Isle of Glass: Sounding the Alarm
Feb. 28th, 2019 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_hawkeye posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsWeary and disheartened, most of the team begins the return trip to the mansion, phoning ahead to make sure certain arrangements are made before their arrival.
Eyes on the road, Clint contemplated getting his phone out to make a few calls, but since they were transporting the remains of a British national in the back of the SUV, he decided against it. No use courting trouble by using a handheld device when he shouldn't be. "Mols, you mind calling Doc Reyes to let her know we're bringing her a body she's gonna need to keep on ice till we figure out how to deal with it? Interpol should be able to pull some strings, but I dunno how fast they'll be able to do the pulling." In fact, he might actually have to check in with Phil about this.
Molly had been staring out the window and nodded, pulling out her phone.
"Yeah, sure," she said. They didn't exactly have a morgue but… she pushed the thought of them getting one (just in case) out of her head. Death was a part of life, though. "We should probably have someone clean out the deep freeze in the kitchen."
"We're not sticking a body in the kitchen freezer," Clint muttered, shaking his head. "We've got a freezer for various things in subbasement two of the Chapel. She can go there, if the medical staff doesn't have a place." And anyway, Lyton wasn't in the sort of condition you'd want in most freezers. Bowel ruptures and gut wounds were the worst. He was just glad they'd been able to find a bag large enough to put her in so they weren't making a mess and didn't have to deal with the worst of the smell. "When you make your call, can you ask if we can have a bodybag from the medlab?"
Making a face, Molly nodded. "You got it," she said. Worst conversation ever.
The stench of death was slowly eroding Matt's ability to ignore his senses and press forward. He sat in the back seat, eyes closed and hands on his knees, breathing out of his mouth evenly as he worked to meditate through the scent. Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4 hold it… exhale 1, 2, 3, 4.
This wasn't the first time he had smelled something as unpleasant as death — he lived in New York City, unpleasant was normal garbage and refuse in the summer, but this specific odor reminded him too much of his father, of the sweetly rotting scent of the morgue when he'd been taken to identify his father's body by the police. It likely wasn't strong enough yet to bother anyone else, so he stayed quiet.
Clint glanced in the rearview mirror, caught sight of Matt's closed eyes, and cracked all the windows in the car from his console. "T, what d'you think's the best way to handle the portal? We can't leave Ev and Namor back there indefinitely — and a rotation of mansionites or SHIELD/SWORD agents isn't going to really work, either, given the rural area. This is definitely more your wheelhouse than mine."
Topaz was scrubbing her hands absently on her ruined jeans, staring out the window and mostly checked out. It took her a moment and a firm head shake to process Clint's question and look at him. "If we can't shut it down, the next best thing to do would be to move it somewhere secure, I suppose," she mused absentmindedly. "I'll talk to the head witch about it. I'm not sure moving a magical portal is something she's ever done before, so it'll be a fun experiment."
"Cool," Clint said, nodding. "Okay, we've got a sorta plan." He took one hand from the wheel to rub his face, then continued, "Which is better than what we started out with, so. Yay."
Eyes on the road, Clint contemplated getting his phone out to make a few calls, but since they were transporting the remains of a British national in the back of the SUV, he decided against it. No use courting trouble by using a handheld device when he shouldn't be. "Mols, you mind calling Doc Reyes to let her know we're bringing her a body she's gonna need to keep on ice till we figure out how to deal with it? Interpol should be able to pull some strings, but I dunno how fast they'll be able to do the pulling." In fact, he might actually have to check in with Phil about this.
Molly had been staring out the window and nodded, pulling out her phone.
"Yeah, sure," she said. They didn't exactly have a morgue but… she pushed the thought of them getting one (just in case) out of her head. Death was a part of life, though. "We should probably have someone clean out the deep freeze in the kitchen."
"We're not sticking a body in the kitchen freezer," Clint muttered, shaking his head. "We've got a freezer for various things in subbasement two of the Chapel. She can go there, if the medical staff doesn't have a place." And anyway, Lyton wasn't in the sort of condition you'd want in most freezers. Bowel ruptures and gut wounds were the worst. He was just glad they'd been able to find a bag large enough to put her in so they weren't making a mess and didn't have to deal with the worst of the smell. "When you make your call, can you ask if we can have a bodybag from the medlab?"
Making a face, Molly nodded. "You got it," she said. Worst conversation ever.
The stench of death was slowly eroding Matt's ability to ignore his senses and press forward. He sat in the back seat, eyes closed and hands on his knees, breathing out of his mouth evenly as he worked to meditate through the scent. Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4 hold it… exhale 1, 2, 3, 4.
This wasn't the first time he had smelled something as unpleasant as death — he lived in New York City, unpleasant was normal garbage and refuse in the summer, but this specific odor reminded him too much of his father, of the sweetly rotting scent of the morgue when he'd been taken to identify his father's body by the police. It likely wasn't strong enough yet to bother anyone else, so he stayed quiet.
Clint glanced in the rearview mirror, caught sight of Matt's closed eyes, and cracked all the windows in the car from his console. "T, what d'you think's the best way to handle the portal? We can't leave Ev and Namor back there indefinitely — and a rotation of mansionites or SHIELD/SWORD agents isn't going to really work, either, given the rural area. This is definitely more your wheelhouse than mine."
Topaz was scrubbing her hands absently on her ruined jeans, staring out the window and mostly checked out. It took her a moment and a firm head shake to process Clint's question and look at him. "If we can't shut it down, the next best thing to do would be to move it somewhere secure, I suppose," she mused absentmindedly. "I'll talk to the head witch about it. I'm not sure moving a magical portal is something she's ever done before, so it'll be a fun experiment."
"Cool," Clint said, nodding. "Okay, we've got a sorta plan." He took one hand from the wheel to rub his face, then continued, "Which is better than what we started out with, so. Yay."
