[center][color=0072bc][h2]Jackson Hurley: AKA Slingshot [/h2][/color][/center]
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[i][u]May 5th, 2012[/u][/i]
[u]Location: Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York City, NY[/u]

By the time the man in the metal suit arrived, Jackson was pulling down the leg of his jeans and regretted not wearing the lower-half of his suit under his clothing. Sitting next to him was a metal table, upon which rested a small bin of collapsed bullets (one of which was covered in blood). The garage was rather spacious given the minimal setup. The metal table was host to two more gun cases, on top of the gun case on the back of Slingshot's bike. There was a red tool center on the other side of the garage, next to a black RAM ProMaster Cargo Van.

The van was clearly modified upon a closer inspection. The rivets and subtle metalwork of installed armor plating was visible from the outside of the van, along with sliding armor plates installed on the windshield and cab doors. Slingshot hobbled towards the back of the van and opened it up to reveal a sliding metal ramp and a decked-out interior. The inside of the van had a large open floorspace, but was also host to what appeared to be a mobile communications and surveillance setup, as well as a mobile gun rack. Jackson motioned towards the bike and gun cases. "[color=a2d39c]Move the bike and gun cases into the back. I'm going to go upstairs and send down the rest of the shit we need to move over to the hotel. Don't break any of it.[/color]"

With those brief orders, Jackson made his way upstairs.

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It took Jackson about ten minutes to finish his backing and watch the freight elevator begin to lower towards the garage. He moved on to back his last personal effects, namely a case of whiskey and vodka. His kitchen overlooked the living room where the flatscreen was, so Jackson decided to turn on the TV to see if their escapades had been picked up. Sure enough, as the TV flickered to life, the graphics for the news illuminated the mostly dark loft.

"[color=f6989d]This just in... In the wake of the devastating attack on New York City, it appears lawlessness has taken hold. In a small bar near Broadway there was a shootout between powerful criminals and off-duty police officers. The officers attempted to stop the assortment of criminals, but were unsuccessful. The individuals fled the scene in multiple vehicles and on foot. As of this moment, there are at least seven individuals who have died from their injuries, while fourteen are in critical condition. Amongst the deceased are Officers Tyrel Dean and Timothy Rorick, who appear to have been executed in the streets by a man in a suit of armor and wielding a broadsword. We will be updating you on this story throughout the night as we receive more information.[/color]" To accompany the broadcaster, a graphic revealed the identities of those clearly connected to the shooting. Jord's power armor had been caught by CCTV, as well as Slingshot's bike and casual getup. Jocelyn's face and Ava's blurry profile had similarly been captured on CCTV during their brief chase. A picture of Alistar's mustang was similarly highlighted on screen. The footage had been secured within the half hour of the incident, almost as if HYDRA had made sure any incriminating data could have been gathered.

Slingshot flinched as he heard his phone begin to ring. There was no point in checking the caller-ID on the SHIELD issued device. He sighed as he muted the news program and took a break from packing up his liquor. As soon as the phone was lifted to his ear, Jax sighed as a familiar voice screamed from god-knows-where. "[color=92278f]Damn it, Jax. When I gave you the files to check in on a few of our potential assets because we've been up to our ass in cleaning up alien guts, it wasn't an invitation to go play Avengers with homicidal maniacs! You killed cops![/color]"

"[color=a2d39c]I didn't kill anyone, Mayers... and they weren't cops. Not all of them. Their bodies have probably already been collected. The people at the bar were ex-military, hired by someone to cause some serious shit. Not sure who paid them, but we've got one of the mercs in custody and we're transporting him to a safe location.[/color]"

"[color=92278f]It isn't custody, Jax. You're not an agent. It's kidnapping, even if they are mercenaries... Damn it, Jax, I can't protect you. If the higher-ups find out that I've given you-[/color]"

"[color=a2d39c]You didn't give me shit, Mayers. I stole some tech when I left. And I'm not going to ask you to protect me. They'll probably assign Colson on my case, and I can reason with him if it comes down to it.[/color]" There was a long pause. An uncomfortable silence, which signaled only one thing in Jackson's mind. "[color=a2d39c]Fuck... Aliens?[/color]"

"[color=92278f]Yeah... I trust you, Jax. Do what you have to... you're on your own. SHIELD isn't going to be on your side, so you're going to have to deal with this permanently or not at all.[/color]"

The virtual receiver clicked and the air went dead. It was quiet in the loft, a benefit to the soundproofing Jackson had installed. But the silence was deafening apart from the rushing of blood. Jackson was furious. He hastily closed up his case of liquor and grabbed his suitcase whilst stomping towards the elevator to leave his home for what could be the last time.

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Once downstairs, Jackson quickly tossed his suitcase and the liquor case into the back of the truck, closing the doors and making his way towards the front of the cab. He didn't say a word, and didn't wait for Jord as he climbed up into the driver's seat and revved the engine. He peeled out of the garage and towards the address Alistar had given him, not bothering to say a single word to the armored individual who helped him move.