World Tree MUSH

  Welcome to the desert! Specifically, this desert is located in the state of Arizona, in the United States of a particular instance of North America. It's spring, so the weather is actually pretty decent, and vast parts of the landscape are covered in delicate wildflowers or sprawling swaths of green.

  There is nothing out here on this particular stretch of back road. In fact, the gravel's given way to a simple dirt trace. Parked off the road is a curiously rounded jet, about the size of a carrier-based fighter, but rounded like a small transport. It has turbines in its wings. Who uses a stupid design like that?

  According to the low-visibility stenciling on the airframe and wings, the government does. Specifically, the roundels on its wings are the sternly Art Deco eagle of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.

  Okay, but... why are there government stiffs out here in the middle of nowhere, on a pleasant spring day, in what is any other time of year one of the harshest and most inhospitable climates on the continent?

  There's a Vine here, that's why. It opened up on the side of the road, a little ways away from the trail. There are two agents staring at it. One of them is a middle-aged man with 'government stiff' written all over him, from his authoritative black suit to his polished aviator shades. The other one's wearing an olive flight suit which is also blazoned with the agency eagle roundel. Embroidered on one side in block print, army-style, is 'A. STOJESPAL,' and on the other shoulder, an eagle roundel patch. Below that is a patch sporting a stylized Valkyrie, ancient Nordic chooser of the worthy dead.

  Her hair is long, red, and loose. Her eye, at least from the left, is blue; she's crouched beside the Vine and staring intently at the structure of it, mouth set into a thoughtful frown.

  From the right, she's... she looks like she probably shouldn't be alive. The right side of her face is old second- and third-degree burn scarring from just below her hairline to well beneath her collar. A patch completely covers her right eye; she has a matching pair of aviator sunglasses balanced over the eyepatch.

  They're talking, quietly.

  "What did Val have to say about it?" The man. There's an affable quality to his voice.

  "It's not from here." The woman. She sounds dubious. Her voice is a corvid's croak, scratchy and smoky; the sound of too many years spent drinking and smoking. Her words are peppered with some manner of Eastern European accent, but it's hard to say just what. "It's not from anywhere. Val couldn't run an analysis." Her single eye narrows. When she speaks again, her tone is soft and distracted. "Philip Coulson, what the hell is this...?"

  Coulson shakes his head. "I don't know. What I do know is that this is big, Anneka. Call it a gut feeling, but wherever this thing leads, I don't like the idea of HYDRA gaining access to it."

  The woman growls, low. "For a leg up on HYDRA, I'll almost forgive you the shower you shorted me to get here on short notice. Almost."

  Oh boy, these two have no idea what they're about to get into.

    Slurrrrrrrp.

    "Man. This coffee tastes like piss and motor oil." Dante mutters to himself in a roadside diner, with a cheery pie and what can generously be called coffee. THe vine just opened up, so curiosity struck Dante as the Demon Hunter drove into town, so to speak. "Sounds about right."

    He can't deny the pie's pretty good at least, but he can't help but notice out in the distance some kind of aircraft. He's always been more a cars and bikes guy himself, but he can't deny the plane's pretty swank in design.

    "Hmm."

    Paying for his dinner and desert, the demon hunter gets on his bike before he drives off road, getting a bit closer to the landing site. One will notice he's got a big honkin' instrument case strapped to the bike, his red coat trailing in the wind.

    Honestly, C'dakhi has no frame of reference to know the US government from a tea party. But when one of those weird portals -- 'Vines', the people of the World Tree call them -- opened up on Vylbrand near Limsa Lominsa, C'dakhi volunteered to go and see that it didn't lead to anywhere dangerous. He's vastly more prepared for such a thing than an untrained civilian would be, after all.

    So, one of the things that pokes through that Vine, in whatever way the Vine wishes to express this... is a head! Not to worry, it looks relatively normal. 'Relatively' being the key word here. One of the most noticeable features are a pair of pointed, thin, top-mounted animal ears. It's a young man with medium-length hair -- also red, the same color as the fur on those ears -- and light, blue-and-yellow eyes with slitted pupils.

    He peers around, a curious look on his face, and pair of small, clear pince-nez perched on his nose. "...Helloooo~?" he calls, half-teasing. "Nothin' over here wanna eat me, does it?" That is a vaguely Cornish accent, not thick enough to quite sound piratey, but close.

    [Lady, a new vine has opened. The world beyond appears modern in nature. Though the area is remote, I would suggest stopping and resupplying at the closest outpost.]
    Samus Aran, the galaxy's greatest bounty hunter pauses briefly as her ship's onboard AI reminds her to do some grocery shopping.
    "Are we really running that low, ADAM?" She muses, rising from her control seat and wandering toward the back of the gunship to check her logbooks and various supply crates before sitting back down in the control seat.
    "... I'm setting a course now."
    This is why in the next few moments the sleek purple armored frame of the Hunter's entire gunship starts making its way through the vine, before it pulls free from the portal.
    "Looks like we're not alone here." Samus murmurs as she punches a few commands into the controls and swings the starship around and starts to descend, touching down...
    Into position where it parks perfectly parallel to the landed Quinjet.
    Once the ship is parked and landed, it drops its boarding ramp, allowing the lone occupant to descend. For the record, Samus is dressed somewhat casually; a leather bomber jacket worn over a light top and dark cargo pants and sturdy boots, with a sidearm stunner pistol worn in a shoulder holster under her jacket.
    The blonde pauses as she looks between the agents present, and the catman peeking out of the vine.
    "I come in peace."

  There is dust marring the sleek radar-dark skin of the quinjet. It looks as though it's sat here long enough to start building up in little drifts where the breeze pushes it. The agents whom it presumably belongs to have been here for a few hours.

  For now the agents seem to be satisfied with studying the Vine, discussing with one anoth--

  A cat man pokes his head through the vine.

  Coulson's gaze slides right past Anneka and toward the vine, and it's the change of focus that alerts Anneka. She straightens, looking up, and her single eye abruptly goes--well. Quite round.

  "What the f--"

  There's a sudden scuffle as Anneka all but leaps backward, scrabbling away from the unfamiliar cat man. Her hand is halfway to the holster over her shoulder, but a look from Coulson stays her hand. His gaze returns to C'dakhi, thoughtful, and if he's startled he doesn't show it very much.

  Anneka blinks, owlishly, pointing with a forefinger past Coulson.

  "Uhm."

  "Well, we'd more or less figured it was a portal to... somewhere." Coulson shrugs at Anneka. "Going to say hi, Agent Stojespal?"

  It isn't 'hi' that Anneka says, staring at C'dakhi almost unblinkingly.

  Her voice is a croak.

  "You have--you have--ears."

  Yeah, the filters are kinda gone for a second or two.

  Strangely, when that second ship touches down beside the quinjet, the quinjet's running lights cycle from blue to yellow to red; back to yellow, pulsing gently, and then back to blue.

  Warning. You are entering a restricted area. Please stop, and identify yourself.

  The voice emanates from loudspeakers (and they actually have pretty good sound quality). It's smooth and feminine, and it starts speaking the instant Samus' bot touches the red Arizona dust.

  "Shut up, Val." The woman again. She sounds vaguely annoyed.

  I come in peace, Samus says.

  Anneka blinks owlishly. Coulson cracks a faint grin.

  "So do we," Coulson supplies.

  "Uh... hello." Anneka's greeting might come across a little bewildered.

  Her head whips around to Coulson, her stare accusatory. "Philip Coulson," she hisses, "we already have aliens, Asgardians, Inhumans, mutants... now there are more?"

  Coulson's gaze shifts between C'dakhi and Samus, and then back to C'dakhi again.

  He shrugs.

  "Don't sweat it, Anneka." He shows that crooked grin. "You get used to it after a while."

  Turning, he lifts a hand in a wave, and somewhat awkwardly, Anneka follows suit beside him. "Welcome to Earth. I'm Agent Philip Coulson. SHIELD: Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

  "I am Agent Anneka Stojespal." Yes, Anneka is staring, fascinated. No, she does not seem to care about the fact that she's staring, and it may be perceived as rude. Maybe she's used to people staring at her with that scarring. "Welcome to Earth. You are in..." She glances to Coulson, scowling. "Where the hell are we?"

  "Arizona. We're in the outskirts of the city of Sedona, in the state of Arizona. We received reports of a few anomalies in the area."

  At last Anneka grins. "Welcome to Earth." To C'dakhi, "You can come out of the portal. It's safe. Now. Introductions! Who are you all?"

  Honestly, she seems kinda delighted by the weirdness of it, even if her expression doesn't change all that much, and in spite of the fact that she looks like she's several decades beyond child-like glee.

    Just as Samus and the catman meet the agents, Dante pulls up. "YO! Pretty sure this ain't a free fly zone!" He calls out, pulling off his goggles as he gets off the bike and approaches.

    Samus gets a cheeky grin and a wink. "Yo, blondie. Been a minute." He recognizes her from the oni hunt, for sure. C'Dahki, not so much. "Who's kitty cat?"

    Dante's gaze is then held with Anneka and Coulson for a moment. "Lemme guess, you're feds. Or somethin' else."

    C'dakhi notes the leap backward, and moves to the side, to get out of her immediate line of sight. Now he's easier to see, since he's completely out of the portal. Yeah, he's a cat-man of some kind, not only with cat-ish ears and slit-pupiled eyes, but there's a fluffy tail, also the same color as his hair.

    It's an archaic-looking outfit that he's wearing too, cloth and leather mainly of cream and a warm brown, respectively. When Anneka looks to be reaching for a weapon, he does too -- there are a pair of large daggers sheathed at his hips. Though he relaxes when it no longer looks like he's going to get attacked.

    Anneka's pointing out of his ears draws C'dakhi to blink. "Well, er... yes?" he agrees, and then adds, "So do you." Pointing to the side of his head -- where his ears AREN'T -- he notes, "Matter of fact, they're just about here."

    Though Samus's jet -- and for that matter, the quinjet and Dante's motorcycle too -- draws the cat-man's attention. First his ears perk at the noise... and then they flatten angrily. "...Oh bugger me sideways," he curses. "Those imperial bastards aren't HERE too, are they?!"

    He looks at Samus suspiciously as she exits the jet. Though, well... the person who exits it doesn't appear to mean anyone harm.

    YET. Never could be sure with this weird and unnatural technology that didn't use aether...

    He looks between all the people here, suddenly wary, though he doesn't seem to be inclined to attack anyone. No one here appears to have a Garlean third eye as far as he can tell... Besides, the apparent 'hosts' of this impromptu shindig are offering introductions!

    So he relaxes a little, and offers a lopsided grin. Thumb pointing at his chest, he offers to those present, "Name's C'dakhi. Pleasure to meetcha! Well, it's a pleasure long as none of you fine people have any intentions of attackin' me or trying to throw another moon at my home, anyway. I keep all me stuff there, so it's kinna inconvenient."

    Yes he totally did say 'another' moon. As if it had happened once already.

    This certainly is a meeting isn't it. Blue eyes flit between Agent Coulson and Agent Stojespal as Samus stuffs a hand into her pocket. The way she carries herself as she descends the boarding ramp is somewhere between the swagger of a professional lifetime soldier and the slow but purposeful gait of an apex predator. Her gaze darts to the quinjet as Val demands identification- and Anneka more politely suggests an introduction. That she can do.
    "Samus Aran. Freelance bounty hunter."
    And there's Dante to boot.
    "Dante. Fancy running into you here." She says, lips quirking slightly upward at the corners at her fellow hunter, before her attention is drawn to C'dakhi, eyeing her so suspiciously, his gaze is met and returned with a clear blue hawk-like stare.
    "I'm not throwing another moon anywhere. I don't even think I have the firepower to do something like that."

  Both agents look over at Dante's call, exchanging a look as Anneka strolls over to stand with folded arms. Her single eye rakes over the Son of Sparda, but the look is more like a cornered animal figuring its odds if things turn ugly. Her smile is guarded. Coulson looks bland and affable, unperturbed.

  Lemme guess, you're feds. Or somethin' else.

  "Something else," Anneka offers, with an upraised forefinger. She slides her eye over to Coulson; he nods, briefly and subtly, and she turns her focus back to Dante. "As Agent Philip Coulson has said, we are with Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. 'SHIELD,' because absolutely they like their acronyms far too much," she asides, irritably. "Anyway. We are not federal. We are not local, either."

  "SHIELD's jurisdiction is a little different," Coulson supplies. "I'm not at liberty to discuss too many of the details, but our jurisdiction as of right now is that." He points at the Vine. "Effective immediately."

  "Immediately-immediately?" Anneka asides, frowning.

  "Yyyyup," Coulson comments.

  Meanwhile, Anneka is making sure to keep C'dakhi in her line of sight: She has a blind side, though, and she's turning any time he moves to keep him squarely focused on her left side. Her brow furrows. "Philip Coulson he has a--"

  "I know."

  "But--"

  Coulson makes a subtle get on with it gesture.

  She might still be stuck on C'dakhi's ears. Well, yeah, of course he has ears. Most people have ears, right? "W-well no but--" She stares for a second or two, and finally sighs and slumps.

  The running lights on the quinjet slowly cycle between cool blue and a dusty, dark yellow. Maybe it's thinking.

  At the outburst Anneka's hand twitches, as though to reach for a weapon again, but another look from Coulson stops her. Her nostrils flare, though, as though some part of her just wants to respond to the aggression levied in her general direction. High-strung, this one; as much as her fellow agent seems to be cool as a cucumber.

  They glance at each other before they seem to accept that the cat man isn't going to flip out and stab them.

  Probably.

  ...Maybe.

  "No." Anneka shakes her head. "No hostilities. We are not military." Even if their equipment seems to be somewhat toothsome. That quinjet looks mean, even if it doesn't seem to be carrying more than a forward gatling gun. "We are only here to study that." The redhead gestures at the Vine. "We will have another team come in behind to take readings and study this thing; probably we will be going through it, sooner or later, as soon as the Director gives word."

  She pauses for about five seconds flat.

  "...another moon?"

  "Sorry. Don't mind the third wheel." For Samus' benefit, Anneka jerks a thumb towards the quinjet. Her eye flits between Samus and Dante. "You two know each other? Hunh." Her gaze settles more curiously on Samus. "A bounty hunter? I think SHIELD will maybe need your services, sooner or later." Her half-smile is crooked, and it really does seem half: The scarred half of her face doesn't move so much. "May we exchange contact information before you leave?" A glance is cast to C'dakhi. "All of you, actually." Her smile does... not seem to come as easily as Coulson's.

    Dante is gonna have a hell of a time remembering that acronym, so it's convenient that it meshes into a word that's way easier. "Sounds like a step above nay alphabet agency I've run into." He muses, running a hand across his white hair.

    C'Dahki gets a glance. "'Another', huh? There just a big surplus of moons where you're from, Scrimbleshanks?" THe demon hunter grins wryly before he produces a card from his wallet.

    "Dante Spardason. I'm a hunter of demons and other paranormal crap by trade, the kinda stuff that goes bump in the night. Sometimes verges into killin' aliens, mutants, and other stuff that chew on regular folks." He explains, handing the card to Coulson.

    He does nod when Anneka asks him directly about Samus, "Yeah, she's some kinda space bounty hunter. Crazy power armor and such."

    Maybe he's a little too trusting, but Samus's answer regarding his concerns of not throwing a moon gets a friendly smile. "Good 'nuff for me," he decides, with a nod. "Pleased to meetcha, then!"

    He seems to be more relaxed now that introductions are out. The subtle body language is there; he moves his hands away from his hips and crosses them over his front. It's not a defensive gesture though. It seems like he's just getting his hands away from his weapons.

    Dante's words get a raised eyebrow. "Eh?" He blinks. "Oh no, just two. Well, one now. Thrice-damned Garleans threw the other one at us. Cracked open like an egg and set a giant dragon loose. I'll keep it short -- it was a mess. We don't call it the 'Calamity' for nothin'." By some chance, Anneka and Dante asked similar questions, so he answers them both!

    Contact information is asked for by Anneka, and he seems to remember something. "Oh, right." He roots around in one of the pouches on his belt for a second -- slowly, mind, and with only one hand, so it doesn't look like he's looking for a weapon -- and draws a small, irridescent pearl from a pouch, with a gripping clasp and a small chain. It looks like...

    A pearl earring?

    He holds out his gloved hand, offering it to Anneka. "Here ya go," he offers. "A linkpearl. This one's only attached to me own linkshell." He seems to expect her to know exactly what to do with it.

    It's not too trusting when the person in question has niether the means nor intent to fling moons around.
    "We've worked together in the past." Samus confirms her thus far working relationship with the Son of Sparda. "And it's not crazy power armor, it's Chozo." She says with a slight smirk.
    BUT. Dante has a card-- so too does Samus, reaching into her breast pocket to produce a small plastic card with nothing on it. Until she presses it with her thumb, which causes it to come to life with a bright blue hologram. It's a very simple card; it has her name, her occupation as a freelance bounty hunter, and a means of how to reach her.
    She offers this to whomever will take it first between Anneka and Phil.
    "I'm not cheap, but I am good."
    She does curiously regard C'dakhi though when he explains what he meant about moon throwing.
    "A dragon. In the moon." She sounds skeptical, but then again the variety of worlds on this Tree do make such things possible.
    "That does sound like a real mess."

  Anneka's nostrils flare, and her bland sigh suggests this isn't the first time she's had to suffer through people cracking wise about governmental agencies she happens to work for. Yes, yes, her expression seems to say; laugh it up.

  Coulson takes the card with admirable neutrality that his counterpart agent just doesn't seem quite able to summon up. The look she levies against Dante is just plain, honest, low-grade exasperation. He folds the card into the interior pocket of his crisp, government-tier suit jacket. "A pleasure, Mr. Spardason. We'll certainly keep that in mind, going forward." He reaches into a different pocket, and produces a crisp white card for Dante. It includes SHIELD's full name, its roundel, and contact information, as well as Coulson's name in block print: 'AGENT PHILIP J. COULSON.' The address, in spite of the current locale, lists Washington DC.

  Anneka may glaze over slightly at C'dakhi's accounting of why there has been more than one moon chucked at his planet.

  Right, yes, moving on.

  The pearl 'earring' is eyed curiously, and Anneka opens her hand to take it. The thing is held up to her lone eye and studied intently as she listens.

  She stands there staring at it for a second or two.

  Silence.

  "...what the hell is this?"

  Looks like Anneka is the dedicated card-collector. She takes Samus', too, staring at it with particular interest. This one's glowy. "Thanks," she asides, to the galactic bounty hunter. She rummages in her own jacket pocket before producing a card. It's identical to Coulson's, except this one has 'AGENT ANNEKA STOJESPAL' stamped on it instead, and the contact information is slightly different.

  "Well, we should probably be reporting back, soon," Coulson offers. "It was good to meet you all. I'm sure we'll be in touch. Agent Stojespal?" He calls, because the red-headed agent is busy staring at the linkshell and the holographic business card.

  ...She doesn't hear him.

  "Anneka."

  "--Oh, yes." Both are slipped into the jacket pocket. "A pleasure," she echoes, offering a wave. Her half-smile is both fleeting and wary. The man seems to play his hand close to his vest; the woman is guarded; so guarded. "We will be in touch. Please do contact us if you have need."

  With that, the two will turn to walk toward the quinjet, so long as nobody moves or calls to stop them.

    Dante chuckles, he'll spare Anneka the snark on first meeting beyond playful ribbing. Though he gets the impression she's not the type to put up with that. Coulson's at least kinda chill enough.

    He spares C'Dahki a flat look when the catman explains them moon thing. "Jesus." is all he can offer, with an air of surprise. Moons being thrown about is uh...a little new to him. Maybe something Dear Old Mom and Dad got up to back in their day.

    "I'm a cheap date but these coats are expensive, so my rates are uh..." His hand raises upwards. "Pretty fuckin' high. Top notch demon slayin' though, you'll see." Dante winks as he takes Coulson's card. Guy's pretty no-nonsense, Dante can appreciate a guy with a non-pretentious business card. A lotta people get too excited over their cards.

    "We'll be in touch, fellas. If this world's like most, there'll be plenty of Hellspawn to turn into shashimi." Dante won't bother stopping the two. They probably gotta report back on...stuff.

    C'dakhi nods to Samus. "Aye. Not just any dragon, either. The elder primal Bahamut." Looking between Samus and Dante, "A li'l more than five years ago it was, and people are still tryin' to piece together what happened after it busted loose," he notes.

    Anneka seems confused at the tiny pearl, and he blinks, seeming confused... at her being confused! Then it seems to occur to him. "Oh, er... it's a linkpearl," he replies. He turns his head a little, and -- hey, there's one at the base of his cat-/fox-like ear, hard to notice unless one's looking for it. It's the same color as the one he gave Anneka.

    "They go here," he explains, pointing at the base of his ear where the tiny pearl is. He also adds, since people are talking about rates, pay, and skill, "Ah, right. I guess I'm... somethin' of a troubleshooter." Though he doesn't seem to have any guns on his person. "I'm part of a group too, a group of people who know how to get in, deal with a situation, and get out before anyone's the wiser."

    The offer of communication gets a nod. "Aye, same. That linkpearl should let you talk to me... I may hafta teach people how to use 'em, though... Didn't occur to me that someone might not know how to use one..."

    No, C'dakhi's not about to stop the pair of them leaving. He merely waves as they leave. "Take care!" he chirps happily.