medusa (madame_medusa) wrote in oh_marvelous, @ 2011-06-30 20:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | z: om1: !complete, z: om1: affiliation: s.h.i.e.l.d., z: om1: character: nick fury, z: om1: location: new york, z: om1: past character: medusa |
Amnesty
Characters: Medusa, Nicolas Fury
Setting: The Waiting Room of SHIELD, probably then to an interrogation room.
Content: Conversation and giving up.
Summary: Instead of turning herself in to mundane authorities, the woman known as Medusa decided to go up one level higher.
The room was sterile and sleek, elegant and held a charm of a fine modern piece displayed in an art gallery. Compared to the clutter and trash of where she had been living prior, Medusa found the waiting room within SHIELD comfortable in it's appearance. It sparked familiarity, something that she hadn't felt ever since she dragged herself out of the surf and sand nearly four years ago. Though for all it's sophistication and charm, she found the that the chairs were hard and curved uncomfortably. Chairs like that wouldn't have presented much of a problem if the wait time had been twenty minutes, perhaps even thirty, and most certainly an hour could be doable if there were magazines provided that didn't pertain to finance with vocabulary Medusa didn't know.
Rather than a short wait, Medusa had found herself in the waiting room for over three hours. Half that time she had paced in the waiting despite the cool looks from the desk clerk and the other half monitoring her watch as she sat on an edge of an uncomfortable chair.
Medusa had given the clerk a simple run down of her situation; Medusa was in trouble with super powered individuals due her being a super powered individual. On top of this the clerk had paused when Medusa simply gave her name as Medusa, and very little information otherwise. She couldn't even tell the clerk if she was a mutant or 'altered-persons'. (The later felt closer to the truth but...)
Clearly, the desk clerk didn't believe her, but Medusa couldn't blame the clerk much. She wore fairly nice clothing, was groomed appropriately for a waiting room in a government building, and seemed rather mundane in all aspects. Her hair as even 'shorter' than usual, curls instead of being silky straight, and she held herself stiffly. Nothing to suggest she was homeless.
But Medusa was determined to talk to someone: if anyone could help her, it had to be SHEILD. She had nowhere to go, no one to speak to, and little money to her name. She had nothing to lose. So she sat in one of those horrible chairs and waited.