Jihl Nabel

Dick chose not to respond to the sarcasm. He wasn’t here because he thought they were going to have a nice, calm discussion, but he still didn’t know what Jihl wanted from him. Even if he had information, surely she knew the likelihood of him giving it to her was less than zero. As she continued, his expression remained forcibly neutral until she said the word massacred. His gaze dropped to his hands and he took a breath. 

When Jihl called him a murderer, he clenched his jaw so hard that he heard something crack. There was no denying what he’d done. Even if it had been over a year ago, the memory was fresh. It was difficult not to interrupt and remind her that her agents were murderers too, had killed people in their own right and not in self-defense, but he held his tongue. 

“The public eye? You really think the public is on your side right now?” That made him laugh. “Don’t threaten my family, or I’ll walk out of here right now. I don’t care what you tell the public about me. I have no idea who shot me. I didn’t see them, obviously.” Even in the police report, the projectile was noted to be common for a sniper rifle.

-

“I think we have a little more support then you’re willing to believe. Regardless of the accusations you pile on NOVA there were many people in that building who were innocent. Sarah Goodwin was nineteen and on an internship, Jeffry Bazin was twenty two and repaired computers, Hazim Nasaad was a janitor with six kids. I could go on.” She’d personally written every letter to the relatives of those killed by Deathstroke and whoever his accomplice was.

“This was a curtesy invitation, Mr. Grayson. I don’t need you here. And if I was going to ruin your family, believe me, I’d have done it some time ago or when it suited me best because I know it would hurt you more. That’s no threat, merely fact.” She’d have shrugged but the movement would hurt, so remained still.

“No, but I acquired the police reports of the attack with a little help from the Mayor and one comment in particular caught my attention. Supposedly, you were babbling incoherently about a child.” she paused and forced herself to learn forward and steeple her hands on the desk, her jaw tense at the pain of the movement. “This concerns me. Because for all Deathstroke’s many flaws the man thought he had credible cause to lay the blame for the attack at my feet.” She looked at him, eyes hard, “And I would never put a child in that situation. Never.”      

“Then I’ll speak to Harvey Dent myself, given that he’s the reason I’m in the city. Or did that escape your notice?” If Harvey was granting her anything, granting NOVA anything, then he suspected it wasn’t something that was going to get in their way. They’d known one another far longer than NOVA had existed. The only reason Jim had agreed to transfer from Gotham to Star City had been at Harvey’s behest. He’d made a better District Attorney than Mayor, but Jim still maintained a certain level of trust in him.  

“I’ve been a detective nearly as long as you’ve been alive. You can tell me what you’re doing or I’ll figure it out myself. If you’re picking the last one, then by all means…” Jim gestured away from the two of them, “get away from my station. Your business here is concluded.” 

.

“Few things escape my notice.” she replied dryly. It was obvious from not only their shared history but the mayor’s appointment of Gordon as the Commissioner that they went beyond colleagues. She’d never been to Gotham though, so the intricacies were unknown to her. “If I tell you, Commissioner you’ll only go out of your way to stall me for no other reason than your intense hatred of myself and my organisation. And this is too important for you to be dogging my heels.”

One of the benefits of leaving the city so suddenly was still being able to keep his old apartment without too much of a hassle. Issac enjoyed the location and the luxury of the place, so he had kept the rent paid up even while he was away. The man was lounging on the sofa - hands on the sides of his laptop screen rather than the keyboard as he sifted through files and webpages at the speed of his thoughts. His eyes flickered with a pale shimmer, almost like miniature computer screens themselves - just the faintest of blue-toned glow - until the knock at his door drew his attention away. Setting his laptop aside, he straightened his shirt and made his way to the wooden barrier, swinging it open - and instantly regretting it. 

“What the hell…” The statement was cold. “What the hell do you want? What are you even doing in this City anymore?” He questioned sharply and leaned against his door as he regarded her with a gaze like daggers.

Jihl’s smile didn’t fade at the, very much expected, reaction. Though she didn’t laugh. “NOVA may have been driven from the city, Mr. Black, but we’re far from gone. Our work here isn’t done.” Though she had her own more personal reasons for this clandestine meeting. “And your work isn’t either. Your arrangement with NOVA still remains as it had before, our information on you is no different. Something which I imagine irks you greatly, which-” she held up a hand in case he tried to interrupt with a threat or something equally frivolous, “Is why I think you should listen very carefully to what I have to say.” Jihl was pulling every card she had to play at this point, Issac was one she needed.

///

Floyd had a cigarette dangling out from between his lips as he moseyed down the street. He didn’t care much for NOVA, and he didn’t care much for their time, even if they were looking to pay him for a new gig. They would wait as long as he wanted them to wait, which was why he stood half a block down from the bar and finished smoking his cigarette, even though he was running late, before walking in. It was enough, he was sure, to make the woman waiting for him annoyed as all hell, and that was kind of the point. 

He dropped down into the seat across from her, gesturing at the bartender as he called out his order. “Scotch,” he said, holding his fingers an inch apart to indicate how much he wanted. He looked back at the woman in front of him, cocking his head to the side with a smirk. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I’m here at all,” he replied simply. 

-

“You’re being paid, luck has nothing to do with it.” Jihl replied cooly. She didn’t hold people like Floyd in very high esteem. He could’ve been an excellent soldier but instead made a living in nothing but murder. It’d caught up with him quick enough from the looks of things though, and now here they were. She didn’t take another sip of her drink, it was more a prop than anything else. “I have a job I need you to do, discreetly.” he informed him, wasting no more time, already irritated to be running late.

“And I do mean discreetly.” she reiterated, “No one can be aware you’re working under my orders, not even other NOVA operatives.” Considering she planned on sending him to investigate some of them. “Do you understand, Mr. Lawson?” she asked, watching him carefully.  

“So did I.” And he said no more of it. She might have earned that rank, and maybe she’d been a different person then, but the woman in front of him didn’t have enough honor to deserve it. He’d served in Vietnam and put on the badge practically as soon as his feet were back on American soil. Several decades had ticked by since then, and he was stubborn and set in his ways; Jihl Nabel wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d call her what he called her.     

“I’ll need to see the paperwork that grants you permission to do that,” he said without missing a beat. “And make sure we have inventory of everything you’re walking out with.” Not least of all because he wanted to see it for himself. “If the SCPD is cooperating, we should be aware of the nature of the investigation.” Jim knew better than to expect any specific details from her, but he’d been a detective for a long time. He didn’t need much to go on. 

-

It had always been a point of contention for her, even if, deep down, she suspected NOVA’s aid played a part in the rank she’d attained, she’d worked, led and looked after the troops under her care in hostile territory. She deserved that rank and no one, especially an old man, was going to try and dismiss it. “Then you’ll need to go and speak with the secretary at your desk, I left the paperwork with them.” she replied soothly. It wasn’t a lie, even if NOVA had been unceremoniously thrust from the city by illegal vigilantes, she still had some sway with the mayor, enough to grant her access to files that didn’t seem too vital.

Loki had elected to return to NOVA. To don the guise of Johan once again. After all, though he had assisted in the initial downfall, he was sure they would rally. From the way Jihl had talked about it, he was sure that there would be at least one more assault that they had to deal with. If he could get a jump on that kind of thing, he was going to. He had spoken to Clint Barton and the man had remarked that he seemed different–better. That had been enough to wake something in the god. After all, if anyone had reason to look at him and see only hate and negativity, it was Barton. And he hadn’t. So he wanted to keep contributing. After all, at the core of him all Loki had ever wanted was to be recognized for his deeds. His worth.    

Plus… there were sides to Jihl Nabel that others didn’t know. She was showing him things that made him wonder if she was beyond… something. Loki wouldn’t say he had been rehabilitated, but perhaps he had. He didn’t know how to class it, honestly. But he was different from how he was before. Perhaps, with education, Jihl could be too. And there was something in her that wasn’t monstrous. Did that part matter? According to the creed spit by some of the heroes on the League… it was all that mattered.

So when he showed up as Johan, he had made sure to cover his skin with what looked like healing bruises and had even added a brace on his wrist for good measure. He was going to tell the story of a short medical coma. It would be simple, as he had faked records at the local hospital for a John Doe, added a few helpful suggestions into the minds of some of the nurses to corroborate if anyone followed up. And now, here he was.

He hadn’t expected the hug, if he was completely honest, but he didn’t shrug away from it. Instead, he allowed his ‘good arm’ to wrap around the woman’s waste. “Sorry I’m a bit late for my shift,” he told her. “A number of weeks, if I’m not mistaken. I meant to call, but I was… detained, needless to say.”

-

It wasn’t appropriate, not in any sense, but she was a little beyond caring about such things right now. She’d been determined during their first interactions to keep Johan at arms length, as all NOVA employees should be, and via large she’d succeeded but... what did she have to show for such behaviour? Nothing. Nothing but regrets for her own professionalism. “I thought you were dead.” she quietly uttered into his chest, “I tried to contact your next of kin but I just couldn’t get through to them.” She’d tried all numbers, emails and even a fax on his HR forms but each time it had been bounced back. She’d felt guiltier with each failed attempt, unable to even pass on to his family that he was gone.

She licked her lips and pulled back a little, not letting go of him. “A-after Deathstroke... he even came for me and I barely.” She hadn’t survived, she’d been let go, and only because she’d had logic and luck on her side. “We lost so many and I had to report each one.” They all died performing their duty, they knew the risks, but that didn’t make the tears and wails of their family any easier to bare. Each one had cut as deep as the one before, and they’d all been her responsibility.  

“W-where have you been?” she asked, looking up at him, eyes shining slightly. “How did you survive?” Had he been abandoned? Was that her fault as well? “The rubble of the building was scoured to recover bodies.” Some had only been identifiable from dental records. Hence her taking so long to deliver that difficult news. “There was no sign of you anywhere... I looked,” her voice went down to a whisper, “I promise I looked.”

Jihl constantly seemed to be sneaking around these days and it was one more thing that rubbed her the wrong way. She was a soldier, she should’ve been walking with her head high, not ducking round corners in a beat-up hoodie trying to hide herself. But, NOVA weren’t welcome in this lawless city. And, more pressingly, Jihl wasn’t certain if NOVA had plans to change that,

Jihl had been soldiering away since NOVA’s exile from the city. Their crusade wasn’t over and already new agents were arriving to replenish their decimated forces. This would’ve been a good thing if Jihl weren’t knee-deep in her own investigation into the organisation. Who could she trust? If anyone? She was still in control, for all appearances and her superiors had nothing but praise for her work ethic but... none of it sat well with her anymore. She felt like a stool that had one leg just a little shorter than the others: permanently off-balance. 

Her assistant pushed buzzed the intercom and informed her an agent needed to see her; the man’s voice sounded surprised which was enough to have her up from her chair and reaching for the gun under her desk as she said to send them in. 

The person she saw froze her in place. Johan Løgnere. 

She’d thought him dead in the assault on NOVA HQ. His body hadn’t been recovered by neither had several others. She’d attempted to contact his next of kin, as was her duty, but been unable to with the information provided. Yet, here he was, standing tall and unharmed. She didn’t speak for several moments, feelings she’d quashed under staunch professionalism bubbled up and, unbalanced as she was, fighting them seemed impossible. 

.

“I wouldn’t waste the energy it’d take to throw the first punch, Miss Nabel,” he answered without missing a beat. He’d stepped out for a smoke break, and the cigarette dangling between his lips was nearly down to the filter and dangerously close to his mustache. He didn’t bother to take it out as he spoke. Forty something years of being a smoker came with the skill to go hands-free. 

While NOVA itself had relocated out of the city, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to keep its members out if they entered as private citizens. There was nothing Harvey could do, either. All he could do was wait to be given some kind of reason to do more, a glimpse of something sinister or illegal, at the very least. “Why are you here?” He’d never been a man to mince words, and he certainly wouldn’t start then. 

-

“How unlike a cop.” she deadpanned, “And it’s Colonel Nabel, Commissioner Gordon. Hate me or not but I served this country and earned my ranking.” she informed him cooly. There was no love lost between the two of them so why bother pretending otherwise, but she was proud of the her time in service, and it irked her when someone, especially a male someone, decided to try and overlook it.

“Not that it concerns you, but I was picking up some files from the station that are necessary to a case that NOVA is investigating.” Usually under such circumstances she’d have sent an aide to collect them for her but considering the sensitivity of this situation she didn’t want anyone but herself seeing what she’d needed. “They’ll be returned to the station once our investigation has reached it conclusion.”    

Jihl had been loathe to reenter the city while still healing but was too well now to put it off any longer. Though her shoulder still twinged with the bullet Deathstroke had put into it she walked as though she felt no pain. Dressed to look perfect, as usual, the dress, heels and makeup felt like a kind of armour all in itself as she left the police station.

What had happened with Grayson was still causing her concern and using what little clout she had left and some choice threats, she’d finally managed to get a hold of the police’s files on the incident. There was information here she needed and it was easier to get in person.

Jihl had snuck into the city as it went dark, dressed in jeans, sneakers and a hoodie she made her way to the arranged location, grabbing a beer and taking a corner booth in a dive bar she waited and worked her way through the drink. It was foul, but it wasn’t as though she had fine wine waiting in an office anymore, NOVA’s facility out of the city was basic at best and they were still attempting to recuperate their losses. Despite her superiors assuring her all would be well, Jihl wasn’t convinced... there were many things she wasn’t convinced about these days. 

Which was why she waited for another fifteen minutes for Floyd Lawton to arrive and looked up, her gaze unreadable under her hood. “You’re late.” she told him quietly, taking another sip of the awful beer. 

The baton came quickly, but not quick enough — not for Peter’s spider-sense anyway. He was lucky in that regard that he was given such a fantastic alarm system, even if it usually came with splitting headaches, but that was the name of the game. And right now, it helped him to avoid a potential concussion.

That didn’t wane his surprise, however, to see Jihl Nabel at the other end of the baton, looking far worse than he last saw her. The riot, that’s where he saw her — that instance was more of a blur than anything, something of which he was grateful for. He didn’t really want to remember his fist colliding with that agent’s face. The videos were enough.

Peter stuck himself to the wall and out of her reach, though hung down low enough by way of a thick stream of webbing to stay around eye level. “For the last time, I don’t kill people. Seriously injure them, sure. Leave them in the hospital… Yeah. But I’m not a killer.” Peter paused. “I was actually following someone, if you really need to know. This place totally doesn’t look like you’d be hiding out, so what’s the deal? Someone do a number on you?”

Jihl wasn’t performing at her best, how could she in this condition? But she was still frustrated when her blow didn’t even connect and Peter easily slipped away, having the gall to not only jump onto the wall but then hang in front of her like the arachnids he was named after to mock her attempt.

She grit her teeth, “Oh I’m sure no one’s ever died as a consequence of your actions, swinging through walls, throwing aside projectiles.” she shook her head, “None of you so-called heroes have the capacity to think about all the consequences of your actions.” She’d seen it, experienced it for herself.

The last thing Dick expected to receive from Jihl Nabel, the face and voice of NOVA, was an e-mail. He’d read it a couple of times, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining the whole, bizarre scenario. The only time he’d ever met her face to face was after he was fired. It was a strangely brief meeting. The agency was fully aware of what happened to Gary Kemp, but saw fit to try and pin it on a mutant anyway. 

But that was before his identity had been confirmed as Nightwing. Now, she knew who he was, knew he would have been seen trying to evacuate employees from the building, and he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear from her. What he didn’t know was what she’d have to say.        

He didn’t go in alone. Babs was on the comms, an earpiece so small it was undetectable by even the most advanced security systems. If anything were to go wrong, Dick could expect back-up in minutes. That made him calm, but still cautious, and he didn’t sit. “Can I ask why you wanted to talk to me?”

Jihl raised a brow, “No I thought we’d simply sit and stand here why I leave you in the dark about the reason you came.” she deadpanned. “To put it bluntly Mr. Grayson, or Nightwing, whichever you prefer, Slade Wilson, otherwise known as Deathstroke massacred my employees then turned to me, shooting me in the arm and was about to kill me because I, apparently, tried to kill you.”

Her voice was remarkable steady as she spoke thought there was a tension to her frame that only aggravated her sore muscles and wounds. “Putting aside the fact that you associate with murderers and are yourself a murder, both of which would be grounds to have you imprisoned till you were old and grey, there was one rather large flaw in Deathstroke’s argument. I didn’t order any kind of hit on you.”

She paused a moment to lean back in her chair, again unable to help but wince slightly at the movement. “I could ruin you in the public eye whenever I wanted and drag your precious bats down with you; you’re much more useful to me alive than you are dead. So the question remains, who attacked you and tried to pin it on myself?”

“Give you a gun an’ ain’t you got a similar power? You’re trained in it. Better den I am, dat’s for sure. If you had de fancy, you could do some real damage too. But you don’t. An’ you ain’t arrestin’ yourself for no potential neither. Dat ain’t how t’ings work. I seen de Tom Cruise movie where dey started pickin’ folks up for crimes dey ain’t committed yet. In case you ain’t seen it: t’ings ain’t work out de way dey t’ink.” He shook his head. “Just because I could don’t mean i got any plans to.” He wasn’t usually wantonly destructive. Maybe a well placed burst here or there to get the job done, but an apartment block? That was a little dramatic, wasn’t it?

Chuckling at that, Remy ran a hand through his dark hair. “Dat throwin’ off your plan to come in here hatin’ me and bein’ proved right? Desole, femme, but dat ain’t my style.” And it wasn’t. Remy got lucky on being charming often. He had gotten out of things that some people could only dream of with a good word or a crooked grin. “As for workin’ wit’ da government… dere’s a difference between compromise an’ one party just screamin’ an’ hollerin’ until dey get dere way, neh? Workin’ wit’ ain’t da same as answerin’ to. But you still talkin’ a lot of politics when we jus’ here havin’ a drink.”

Giving a low whistle at how tense she got, Remy shrugged. “No need to get all worked up, femme. How ‘bout you just prove it like you be doin’ right now? We havin’ a conversation, you’re havin’ a drink. Laissez le bon temps rouler, neh?”

Grinning, he shrugged. “You say dat before you tried de Julep,” he said simply. “Plus, if I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, den I ain’t got no reason to worry.” He lifted his drink to shrug. “Truth of de matter is dat I ain’t lookin’ for trouble, I ain’t usin’ my powers, and I don’t really wanna get in no fight wit’ you. T’ink how it gonna come back to you if you and yours come after one of de X-Men unprovoked. I know y’all already caught some trouble from Magneto. We ain’t wit’ him, but we do look out for our own. You want more riotin’? I don’t. Makes a big ol’ mess, don’t it?”

-

“There are laws on gun use.” She replied cooly. Not as many laws as she’d prefer; active service taught her that a great deal of civilians didn’t give firearms the respect and caution they were due. But, that was a topic for another time. “A person cannot carry a gun on a plane, a person can be arrested for lacking the correct paperwork when carrying a gun. No such laws apply to mutants, metas or others at this point. The lack of policing worries civilians. Look at the Avengers, years ago the Hulk destroyed several skyscrapers, an entire country was collateral damage when dealing with Ultron, the E Force Tragedy levelled a city block and killed eighteen people.” she paused, “Where there is no consequence ‘could’ very easily slips to ‘would.’”

“No, you’re nothing but a Cajun gentleman.” she said dryly. The worst part was she could see it. Remy Lebeau was a very handsome man with an engaging accent, charm and a way with words. Honestly that combination could be a weapon in of itself and she would know; looking just so and knowing what to say had saved her in PR situations several times over. “When the other side won’t even come to the table what else is there for us to do? We’ve tried communicating with District X. Maybe if you put someone other than Mr. Summers on the other side we could see some progress.”

A drink. Honestly her superior would likely rake her over the coals for this. “Have you seen the state of this city?” she asked dryly, “Not much in the way of good times.” It was a damn powder keg and she just needed to mitigate the impending explosion.

“Ah I don’t t’ink so. Innocent until proven guilty, neh?” He shook his head before giving a crooked grin. She was getting pissed off, and he could tell, but he wasn’t going to escalate. That was counterproductive to what he was trying to do. He didn’t want to be hauled in by the anti-mutant gestapo. “Or do y’all not do dat?”   

Remy scoffed at that. “Nah. I don’t t’ink dat’s true. I t’ink dere’s always another choice, frankly. Dere can be more, but y’all gotta get better at it. Les enfants on da playground can figure out how to make t’ings work. Why can’t y’all?” He shook his head as she made her assessment on war. “I ain’t a military man, but I remember a few t’ings ‘bout history. Number of wars ended at da table. Treaties an’ all dat. And you an’ me right now ain’t at war. We’re just two people at a bar. An’ we can be civil like we’re bein’ right now, neh?” As she mentioned Scott, he had to laugh. “If you know anything about me, you’ll know dat I definitely ain’t Scott Summers.” In fact, the thought was laughable. “And, much as he t’inks he does, Scott Summers ain’t speak for all da mutants in de city.” The X-Men didn’t speak for all the mutants. “I’m on his team, be we ain’t all de same. But I can see dat we don’t take too kindly to how y’all handle t’ings wit’ your experiments. We know all ‘bout dat. We ain’t doin’ dat to you.”

“If you ain’t scared, den sit down and have one.” And he would talk his way out of this with ease. Or put her guards down so that he could leave quietly out the back door or the roof door. 

He quirked his hand over to the bartender before putting in for a drink. He didn’t relish hanging out with Jihl Nabel. He didn’t like her and he thought she was despicable, but he wasn’t about to start hurling insults at her and start firing kinetic explosions at her when he could just charm his way out. He wasn’t too proud for that in spite of what other mutants might think about the methods.

-

“A risk that cannot be taken with a man who has the power to blow up almost anything he pleases with a flick of his wrist.” she responded, teeth a little tight. “When you give a suspected thief that treatment they’ll usually trip up when trying to do their next job; if someone like yourself went free and decided to make a point with a few well-placed explosions he could level an apartment block.”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “You’re making this much more difficult by being reasonable.” Charming even. It was so much easier when she could simply follow through on a brief the old fashioned way. It was why she’d excellent in her time in service, she was given a mission and she fulfilled it. Here she was making public speeches, playing nice with politicians and managing police politics; all things she was skilled at but not necessarily things that she enjoyed. “We’re not just people in a bar Mr. Lebeau,” she said with a sigh, “I am the Lieutenant Colonel of NOVA and you are a prolific mutant of a questionable past. We don’t really have any over cause of action. The people made their wishes clear on ensuring people like yourselves need to work with the government to ensure safety and harmony.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t, put that trust in her organisation to waste by flouting the one most concrete brief she had; to follow the will of the people. “And to understand a threat, you need to test it.” she said quietly, her own approval of it didn’t matter.

“I am not afraid.” she told him, jaw tightening, “I haven’t been afraid of mutants for a very long time.” She lent back in her chair, a wordless acquisition to his request.

Did Peter really think that the building he followed that shady and nefarious looking character with the stolen blueprints from a nearby laboratory into would actually be a hidden NOVA hub? No, not in the slightest. He never expected it, never really felt that in his gut - and forget it, his ‘spidey sense’ was of no help either. He went in blind only to find the name NOVA splattered all over the inside. Outside? Unassuming. Inside? Mutant torture chamber.

The man in question disappeared into a room labelled employees only, so Peter slipped his happy spider self into a nearby vent and squeezed himself through the ducts until he made it to the room in question. After he dropped was when he realized the man he had tailed was gone. The eyes of his mask blinked as he looked around the room; no one, until - a sharp sting attacked the back of his head, just at the base. He turned to take note of a woman’s figure. A familiar woman at that.

“Well hi,” Peter greet, though his tone fell a little flat. “Long time no see.”

Jihl was still recovering. It had been a week or so since NOVA had been ejected from the city and orders from above still remained the same: stay put and wait for further instructions. At least her arm was out of its sling (not by doctors orders but she refused to deal with it any longer). She was in the security office, looking over the building. It was also the one place that wasn’t monitored so she could work in peace on her more private projects, one that was growing larger than she’d have liked.

While looking up from her work she spotted a familiar silhouette creeping around. Her eyes went wide and she made her less than speedy way to the room in question. Her face was still bruised, her arm and shoulder bandaged but she wasn’t going to allow another attack on her headquarters. She didn’t hesitate and struck Spider-Man on the back of his head with he baton.