Rooms

[Private to Steve R.]

Sorry I lost track of Batman. Catwoman and him just kinda split up. I knew team naming was a mistake, why didn't anyone stop me?

[Private to MJ]

Back in one piece. I think I'm going back to the cube.

[Private to Gwen and Harry, separately]
[After talking to MJ.]

Checking in. We can do that, right?

[The ship is certainly not the largest in the S.H.I.E.L.D fleet, but it is pretty remarkable regardless. Modeled after the Helicarrier but on a smaller scale, the ship is packed to the brim with high tech equipment to track and pinpoint further threats, agents unwinding from this previous assignment while simultaneously preparing for the next. Some will be shipped off throughout the world to assess damages and threats of Marauders in other countries; others will return to Washington, D.C., where they will be debriefed. Boston is deemed safe now, and S.H.I.E.L.D isn't the organization for clean-up. Leave that to American Cross, to Homeland Security, to FEMA. S.H.I.E.L.D. is there to simply annihilate the threat and move on. Clean-up is hardly in their repertoire.

Along with all of the technology necessary to run a sect of a secret(ish) organization are some amenities for those on the carrier for long periods of time or those who just need a moment to feel human again. Tucked away in the left flank of the carrier are sleeping pods, kitchens with coffee and other easy to make meals, and locker rooms with showers. Non-descript clothes are handed out to those who need it. The ride to New York will be quick, about an hour or so, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is aware of the needs of those on the ground.

Peggy Carter has, of course, hitched a ride back to New York with them after coordinating some clean-up. She isn't necessarily equipped for that either. The medics on the ship have cleared her of everything except a possible concussion, and she has taken a shower and changed into loose slacks, heeled mid-length boots, and a plain blouse. Her hair, still wet, is pulled back from her face, and the exhaustion puffs her eyes out just a bit. There are cuts on her face, and a bruise blooms on the side of her cheek, but she sits at the table of one of the kitchens, steaming coffee (with a splash of milk) resting there, applying her cover-up and signature rouge red lipstick. There. Once she's satisfied, she takes a long, long sip of her coffee and lets herself feel the ache of fatigue in her bones.]

I guess at this point I should just be able to roll with whatever happens in Beacon Hills.

[Public]

So I ended up on a freaking slave ship. Thanks for the rescue people of Boston, but I really wish I'd been able to shoot more of them.

[Avengers, all of 'em]

I haven't said anything to SHIELD, but I know you're the good guys, so here's the deal. I was in the explosion. Some shit has gone wrong. I think I have super powers. I don't know how to control it. SOS.

If you're not busy watching a marathon of the Real Housewives of Asgard, you want to grab a beer?

[Delivery to Lydia M, at her home, late Monday afternoon.]

[The flowers are extravagant, obviously, because he doesn't know how to do anything low key. The card tucked in among the blooms is handwritten in Jackson's tight scrawl and reads, quite simply:]

Sorry.

[There is no other note, nothing to really indicate that he sent them other than his handwriting, if she still recognizes it.]

Hey, you feeling back to normal Doc? Got a patient here who's requesting you.

(During this)

Who: Nikola Tesla & OPEN
What: New friends?
Where: Passages Hotel.
When: Late April
Warnings/Rating: None yet!

( There was something about the hotel that appealed to Nikola. )

[Locked to Carol D]
Think it's about time we start harassing Stark about that gym?

For the first time in... months.

I feel good.

I keep expecting it to dissolve in an extraordinary manner.

[Locked to "Em"]
Maybe Marvel isn't as safe as I believed.

[Locked to Tony S]
You wouldn't happen to know if Robert Dr. Banner is seeing patients, would you? He's not at the Chinatown A girl can't be too careful with her whip arm.

Go team.

( Note left in community kitchen )

[A body is discovered at Saint Mary's Chapel in the strangest kind of circumstance. The victim, 48 year old Martin Phillips, was left on top of the chapel alter with fleur-de-lis symbols carved into his flesh. Reports state that when police went to investigate, candles, statues and bibles were all floating mysteriously. When the body was approached, everything dropped to the floor and a slender, dark shadow rose from the man's mouth and out a window into the Gotham sky.

The autopsy reports that Martin died peacefully in his sleep.]

[Hannibal had visited the BSHCI many times in the past, and so his presence was not questioned. It was not seen as strange, or even inappropriate, for him to visit his former patient. His former patient turned murderer, for that was what Will was believed to be. Jack Crawford believed it. Alana Bloom believed it. The FBI believed it. Will could make his accusations, he could point his finger; the delusional ramblings of a mentally unstable man, nothing more. And Hannibal, Hannibal had only ever tried to help him. Even now.

Visitor's badge clearly displayed, he made his way past the rows and rows of single cells until he reached the only one occupied, at the very end. A rectangular cage. Dehumanizing, he should think. Perhaps that was Dr. Chilton's intention.

When he reached Will's cell, he stopped, hands clasped and folded in front of him.] Hello, Will.