#srisingevent

She hadn’t done this in a minute. Probably for the better, because Helena had almost forgotten how much she really didn’t enjoy this kind of thing. Laughing pretty and talking up big egos had never been something she enjoyed, but it was easy enough, as far as missions went. If everything went well, all she’d have to show for the gossip she was funneling out of increasingly champagne-drunk attendants would be sore feet. 

Unlike last time. Last time had been... 

The mission - the only thing this evening could be when so much was riding on it - was simple. Convince Waller that despite the lack of results, his team was capable of getting the job done. The alternatives were just unacceptable - abandoning the assignment without answers was dangerous (there was something in the woods, of that he was sure), while allowing his team to be replaced could be just as costly (for Diana, her team, all the gentle people of Sokovia he’d come to appreciate in the last few months). It meant all of his free time since the order came down had been spent drafting a proposal. The team’s collected data was organized (with attempts to analyze what it could mean). Excuses were brainstormed (because the snow had slowed their progress significantly).  And plans were developed, including a request for better technology and weapons (some of which he had helped recover - a subtle reminder of his team’s successes in the past). 

Roy also had no idea if he could just walk up to the doors without being sniped. Or attacked in some way. It was a fortress. All he knew is that he was going the right way, and he’d hit it at some point. Monkeys hitting a typewriter and all of that. But now, standing at the edge of town, he had no idea where to go. And the wind and snow were really starting to pick up. Roy’s delicate California blood was frozen solid. He lightly tapped the person closest to him, trying to look as harmless as possible with bow slung on his back.

This was developing into a long night. Or it might have just seemed that way since she’d been up since—yesterday, maybe, east coast time. That tended to happen when one spent all of their time actually working rather than planning ostentatious parties. 

Still, there was a lot to see. Amanda kept an eye on her surroundings, glass of water in hand. Something felt... off. Luthor had his theories as to what that certain hint of off-ness in Sokovia could be. Amanda had her own. 

First floor

Masquerades. Balls. Soirees. No, Tim was much more at home huddled away in dimly lit alcove, preferably in the midst of a dangerous, high stakes mission he could get himself lost in. The alcove part wasn’t always so easy, but the high stakes? He was good at getting involved in those.

After sending a quick confirmation over their linked comm. to the rest of the team, Tim went over a checklist in his head.

Task #1: Breach U.N tower security protocols. Done.

Task #3: Locate ISATF base. Done

Task #3: Avoid retaliation by ISA intrusion countermeasures. Working on it.

Persistence was a skill as much as it was a trait, as Tim had learned over the years. Two steps forward, as they say, and one step back, but never far enough to lose his place as he poked and prodded his way through a shockingly complex security system. One flick of his wrist and he’d have any door in the complex unlocked for a solid three seconds. But only three seconds - any longer and the staff on guard would take notice.

“Comms chatter is quiet. Slow night.” No surprise there. “Let me know when we’re good to go and I’ll pop the seals.”

Task #4: Break into ISATF base. 

He wasn’t good at this. 

Originally, he’d only come to do some reconnaissance and drop off supplies to the refugees. He’d been passing around supplies while some of the others went ahead to the lower floors, and then suddenly—the televisions had stopped, the radios had cut out, and the lights had flickered dead. And he was one of a handful of Nomads left with a castle full of terrified refugees. Children were crying and concerned people were looking to them for instructions and assurances, and he—

It was oddly fun, sneaking into the hostel under the noses of ARGUS agents. But it could have just been how much lighter Diana’s spirits had been the past couple weeks since she’d run into Steve again; how the mood in the Mousehole had, surprisingly, improved with the holidays. Though she found much of the holiday season silly, Diana did love how happy they made those around her. Thus, she partook. And this year, she had someone very special to celebrate with.

“What sort of hellhole have you been put into, Hardy?” She muttered to herself.