The Geneva Convention.: 8:00 A.M.
Inside the Presidential Suite... "Is everyone good on the plan?" Black Widow asked. They had made a quick stop after the tragedy in Montevideo to an old safe house she and Barton kept, allowing them all to gear up. The most important addition to their inventory were high tech facial image disguises - essentially masks that allowed them to become someone else. The Avengers (and friends) couldn't just waltz up without being recognized, so they had gone in disguised as catering and cleaning staff.
Currently, their plan was to ambush the President and reveal him as a skrull. Captain America's attack on the White House had been highly publicized. If Cap had been a skrull, he wouldn't have attacked the President. The skrulls would want to replace the President too, as he had the most power in the United States. The only logical explanation was that the President must have been a skrull and Captain America realized it, fleeing to fight another day.
"One slight problem - I think we're going to unionize, Romanoff. I'm not getting paid enough to clean POTUS' toilet," Tony quipped - although he currently looked like Tom Cruise - not exactly subtle.
"What does unionizing mean?" Princess Anelle asked, looking like Mrs White from Clue.
"It's when the workers unite in order to use their power--" Mr. Fantastic started to explain, rattling off the textbook definition, only for Iron Man to let out a loud yawn.
"You were a teacher's pet weren't you, Richards? You've got kiss ass written all over your stretchy cheeks." Maria Hill sighed, sharing a knowing look with Black Widow. Some days, she didn't see why SHIELD needed something like the Avengers at all. In fact, they were better off without all of these superhero teams. They seemed to attract the most intelligent idiots she ever knew.
"Focus, unless you want your grandkids growing up speaking skrull," Hill warned Tony.
"... If the speedster got my kid pregnant, I'm going to kill him. For real this time," Tony grumbled, before killing the lights.
Outside the Presidential Suite... Amelia was completely and utterly brokenhearted. She didn't know if she'd ever recover from something as horrifying and terrible as this. As someone who was aroace, she never expected to feel so crushed, so shattered - but love went beyond just romance and sex.
"I still just don't understand," she mumbled, dejected,
"why was everyone so against trying out a barrel roll in Air Force One," she finished. She was dressed in pilot's blues, pulling a suitcase behind her that was filled with cat food. Barton's group was going to be arriving soon with the flerkens - they just needed to get into position here and rendez-vous with them in the President's suite.
Bonnie was carrying Goose in her arms, along with a medical kit. True to form, she was posing as Jakobsen's doctor. It wasn't out of the ordinary for a foreign official to have their own medical staff with them, especially after Jakobsen's 'harrowing' experience with Captain America the previous day. Niah and Sparky had also been disguised as staff to the President - Sparky was another medical personnel, whereas Niah (due to her wheelchair) was posing as Jakobsen's staffer. The rest were all in disguise as Secret Service.
"It would've drawn unnecessary attention to us," Bonnie reminded Amelia, only for Amelia to stick out her lip slightly and pout. Bonnie sighed. She didn't know Amelia very well, but from the time on Air Force One she had gathered that Amelia was a thrill junkie. It made sense with the way Amelia had ran on after Sparky and 'Maria', heading off to Asgard to save someone she barely knew. She was pretty sure if Amelia was shoved off a plane, she'd think it was the best day of her life - maybe she openly wished for something like that to happen.
Raynor was feeling much better - thanks to his Asgardian durability and quick recovery time. He had on black sunglasses, looking a bit like a douche as they were very much indoors as they walked down the hallway. He was also clearly hovering more over Sparky than the President, as if he had been assigned to protect her and not Jakobsen. But then again, who could blame him? They were walking into a den of hostile aliens bent on taking over the world and had to make sure to mess up their strategy just enough to keep some other aliens from feeling paranoid and insecure.
It really wasn't a great time for Sparky to be pregnant and working. If he had his way, she would've been somewhere far away from Midgard, somewhere safe. There were tons of other planets, ones that didn't have nearly as many catastrophes. Midgard was some sort of magnet for bad luck, somehow attracting all of the villains in the galaxy to the tiny blue world.
"Anything happens, you run okay?" Raynor murmured to Sparky.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Ricky muttered, as he tapped his keycard against the card reader and the Presidential Suite's doors unlocked. Ricky opened up the door, seeing darkness as he went inside, fumbling about and looking for a light switch.
