With her mouth in a thin line, hardly concealed disapproval, Bobbi made a note on her tablet that was quickly shared with the ground teams and the agents corralling the sentinels at the northeastern checkpoint. On the bright side, the roads were going to be less congested and they could get the national guard moving faster. Bobbi was content to ignore the little alert from the Director's computer and bring up her list of tasks and reports again when Fury's fist came down and made her jump.
"Temper, Wuzzy, the computer didn't do anything to you," she advised casually, pointedly not staring and scrolling through her morphing lists. A townhouse in the upper West side was infested and three unvaccinated agents had been compromised since she sat down, which brought that team down to a meager five bodies with them out of commission for the next 16 hours. Where were the damn robots to do that job?