2012-11-28 The Bad Interview

So even getting up to the Helicarrier is an adventure: they pick you up in /flying cars/ and climb heavenward, disappear into the clouds, and abruptly there's this enormous flying ship with immense rotors spinning below to keep it aloft, and a hangar that opens like a lazily yawning monster maw to swallow the little flying car. The deck itself is oversaturated with security, including no-fun armed and armored guards; the little woman who's come to meet the prospective intern has her hair tied back at the nape of her neck, is wearing her SHIELD uniform, and looks for all the world like she'd much rather be out kicking monsters in the face than interviewing some student. She /fidgets/.
At least the interview is blessedly professional once it's started, and the little room off the hangar deck where their conversation is taking place is also, at least, blessedly quiet.
It's not until the session is wrapping up that the door to the little room opens quietly, admitting a thin, black-haired, clean-shaven man in a black suit; his jacket's slung over his shoulder and his badge is clipped to his shirt pocket. WISDOM, PETER; AGENT. Clearance 7 Field Operative. Paranormal Affairs, Rapid Response. He waves a long-fingered, callused hand. "Carry on."
SHIELD was not at the top of Kitty's list of potential internships. Really, government work was not exactly her idea of a fun way to spend her Junior spring semester, so she more or less had written it off as a possibility. There were three things that eventually changed her mind last minute.
1) It was always a good idea to have as many interviews as possible.
2) Doug Ramsey had always spoken highly of his experiences within SHIELD in their ongoing e-mail correspondences. She appreciated Doug's insight on these things, and so decided to add the SHIELD interview to her list as an outside possibility.
3) After all the times she's busted her head against the SHIELD firewalls, it would be nice to see their security setup from the other side. Plus, free trip to the Helicarrier.
For the interview itself, Kitty carries herself as calm, collected and professionally. Just as she always does. She expects perfection from herself even more so than those who are interviewing her, and is prepared for just about any question thrown her way without giving a phony, rehearsed response. She's dressed sharply, in a navy blue skirted suit with a light blue shirt beneath with hints of purple along her sleeves and collar.
"I would also like to note on my transcript there that I've been eager to work with complex networking systems, but also understand the importance of security and keeping classified information under wraps," she says, rounding out the typical 'Why should we pick you over anyone else?' question. She pauses just slightly at a new entrant to the room. She offers a slight nod of her head before looking back towards her interviewer. "And finally, I'm a very hard worker, often going above what is necessarily asked of me to make sure that all potential pitfalls of an assignment are covered. I don't like to make mistakes." She pauses, for exactly two seconds before correcting herself. "Actually, I don't make mistakes." She offers a sly little smile with that one, giving some levity to would otherwise be a rather conceited boast. Is she kidding? Either way, she continues to excude confidence, intelligence and drive.
And so, leaning on the wall next to the door, in the peripheral vision of both girls -- interviewee and interviewer -- Agent Wisdom lets his jacket hang over his shoulder and loosely puts his hands in his pockets, watching with considerable interest. He's not interrupting at all, no-- which is a good thing because he'd probably be making Hermione Granger jokes if he opened his mouth even a little.
"And the one last thing I'm not quite sure I understand, Miss Pryde," the SHIELD woman giving the interview says, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear and flipping back to the first page. She runs her pen down the side and says, "You're seventeen. These are college credits. This is a last-year internship position, and most of the people who come in for this are twenty-two. Ish." She looks back up at Kitty. "Have you been taking these classes *on campus*? Are you used to dealing with people older than you are? And... ah. Do you have your parents' permission?"
The door opens a moment later without so much as a knock. A fortysomething man -- a well-preserved one, a fit one, but let's be honest, the wrong side of forty is the wrong side of forty -- steps in, wearing the standard SHIELD uniform with a battered, well-worn leather flight jacket over it. He looks down towards Kitty for a moment, giving her the sort of once-over that a career Marine might give to a new boot, and finishes it off with a wordless nod.
Once Kitty's turned back to face Pete, Fury reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a cigarette butt. It's not an American one, that's for sure: it's filterless and wrapped in pale yellow paper. The cyclops scowls at Pete, then points his finger skywards towards the flight deck above -- then points dramatically at his own one good eye, then stabs that same finger towards Pete. Some people have the gift of being profane without ever needing to say a word, and the Director's gestures alone would qualify him to headline clubs with Andrew Dice Clay.
Kitty keeps her attention firmly on the woman interviewing her, nodding her head slightly. "I'm currently participating in a collegiate prepratory program where I am auditing college level courses in electrical engineering, English literature and dance, with the stated goal being that I will then use the skills learned from observing those classes back to the boarding school that I am currently enrolled with. In addition to that--" she continues, only for another man to enter her interview room as she's wrapping up. Her brow furrows slightly, as if wondering what precisely is going on, but eventually she gains her composure and continues.
"As I was saying," she says, her gaze returning to the woman interviewing her, along with that sweet grin. "The faculty at the Xavier Academy offers a wide variety of different mentoring programs that allow students to participate in field exercises that prepare us for post-secondary work. This wouldn't be too far removed from the same sort of work that I've done with them, though certainly more intensive." She pauses for a second, pursing her lips at the final question. "I've...not talked to them about this. But I can assure you that I would gain their approval if the position was offered to me. They are very supportive of my personal and academic ventures, no matter how...challenging they can occasionally be."
More background pantomime: this time it's with a thoroughly /wounded/ expression on Wisdom's part. He shakes his head emphatically, then pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket: plain white box with a purple and gold square in the middle as a logo, Silk Cut. He jams them back in, then huffily straightens up, and reaches up to adjust his tie. With his middle finger, coincidentally. But he cocks his head toward the girl being interviewed, eyebrows up.
"Ah, excellent," the woman giving the interview says pleasantly, closing the manila folder on her desk, and standing to offer Kitty her hand over the desk. "This is normally where I'd tell you we'll be in touch, and escort you back to your ride, but..."
The woman -- /her/ badge says 'Curtis, Aimee; Agent' -- gestures toward the two men by the door. "Director Fury, Agent Wisdom. Did you need something from me, or from her?"
The Director's eye narrows at Pete's insubordination, but he doesn't say anything about it. Whether that's because a narrowed-eye glare from the Director is sufficient to make the Latverian ambassador contemplate the wisdom of his current employment, or because the Director actually respects a small degree of it among his troops, is an open question. Well -- the former is definitely true. It's just the latter might be true, too.
"We live in a messed-up place," he says towards Kitty, gruffly. "The moment you turn eighteen, Miss Pryde, you're an adult. You can sign contracts, start businesses, cast ballots, get married, sleep around with wealthy octogenarians, fight in wars, work for SHIELD. But the day before your eighteenth birthday you're a child and none of that's open to you. It's a messed-up system and it doesn't make a damn bit of sense, but that's the way it works."
There is a slight looks of disappointment the flickers across Kitty's face. Or is that annoyance? Something definitely flickers, but she nods her head. "I figured that would be the case. I just had a friend--Doug Ramsey? He's older than me, true, but he also told me to at least give it a shot." She offers a pleasant enough smile. "But I get it. Your hands are tied by regulations, the rules. That sort of thing. Very important." She pauses for a moment, taking the two men in for a second, noticing the badge on one and putting two and two together. "Just...for the record, you might want to update your encryption algorithims to something more complex. An exhaustive key search would do a pretty good job of at least cracking the first few layers of your shell, making basic personnel records available." She offers that pleasant grin again. "Simple enough, Director, you might say a /child/ could do it." The emphasis on the word child lets it very clear what she's saying without actually saying it. Hey, if they're going to deny her the position she's clearly qualified for due to her age? She might as well put all her cards on the table. She doesn't take "no" very well.
This is where Agent Curtis excuses herself and leaves the door decidedly open behind her, because hell if she wants to be in here for this, but hell if she's leaving two men alone with jailbait in a tiny room in the Helicarrier. Nevermind it's also got a security camera. All girls together, exit route left open.
Pete, on the other hand, is pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, uh, Pryde-- when you're done digging your own grave with the Director here -- smugging at him nearly got me literally thrown off the helicarrier, for example -- it's Doug I wanted to talk to you about. And when's your birthday? Position might not even be open until you're eighteen anyway, for fuck's sake."
"Well, you just earned a demotion from 'someone I'd like to see again in a few months' to 'someone who's got a lot of growing up to do,'" the Director says bluntly, flatly. "Kid, you want to know what SHIELD looks for? It ain't for the brilliant lone wolf. SHIELD is a team. SHIELD is a bunch of people who give a damn about each other. You come into our home and act all prissy, what that tells me is I don't want you on my team. I don't want to work with you. You're in it for you. And that means I don't trust you at my back."
Fury gives a slight nod of his head over towards Pete. "I know where this son of a #$&*(! stands and that he's got SHIELD's back. That translates into giving him a very little bit of slack for his attitude. You've just made the mistake of thinking that slack extends to you. It doesn't. Now, you got two choices: you can apologize for your attitude and adjust it, or you can get the hell off my helicarrier. You may not be a legal adult yet, but that choice is up to you."
Kitty's face twitches slightly, but she slowly stands from her seating position. "If I can speak freely, Director? I will only apologize for wasting your time this afternoon. I recognize that my attitude may come off as 'Lone Wolf', but it is only because I know what an asset I can be, to this or any other group. As far as being a team player?" She shrugs her shoulders. "Truthfully, that trust goes both ways. I have people I trust, that I love, and I would do anything for them. Given the oppurtunity? I'm sure I could build a similar dedication to SHIELD."
Kitty pauses, taking a deep breathe. She's trying to remain calm, professional; the security crack was a mistake, but it's also in the past. "Unfortunately, my 18th birthday isn't until September, so I would have to withdraw my name from candidacy for the program this spring. I would ask you to reconsider it, make a special exception, but like I said: I understand regulations are regulations, and I would hate to give the impression that I deserved any stretching on your behalf."
With that out of the way, Kitty turns her face towards Wisdom, slowly raising an eyebrow. "Doug? What about him?"
Pete's in the process of pulling on his jacket, unclipping his badge from his shirt and replacing it to dangle from his jacket lapel, and pulling up his sock from one shoe where it'd ridden down when Kitty looks at him. Yes: bus-y-work, he's giving himself, here. His eyes are a little sympathetic when he glances up, mostly in the 'ow you... owwww... been there, done that, but owwww' way. "It can wait," he says mildly. "And I can give you a ride back down, if you can give me five minutes to talk to Director Fury about something unrelated."
"The first rule when you discover you're digging your own grave, kid, is to stop digging." Fury's voice continues to be calm and even. "You were told to apologize for your attitude: you didn't. You were told to adjust your attitude: you didn't. And now you're asking me to make a special exception for you, oh, but you don't deserve to have the regs broken. Good #$&(*!, kid, you have entitlement issues."
Then, to Pete: "She's made her choice. Get her off my carrier."
Kitty opens her mouth, on the edge of correcting Fury on one matter, but then realizing that this is eventually going to end in someone punching someone, she takes a deep breathe in her nose and out her mouth, just like her mother taught her and rises up. "Thank you for your time," is all she says, her tone rather flat, noncommittal. She glances towards Wisdom and nods. "If you're good on that offer, I'd appreciate it. I'll be waiting. Outside." One more silent withering glance towards Fury and she exits the room, picking up her portfolio as she leaves, simply waiting in fuming silence in the lobby outside of the room.
"Wilco, sir," says Wisdom completely professionally; he briefly shuts the door after nodding to Kitty, waiting outside; he leaves his hand on it. "I'm not sure if you've been running into the same rumors I have, finding the notices. I think it may have something to do with where Agent Danvers has got to. I'd like permission to go meet with the man the information's pointing to, and find out what the hell's going on."
"Why are you wasting my time getting permission to do what you know you should be doing, and what I'd order you to do even if there were regs against it?" Fury asks Pete, his tone still flat. "Agent, you've got a good head on your shoulders. Use it. One of ours has gone missing. If you need to do something that has a reasonable chance of getting her back, I don't care if you wind up accidentally calling in an air strike on the White House Rose Garden. We on the same page, agent?"
"Sir, yes, sir," Pete says, straightening and letting go the doorknob, and actively saluting. ... correctly, even. Correctly for an Englishman, anyway. He looks like he's gonna open his mouth to say something else, but-- no, he's on the same page. "Thank you, sir. I'll uh, get her off your Helicarrier now." And then he opens the door back up and sidesteps out.
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