Summary:
November 20, 2014: After Wonder Woman "resuces" Hawkgirl, she calls a meeting on neutral territory to hopefully bring an end to the hunts.
Themyscira House
The Themysciran Embassy is the home of the Amazonian Delegation to the world. It is their castle, their fortress, their refuge from the Patriarchs world and the place where they gather friends and allies, on occasion. The Embassy grounds are, as all embassies are, the sovereign territory of Themyscira and anything done there falls under Themyscirian law.
Characters
NPCs
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Mood Music:
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The Themyscira House. An equivalent to an embassy, granted to the Amazon Diana as such, and also considered Themysciran soil when tread upon resembles that of a large house of old grecian architecture. The front entry is gated, guarded, and monitored by small video cameras, some planted conspicuously, others not. To enter through the gate you have to be buzzed in. The drive is short, but set back enough for a small alcove of trees to block the view to the city avenue that places this just off the Upper East Side. Nestled away from the hustle and bustle but not hard to get to for obvious reasons.
The front entry is lead up to by several crescent shaped steps, the porch and overhang held aloft by large pillars with vining greenery winding upward and along the cover, framing the engraving into the stonework of 'Themyscira House' ornately.
Within the front door is a secretary desk, heavy wood, inlaid and etched with design, all of it effigy of old graeco-romaesque design. No modernization save for what it is in its representation. The woman behind the desk is dark skinned, long hair held back in braids that dangled below the small of her back, keying away on the computer and squinting annoyedly at the screen, one hand rising to thump it like a misbehaving child - but just a bit harder.
Jericho lands near the house and dismisses it's wings, eyeing it like the aforementioned misbehaving child. He's got his leather case with him (with his blade… that is also a gun) despite the admonition to come unarmed. This is not, particularly, because he thinks he'll need it. It's because were it to fall into the wrong hands it would be very, very, very bad for him so he tends not to let it out of his sight. Preferably he tends not to let it off his person.
At any rate the hacker just stands there debating whether or not he should actually go in there.
Deep within the bowels of the house, possibly underground was Shayera. Bo-staff in hand, broken apart just as she usually does, twirling it deftly within her fingers. Wings were bound at the base, covered and wrapped with cloth due to being wet from a bath, yet the jogging pants and tank top she wore spoke of another sport at play.
She was with one of the sisters, Amazonian, practicing with various whips and kicks, each piece of metal the woman carried slammed extremely hard against the Nth but it does not break nor bow. Swing, thrust, kick, roundhouse, parry, dodge, tuck and roll.. each swing and blow is met with loud screams in the throes of battle.
A meeting, feh.
"You're angry, Valkyrie!" The Amazonian shouts. "USE IT!"
A few seconds later, America Chavez lands next to Jericho. She is wearing a new jacket- black, with red and blue accents and a large white star across the back. She's replaced her shorts with black jeans and tied her hair back in a ponytail.
"So you showed up," America says. "Curious to see if the Princess is going to hand-wave away the misdeeds of her Bee Eff Eff?" America had to do some quick web searches on who the woman actually was. It was funny to find out it was this 'Wonder Woman' she had heard about. At first, she thought it might have been an alternate reality version of Wonder Man when she first arrived to this dimension, but that did not seem to be the case.
Jim Reha shows up at the location that Diana, Ambassador of the Amazons had hinted at during their rather… brief previous encounter. He'd taken the time to get cleaned up, get the chunks of cement pulled out of his back — that hurt like hell — and had managed to work into his best work suit. It definitely looks pricier than the standard 'business casual', but given that one of his employers is Pepper Potts at Stark Industries, it's actually about the right speed for this meeting. He hopes.
He'd spent the limited hours after getting squared away trying to find something appropriate to bring for the tea. Eventually, he gave up trying to be fancy and ornate and settled on something that made a great deal of sense in context. He stopped by a small tea house that Pepper had recommended in the past — that woman really knew her tea — and picked up a variety of fresh - baked scones, pastries as well as a hand - crafted tea service set. He's *just* barely able to handle the load — thank goodness for those handy reinforced re-usable bags — and makes his way inside to the desk.
When he sees the slap about to come down on the terminal he grins a bit. "Percussive maintenance is awesome, aint it?" He offers that as an icebreaker, hoping he's not offending. "You have to be careful, though. You hit it too hard and then the smoke comes out. I've heard that's a bad thing?"
The salt - and - pepper'd fellow probably did not see America or Jericho on the way in, but where angels fear to tread…
When the woman pauses the screen flickers and the two at the gate are buzzed in, reclining back to reveal the fat that behind her there is a box of flat screen monitors, swiveling in her chair just enough to cast a glance at Jim with those uncanny teal huen eyes.
Her jaw works and when lips part gum snaps and the up-down glance over him seems not only systematic but assessive, nothing more. One hand extends forth and hits a button that releases no sound heard by them, but when she speaks it is militaristic, curt.
"Your company is here."
Coming from another back room a dusky skinned woman with dark hair pinned back in a bun emerges. Crisp business suit, but instead of all business heels she is wearing those Grecian sandals that strap up to just beneath her knees.
All these woman would make sense in most office spaces except none of them bore a height beneath six feet and their builds would never touch on the word diminutive.
Amazons.
Just like the one that emerges from the meeting chambers, an indoor/outdoor affair with the large stretch of a desk and high back chair to entertain. The angered woman from the night seems calmer as those two large doors are pushed aside and wide.
"Please, come and get comfortable. Do not mind Sirena, she's new to your world…" And men. "Alana, please let Shayera know it's time."
It's beyond time but Thrassos did not relent easy on Hawkgirl, or Valkyrie as she loathsomely referred to her.
Once Chavez and Jericho entered they would be escorted back by the 'secretary', Alana Dominguez.
Jericho sighs. "Something like that, mmm?" He's not entirely sure what made him come, other than someone needs to deal with this Hawk-Person issue and it seems to fall to him to be the voice of (hard edged) reason. And really, when the demon-tainted wanted hacker is the voice of reason, something's gone horribly, horribly sideways.
"Well, let's go, shall we?" Leather case swaying at his back Jericho walks up to the house and is mildly surprised to be admitted and escorted to a back room. Okay. Didn't see that one coming.
"Your wings!" Thrasso shouts, "Are an extension of yourself!"
*CLACK! *CLACK!*
"USE THEM!"
The only way that Shayera was to stop the fighting now, was the appearance of Alana to stood with a disapproving gaze. Shayera backs off the fight, keeping her weapons extended, chest heaving with over exertion as she remains in pose, expecting Thrasso to lash out for a final blow that may have been unseen of eyes rested upon Alana.
"Princess Diana calls for you. It's time. And clean up. Thrasso, on me. You're taking the front desk, my turn next." Thrasso soon offers a smug smile towards Shayera, and tapers off into the background with Alana.
Left to her own devices for now, the staff; two parts, were joined with a single click, time taken to unwrap wings from cloth to extend, bend, and ruffle as the towels she used were to dry herself clean. There was a vacancy to her eyes, it was obvious that the matter will never be dealt with until the bird demon was taken from this world to her own to face justice. There were no if's, ands, and buts about it.
With a sigh, the towels were tossed down upon the ground for the other women (or men, in their employ) to clean as she makes her way to the meeting point, albeit reluctantly.
America offers no pleasantries. Her mothers may or may not have believed in the benefits of social lubricant, but to America most of the time it is an obstacle to deal with the issue at stake. She walks into the meeting room as directed without rudeness, but she also does not smile nor looks ready to break out into hugs and invite people to bake sales.
She sits down, crossing her legs and arms and keeps to her silence, her hazel eyes focused intently on the ambassador, her expression her usual mixture of boredom and detached speculation.
The portly fellow winces a bit as he makes his way into the meeting room, but it is clear he did have much better military bearing at one point when he was younger and not recovering from other situations. He's also a veteran of the retail environment, so he can almost feel the eyes on him from the Amazons.
What he knows of the Amazons, though, is mostly legend. But part of that is the understanding that they are warrior women who have some serious axe to grind against men, and given when their legendary started back in the Greek mythic period… well, he kind of gets it. While society has made some great advances in some places, in others, well, things are still horrifically unfair and biased against women. He's really not sure why, after a few months with Miss Potts at the helm of Stark. She's kept the company in better shape than the former CEO, if someone was going to ask Jim.
That's a moment or two of consideration before he straightens up a bit… then winces again. Removed does not equal healed. He puts on the best smile he can and carefully sets the two cumbersome bags on the table.
"Please forgive me, Madam Ambassador. I've never had the honor or privilege to be at one of these things, so… I kind of punted. I picked up some scones at this amazing little tea house my boss loves to death, and a tea service."
He's not Greek, but he is… bearing gifts?
He will remain standing until it looks appropriate to be seated, and then will sit down, nearly forgotten bearing keeping him seated formally yet slightly relaxed.
Diana may have said not to bring weapons, but once over the threshold it becomes a whole other matter entirely anyway. First step is trust which all of them lack towards one another - and for no reason that is remotely questionable. Diana remains at the parted doors, her own sandals worn, straps horizontal, braced vertical in front and back, every strap bearing a buckle to keep it in place. Upon her statuesque figure she wears the light and willowy fabric of dark blue wrapped around her. Two strips of fabric dropping over her shoulders down and bound at her waist where it spreads into the split silk skirt, the same down her back leaving glimpses of olive skin over sinewed musculature. Long ebon hair hangs freely over her bare shoulders, that diadem worn still upon forehead.
A slight tip of her head in greeting is offered to each entrant, Jim, however gets a longer pause, her hands held out to accept the gifts with a smile. "Thank you. Welcome to my home here."
She does not ignore his wounded stature, but she does not coddle it either. It would be taboo to do so in her culture, but a momentary glance of concern can either go seen or easily unnoticed.
"Please, be seated."
Alana takes the offered gifts, and in turn sets them up. The tea, the drizzled over scones with decorations and colors to match the fall/winter season. Each person gets a cup filled with the hot beverage as well as a scone on the tea cup dish.
"As I take it, you…" Diana nods to Jim, "Were the first person she met. Explain to me your relationship. Do not give me bias or here say. Your side, your view, unadulterated."
Pause.
"After will be you." Jericho. "Then you." Chavez. Then a nod to Hawkgirl.
"If you see fit, introduce yourselves. I would like to know you all."
"No interrupting. One at a time, please." She's only asking once.
Jericho does have a seat, shifting the case, which is snapped closed, off to one side. The tea he does accept, sipping at it as he eyes the others around. Of the assembled he knows Jim the best though their interactions have been strained. Happens when you randomly teleport into someone's kitchen with a minigun. The other three he knows equally well though America seems to be the most disinterested party here other than him. Like him, he simply wants these two to knock it off.
Upon her arrival, there was a little bit of surprise mixed with a hint of disdain peppered with hate as she views all in the room. It is rare for her to use such a strong word as hate, but it was there, tucked beneath bone and sinew. She does not take a sit, having been in this house long enough to grow comfortable where ever she stood and laid her head, it was no matter of her to guard the door where a few Amazon's wouldn't.
Even though introductions were soon to be made and accusations were to fly, she remained steadfast.. and oddly enough..
Thrasso. Her mentioning of having a dead cow between two pieces of bread seemed oddly alluring right about now.
America accepts the tea, because it would be rude not to do so. When Shayera enters, she gets nothing more than a level gaze from the Hispanic woman, her demeanor unperturbed.
She sits back again and sips her tea, waiting for Jim to speak.
"My name is James Reha, though I prefer Jim. I work for both Drakos Recovery Solutions, LLC, and Stark Industries. I 'time-share', for lack of a better term, with an ancient entity known as The Corvinus. I felt it would be much better if I spoke for our partnership at this meeting, as it tends to be rather… florid… with its wording."
He pauses to take a sip of the tea and then nods approvingly. Good call, Pepper.
"I was in the Navy for a couple of years a few decades ago, then worked almost the whole time since in retail. I try to live simply, and sometimes spring for something big." He pauses, then continues. "On the evening of October tenth, Shayera Hol entered my apartment in Queens through the roof. She then tore apart my residence and eventually held me by the throat, threatening to end my existence and that of my partner. With the sounds of impending arrival of local law enforcement and emergency services, she did state that she 'was thorough' and that she 'would find who she was looking for' before departing. Prior to that encounter, I had no awareness of Miss Hol, though the partner was terrified for reasons it would not elaborate upon at the time."
He grips the cup to hide a bit of a shake from the memory, but trained eyes could probably see the slight tremor.
"After that, for the past month, pretty much any time I turned my head, or if I was out walking, there'd be a hint of someone or something following me, watching me. And then very recently she swooped down out of the sky and attempted to carry me… somewhere. I'm not much of a fighter, I was a support services type in the Service, but I have learned that going limp helps sometimes. So I did that, and Miss Hol dropped me into a fruit stand somewhere in Midtown, I think. And before I had much of a chance to say or do anything about it, a Good Samaritan dropped in." He nods towards America. "She incapacitated Miss Hol. Fearing that Miss Hol would endanger either of my employers if we brought her to them, and uncertain of what other contacts to call upon, the Good Samaritan offered to find someone to help."
Shayera's entry does not go unnoticed, but if anything it stiffens the man's resolve, causing him to sit up a bit straighter and squint a bit before… calm returns, slow breaths, relaxed…
"Mister Trent I know from a similar issue in the past, but we've managed to work through our differences and come to a mutual understanding."
He remains 'at attention' now that Shayera's in the room. His eyes do mark the exits, and he nods.
"Thank you very much for your patience on this matter."
Diana remains resolute in her overall demeanor, the only touch of change coming when she tastes the tea followed by the biscotti. Her fingers rub together to free them of crumbs over the saucer and a smile once more is offered to Jim in thanks.
It seems slow, every motion enjoyed, relished and with a purpose, even as she sits back in her high backed chair and listens to Jim, watches him with an uncanny and unreadable eye and then turns to face Shayera, offering her the seat beside her.
"I said for us all to be seated." No definition necessary, but if Shayera looked /hard/ enough she could see plenty reason there even in the straight-backed repose that held both warrior and business, all encompassing.
Once (IF) Hawkgirl takes a seat she then nods to Jericho to state his own personal statement. Everyone gets their turn, she would have hers.
Jericho shrugs. "My stake in this isn't personal. Well, isn't very personal. Yesterday we tried to get some answers out of your friend there and the Corvinus. Both proved evasive. She insists that he's a monster that deserves what she's doing. He insists that he's innocent and his 'partner' is only guilty of annoying philosophy. I'm not sure, frankly, that I believe either one of them, but the fact of the matter is that one of these two has been trouble." You know, demolished apartments, almost-murderous rampages. "And one has not." No points for guessing which.
"I just want them to knock if off, and being the guy not concerned with due process that I am, I have no problems enforcing that at blade-point." Or gunpoint. Or DDoS point. Whichever.
Jim's words, while expansive, were the truth from the human suits perspective. She did stalk, follow and torment the man mentally, and in her own way, primed him good and ready to be taken to the stars to be exacted revenge, it would have been just a matter of time of unbonding the demon bird from the flesh.
A glance was given towards Diana, and for a moment, she was reluctant towards moving. However, when Jericho speaks, a little guffaw of annoyance is heard from her, her body lurching forward to walk.. not run, walk.. not angrily, towards the chair beside Diana.
There was a little bit of a struggle really, these chairs were not meant for wings such as those, so she shuffles, wriggles, rolls shoulders, leans forward with a flap of wings and.. just stands again.
"I rather stand."
Diana /saw/ more then she cared to in reactions from Jim. Even if Shayera is standing there with no harmful intent obvious, while others sit, it -is- intimidating enough.
Seeing Shayera's struggle though… So she had a reason, but Diana is not about to change her words for one due to a technicality. Every problem can get fixed by whatever means necessary and she pivots her chair towards the one Shayera had just struggled with, one hand extending to grip the seat while the other gripped the back and without so much as a sound or look of strain the metal bent and then broke at the bow where seat and back meld.
A light clear of Diana's throat and Shayera now has a leather seat with no back rest upon it. Setting the backrest in a prop beside her she gestures again. No words necessary. At all.
Now her gaze goes to Chavez, the tea once again gathered and sipped upon.
Since it was her turn, America puts down her cup. "What Jericho said. And your friend's wrecked quite a bit and she needs to answer for it. She has to make amends to the people whose property she wrecked."
America usually paid upfront for the damages. During the time that Loki was trying to recruit her into his little ploy, at least four different restaurants got new walls courtesy of her.
"And she needs to stop. doing. it." America says, reaching for her cup to take a sip and drive the point home. "So we've got a problem of accountability here. Most people who do what she's done get arrested. Instead, she gets the warrior spa treatment."
She does try, very hard, not to smile a little at Diana's solution. It was something she would have done. So instead of smiling, she sips her cup again. Businesslike.
Jim watches Jericho quietly, then Shayera as she attempts to handle the chair. He… relaxes a bit when he sees her have trouble with sitting? Huh. She's just a person, after all. And, you've had the same damn problem with chairs too, Corv, don't laugh. That's not very Enlightened. It's not very often that he gets to call the partner on BS, but when he does, it's very, very rewarding. Almost… spiritual, even.
It's his turn to be quiet, almost contemplative as he enjoys the tea and scones while listening to the discussion at the table.
Jericho folds his arms and watches the assembled. He gets it. Honestly he does. He's been backed against the wall with nowhere to go and fought back in ways that aren't condoned by pretty much anyone. He's been the guy taking the law into his own hands because the law isn't equipped to deal with what's come up. He gets that. And it's possible that he might even agree with Shayera, if only she'd do some explaining.
As it stands though? That hasn't happened and the only thing Jericho is left to assume based on relative behaviors is that Shay hasn't given a reason because she doesn't have one.
There was no tea and crumpets, or biscuits for her to stuff her gourd with, after Hitler dismantled the chair, she sat down easily, legs parted, elbows resting upon thighs, head lowered in a bit of thought. Everyone has said their peace, twice probably, but now it was Shayera's turn, and there was a slight sigh that draws upon her lips.
"This injustice that the demon bird has brought upon my people spans a millennia." She would know, she was there. But she wasn't about to offer up apologies, nor explanation that goes into depths of the true reason, not just yet.
"But as it stands, there is no rhyme or reason as to why I should divulge my secrets to people who I do not recognize as this worlds leaders. Accountability, is understood. And taken into consideration." Not to mention, steps were moving in that direction, she just wasn't about to say so just yet.
"So I find it hard, very hard to see, and wonder, and understand as to why these two are here, where the problem and the matter lies with me and that thing that hides in that suit." Eyes gone to Miss America and Jericho now, hands moving to press against her thighs and stand.
"I appreciate your patronage, Princess. But this matter will not be resolved until The Demon Bird Corvinus is in custody and removed from this Terra."
She was heading towards the door, intent on gathering her things and leaving. "He will be judged, and executed within' my worlds court of law if found wanting. And I have nothing more to speak upon of this matter."
"Jim Reha. I would like to take one moment to thank you for your service to this country, as it is always in need. Once there you never truly 'retire', ever in her graces. It seems though this business is not fully with you. It is with your 'partner'. Is that who you speak with even now? Let his voice be heard."
Jericho is then looked upon. She knows him, just enough to know better. "Then you should also be aware that is not how everyone operates and sometimes is not the answer. You threaten a warrior with war and that is what you get. Not answers."
Chavez then is the focus of her gaze as one hand comes up and gestures to the house. "Bill me until it is resolved."
When Shayera speaks and rises /again/ to make for the doors this time Diana only reaches to her side and grips the back of the chair she had severed from the seat, now coming to a stand with it in her grip - standing between Shayera and the door.
"Close. The. Doors." Diana's voice carries and echoes through their chamber and out to the hall, where Thrasso and Xanthippe each get a door and shove them closed with a silent escape of air and a loud click.
"Tell me, Shayera Hol, where you are from how do you recognize a world leader? Where you are from has different ways then here, different people. Even that man…" Now one hand gestures out towards Jim. "Has rights in this world just as much as you do and I have a responsibility to ensure you both get just that."
Diana's one hand that gestured towards Jim now sweep across the table. "They were involved. Jericho more than once. This brings a possibility of all perspectives to be covered fairly, including yours." Now Diana points to herself though when that hand comes to her chest her other hand grips that bracer, sliding over the metal in a light twist.
"Jim has fought for this Terra where you have not, his demon is a part of him. We're not on your world, we're on MINE."
That final end word is emphasized enough by only the slight raise in voice but moving from a motherly talk of reason and logic to a demanding clarity.
"Jim, your demon. Let your truth out. Shayera…." Please don't make her ask again.
"That sounds strangely familiar," is America's comment while she looks at Shayera. She remembers telling the winged one something similar, though far less eloquent. "Maybe it needs to be spelled out."
Jim stands up and takes a couple of steps backwards, making sure there is plenty of room around him. "Please don't freak out. It can really be unnerving for some folks." He cracks his neck and relaxes, and if one was to not look at him, it would seem very much as if someone had put some strange bird-thing-person there in his stead. When the transformation is done, it moves through what is clearly the equivalent of a pre-flight checklist before halting.
"This one is The Corvinus. This one was requested to aid the people of Thanagar with reaching Enlightenment. This one failed. Instead of gaining Wisdom, instead of gaining Knowledge, they took the fruits and instead turned them to War, and drove this one off. This one does not understand what this one did wrong. Every step was followed, every partner willing, no slavery, and DEFINITELY NOT a demon. This one wandered, seeking to find a way to bring them back to Wisdom, Enlightenment…"
It slumps. "Now this one may have endangered this world just by its presence. This is not optimal."
It was settled, Diana was going to pay for her fuckups. Great. The way Shayera fixes things is with her own hands, if wanted, she would have flown to the designated damaged areas and built anew brick by brick, mortar by mortar. But that was neither here nor there.
The closing of the doors causes her to fall into place, one foot in front of the other, fingers clenching into fists as they were long before and since the day she was born. And then a breath. She hates being locked up, tied down, turned around..
"The same way you identify your world leaders, by title and work. Not worth." Addressing the two is out of the question, and answering to the two? She felt the same.
Her chest heaves briefly, sensing the change behind her as she turns. This was as level headed as Shayera was going to get.
"No matter the soil, no matter the boundaries, no matter who's land is upon who's. You will be brought to justice, Corvinus." For once, she said his true name. And for once, she approaches the god bird, chin lifted yet not in defiance, much as she had done long ago centuries past.
"You say you don't know. Then come with me, Old Friend. Return with me and face the Tribunal. Have faith in your innocence and you and your suit shall be returned here, free. Unaccosted, unharmed. Set my peoples minds to rest as you so want to do. For by now, they know that you are here. And they /will/ come for me and you as well. And neither hell or high water.. " She's learned that from soap operas, folks, ".. will stop them from achieving that goal."
A hand is lifted towards Corvinus, she does not touch nor does she invade personal space, but she was close enough to do a considerable amount of damage should she wish. But her posture remains relaxed, there was no ire nor ill will, all turned off for the sake of reason and diplomacy, which would only be contained in these four walls.
"Do not endanger these people further."
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