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Location: Behind You (ft. night vision goggles)
Born: 17 October 1987
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Alias: Reb
Age: 30
Codename: Agent 13
Gif: http://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/sharonbae.gif
App: http://withgreatpowers.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=59
Shipper: http://withgreatpowers.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=78
Want Ad: http://withgreatpowers.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=144
Other: http://withgreatpowers.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=79
Joined: 12-September 17
Status: (Online) (Reading Board Index)
Last Seen: 13 minutes ago
Local Time: Feb 24 2018, 02:01 AM
134 posts (0.8 per day)
( 2.19% of total forum posts )
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SKYPE yoyo_rebecca
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Feb 5 2018, 09:46 AM

Sharon did not like this at all. There was nothing about this that suggested a happy ending and, frankly, she did not take well to blackmail. Between the general aura of mystery in her unknown contact and all the blanks that were impossible for Sharon to fill-in herself, a sense of malaise had wormed its way into her gut and she could not shake off the feeling that this was a trap.

A trap in a very public, very accessible coffeehouse but still. It could mean that whoever showed up cared little for collateral damage and that, in itself, was terrifying. Walking inside - flats, not heels - she chose a table near the fire escape and sat down with her hot chocolate.

She pulled out her phone, checking her notifications for anything work (or 'work')-related. It had been easy enough to inform Warren's assistant that she was taking lunch out of the office with a friend (completely straight-faced, she was a professional). Even if she had not intention of eating. It was not a day for burgers. When the chair opposite her was pulled out, Sharon looked the newcomer up and down. The body language implied that it was not some innocent bystander looking to share a meaningless coffee with a stranger so it was time to bite the bullet. "Do I get to know a name or am I just calling you Eyeliner Goals?" Or something equally cheesy. She could work on it. There were more than enough people running around with funny, ironic and downright terrible nicknames that she could ask for advice.

Sharon sipped from her cup, eyes fixed coldly on the woman. Might as well get straight to the point. "So. What can I do for you?"

@DAISY JOHNSON | hope this works! so sorry for the wait!!
Jan 14 2018, 10:38 AM
On the continent for a couple days. WI. Voorpret.

It had been a long day. Worthington Industries was international and the Netherlands was no exception. The office, unflinchingly grand and fortunately filled with English speakers, in Amstelveen had been buzzing from the moment they set foot in the building until the moment the revolving door closed behind them and her phone seemed to have grown a mind of its own, almost constantly vibrating as new work e-mails came through. Not that she was complaining; contacts were useful in both of her lines of work. Only, the office was situated barely half an hour's drive away from Amsterdam and, barring the private car to the airport in the city to catch their plane early tomorrow morning, she would not get to see it.

Still. It was nice to be out of the States again. There was something freeing about it. This part of the continent had no reason to know her; she was just another face in a sea of familiar faces. A face drifting aimlessly through the dimly-lit streets at her own pace with a soft bed in a luxury hotel waiting for her, all complimentary chocolates having been eaten.

Although her actions were not entirely aimless. She dropped some Euros in the upturned hat of a man playing the guitar, silenced her phone, kept her eyes peeled for a good café to sample a burger (and a large glass of wine) inside of and if her mind wandered to the intended recipient of the hint she had typed on her laptop at home twenty-four hours ago, that was her business.

But years as a spy would not allow her to simply switch off her instincts completely so when she registered the same set of footsteps was following her, she turned a corner into an alley and waited, back pressed up against the wall. A breath. Then she sprang, fist clenched and inches from him before she let out a breathless laugh. "Sorry. Old habits."

Sharon's arms folded, regarding him with fond amusement. "So what's this about you being two hours away from New York and not dropping by? It really hurt Clint's feelings." It had been an interesting read and she did feel guilty about what had supposedly happened to Dr Banner. Additionally, Sharon knew that there had probably been a good reason behind Steve keeping the details to himself but she could not help but think that, if he had asked for her help, he might not have been seen at all.

Jan 7 2018, 07:02 AM
Ask a question to the character below!

Self-explanatory really but I'm curious to know as much about the inner workings of our characters as possible so write as much as you like - just don't forget to add a question at the end for the next person!

Some ideas include: 'what is your character's patronus/star sign/Hogwarts house/celtic tree/etc. and why/how well does it suit them?', 'would your character rather...' or 'which memory has impacted your character the most and how?' but feel free to make up your own!

[post1]~Answer Here~

[align=center][size=5][b][i]New Question Here[/b][/i][/size][/align][/post1]

With Great Powers

The ability Sharon wants most for herself would probably be something along the lines of Time Manipulation. Never being late again, stopping a scene so she could take in all the details, getting out the way of bad guys - that kind of thing. However the time travel thing would probably mess her up - either by taking a certain someone back to the 40s so he'd be happy or by accidentally meeting herself and creating a paradox à la Doctor Who or by trying to solve every problem and just crumbling under the pressure.

So y'know, Scott's eye lasers would be pretty cool.

What is the line that your character refuses to cross and why? Is there anything out there that could change their mind?

Dec 28 2017, 06:58 PM

The flight had been unpleasant. The commercial flight, filled with civilians including everyone from a wailing infant in the row in front of her to a restless pensioner in the window seat beside her. Given the distance, it could have been worse as it was not as long as, say, a flight to Europe but it had been uncomfortable, all the same. No amount of music had been able to drown out the noise, the take-off had been delayed and then there had been security at the other side.

It had been so tempting to flash her old badge and swan through the queues with her head held high. But this, officially, was not exactly INTERPOL business and Sharon knew that she could not afford to draw more attention to her departure from New York than was necessary. So she had braved the slow path, handbag of necessities in tow. In the bathroom, she tidied herself up, donned the familiar black dress she had plucked out of the back of her wardrobe, applied mascara that was pointedly not waterproof (annoying but it meant that she only had to make herself cry once and could be done with it) and stepped out to locate the hired car she had arranged to drive to the church. It had been easy enough to track down where Ohm's body would be laid to rest and, Sharon's feelings on giving a traitor a good send-off aside, she was glad to be here. If only for the company she was expecting.

Spotting a face that shared features with John, Sharon offered her condolences to a woman who turned out to be the man's younger sister before stepping back and lurking in the background. She dug two sharp nails into her forearm until teardrops had run down her cheeks - a satisfactory cover, she hoped - and then made to start her perimeter check, feigning a convincing sniff whenever another mourner came too close.

When her eyes fell upon a familiar - and almost certainly friendly - face, however, she took her time in closing the distance between them so as to remain inconspicuous. "Glad to see you made it," said Sharon with a small smile. "It's a good, clean turn-out." She had seen no obvious hostiles. So far.

Dec 8 2017, 08:50 AM

There were some perks to having a relatively cushy job. One of those was a room in a luxury hotel and a plane journey down from New York that could both be claimed as expenses. Another was the resources that she had been given, free of charge. Whilst she would have preferred access to her usual guns, the taser was a refreshing change and it always took a few hours for the novelty of a new set of night vision goggles to wear off.

The raid, as the small team had taken to calling it, was scheduled to take place that evening when the ship called into port. The smugglers would therefore be firmly on American soil and, if they timed it correctly, they could seize the goods (a term which tasted sour on Sharon's tongue - whoever was after those weapons was certainly not doing so with the aim of doing good) whilst they were in transit, possibly even as money exchanged hands.

Until then, she kept her ear piece in (Jed, a techie, was keeping an eye on the satellite feed that had been set up) and paid for a pedicure. There was time to kill. On returning back to her room, she opened up her laptop and had just opened up the blueprints for the port when a message came through. "Change of plans. There's a rescheduled cruise coming in at the Union Pier Terminal so the roads are gonna be filled with civilians. We'll take the boat in and approach from the water."

So that changed things.


Five hours later and they were on the water, speedboat cutting through the waves. But, somehow, it did not sit right with Sharon. The intelligence had come in too easily and, when she tried to check sources, the trail dried up a little too quickly. Then there was the mysterious change of schedule - undoubtedly carrying hundreds of people - who would not be pleased to have their journeys cut short. Somewhere, something did not add up. "I think we should investigate the cruise ship," she said, cutting across the buzzing men. Sharon was greeted with disdain.

"Why? The plan says Columbus Street Terminal and we've prepped for it."
"There's no space to hide cargo on a ship full of people."

"It just doesn't seem right," insisted Sharon, unable to put her finger on it.

"Hey, you wanna back out, we can manage just fine without you."

Her jaw clenched, looking the smirking Thompson in the eye before letting out a low sigh. "Fine then." She took a deep breath, took a pair of 'gecko gloves' from Jed's 'only-for-emergencies' pack and popped them inside her own backpack (waterproof this time, she had prepared) with her supplies. Thankfully, the man at the motor seemed to sense what she was doing and slowed down a little. "See you boys later." Then she jumped off the side into the bitterly cold water, approaching the ship with a steady front crawl.

It was an unpleasant swim, to say the least, and neither the wind nor the waves were helpful but she did get there. Somehow managed to manoeuvre the gloves onto her hands without getting them wet and began the long, painful ascent up the boat.

@WANDA MAXIMOFF & @NATASHA ROMANOFF | hope this is fine! I imagine they're posing as guests/crew? Sharon would appreciate help with the climb but it's also fun to make her suffer so it's up to you xD
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