1964-01-02 - That is Evidence
Summary: Simmons' autopsy of !Peggy doesn't go as planned.
Related: Kree-Skrull War
Theme Song: None
wanda carol bobbi simmons fitz skye 

Bobbi has arrived.


It's been several days since the Director was found to be an alien. Now, the autopsy of said-alien is underway with SHIELD Team-Science! The lab itself is brighter than usual as the green, shrivelled alien upon a slab. Bright fluorescent lights overhead reflect into the area while the agent in charge — the biochemical specialist — leads the work.

For his part, Leo Fitz gives everything a second look as its moved to various dishes about the room. His large apron, gloves, and goggles do little to keep his face from looking green. "This is disgusting," he declares. "They lay eggs. Like chickens," he shivers once, as if something really vile has taken place (perhaps the chicken thing is the vile in question). "So she wasn't pregnant at all. Just mimicking the Director being … in a womanly way."

His cheeks puff out and his chin drops to stare at the latest container of alien-guts, "You know, they're not pretty on the outside, but they look about the same on the inside."


"It's not disgusting, Fitz," Simmons tells him in a scholarly manner. Her gloves are rubber and up to her elbows. Her dark hair is tied back against her head in a professional bun, goggles across her face. The apron and gloves are slicked with ichor and green. Despite Fitz's obvious discomfort, she seems actually intrigued. It's hard for her not to be when performing what may be the first autopsy on an alien creature on record.

More things are pulled out of the creature, a small slicked with blood organ in her cupped hands and she holds it out for another jar. "This is actually rather fascinating. It's not actually like chickens, it's more like amniotes. In fact, I believe they may have some reptilian origin. Perhaps some form of space reptile."

Her voice may disgust Fitz further as she truly seems to be intrigued by the idea. There's a pause, then, as she realizes why she is performing this autopsy. "That is, it would be. Were it not for the circumstances, of course. I'm not quite sure how she managed to change her shape so dramatically yet, however."


Bobbi was dressed up with gear to match, lab coat, gloves, goggles and blonde hair pulled back in high ponytail. She was at least, participating, if not exactly handling the body at the same time as the others. "We'll have to look under the microscope, I think to see if the disguise is based down to the cellular structure or not. Because right now, I'm not seeing any external protrusions or other signs to indicate that it can morph its entire shape."

She peered over the creature for good measure, "No scales like a chameleon for instance, perhaps it works on a level similar to Cephalopods?" She frowned, offering speculation up when there really wasn't elbow room for three.

"Possibly they're just on another level altogether though. Dunno what their home environment was like for comparison either.."


"I agree to disagree on the disgust level of this procedure," Fitz replies. as he holds out the jar. His nose wrinkles, "It smells putrid. We've conducted other autopsies before, but they've never smelled this bad. We need to establish a protocol for this." He peeks around the corner towards the designated lunch room, "We eat at that table," and it's now covered in jars full of specimens. "We'll be lucky if I can ever eat again after this."

Refocusing on the task at hand, Fitz's head shakes slightly, "But it's undeniably elastic. I've never seen this kind of tension in flesh be — "

The sound of a door opening prompts Fitz to silence. A loud metallic door grates against the concrete of the floor and Leo's expression tightens. His lips purse slightly. "I should see who's here, yeah?" he manages a flicker of a smile and he takes two steps towards the door.

But Fitz doesn't have to move far because in mere moments, Anne Weaver, the Director of the SHIELD Academy of Science and Technology, with two other agents in tow, enters the room. Weaver looks the same as always in her smart pant suit, and dark hair skillfully tied into a bun. "Agents," she says casually, "as you were." Her eyes narrow slightly and she trails towards the alien on a slab. "What," her eyes land on the body, "are you working on?"

Fitz glances towards Bobbi and then Simmons before managing a near-greeting, "…ma'am."


"Perhaps we should conduct tests in different environments in order to see how the skin may meld or not depending on varying stimuli." Simmons nods to Bobbi as she steps back, arms up and held a bit away from herself so as to not drip gore on herself. It's scientific gore, however, so it's educational and not terrifying. At least, it's not terrifying to the scientist.

Tilting her head slightly, she studies the creature on the slab in front of her - cut open, many of its organs no longer in its body. "It might be. It's possible it has something to do with some form of mutation. They seem to be able to change not only appearance, but mass, as we saw previously." Now her nose wrinkles at the thought for that.

There's a sigh as she turns to Fitz. "You're so sensitive! You know we clean the tables with industrial strength disinfectants. It's perfectly safe to eat on them. Especially as the specimens are already in jars." Sighing, she moves back to continue with the autopsy just as the door opens. She's surprised to see Doctor Weaver in front of them, moving around the side of the table to move near Fitz. "Ma'am," she echoes her science partner's tone. Smiling, almost stuttering, she says, "Forgive me, but this is a closed autopsy. Please, an—an apron, at least…?" It's hard for her to try and say this to the Director of Science, but the sanctity of science must be protected!


There's one distinct difference between Agent Morse and Simmons and Fitz, one being that she was typically a field agent and not in the lab. As a result, Bobbi learned to trust her instincts, and when the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She tends to reach for the closest available weapon.

She peeled the gloves off as she remained where she was behind the lab table, noting the agents and the Director, their positions in the doorway. She bent slightly, shifting her weight on her toes as her hand slipped inside her lab coat.

Agent Morse was not smiling as Simmons greeted the Director.


Thanks to acting Director Coulson, a well-placed phone call is likely to cause a great deal of discomfort to the guards insistent on protocol. Yes, there are empowered SHIELD agents and several interesting talents contained therein. Sudden appearances by young women still rubbing flour, or one can hope is flour, off their sleeve makes for… well, a bit of a surprise, since that security gentleman surely thought with good reason that the elevator was unoccupied. His mistake is a natural one to make. Wanda ends up waiting another thirteen seconds than perhaps she is comfortable with to be cleared. Then there are stairs, the office, directions from the one person she trusts to steer her mostly right in this jumble of locations. Explanation is minimal: "Mister Director said go see Morse in e lab. Can you show me where?" Need for help, severe.

Them in the lab, not them Ms. Danvers, aka Agent Blonde Badass, or the girl in the claret leather coat apparently interrupted while cooking something. All things said and done, their arrival is probably fit to be less than impressive. No lights or trumpets, merely the click of heels on the floor.


Weaver's head cants at Simmons' assertion and she manages a tight, too-charming smile for both of them. "An apron won't be necessary." The agents at her sides step forward, forming a line of three just in front of the science staff.

Protectively, Fitz steps a little in front of Simmons. "Jemma," while not everyone would detect that vague note in his voice, Simmons will, "I think you should consider getting the good Doctor a coat," behind his back his hands twitch and his gaze flits towards his lab partner, but even as it does, the much larger agents at the Science Director's side step forward.

One reaches out towards Simmons, "Doctor Simmons, you need to come with us. Whatever work you're doing here will keep," he says blandly.

And as he moves, Leo steps further between the pair, "You need to be careful," he asserts. "The innards all over Jemma's gloves could be… acidic, yeah?" his voice cracks. He's terrible at this. "We require you too, Doctor Fitz. We wish to discuss the project you're supposed to be working on."

The second agent at the Director's side walks passed the others towards the body. Or, rather, Bobbi.

Weaver, meanwhile, manages a slight chuckle, "You're both so over-anxious," she asserts to her escorts. "Come. Doctor Simmons, Doctor Fitz. We have much to discuss. Leave this behind."

The agent near Bobbi leans towards one of the pans with alien guts inside it which promptly is thrust towards Bobbi.


And what was Carol doing before Wanda bamfed in? Why, that thing that all field agents dread more than anything else. Paperwork. And when you've been on an extended leave of absence, it accumulates on an exponential scale.

So when Wanda did arrive and tell Carol about the situation, there was perhaps a small amount of inappropriate relief as Carol grabbed her sidearm out of habit, wearing (for once) the standard SHIELD uniform, walking with Wanda to the lab as she murmurs, "You know, if this is a surprise party for my coming back to active duty, I could think of better places…"


Simmons blinks at the smile from Weaver. "O-oh? This is quite a sensitive autopsy, we don't want to contaminate the specimen, Dr. Weaver. You must understand this is—" Her ire is starting to get up as she thinks the woman is simply being careless with something important. However, then Fitz steps a bit in front of her. The woman's eyes glance at his hands, hears the note in his voice and she allows Fitz to interrupt her.

"Yes, of course. A coat." The tone of her voice is very different than it was before. More cautious, less annoyed. In fact, she steps back. "Yes. We have yet to test just how the blood interacts with human skin. You should all be quite careful. The precautions here are all for your own safety!" Her hands remain up as she gestures with the slicked gloves.

"This is quite an important autopsy, as you well know, Ma'am. I'll be glad to go with you as soon as this is completed." Despite her protest, the agent takes one of the pans and tosses it at Bobbi. She gasps, knowing now that something is wrong. "What are you doing! Fitz!"

She looks to Fitz with wide eyes and grabs one of her autopsy tools - a scalpel. "Thatisevidence!" is apparently her battle cry.


Bobbi was already moving as the agent came toward her, unsure whether or not it was an alien, Bobbi wasted no time in pulling out the steel baton from her lab coat and promptly going for the agent's head. Trying to knock him out. The pan thrown her way earned a disgusted sound as Bobbi ducked the pan, only to be doused in guts and fluids. Lovely.

"Fitz! Just like we talked about. Get you and Jemma out of here now!" She was moving again, running and swinging steel batons at heads and delicate body parts.


They walk right into trouble, it seems. The clamour of a metal pan full of organs and a scientist's irate tone together set off a traumatic cascade of memories for the slim brunette following a step or two behind Carol. After all, the blonde captain knows where to find the lab and was asked to lead the way. The instant Wanda catches wind of the trouble on hand, and sees Bobbi whip out a metal baton to upbraid a naughty alien — doctor, is there a difference? — her stance chances. Weight balances to her back foot and her shoulders straighten, the rapid mental assessment of various weapons on her person concluding in a particularly good summary. Pointy, pointy, pointy, bang.

It's the knife in its sheath she chooses, pulled straight from a black sheath hidden under the coat. Point concealed against her sleeve, she is eclipsed by Carol for good reason. Let the scary one be scary.


Scary? Carol? Well, as a matter of fact, she doesn't go for the pistol, or any weapon whatsoever really. Instead, she just cracks her knuckles, looking at the "doctors" as she says, "Okay, folks. We can do this the easy way… or the real easy way. Up to you."


"Jemma — " but as Fitz says the word the agent-thug, who was apparently carrying a weapon all along, pistol ships the scientist, clocking him in the chin, and promptly forcing him downwards to the floor. Holding his chin tightly, he collapses with a groan. His recent concussion means this is probably a very bad thing.

"I'm disappointed," Weaver notes in a too-warm tone, "And here we thought we could do this peacefully. Come with us," her chin lifts and she treads towards Agent Simmons. "Come, Jemma. You trust me. Remember the Academy and how we worked together? We could do it again. You just need to come with us."

The fellow reaches for a baton attached to his belt and gives it a sharp tug to detach it from his belt. With another shake, the weapon reaches full size — a bo staff.

The Skrull-agent has better skills than most would expect. Bobbi hits him once with her own baton, but the agent's delicate parts don't match those of a human, and instead, the hit towards its groin, while it does have it bending forward, promptly has the bo staff sweeping the floor beneath her feet. The thud of the agent is met with another sharp swing of the staff which meets Bobbi's head. Concussions are in high demand.

Weaver turns, and spies the blonde women. "Ladies, there's nothing to see here, I advise you go back upstairs." Because agent fighting in the ab happens every single day.


Simmons looks to Wanda and Carol behind the guards with wide eyes. Finally, her eyes land on Fitz just as he gets hit in the chin with the butt of his gun. "Fitz!" She doesn't wait or think. Instead, the small scientist attempts to bullrush the man forcing Fitz to the ground. There's a scalpel in her hand that she has not forgotten about, attempting to plunge it into the arm that is holding the gun. "Get off of him!" It happens within moments.

Behind her, she hears the Skrull-agent take down Agent Morse and the scientist panics. Wheeling at Dr. Weaver as she steps forward, the brunette pauses in her actions, head shaking. "You're the one that started this. I thought we could trust you." It's clear she doesn't quite any more. "Why are you doing this?"


Lessons from a master — of the mystic arts, and sheer mulishness — have taught Wanda to focus on the conversation rather than launching into immediate action. Better to have a sense for the situation instead of cutting twice and hitting a vein, causing the situation to fatally hemorrhage. She stands upon her toes, mouth clamped to a thinning line. For all the world, it looks as though she hesitates, doubtful at the situation she enters into.

Let Doctor Weaver read a dawning sense of horror in her golden face, those dark eyes narrowing as she watches Bobbi drop and Fitz stuffer. Another step backwards might imply this unpredictable, precocious Transian is about to do what those in her nation do so well to survive: duck and cover. Run. Whatever it takes to see the dawn. Certainly it reads that way. Not a fighter, right? Of course not. She's the glass cannon, and waiting for her opening.


Carol looks evenly at Weaver, "Oh, so real easy it is then." Her fist suddenly sparkles and glows with golden energy and she points at the mook that just took out Bobbi, "Hey!"

The mook turns, and gets /blasted/ with a bolt of light from Carol's fist, the energy slamming him back into the wall. Carol then looks back to Weaver, energy crackling around her hands again as she gets ready for another blast.


The Skrull agent that Simmons rushes lets out a sharp groan at the scalpel Simmons drives into his arm. He reaches out to push her off him, and he reaches for the bun her hair has been pulled into. As he tugs, the bun turns into a nice solid ponytail which he tugs hard as a kind of handle to drag her back towards the door.

Weaver looks towards Wanda and then Carol in turn, "We need to take what we came for. I am a superior officer and these two," she motions towards the scientists, "are required elsewhere. They were transferred here. Their services are no longer required. Step aside," she states authoritatively.

It's only then that she addresses Simmons again, "As I said, Doctor Simmons, you must come with us."


Carol glances back at Wanda, "Deal with her, I'm going to tangle with McGrabbyhands." She then moves quickly over to Simmons and her current dance partner are struggling.

Cocking back her fist, she then punches the Skrull agent in the chest. Not at /full/ strength, but pretty close to it as she realizes that these whatever-these-ares are far more durable than the typical human being.


The blast that whooshes by Simmons and hits the mook that knocked Bobbi unconscious throws Simmons a little off balance. It only helps the agent shove her off of him and grab at the bun at the back of her head. The scalpel pings off of the ground as it is dropped from her slippery gloved hands. The woman winces, looking down at Fitz as best she can with her hair being used as a handle. It's a painful way to get her attention and move her - which he manages to do.

"If I go with you, will you leave Fitz? And not harm anyone else?" She shouts to Weaver. She looks to Carol and Wanda, worried for their safety as well as her science partner. They took out Agent Morse in a matter of moments, the others could be badly injured.


While the explosion of energy from Carol stuns one mook, the other can look forward to a bad day. It's hard to generate any sympathy for an alien threatened by Simmons with a scalpel, and being pulled by the hair after he grabs Jemma. Wanda, left with Doctor Weaver, has a pained look upon her face. Fear, perhaps. Funny how human emotions move, especially as she slides the blade to a pocket and then raises her hands in a decidedly defensive position. The sort that, initially, screams she is empty-handed and not about to contest what happens. Fingers crook and curl, her eyes fathomlessly dark as their inherent amber-brown shade subtly alters beneath lowered lashes. She says something — and what those words are, regardless to whom hears them — will not be intelligible as actual language. It probably sounds like a highly coherent reply to Weaver. Possibly Slavic, given her origins.

Until they aren't. The visible outcome of her declaration only becomes evident when her body rocks on her planted feet and two oculi open: floor and midair respectively, the wavering distortions acting like a mirror for one another. She spreads splayed fingers apart, warping and bending space, twisting them in a loop on one another. A portal right under Weaver's feet opens, and it cycles right around over her head. Gravity has a bit of give on the slipstream, and does what the planet does best. Yanks things to its surface fast.


As Carol slams her fist into the Skrull's midsection that's attacking Simmons, the Skrull does something that's actually pretty darn clever. Namely, he morphs his body around her fist, trying to pin her arm as he snarls, "Stupid… brute force is useless against us!"

Carol smiles back, a little too sweetly, as she says, "You forgot what else I can do with my fists, so which one of us is really the dumb one?" The Skrull's eyes go wide, as suddenly an energy blast rips out the Skrull's back, puncturing him badly as he flops down to the floor, releasing his grip on Carol's arm.


Simmons, released by the Skrull, collapses to the ground in a stumbling fall as her hair is released by the Skrull Agent. Her eyes widen as Wanda's spell takes hold. Looks like she doesn't need to make a bargain after all. Yanking off her gloves, she moves to Fitz's side to try and prop him on his side rather than face down on the floor.


"Get him out," Wanda says, the words gritting out as she maintains the concentration needed to keep space bent and contorted upon itself in a localized vicinity. "Go be safe, please." The words do not hold the bite or bark of command to them, though the filaments of her power bleed her eyes a solid amaranthine shade the longer she remains braced. Her arms are still extended, palms outstretched, though how necessary this is, who is to say? Flicking her gaze to Carol, a brief, mirthless smile curves her lips and fades away. She has to trust, hard as that is. "Miss agent? Please?"


Skye, ever vigilant, holds a tool within her hands as she comes marching into the Lab..

..and upon seeing what had transpired, marches right out. Sight unseen. Nope! Skye wasn't here today at all.. wait a minute.. was that Lola calling her name? Uh huh..

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