructive problem--” Logan continues, lifting a hand to display a hologram in the same green color as Remy. What flickers to life is a cylindrical tub with a singular door and large glass windows that leaves no shadow or place to hide. It rotates and Remy appears inside banging on the clear walls with a theatrical panic “--they attempted to build a room for it, which would probably not be any more effective, but I digress. My opinion and expertise was not requested on this project.”

“Logan,” Thomas says sharply.

Logan switches off the hologram without seeming chastised at all. “I’m merely stating facts, Thomas. Though, you would please consider what you will do when you need to contain the good dear doctor and you’ve already rented out his room to the other catastrophe on the airship.”

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Im sorry Virgil, I should have treated you more like an adult rather than infantilizing you, and that’s on me

Virgil clicks his tongue in dismissal, not even bothering to scoff. The room is emptying, with Roman standing stiffly in the center, eyes on Virgil but for a few moments when they slide over Patton as he raises his hand and gently bruises the angry red skin as if he still can't believe it happened.

"I will not be leaving," he says, stiffly. "My stance is unchanged on that. If you attempt to remove that spear from my eyesight, I will engage in a battle and I will do far worse than what Remus has done."

"Sounding real honorable there, Princey," Virgil says. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do with this... key? Continuality? Whatever you think it is. I'm literally just looking at the radiation pattern to see how it lets Remus brainwash people."

Roman's glare intensifies. "As if I would tell you that much, Fiend."

"Roman," Thomas cuts in. "You said it could destroy the world."

"In the wrong hands," Roman says without looking away from Virgil. "I will be making sure that does not happen."

Thomas sets his jaw, which says a lot to what he thinks of leaving Virgil and Roman alone in the room together. But after a very tense moment he comes to the conclusion that Virgil's report is more important to getting their agents back than attempting to interrogate the god and getting nothing about it at all.

Logan and Joan seem to be weary of leaving Virgil with the scepter, but Virgil doesn't take note of their hesitance or the way Thomas has to quietly usher them out of the lead lined lab, with promises to keep the comm line on for updates. The camera follows him, disappointingly, but catches one last glimpse of Virgil pulling the spear's carrier towards himself and readying to release the shielding, before the door slams shut.

Thomas sighs, and a shudder seems to run through his body. Unenthusiastic, he rolls his shoulders back and glances wearily down the hall. The exhaustion in his frame is suddenly, blatantly obvious.

"Alright," He says, "I think it's time we had a chat with Remus. Maybe he'll be more interested in sharing what this Continuity is."

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Alright, maybe it was low of me to judge you on your honor Roman, and that I will apologize sincerely for.

So let me rephrase this: from what I’m grasping, Virgil is some foul ‘demon’, correct?

To my knowledge of what I know of demons, they tend to be riled up easily, lash out and cause damage beyond comprehension.

But stormy over there was on coms the inter time you were in the carrier! He seemed awe fully it rated by Remus and Logan snapping and teasing him, and yet, everything was intact once landing.

And even still- you aggressively pinning him down, yelling in his face, pulling him around by the neck, which is a weak point human speaking, all he did was warn you to let him go.

He didn’t raise a finger against you.

That’s mighty high levels of self control for a ‘foul demon’.

And truly- I wish not to offend you, your highness, I know you are for more than I, a mere mortal, but I will note that Virgil seems to have far great self control than you, who almost killed everyone on the carrier because you could remain calm around your own brother.

Just be a little open?

Virgil shoves into the lab, harried and on edge and directs the SHIELD agents escorting the spear--who are, perhaps, even more harried and on edge than he is--to place it on the center lab table near a monitor set up. He ignores the staunch defense in his name, and in fact even seems irritated at it's existence.

Roman huffs near the doors, and shoots a glare at the cameras. His face glows red; not in power, but embarrassment. He puffs his chest out and squares his shoulders, as if about to launch on another tirade, when Patton, almost idly, turns away from watching Virgil's frantic attempts at setting up the lab, to spear him in the chest with two disappointed words, "They're right."

"I--" Roman's voice turns strangled, as if he's incapable of believing that someone like Patton would defend something like Virgil, "Honorable Captain, you must not let--" "I am not letting anything happen," Patton says sternly, brow furrowed, "I am not letting Virgil trick me. Perhaps you feel comfortable in thinking that you know everything about a person by their aura, but I'm a Catholic, Your Highness. I don't believe in predestination."

Roman's face screws up, more out of confusion than anything else. He doesn't gape, necessarily, because gods of his kind and caliber were, of course, beyond such things, but it looks awful close.

"I don't--I don't need this, you know," Virgil snaps, interrupting Roman and sending a ruthless glare at the camera, "I'm not some fucking--damsel in distress who doesn't know his own power. I know what I am, and I can control it, if only you people would just leave me alone to do my job!"

He takes a deep breath, and sends an apologetic look at Patton, "I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate it from you, but--I don't need these junior SHIELD agents treating me like I'm some kind of toddler and rewarding me for not throwing a tantrum over spilled soda."

"See!" Roman gestures imploringly at Virgil, who is pushing the earplugs Joan had gotten him back into his ears, seemingly determined to drown all this out, "Honorable Captain, he rebukes your defense and knows he does not deserve it! He does not deserve your good opinion of him!"

Patton's shoulders straighten, "I'm the one who will decide that! You don't need to like Virgil, Your Highness. Just respect him as a person. No matter what you think of someone, you can't attack them out of the blue. Virgil hasn't done anything to you to warrant his behavior as it?"

Roman looks like he wants to fume, looking increasingly frustrated for several long seconds, before he folds it back and tilts his head up in acquisition.

"Fine," He says regally, "But just know that with that creature--" He glances loftily towards Virgil, who is repeatedly tapping at the different monitors controlling the lab set up with equal impatience. Logan only seems to be able to watch Virgil struggle for a moment, before he's stepping in, keeping a careful distance, and helping Virgil silently set up the lab.

"It will only be a matter of time before he does. People cannot hide their better or worse nature for long." Roman looks sour, and glances at the spear mournfully, "I should know."

"Finally!" Virgil crows, as a monitoring program boots to life on the screen before him, and a drawer with the corresponding equipment on the table snaps open, "Now all of you--" He points fingers at everyone in the room except for Roman, and holds up a thin metal probe and points it at the door, "Get out. It's time for me to open this sucker up."

The spear glows brightly next to him.

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Thank you Patton. At least you have the words I couldn’t find. Your really brave, standing up for Vee like that.

Speaking of- Virgil, you okay? Don’t forget to breathe, alright? Or are you a little to busy fangirling to panic?

Virgil’s expression shifts between emotions nearly too fast to actually read, and his cheeks cover a whole pallet of reds, pinks, and pales. At the question he puffs up, straightening his back, shaking off Patton with something akin to embarrassment that his hero just saw... all that. 

“I’m fine,” he says sharply purposely not looking even remotely towards Patton at all. “Of all the people on this flying deathtrap, I’m the hardest to kill, maim or even hurt. And, yes, I am counting the god of idiocy over there too. Don’t treat me like I’m going to blow up. I have enough of that already.”

“Virgil,” Patton chides, before said god-demigod-whatever-Roman-is can snap out what he’s clearly dying to say. Thomas and Joan both look in awe of Patton’s ability to hold everyone in line, sharing pointed looks as Thomas guides them through the maze of light grey SHIELD halls and stopping in front of a set of lab doors.

Virgil bites the inside of his cheek and huffs out a breath that makes him appear to deflate entirely. He makes an exaggerated display of breathing in, holding it, and letting it out again.

“I will be fine,” he grounds out. 

“Are you okay to do this right now?” Thomas asks, motioning to the spear and the lab doors.

Virgil rolls his eyes. “I just need a moment! So if everyone can stop looking at me, that would be great!”

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Roman!!! Be nice to Virgil, Dammit- I though even a godling would know to not judge a book by its cover!

What is the point of fighting for honor of you do not allow those you deem a ‘threat’ the honor to prove their innocence???

Roman looks...annoyed by the question, as if this is something that he’s been told many times before and thus decided to cling rather resolutely to his own ideals more. His cloak sways behind him, in a wind that the rest of the SHIELD agents can’t feel.

“Do you have proof of his innocence that is greater than my proof of his guilt?” Roman asks, harshly. “I am the God of Honor. Do you dare presume that I do not know my domain? Do you dare suggest that the aura that I witness with my own eyes-- one darker than those that once sought to murder my father and overthrow Asgard in the name of a chaos that would have destroyed the nine realms entirely-- do you dare tell me that I am mistaken? Speak! Do you believe that this monster should be trusted with an object that could very well lead to the destruction of this planet?!”

“The destruction of the what now?” Thomas asks. “This staff can do, what?!”

“That thing,” Roman snarls, jabbing a hand towards an equally enraged, yet exhausted Virgil, “should not be allowed to live. It will cause nothing but death and destruction and you are a fool for attempting to defend it!”

It’s unfortunate that a quick scan around the room reveals that almost everyone else agree with that assessment too: Logan for a split second looks pleased that someone else has pointed it out, and the hard set of Joan’s jaw speaks to the many conversations that they’ve had about dangerous strays Thomas keeps taking in, most of the lingering SHIELD agents nervously hold their lowered weapons with expressions of relief.

But then there’s a sudden smack of skin, and the Prince of Asgard goes stumbling to the side, almost sprawled out in his effort to remain on his feet; his jaw is slack, the skin reddening.

He's been struck.

A god, marked by a living legend; a mortal so quintessentially human he could not be mistaken for anything but.

Patton walks past Roman quickly, dismissively, his right hand clenching and unclenching, as if he were trying to calculate the weight of his punch. There's something steeled in his eyes, almost reminiscent of the War Era posters--something purposeful and deliberate; an act of rebellion; an act of spite.

This is what made Captain Morality. The half smile that gently stretches on Patton's face even as he moves past the aghast, gaping god towards Virgil Storm, and the audacity that leaves everyone else frozen in place except him.

"Apologies, Your Highness, but I've been called a fool before," His voice his soft spoken, gentle, even, "The men who put the power in my veins were...visionaries." He spits the word out bitterly, "And I was but an American halfwit who couldn't see the forest for the trees."

He extends his hand to Virgil, not taking his eye off the still shaking scientist.

"Dozens of people were killed to refine this power," Patton says flatly, "People I knew. People I...loved. I didn't earn what I am, I survived it. And I was punished for it. I was a symbol of Germany's strength, not America's. Because to everyone else what made me strong, what made me wrong, all came out of a bottle. But they needed me. So I tried. To be worthy of those nameless, faceless men. So I could turn HYDRA's weapon back on itself and...avenge them." Virgil, eyes wide, clamps his own hand down on Patton's like a lifeline. Patton crouched down, placing his left hand on Virgil's right arm and squeezing tight, reassuring. "I've seen you trying, Virgil," Patton says softly, "Maybe I don't know much about you. Maybe I don't know your situation. But I know enough about this to know that if you can do what everyone says you can, you'd have had dozens of excuses to let it go. But you look away from the excuses to be a bad person, and that makes you good, Virgil. I've seen a lot of bad things in my life. The worst of this world. But people like you," He squeezes Virgil’s hand and smiles, "People who try to be better.... are the reason I find it worth hanging around, anyway."

Patton tugs, and when he stands Virgil comes with him, shaking gone to tremors, and his shallow breathes regular. Patton squeezes Virgil's shoulder again, tight, and lets go; brings up his other hand to place on Virgil's shoulder.

"Let's get you outta here, huh?" Patton asks, and Virgil nods, almost trance like. Patton glances over his shoulder; at the SHIELD agents, at Logan, at the God he struck, and says, wryly, "I sure hope one of you guys knows the way back to his lab. I don't think Virgil here's up to giving me directions."

They stare at them. But Thomas breaks away from Joan, awed, and guides Virgil and Patton offdeck. The rest follow; the SHIELD agents, Roman, and the scepter.

Logan follows too. For the first time, he doesn't bother correcting someone about who exactly owns the lab.

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"Roman," Thomas says, voice punched out and low, "I'm going to need you to let Doctor Storm go. Right now."

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Way to set an example. Sirs.

"DEMON OF THE FOULEST KIND--"

Roman's voice booms like thunder; red power dosing and flashing across the room like lightning. He glows, visceral and powerful, and every inch a God.

Remus had killed dozens of SHIELD agents and civilians alike, laughing mirthfully. He had still surrendered to SHIELD within moments of his brother arriving on Midgard.

It is now not hard to see why.

Yet despite this, not a single eye in the room is on him.

Dr. Virgil Storm is carefully, dangerously still in the Prince's grasp. One foot planted against the floor, the other struggling for purchase against the wall. His hands are white knuckled, nails digging deep into the meat of his palm.

His eyes glow. Brilliant and phosphorescently purple, the shine of it catches along the bridge of Virgil's nose and reflects across Roman's face.

"Roman," Thomas says, voice punched out and low, "I'm going to need you to let Doctor Storm go. Right now."

"Nay, that will not be possible, my Honorable Friend," His voice seems to echo in the quiet. Not even Logan has dared to move, "This one's aura is foul--of the blackest filth I have ever seen. One such as this demon," He spits, "Cannot be allowed to live. I came to Midgard to rid it of my brother. I shall now rid it of this...thing...as well."

The veins at Virgil's temple pulse. They stand out stark and deep from the pale pallor of his skin. So dark and blackened they almost look rot.

"Doctor Storm is an ally, Your Highness," Thomas says firmly, one hand carefully moving to the holster; despite your SHIELD training it's impossible to tell who he might draw it on-- the God, or the Monster he has pinned beneath him, "He's here to help us against your brother." "He has fooled you then," Roman snarls, shoving against Virgil. His head thunks back against the metal. Off to the side, Logan flinches at the sound. "A creature such as him has no noble intentions with you, my friend, I swear it." "And I swear to you, Roman," Thomas says, almost pleading, carefully taking a step forward, "That I know what Doctor Storm has done. I know who he is. I know the power he wields. And I need you to believe me when I say better men then he would have slaughtered you and half this helicarrier on the spot the second you touched him. He has killed many. But he's here to stop your brother from killing more." "I will not--"

"Let us go."

The metal beneath Virgil's hands groans, suddenly, as it gives way beneath his blackened finger tips. He breathes heavily, labored, as if he were Atlas and the lives of each person on the helicarrier was the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

His words send a shiver throughout the room. Despite the righteous light Roman gives off, the shadows seem to darken in defiance. Virgil's voice sounds wrong, warped and layered upon itself a dozen times over, what should have been a quiet, pleaded whisper, turning into an echoing, chilled threat.

"Before I let him do something you'll regret,"

Virgil's jugular pulses black. Dread seems to radiate off of him in tangible waves, and no one moves for fear of setting off the hair trigger.

Roman was a god and Virgil was just a man. And yet, looking on at them, it was clear: the man being pinned was the predator, and the Asgardian pining him was soon to be the prey.

"Please, Roman," Thomas begged, openly, eyes wide enough to see the whites, "Don't look at his aura. Look at mine." Roman's jaw tensed. He did not look at Thomas, but after a long, tense moment, in which Virgil breathed erratically, and his pupils blew wide, he lets Virgil go and steps back.

Virgil thumped to the ground with a wheeze, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately wrapping both arms around his torso and hunching in on himself, like he was trying to physically push the transformation back.

Roman does not turn his back on Virgil, but watches him with a sort of curious apathy of immortals as he lets his aura fade. Thomas places a hand over Joan's arm to prevent them from drawing their gun, but Logan has a single repulsion glove lifted and carefully aimed.

Virgil shakes, breathing in and out in a desperately practiced rhythm. The black from his veins retreats as he desperately counts multiples of six under his breath, and eventually, still shaking, he pulls himself to his feet.

He looks up.

His cheeks are wet.

And his eyes are dark again. The purpleish hue of the brown is suddenly impossible not to notice, despite being dulled nearly to grey in the fluorescent lights.

Virgil stumbles away, and practically collapses onto a crate. Remus's scepter hums in it's shielding, next to him.

"Thank god," He rasps, sitting down heavily, swiping at his eyes with an indelicate carelessness, "I don't think he could have taken me in a fight."

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Mind.... key? (Not mind stone????? (not to like question ya, love this au btw))

Roman’s face darkens in a way that most definitely doesn’t bode well, for anyone. Remus laughs again, as the SHIELD teams flank around them and begin leading him towards whatever containment procedures that SHIELD had cooked up for someone with as much power as Remus has. 

Thomas appears out of a side corridor, sliding on the linoleum floor with the amount of speed that he’s taken to get to them. He looks almost worse than before they left, his bruises darkening with color, and the tinge of pain on his is hard to wipe off before they can spot it.

“Logan, Patton...” Thomas says. “Report to the Lab Alpha. I want to get that staff of his looked at immediately, before we even try to figure out how we’re going to get Remus to tell us where the Tesseract and where our people are. For all we know, when he’s not controlling them people under his control might not even be able to blink, much less eat or sleep.”

He turns to the Asgardian, smiling, with a slight bow that must have hurt to complete. “Your highness, it’s great to see you again... Of course you’re welcome to all the SHIELD facilities; I can have someone show you--”

“No,” Roman says. “I shall be staying with that spear, for it is clear that you mortals do not know the power it contains.”

“What?” Thomas says.

“If my brother speaks the truth, that this is the Mind Key, part of the Continuities, then he speaks of an evil far more dangerous than your mortal minds would be able to articulate, much less contain. I will not allow you to take that weapon from my sight, Honorable Friend. It belongs on Asgard, as does my brother, to face justice for his crimes, which seem to grow in severity every time I close my eyes.”

“Continuities?” Patton echoes, shifting his shield between his hands. “What are those?”

Roman frowns. “I dare not speak of them. Knowledge alone is an invitation for unwelcomed things to come knocking.”

“Do you get paid by the hour for your ominous sayings or is it just on delivery?” A voice from behind them says. Even Patton with his war trained reflexes seems to jump at the sudden appearance of an unimpressed Virgil, still dressed in his ratty jeans and sweatshirt. 

“Thomas tell me that my giant magical death stick doesn’t come with a babysitter,” he says to the SHIELD agent. “Because I really think the last thing everyone here needs is me more anxious because a hulking godling is hovering-- OH SHIT!” 

Lightning explodes out from Roman, powerful enough to send the others back a few steps, but Virgil barely gets a second to breathe before Roman has him by the throat, flinging them both into the nearest wall and pinning him into it.

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Wow that sure is cool Remus but that's not an answer

"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise," Remus says. "And I love a good surprise! You'll have to promise me something just as good or better before I give up that juicy secret."

He winks at the camera, ignoring the electrifyingly murderous look that Roman is giving him. Something about what he said previously has his brother on edge far more than before, which doesn't bode well, considering "before" included Remus going on a murder and brainwashing spree.

Logan and Patton both seem to pick up on it too, if the shifting in their weight is any indication. Patton's gaze is firmly on Roman, watching him for any sign that his emotions will take him back to another extended cold water nap, but Logan is looking to the cockpit. His AI, REM1 jumps into existence throwing finger guns at his charge. "Landing in one minute. Notified all the SHIELD teams to be aware of the crazy psycho god we are letting waltz onto the hightech ship-- wow I will take "sentences I never thought I was going to have to say for 500"."

"Aw," Remus coos. "That's adorable. You think I'm crazy."

"Babes, I don't think. I know."

"Remy," Logan says, warningly.

"I'm churning the numbers, bitch," Remy says. "All those fucking people--"

The plane lands, jostling them all in the process. Roman stumbles a step grabbing a portion of the plane ceiling to keep from falling over. Patton is standing up before the plane engines even begin powering down, smiling pleasantly in that way that's been on a million trading cards and promotional posters. Logan rolls his eyes behind him and grabs Remus by his arm and hauls him to his feet, positioning the god between him and Patton with Roman behind them.

When the loading door opens, there are at least three teams of trained SHIELD soldiers waiting to escort them.

Remus waves. To them, to the camera, to the last breath of fresh air he's hopefully ever going to get...

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Hey... Remus? Where's Dee and the rest of the SHIELD agents you brainwashed?

“Oooo,” Remus clicks his tongue at the floating camera. “Is this the best interrogation tactics SHIELD produces these days? Tommy, is that why you had to outsource to HYDRA for a decent guard dog?”

Thomas doesn’t necessarily make a noise that can be heard over the comms, but it’s not hard to picture from the stiff silence that he’s wearing the same expression he usually does when Dee and his questionable past is mentioned.

“At least try a little waterboarding first. Or strangulation...” Remus wiggles in his seat, licking his lips. “Be a little creative kiddies. Make me scream.”

Logan looks like he has several scathing things to say in response, which is an entertaining dichotomy when he’s side by side with Patton’s confused expression.

But before anyone can say anything, thunder crackles around the plane. Roman stands in front of Remus, looking every inch like an identical twin that the myths have made them out to be. His cloak sways with static energy and the air burns to breathe in.

“Brainwashing,” Roman says. “You’ve never had that power before.”

Remus leans forward as much as the belt will allow him. “Do you really think I would steal some toys from Asgard’s vault and not play with them, Roman? Turns out the Mind Key.... it’s not just a key.”

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Good comeback, sir! Although, you didn't answer the question.

“Question?” Thomas says sounding confused, before, “Oh! The one about blowing up!”

"Let's just say, its not zero," Joan’s voice cuts in, returning from his trip to find noise blockers for Virgil. There’s a brief moment where Virgil makes a grateful noise, probably putting in the earbuds which has the added benefit of making him far less likely to start a fight with Logan.

"And it’s significantly higher if your name is Thomas Sanders," Joan adds pointedly. "For some reason things just always go out of control when he's involved."

“They do not!” Thomas squawks. “Joan!”

"It's been that way since we were still at the academy," Joan counters. "He started off in the Science and Technology branch-- like a nerd, with a PHD in Chemistry-- and made friends with just about everyone including Talyn. But after a month one of their experiments went wrong and Thomas remind me what happened then?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Thomas cries.

"Fire," Joan says. "Fire is what happened. A fire resistant to water and oxygen deprivation that couldn’t be put out for three whole days. The whole building had to be shut down. So they moved him to Communications branch, where he lasted for about a week learning data analysis before one of the computers overheated and caught fire. And so they moved him to Operations, where there is nothing that can catch fire. We met just shortly after that, and ended up graduating together and working on the same field team where 80% of our time was spent writing reports on trying to figure out how things kept catching fire."

“And saving the world, hello?” Thomas says. 

"If I didn't know better, I would assume that some divine force was behind it all," Joan says. "But having met divine forces, I.E. the aliens in the quinjet with you, I'm now convinced that Thomas just attracts world ending events and somehow manages to survive. He won't let me take any blood to look for mutagens but Talyn and I have have a running bet that he’s superhuman and just doesn’t know it."

“Oh?” Remus cuts in, his grin wide and malicious and oozing smugness in a way that makes the rest of the plane go cold. “I heard all about that.”

“What,” Roman says dangerously, “Did you do, Remus.”

“Just... made a few new friends. Funny ones.”

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Dose shield have a protocol for dealing with alien situations like this yet or is this mor on the newer side? Also what they're protocol for dealing with people with supernatural abilities?

"SHIELDs track record for aliens is just using extreme lethal force," Virgil says, distractedly. In the background the hum of the helicarrier engines buzz, but for the three watching over the operation it must have been unnervingly loud. "Not that they've had more than three chances to try it out-- both the aliens they've found so far have been invulnerable to giant explosions and Remus is shaping up to be no different."

Remus preens. “Aw shucks, emo! if you wanted to get into my pants all you had to do was say so!”

“I don’t have a background in medical biology but I’m very willing to see how many needles I can stab into you before you die,” Virgil says.

“Kinky.”

"Uhm, wait...Found?" Patton repeats before Virgil can snap anything out at the demigod in their custody. “There are aliens here that SHIELD hasn’t found?”

"The other day scientists found a new species of fish somewhere deep underwater that's been on this planet for longer than humans have.” Virgil explains. “I highly doubt that aliens visiting Earth would have trouble hiding from us-- are these engines always going to be this loud?"

Logan clicks his tongue. "Unfortunately I agree with him on that front. I had Remy calculate the odds not too long ago about it and he came up with about a 33% chance that the first alien to come to Earth was the same one that’s current residing in our--"

“Logan,” Thomas cuts in sharply. “There’s a protocol for that information and you know that.”

Logan doesn’t roll his eyes but it’s a close thing. He glances at the cockpit of the ship. “They are going to find out some time, Thomas. It’s better to tell them now before it kills them all. They have a Clearance Level of Five, now after all. Also we have an ETA of five minutes. Helicarrier is in sight.”

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[thesandersinitiative]

I'm guessing you don't come down to earth alot, do you roman?

"Not ever!" Roman declares, "Midgard shall not see the likes of such destructive battle so long as it is under my protection!"

"Oh, get off your high horse and ride something else for a change," Remus rolls his eyes, and thunks his head against his headrest, "They've seen much worse. Midgardians have spent the past century learning how to hold stars in their hands and rip them apart. You treat Midgard like a zoo, but even a bildgesnip can kill an einherjar. Although which one you are with your blundering, I'll never know."

"Remus," Roman warns, lightning alighting in his eyes, "For a silver tongue you know not how to choose your words."

"For a protector you know little of the realm you seek to protect," Remus snaps back, "I know Midgard. Just as I know each of the nine realms Asgard. Perhaps Midgard was not fit enough for Father to conquer, but it's fit for me. The second son, the leftover. The heir to a puppet throne." Remus snorts, waving his manacled hands in front of him with a convincing air of levity. "Much more suited to you than I, Ro. What with Father's hand up your ass and all that--"

"Neither of you have any right to Earth," Patton says firmly, "We rule ourselves, for better or for worse."

"And you've seen worse," Remus snarls, snapping forward, green eyes bright and manic and glowing, "Isn't that right, Mr. Brightskies?"

Patton blanches; red then green than white, and the leather of his gloves creak as he clenches his hands tight to curb his anger,

"You won't win," Patton says, voice coiled and quiet, "Venir won't have us and neither will Asgard, insomuch as we do appreciate his Highness's aid. No matter how much you know about me or SHIELD or Earth, that won't ever change the fact that humans fight back."

"Who said I wanted Earth for Vanir?" Remus tilts his head to the side, "I want it for me. A pleasure all my own. What's the point if you don't fight back? It's no fun when my toys don't play along."

And you will, Remus's eyes seem to burn, his sharp smile seems to declare, You already are.

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[thesandersinitiative]

Hey, Remus! What’s your favorite thing about Midgard?

"Oh I just love how... creative... all you mortals are," Remus says in a way that makes everyone aware that creative was not the word he was originally going to say. "Also how stupid you all are. It's funny! Watching all your governments get hot and bothered over a few deaths has been the most fun I've had since Roman kicked me off the Rainbow Bridge of Destiny because he finally saw my real aura."

"You've killed eighty people across three countries so far," Logan says distastefully ignoring the way that Roman's knuckles have gone white on the hilt of his sword.

"Eighty seven!" Remus corrects. "It could have been more but then his royal haughtiness just had to show up and ruin all the fun."

"Remus!" Roman snarls.

"Oh what? When you do it, it's called necessary and acceptable losses in the middle of a war, but when I do it, it's called genocide? Where is the fairness in all this?!"

Roman towers over him, flickers of lightning rolling off his shoulders and for a moment it’s very obvious that he is a god. "Midgard is not in a war."

Remus's lips curl into a smile, showing way too many teeth and his green eyes dance with a dangerous excitement. "Not Yet."

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[thesandersinitiative]

How big is the chance of getting blown up in this career path?

Patton steels himself, and for a moment, it's impossible to tell whether he's about to refuse Remus or indulge him.

Then, overhead, a muffled curse that sounds distinctly like Doctor Storm as several things crash loudly in the background, as if someone swiped them off the table in alarm. Remus raises an intrigued eyebrow, while Logan's upper lip curls. "It seems Dr. Storm has finally learned what helicarrier means. It's a testament to the decline of academia that he's earned one doctorate, let alone three."

"Wait, Virgil--" Thomas's voice comes through clear as he rises in with the microphone. "Hey, calm down, it's just the engine--"

"This thing flies?!" Virgil demands, so incredulously loud that it's as if he were in the bay of the plane himself, "I'm on an air craft carrier that mans over 5,000 people and it fucking flies?!"

His breathing is harsh and ragged and close to the microphone, as if Thomas has placed a hand on his back and is delicately attempting to guide him to sit. At Virgil's tone--panicked instead of snarky--Logan stands rapidly, as if Virgil's lack of control over his breathing is a sign of his sudden lack of ability to control something else.

"There's a reason Dee never invited you to visit," Thomas says sheepishly, "We're probably just meeting them midair. Sit, okay? Joan, put the gun down and go get Virgil a pair of earbuds for the noise."

"I'm not leaving you when he's about to go nuclear on base--"

"He's not going to go nuclear." Thomas says firmly, "And even if he was, violence has never subdued him before, and it won't now. You've read his file. It'll just make things worse."

"I'm in the room you know," Virgil says, voice clenched, "I'm fine--fucking--he doesn't need--I'm not made of glass it was just. A surprise. Another thing to make my day worse. Tell Ackroyd to stand down," Virgil snorts in laughter, but it's shaky, "He's not getting his fight today."

"I don't want a fight," Logan snarls, forcefully sitting back down and responsibility re buckling himself into his seat, "You're a powder keg, Storm. Of course I'm ready for when someone strikes a light."

"Rats," Remus snaps his finger, "You Midgardians owe me a meal but here I thought I was getting a show to go with it for free! The knight in iron armor slays the horrid dragon! Boring, of course, but dear Roman likes to call that shit classic."

"A dragon to be slain?" Roman scoffs, "Midgardians have nothing of the sort, and I doubt one with such an unstained soul as the Captain would associate himself with such a creature. You've already imposed your dreadfulness on these people, Remus, don't go making other demands."

Patton shifts uncomfortably at the comment, but turns his stare down to his intertwined hands, as if he wants to protest, but can't quite bring himself to. Logan looks sour, but doesn't interrupt.

"I've read the laws of this land, Ro," Remus says casually, "They treat prisoners with accommodations as plush as my ass. Why do you think I surrendered to them, and not you?"

"You're a coward--" Roman hisses, leaning down into Remus's face.

"And the God of Bravery!" Remus beams up at him, but there's a sharp, cruel edge to it, as if the irony isn't his alone to share "Ain't it ironic, my oh, so honorable brother? Kill any more diplomats lately?"

Thunder booms as the plane's front glass panes burn white with lightning.

"Stop it, Roman!" Patton snaps, rising to his feet and glaring at both brothers with a sharp ferocity. "Stop rising to his bait already! Plug your ears, sit down, and don't talk to him until we land! I already have one god acting like an overgrown, immortal child, I do not need two!"

"I--" Roman sputters for a second, as if trying to stop himself from declaring he started it in a whiny, childish tone. His reverence for Patton seems to win over, though, because after a moment he steps back from his brother and sits down across the aisle, gaze almost shamefully averted, while Remus stares at him, head titled to the side.

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[thesandersinitiative]

EXCUSE U PRINCEY SNOB PANTS, BUT TRY NOT KILLING US???? THANKS. Jeez. Also, Patton, hun, your doing great.

"Logan, I know this is going to be hard for you considering your inability to not be a dick, but maybe consider not encouraging the sociopathic mass murderer?" Virgil asks.

"I'm not encouraging him. I'm merely stating facts. If the esteemed Captain Morality cant handle the truth of what he’s done--"

"317," Patton says suddenly.

The plane seems to freeze for a second and even Remus looks surprised for a moment before he starts grinning smugly.

Patton adjusts the straps of his shield. "Would you like their names? Chronologically or Alphabetically?"

"Ooh, choices!" Remus says delightedly. "Lets go with the ones you regret the most to least!"

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