2012-10-17 Good Mark - Escape!

She hadn't seen it coming--which was the point. A few goons were pouring out of the house in Coventry, giving her plenty to do. And Devil, well--he had to focus on so much at once, so many smells and sounds competing for his attention--then his ears swivel and head lifts to look behind her. That's when she'll be set upon by three men wearing dark suits, and they were well-trained in hand-to-hand fighting, making it a very unfair fight--but since when do these people fight fair? The last thing she'll feel is a needle in her neck, then a bit of coolness as fluid is quickly injected. The last sight is Devil, blood on his muzzle from one of the attackers, leaping, and the last sound--suppressed gunshots. When she awakens, she'll feel a gentle rocking, like a ship in the harbor. She's tied to a chair with thick ropes at each wrist and ankle, not to mention one around her waist--with knots even the Boy Scouts would appreciate. As if that weren't enough, she's wearing a plain T-shirt and what amounts to gym shorts, and--that's it. The costume is who-knows-where, probably with her weapons. "The tranquilizer should be wearing off quickly," comes a familiar voice, even and calm. Why, it's the blonde woman, sporting not only a bandage across her nose but a neck brace, now, to go with it. She really isn't having a very easy time since she got involved with these costumed types. She sits at a plain metal desk in a room that's no bigger than twenty feet by twenty, in a simple, high-backed wooden chair that squeaks a little when she moves. The only door is a hatch in one corner of the room behind the blonde woman, and illumination is provided by a few mesh-covered bulbs along the ceiling. On the desk are a few papers, some folders, and a walkie-talkie.

GOD. Hangovers suck... wait. Huntress manages to not move right away as she becomes aware of her new situation, taking in the feel of ropes on her wrists and ankles and the lack of sleeves and shoes, the smell of salt and iron rust, the taste of something that crawled into her mouth and died, and the sound of a VERY unwelcome voice. Damn. It. She opens her eyes just a crack, trying to stay as still as she was when she woke up. Maybe if they thinks she's not awake yet they'll say something she can use.

The woman checks her watch--an awkward gesture, considering the neck brace--then looks to Helena and taps her fingers lightly on the desk, doing some quick calculations. Even if they made it here quicker than projected, even if the Italian woman reacted worse to the drug than expected--no. She wouldn't still be out cold, not completely. "I see you still refuse to make things easy," the woman says as she scoots the chair back, causing an irritating wood-on-metal scraping sound. A drawer is pulled open, a bit of rummaging around, then she comes out with a wooden box. "Well, if you really are still under the influence, this will bring you out of it," she says as she sets the box on the desk and flips open the lid. "If the drug has worn off, however, this will cause a lot of pain." Another hypodermic needle is brought out, as is a vial of emerald-colored liquid, and the former slipped into the latter to draw some of the liquid.

Shit. Not more drugs. She feigns just starting to wake up, tilting her head to one side a bit, before gasping and pulling at the ropes as if she just realized they're there. She looks up and around and then squints at the blonde woman. "Oh hell. You again." Wow, her voice sounds like crap even to herself.

A smile comes to the blonde's face as Helena opens her eyes. It's not exactly a mirthful smile, either. She sets the needle back into the box, then pushes the thing aside. After scooting the chair back in, she interlaces her fingers and rests her forearms on the table. "Yes, me again," she says, taking the woman in with a glance. She looks like crap, and the blonde doesn't bother trying to hide that thought. "By now, hopefully your friends are searching for you. We left just enough clues to encourage them to go to Coventry; they should have enough clues to start hunting for you, too."

Huntress glares at the woman with every bit of vitriol she can muster. And she inwardly hopes that she somehow managed to keep one of the Bat's trackers on her person. If this woman actually WANTS people to come after her, then she deserves everything the Bat will do to her. AND what Kit will do. And Devil. Especially Devil.

The blonde narrows her eyes a bit, regarding Huntress with an amused expression. "You still think this is all about you, don't you?" she says, leaning back in her chair and resting her hands in her lap. "You still don't see even part of the bigger picture, do you? You're just here because you were convenient--your life destroyed to make the plan go smoothly." A beat. "Speaking of, young Angelique should be around here somewhere, though I haven't seen her for--a while..." Those dark eyes stay on the Italian, as the amused smile stays on her lips.

Huntress keeps her expression exactly the same, refusing to give the woman the satisfaction of reacting to her words. You'll have to try harder, bitch.

And the blonde actually chuckles as she looks at the other woman. "That's good, that's good," she says as she adjusts her position a little. "That's why you were chosen, right there: That--that determination, that never-say-die attitude. Those qualities aren't quite as common as you might think for a world just teeming with people who like to dress up in--let's be honest--garish and frankly embarrassing costumes." A beat as she sucks air through her teeth softly, then she says, "I don't suppose you'll eat quietly and without a fuss like a good girl, hmm? You've been unconscious for almost twelve hours, and we didn't want to feed you through a tube.  Really not good for the constitution, that."

Huntress doesn't move for a solid three seconds before finally saying lowly, "Bring Angelique here, unharmed, and I won't give you any trouble." She knows all she has to do is keep Angelique and herself safe long enough for Batman and''or Phantom to find them. And she's determined to do so as best she can.

Pursing her lips, the blonde thinks a moment, tapping her index finger on the table. After a moment, she says, "Mmmm, how about a compromise. I cannot bring her to you or you to her, but I can let you see her.  Understand there'll be no communication between you two, but you can at least see that she's unharmed--for the moment." Her eyes stay on the other woman's, and she stays as relaxed as ever.

Huntress glares at the woman while considering the counter offer. "I have to see her in person. Photos or video can be faked." And she is NOT gullible. Try again.

"Can be, yes, but not easily, and frankly it's more trouble than we need to put into it," says the woman, who then reaches for her walkie-talkie. "It's either a live video feed, complete with a subtle signal that it's live and not faked, or you will be--assisted in restraining your baser, violent impulses. Mind that this is merely a--courtesy we're extending to you." A somewhat sterner look comes to the woman's eyes, though it's brief. They don't have to be even trying to meet her halfway like this, after all.

Huntress takes a deep breath, holding back the urge to pull at the ropes holding her until her wrists bleed -- it can wait the blonde isn't SO close currently. "All right, fine." Come on, HAL, please pick up on this place. She's even ready to reconsider her opinion of the Bat if he gets here QUICKLY.

The blonde nods--then immediately regrets that action with a wince. Stupid neck brace. Bringing the walkie-talkie to her lips, she speaks quietly into it in another language. That only lasts a moment, then she sets the thing down again. A few minutes later, and the hatch opens, two large men entering the room who are eastern European if anything, and dressed in the casual outfits of sailors. One bears a small tray on a stand and a plastic tray with food on it. The other one carries a similar tray of food, and a laptop tucked under his arm. Both have MAC-10s on holsters, two apiece. The stand gets set before Huntress and the food atop it, the other tray and laptop taken to the blonde and set before her. The blonde says something in another language, though it's short, like a command, and the men nod once. One moves around to Huntress' left while the other pulls one of his weapons and aims it at the Italian. "In a moment, I'll give you a pen and paper," says the blonde, looking calmly but sternly at the Huntress once more. "Write the time, write a number, write whatever you wish, and it will be taken into the room with the girl. She will not see it, but you will, thus proving that the feed is live and untouched.  Is this sufficient?"

Huntress considers the woman's words for a long moment, not looking at the tray of food set next to her. Paranoia demands she consider that it's drugged or poisoned, and really, Angelique is more important than eating anyway. Finally she nods he acceptance of the woman's words and starts thinking about what she can write on the paper to clue in the Bat or HAL or whomever might be able to sneaky-intercept the video feed. Probably something in Latin, in the original characters, so that these morons can't decipher it but friendlies can.

The blonde waves a hand, and the man next to Huntress unfastens the rope on her left wrist. The tray is scooted closer to her, then he heads to the desk where the woman hands him a blank piece of paper and a pen, and it's brought back over the Italian woman. Naturally, he stays clear of the other man, so his MAC-10 is never obstructed. They really don't want to take any chances with her--which might just show much much research they really have put into her. While she has a limb free, they aren't going to risk her stabbing someone in the neck or something. The woman opens the laptop and powers it on, eyes flicking to Huntress occasionally. The guard with the gun, though--his gaze never wavers. He barely even blinks as he watches the bound woman.

Huntress is actually behaving. Probably because she knows that what she does can affect Angelique. When her left hand is freed she takes a moment to try and restore proper circulation in her hand, and has to snark just a little while doing so. "There's something I ought to tell you." She pauses for a beat, as if she's quoting something. "I am not left handed." There was even a faint hint of a faked English accent there. Princess Bride for the win, bitch.

The woman's eyes narrow a little, though an amused smile comes to her lips. "Ah, movie quote. Humorous.  However, that you are not left-handed is precisely why that is the only arm you will be allowed free.  No--unnecessary advantages, you understand." That smile stays on her lips as the man next to Huntress takes a step back. "You'll do the best you can, and the note will be taken to where Angelique is." Her tone is quiet but firm; she's not going to compromise further on this, not when it means underestimating the Huntress or giving her more of an advantage.

Yeah, she figured as much. "Yeah, fine, whatever. Surprised you didn't bring me a crayon." Huntress takes up the pen and starts painstakingly trying to write the note out. She grimaces when she realizes she wrote the first character too far to the right on the paper, but then realizes this would work to further obfuscate the message. Her chosen words, in slightly odd, not quite English characters, shakily spell out 'OGIBUR ASLAS'.

When the message is written, the man takes the paper and pen from her, depositing the latter on the desk and letting the blonde see the paper. She murmurs something to him in another language, using her hand to block her mouth so the movements of her lips can't be seen, then the man simply nods and walks around the woman and other man, to not block the Huntress for even a second. They really, really don't trust her. "It will be a few minutes, so I advise you to eat and keep up your strength," says the blonde woman. The food is plain; scrambled eggs, wheat toast, a few thick sausage links, and a plastic cup of orange juice. A clue to the time of day or just some breakfast-y take-away? Either way, it's food and it's filling.

Huntress looks at the food suspiciously for a few moments, then finally relents and tastes a bit of the eggs. She can't help but wonder WHY they're being all courteous and crap, but at least it's far less unpleasant than the alternative. She's still a bit queasy from whatever they used to knock her out, so she doesn't eat all of the food, but she at least isn't as worried about being poisoned now. The orange juice was a bit of a surprise, not the 'from concentrate' junk.

Outside, it takes some time to fully assess the ship this bright and clear afternoon. It's--a cargo ship. Containers of various colors stacked tall and wide, burly seamen shouting in a gruff foreign language to one another working on the deck, checking labels on containers, helping load new containers, and so on and so on. Why they needed a rolled-up carpet is anyone's guess. "Eat what you can," says the blonde woman as she pulls over her own tray. "Food like this may be scarce where we're going." She allows a hint of a smile, there. Granted, considering she has a wide bandage over her nose and is wearing a neck brace, the look isn't quite as smug as might be intended. She glances to her laptop, and presses a few keys on it now that it's finally booted up enough, then starts digging into her own meal. Same fare as Huntress'--scrambled eggs, wheat toast, sausage, and orange juice. She sits at a plain metal desk in a room that's no bigger than twenty feet by twenty, in a simple, high-backed wooden chair that squeaks a little when she moves. The only door is a hatch in one corner of the room behind the blonde woman, and illumination is provided by a few mesh-covered bulbs along the ceiling. On the desk are a few papers, some folders, a laptop computer, a walkie-talkie. Huntress sits bound to a metal chair in the center of the room; her right wrist, ankles, and waist are bound in knots that would make an escape artist pause. Her left wrist was bound but is now free so she can eat.

Rolled up huh? Something is -definitely- tingling Heather's stupidity sense. Or is that her ability to understand when folks nearby have motives that are not so pure. She has her little clutch purse with her Glock 36 holdout inside. Some holdout though, it carries six rounds of .45 caliber in the small snub design. But that's in the purse she holds in hand. Sneaky or... well never mind. She rolls her neck and preps. Time to get into acting mode. She puts a small stumble in her step, or more likely a small sway. She's dressed in her little club dress, with a jacket over her shoulders. Holding the clutch in one hand, she stumbles right up towards the gangplank and heads up towards the ship. She's timing it of course, so she can do this while everyone is busy for just those few seconds and give her the chance to get up the ramp. "Helloooo!?!" she calls out once she's up top. "This doesn't look like your yacht!" she adds with a bit of a drunken giggle and another stumble. "Where's the bar Harry?!" she adds. She is -hoping- that the whole situation has folks assuming she's just... totally drunk and lost and totally unaware that she's on a cargo ship and not the yacht of some rich sugar daddy. After all, if it works for James Bond, then why not for her? Get yourself captured, get taken to the bad guys, and then from there figure it out.

-]-[- A young woman in the prime of youth and beauty. She is, at five feet nine inches tall, the picture of Nordic Beauty itself. Her flawless skin holds to its satin smoothness a touch of gold, enough to indicate that she spends time out in the sun, and the dust of rose at her cheeks is an evident sign of good health. Obviously in her late teens, her beauty has recently come into full swing. Her limbs are long and toned, looking as though they must lean more to grace than strength, but that she nonetheless takes care of herself. Honey blonde hair, clearly natural, falls in a silken mass halfway to her waist, kept mildly long. Her face is that of an angel, with huge cobalt blue eyes that seem to reflect an innocent, trusting nature and a big heart. Gilded lashes frame those eyes, beneath slender, arching brows of honey-gold, the same shade as her lustrous hair. Her lips, full and soft, are almost always curved up into a welcoming smile, one that at times seems as though it could charm the birds from the very air. Tonight she's dressed for the dance floor. An uneven skirt hangs down her legs, riding low on the hips. One side of the skirt is slit up  almost to the top, while the other hangs all the way to her knee. This skirt is a few layers of sheer black fabric, hinting at shapes beneath it, but never quite showing anything off. Her fit and trim belly is showing as she moves, with her top being similar in color. It is a midriff baring leather strapless bustier, constrasting against her golden tanned flesh and her honey blonde hair. Her shoes are two inch heels, also black and open toed. Overall she presents the image of a sexy young lady out for a night on the town. -=--=- Size: 5'9"                             Hair:  Blonde                       Eyes:  Blue                             Skin:  Tanned                      -]<>[-

Huntress finishes eating as much as she thinks she can without making herself sick, then sets the plastic spoon she'd be using on the plate where both Neck brace Bitch and the goon pointing a weapon at her can see it. She then rubs at the back of her neck with her free hand, trying to relieve some of the tension there. Metal chair plus bindings aren't exactly the most ergonomic.

That is--definitely something this crew doesn't see every day. Two men look at Heather, then look to each other, then back to Heather, then back to each other. They start exchanging some dialogue in the foreign language, then one brings out a walkie-talkie while the other heads over to her. "You cannot be here, yes?" the man says in heavily-accented English. "Is private ship. You need--credentials, yes?  Perhaps you have some to show me?" He says this like it's the most suave comment ever made, complete with a stupid grin and a slight waggle of his eyebrows. Down below, the walkie talkie next to the blonde woman bursts with static, then comes a gruff male voice speaking in another language. Arching a brow, the blonde looks to Huntress, eyes narrowed as she picks up her walkie talkie and speaks the same language back into it. The exchange is brief, then the woman signs off and sets the unit down. "Who knows you are here?" she says to the Italian woman. "We have a--visitor, and I do not believe in coincidences. If this is your doing, you will regret it--or Angelique will in your place..." She speaks calmly yet darkly. She's been extending courtesies up to this point--and is more than willing to stop extending them.

"Oh come on guys! Harry -told- me to meet'im here! He was so cool at the club, and I just had a taxi drop me off right over..." and as she points, Heather almost -seemingly-.. loses her footing, as if she's about to fall off the ship itself. "Whoa!" she calls out as she does that. "Oh, maybe I had one too many sexes on the beaches!" She's slurring a bit too, but then she looks back to the guard who asked her about credentials. "Well..." she offers as she tries to look drunkenly coy. "I don't see Harry here, do you? Do -you- have a bar back there?" she asks as she tries to brush past the guy, moving like she's dancing to a tune she only hears in her head. "Show me the bar, and I'll show you any credentials you like." she adds.

Huntress has been WAITING for Phantom or the Bat to show up, but can do a passably surprised expression, as she has no way to truly know who is out there. "What? I don't see how anyone can know where I am. I'm kinda..." She tugs half-heartedly at the ropes holding her right arm to the chair as if to explain. "Who is it?"

The seaman jerks a thumb over his shoulder, saying, "We have bar, yes. Very fine vodka; not like swill you drink here.  Smooth, very good.  Not like petrol." He obviously has a very low opinion of the vodka served in the 'States. Then again, is accent might place him as from one of the countries generally renowned for knowing how to make that stuff right, so what the hell. He'll grin and go to put a beefy arm around her shoulders to lead her further up the gangplank and onto the deck proper. His friend calls out to him in the foreign language, to which the man answers and motions toward the door that leads below decks. The other man nods once and says something that the man with Heather ignores with a wave of his hand. "Come, is no problem, yes?" he tells her as he opens the door for her. Below, the blonde woman gets to her feet and turns the laptop around. On it is a view from a high corner, like from a tiny camera. Angelique sits on the edge of a bunk, arms around her legs. She's wearing a T-shirt and shorts, like Huntress is. Though, at least the child has socks and canvas slip-on shoes, so there's that. The burly man who had taken the note appears, to give the girl a tray of food. She accepts it with a bleak nod, and the man turns away again. As he does, keeping his back to the girl, he looks up to the camera and holds up the note Huntress had written, the "OGIBUR ASLAS" plainly visible. "As you can see," the blonde says to the Huntress, "I have kept my end of the deal. If this visitor is someone you have brought, I will consider it your not fulfilling your end.  Are we clear?" No, she doesn't answer the Italian's question. Of course she doesn't.

Offering a drunken grin to the guy as he drapes his arm over her shoulders... her jacketed shoulders thank god, Heather gives a slow nod. "Oh Vodka.. I love a good screw... driver." she gives just enough pause there to let the guy fill in the rest with his imagination. She allows herself to be led... well pretty much wherever. Inside is where she wants to see after all. Hey, this could all be a mistake, in which case she'll just have to find a way out before she goes too far. But if she's right, something funky is going on, and she's going to screwdriver this guy's head into a bulkhead soonish. But for now she's playing along, grinning as if she is pleased as punch... well spiked punch too... to go wherever the guy wants her to go.

Huntress squints a bit at the display on the laptop, recognizing Angelique and appearing to be visibly relieved that the girl is healthy. "Yeah." She finally tears her eyes away from the display to look at the blonde woman again. "I haven't brought anyone. I swear to you." They'll be coming after her, yes, but she isn't bringing them. So technically, she's not lying.

If Heather hasn't ever been on a large cargo ship before--she wasn't missing out on much. Low ceilings, having to step over the bottom of hatches every now and again, tight halls, every footstep echoes, so on and so on. He takes the model down a few flights of steep stairs, and they're met by another seaman--this one packing two MAC-10s in holsters, one on each side of his barrel chest. He stops the first man and speaks to him in that foreign language, glancing to Heather. The first man shrugs and replies, which annoys the second man. He barks something, and the first man looks to Heather with an apologetic look on his face. "Is okay. Just--need to make sure you are not someone bad, you know?  Take you to meet someone real quick, then we go have fun, yes?" In the room, the blonde woman uses the tip of her middle finger to rub the spot between her eyebrows in annoyance. "Let's hope you're telling the truth, Helena," she tells the bound woman. "And to think--all of this could have been avoided, had you simply acquiesced that night on the rooftop." She's not above rubbing it in, that she had promised to make Helena's life miserable if she refused their little "job". In a few moments, the hatch will open, and a new-to-Helena man will enter, guiding the apparently drunk woman in as well.

An apparently drunk woman who stumbles like she has on several of the portals, halfway tripping and grabbing onto her guide to keep from falling down. She takes a moment at the door there to stop and reach down, grumbling about quality footwear as she tries once, twice, and then on the third try she removes one shoe and seems to think that's all she needs to do. But then she's on one two inch heel and stumbles even worse. "Whoopsie!" she exclaims as she plops down on her backside and reaches to start working on her other shoe. She pauses there and then as she 'apparently' tries to focus her eyes, "Is this the bar?" she asks, "I don't hear any music." Then she pouts up at her guide with a little moue as she adds, "How am I supposed to dance for you if there's no music?" Of course, her little clutch purse is now on the floor beneath her skirt. She's hoping that stays out of sight now, with captain double phone booth gun there. She doesn't want them finding her itty bitty pistol, not yet.

Huntress rolls her eyes at the blonde woman. She said it then and she'll say it again now. She doesn't kill people. But then as people enter the room, she looks at the clearly drunk woman in the very-out-of-place-on-a-cargo-ship attire for several seconds before looking back at Neck Brace Bitch. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

The blonde woman puts her thumb above one eyebrow and her index and middle fingertips above the other at the drunkard's antics. She mutters something under her breath in the foreign language everyone else here seems to share, then looks to Huntress. The "guide" says something to the blonde, who just looks at him. The man with the two automatic weapons provides the not-too-kind smack to the back of the "guide's" head. Looking to the drunkard, the blonde asks, "Who are you and what are you doing here?" She's a good few inches shorter than Heather, but doesn't let that intimidate her. She's used to a position of power, and power doesn't depend on size. It depends on information and intelligence.

Well that, and Heather's currently sitting on her backside. She looks up at the woman, blinks her eyes and gives a few tiny shakes of her head as if trying to clear it. "Wait a sec..." she remarks, "This isn't a bar. This..." she looks back towards gunboy. Not so much ignoring the woman's question as acting as if she simply didn't really realize it was asked to her. But then she seems to notice everyone looking at the woman and looks back her way, "Oh, that's to me?" She grins and then that turns into a beaming smile, "I'm Abbi. Who are -you-?" she asks as she inclines her head. "And I was just... wait where is he?" she looks around and then smiles to her -guide-. "I was looking for Harry, but this nice man offered to show me where the bar was, so I could.... show him my credentials." and as she says that, she wiggles her hips there on the floor. She looks back towards the woman and asks, "Who are -you-?" But then Heather finally gets that other shoe off and tosses it over her shoulder with a 'wheee!' exclamation. "That's -so- much better!" she offers as she starts levering herself to her feet, stepping on her clutch and toppling back down flat on her back, lying on the thing now. "Ow..." she mutters.

Huntress rolls her eyes again and sighs, shaking her head at drunk Abbi over there. Okay, honestly truly and for real, she has NOTHING to do with that pickled dingbat over there. God. Seriously. I mean, she seems a little familiar, but definitely not anyone she'd have expected to show up as a 'rescue'.

The blonde's eyes twitch like she's desperately wanting to face-palm, though the wide bandage on the bridge of her nose makes that not a good idea. She barks something in the other language to the man who just got smacked, motioning at "Abbi". The man grins and shrugs, giving only a short reply. The blonde growls something in return, and the "guide" crouches down and reaches over to take Heather's hands to start helping her to her feet. "Hey, is okay. I take you to bar now, and we show each other good time, yes?" he tells her with that grin of his, like he wasn't just chewed out by someone who has to be his boss of some sort. The blonde turns to Huntress and smooths down the coat of her dark suit reflexively, saying nothing to the other woman for the moment.

Accepting the help of her guide, Heather giggles and mutters to him, "Oh.. is this -her- yacht? It sure is big!" And she's halfway up when she says, "Oops, one sec." and bends over to grab her clutch purse. She almost loses her balance again, and she turns, twisting about until that clutch is sailing through the air, aimed towards Helena's lap. The weight in that, if she knows her stuff, should tell her what's in it. Especially the feel and shape of the impact. If she's -not- a combatant, it'll also be obvious, "Hey! That's mine!" exclaims Heather before she grabs tightly onto her guide's arm as if for help before she twists, uses some leverage, and sends the guy literally flying through the air towards the back of the blonde. "Oops." she says with a grin as she looks towards the two gun kid.

Huntress oofs faintly when the clutch purse lands on her lap. Is that a pistol in there, or does this dingbat carry some SERIOUS lip balm? She looks at the little handbag for an incredulous moment, considering that Neck Brace Bitch is looking right at her, then looks up at her captor, not reaching for the contents of the clutch purse... yet. There's no immediate need to, considering that Drunk Abbi just pulled a serious Jackie Chan there.

The blonde barely has the time to turn her head to look at the large mass flying her way. A loud "Shit!" before she's crashed into and sent against the far wall. A scream of pain--she was wearing the neck brace for a reason, after all--and she lays limp like a sack of potatoes. Like a sack of potatoes that are in a LOT of PAIN. From the doorway, another man with two MAC-10s appears, grimacing and drawing his weapons the moment he sees what the hell is going on. He won't ask questions. The second he gets a bead on Jaquelyn Chan over there, he's opening fire in multiple three-round bursts.

Well, that's why Heather turned to face the guys. So she could absorb bullets rather than anyone else. She takes... well, nobody might be able to count the number of bullets that cause entry and exit wounds in her torso. Oh, that poor poor bustier of hers too! After a few seconds of blood spattering impacts, she topples over onto her back. Her wheezing voice mutters, "This isn't the bar..." She's -hoping- that the guy will be focused on her and not the lefty with the gun purse.

Huntress scoops the pistol out of the clutch purse Abbi threw at her and shoots at the man with the MAC-10s. She's got really good aim usually, just with her right hand and using a crossbow. But, she's got a REALLY good reason to make the shot count, and the girl is hopefully still visible on the computer sitting on the desk in the room. At the same time she starts viciously pulling at the ropes holding her right hand, because shit is going down now and she will NOT just sit here.

The man in the doorway grunts as a couple of bullets slam into his torso, and he falls over still firing the weapons. That makes the other man duck--and it's a good thing, too as the wall he was just standing next to gets filled with holes. That also gives Heather and Huntress a beat without more bullets flying--but it will only be a beat, and when the man comes up, it will be with his guns drawn, one aiming for Heather, the other for Huntress, and he'll open fire the second he's standing up.

Amazingly, Heather's moving again. Not full speed yet. Blood streams from several wounds and from her lips as she surges into motion. Her bodyguard instincts and training send her flying through the air just as the guy opens fire once more. Her body quickly turning into hamburger as she dives between the gunman and the woman in the chair. She hits the ground like a lump of wet cement, sprawled out at an odd angle. One arm broken -obviously- by the bullet that struck her forearm. Yep, she's healed from worse, but ow it hurts. Her head is turned towards Huntress, and she mutters, "That thing only has six shots. Make'em count..." Sure, she's wheezing like someone with a punctured lung. But the fact that she's a) conscious, and b) speaking, is kinda shocking if one doesn't know her.

Huntress startles as Abbi actually gets up again from having been shot rather excessively, but she's still stuck to this chair and there's still one other bad guy in the room. So, she throws herself to the left to knock the chair over (hopefully not too much on top of Abbi) and aims to where she thinks the man is going to pop up again. The moment she sees any part of him, she'll fire. But only one shot, as she now knows how limited the ammunition is.

As the man pops up, he finds he suddenly has a sack of bloody meat for his trouble. He's thrown off-balance and hits the wall behind him as Heather is tossed to the floor and sprawls out like wet cement--but doesn't get a chance to recover. A sudden hole through his neck made by a well-placed bullet makes him gurgle and drop his guns as he slides to the floor. He'll be out for good in no time flat, after trying to breathe the blood that runs down in thick rivulets from his newest air-hole and failing.

"Gonna just lie here for a minute." mutters Heather. The wounds visibly healing. Visibly because most of the dress she was wearing is shredded. She barely retains any sense of decency, or at least her outfit does, but the stomach wound is closing, and she uses her left arm reaches over to straighten her right before she just holds it there and looks towards the woman who was in the neck brace. "Anyone else on this tub need a rescue?" and that's when she sees the laptop. "Oh shit. Did I just screw things up for the little girl?" she asks as she starts sitting up, a little too early, but now a child is on the line, so she can't wait.

Huntress sets the pistol down where she can reach it then starts pawing through Heather's clutch purse again. Please for the love of Pete, let there be a blade of some kind in here. "I sure as shit hope not." She glances at 'Abbi' and can tell she's healing, though not instantly because of the sheer amount of damage inflicted on the woman. "How soon do you think you'll be able to move? We've got to find her and get the hell out. And fast."

There's a groan from the flung man, and a grunt from the blonde woman. The grunt is one of pain--fighting through pain, to be exact. She grabs a walkie talkie from the flung man's pocket and barks a very short command into it in that foreign language, then drops her arm, eyes closing. She's not dead, but she is in a world of pain. And not three seconds later, an alarm klaxon blares. Two seconds after that, a small but muscular man appears on the screen of the laptop, grabbing Angelique and taking her off-screen.

"She on the ship?" asks Heather. Well, there is a micro-leather man in there. Never know when you might need a small multi-tool. It has a blade, no more than an inch long but razor sharp. "And I'll be combat capable in about thirty seconds." She mutters as she half crawls over towards little miss neck brace. "She got a key or something?" she asks back towards Huntress. "And the name's Heather. Sorry if I'm not quite the rescue team you might've hoped for." Then as the woman issues her command, Heather just shakes her head and reaches a hand over to smash into the woman's nose again, just to make her suffer for now. "Okay, let's move." she mutters as she forces herself to her feet and starts lurching towards the chair. "We need to get off the ship before they get there. Also, there ought'a be a spare magazine in there. Plus, if you need'em, those guys don't need their machine guns anymore." She negates the need for the blade however, as she reaches down and just rips the right arm free before kicking the legs of the metal chair and bending them to set Huntress free. Every second that passes, she's getting stronger. "Also, hand me the power bar in there. I need some calories."

Huntress pulls the little multi tool and with the help of the small blade manages to finally cut herself free of the chair and scrambles to her feet, scooping up the pistol again and offering the purse back to Heather with the rest of its contents intact. "We need to find her. Now." She starts for the door, now finally moving like someone who has training in stuff like this.

There'll be running feet and men shouting in another language as they race around. Some race up a staircase, others race down another one, and a few head toward that small room. When the first of three men appear, he, like his fellows, have guns drawn. As for the blonde, well--her scream of pain ended with her fading into unconsciousness from sheer pain. Nose re-broken, whiplash damage aggravated--yeah, an explosion of pain. She's out like a light.

Grabbing one of the jackets of the fallen folks, Heather just surges towards the door and reaches for her clutch purse in Huntress's hands. She whips out the power bar and bites the wrapper open, scarfing down the high calorie snack in like three quick bites. She peeks out the door to the hallway, and says, "Two left, one right. You go right." and then she's out and running towards the gunman, no longer willing to just play dead. One has to wonder, just how much she can heal here... but she's moving like she has a purpose, and she doesn't plan to kill these guys. After all, they may know where the girl is. Of course, the woman might've been able to tell her that, if she'd known that before she KO'd her. Taking a shot or two from the first guy there, she goes into a group fighting routine, trying to get the gun away from the guy. After all, she wants one now too. But she's planning to bounce heads off of bulkheads, gently...

Huntress looks at Heather like she's insane, but lets her just take her clutch purse back before nodding and going to the right. The one guy there promptly gets a bullet in the kneecap and then she rushes him and roughly yanks his weapon away to turn it back on the man and press it up under his chin. "Where's the girl?"

It won't be that hard to get the guns away from the first guy. Surprise that someone that bloody is charging toward him combined with her having quite a bit of strength to put behind it--he'll suffer a few broken bones in his hands, but those guns are gone. He and the other man get shoved against the bulkhead, and at least one is seeing stars. Or birds. Either way, one is incredibly dazed, the other "merely" in a lot of pain. Not unlike the guy with the fresh bullet hole in his knee, who falls back against the wall as well and starts to slide down it while groaning in pain--until his gun is suddenly yanked and shoved under his chin. All three start muttering in their native language through gritted teeth, motioning vaguely back the way they'd come.

"Okay, the first one who tells us in English where the girl is at, lives. The other two... I'm giving to her." says Heather as she gestures to Huntress. "We are not feeling very patient, and pain makes me mean... you can see, I hurt... a lot." And the wounds are closing, but there's some evidence that no matter what she can heal from, it always hurts.

"English," Huntress all but growls at the man, though she does glance briefly at the direction he gestures toward. Making up her mind abruptly, she strikes the man across the face with his own weapon then starts in the direction he and the others came from. She'll mow her way through the entire crew of this damned rust bucket if she has to to find Angelique.

After seeing the one man struck across the face hard enough to cause a fountain of blood, the other two do do their best to switch to English. "Is below, last hall near cargo hold," says the one who hadn't had his hands broken in the assault. The other just nods. "Yes, is there, is there!" They hold their hands up in a hope that they, too, won't have their faces completely re-arranged.

"This one lives. The others... you decide." says Heather as she starts rushing in the direction indicated. She's in a rush especially to try to make up for potentially ruining the whole thing. She didn't know it was a rescue when she got here. She just knew it was something fishy. She carries one of the pistols wielded by the gunmen... she has no training with fully automatic weapons. She'd end up like Jamie Lee Curtis, dropping it to spin around and shoot the whole room, if she tried a MAC-10, otherwise known as a phone booth gun since that's about the longest range it retains any accuracy.

Huntress has only the barest of knowledge of automatic weapons -- having only done target practice with a few back in Italy. But she's focused enough on getting to Angelique that she doesn't care. She rushes down the hallway, only pausing at the next intersection to look before crossing. She has a vague mental idea of how long it took for the man with her handwritten note to reach the girl, and she's mentally timing it. Maybe she'll even get lucky and catch her somewhere en route.

The two men look at each other when the blonde bodyguard offers two lives to the crazy Italian, the third man groaning with tears streaming down his face from the pain. Thankfully, the Italian doesn't seem interested in taking the blonde's offer. They know they have an extraordinary amount of luck on their side, there. As for the search itself, there'll be a few more goons heading her way, and in close quarters like these they're lugging things like huge wrenches and a pipe or two. Something better-suited for the narrow halls. And up the stairs--comes that one note-delivering goon, with Angelique tucked under his arm, racing for the hatch that leads to the outside.

Well, after working her way through goons, so that Huntress could go ahead without being hassled, Heather is a ways behind the other woman when that guy comes into view. "Shit. How do we get out of this f'in maze?" she asks, looking around to try to figure out the quickest way to get out from below decks. She's hoping that she might be able to head the guy off at the pass, so to speak. Her club dress is pretty much gone, the jacket she yoinked from one of the guys providing her with a semblance of decency. Good thing she wasn't wearing see-through underwear tonight too! But then again, she's hoping that this isn't going to end up on YouTube. Running top speed though, she does her best to get lucky by finding a way up above. But... that's going to take quite a bit of luck.

Huntress turns just in time to see the man carrying the girl and fleeing toward the way out. She doesn't try to shoot at him while he's holding Angelique, so she abandons the gun in her hands and races toward him at a full run in hopes of catching him before he gets too far away. Most people would shout at him to stop, but she isn't wasting any breath on that crap. She's got the goon in her sights and NOTHING is getting in her way again.

The man is caught up at one of the interior hatches; the thing about ship's hatches is they aren't as easy to open as doors in a house. They take a moment to turn the wheel. And Angelique doesn't make things easy for him. She was hanging limply in the man's arm--until she sees Helena racing after her, the teacher she knows, remembers, and trusts. She starts wriggling and kicking, making the man have to abandon turning the wheel and try to deal with the girl--until he, too, sees the pissed off Italian heading his way. "Don't," is all he growls, a large hand starting to wrap around the girl's head. Of course, being focused on Huntress means he isn't focusing on anything else, and being a cargo ship, there are ways around him to the door behind him. Might have to knock out a few more crew members on the way, but the bodyguard can end up at that hatch.

As for Heather, she's a bit more tattered by the time she gets there. You see, some people are more worried about avoiding being hurt. Heather's more worried about avoiding breaking necks when she's just trying to incapacitate folks. She actually takes shots and blows she could avoid to retain her focus. But... just as the guy's starting that hand-wrap thingamajig, the wheel on that particular hatch turns and clanks into the 'open' position. Heather's not sure which hatch he'll be behind, but she's really not being very subtle about it. Let's hope this makes him look back at the hatch rather than at the charging Italian.

Huntress stops abruptly when the man finally registers her approach and subtly threatens Angelique, but she's tense, ready to charge at him again the moment he's distracted. She's so focused on any slip from him that the door behind the kidnapper opening doesn't get her attention immediately. And when it does, she continues to remain still. There's only one chance to get Angelique safely away from him and she refuses to screw it up.

The child continues to struggle, reaching out for Helena and kick blindly at the man, who--takes it like a little girl is kicking a man used to very hard labor, otherwise known as barely even registering it. "Now, you're going to step--" he starts, then pauses when the wheel on the hatch behind him suddenly turns. He an't help it; he's a sailor, not a soldier. He just can't help but turn his head ever-so-slightly, eyes flicking away for just the barest fractions of a second to look at the door.

Huntress sees the distraction make the man start to turn his head and leaps toward him immediately, reaching to take the gun from his hand as that's the foremost threat. She COULD take HIM down, but she's still having to keep half of her attention on the child in the man's arms.

With all of that struggling going on, Heather yoinks the hatch open and blinks for half a second. She notices that well, she did manage to beat the guy here... okay. So she grins a bit and reaches for the girl as she deepens her voice and says, "Lemme get'er so you can handle that bitch." Of course, it's not like she really sounds like any of his guys. But she's hoping to just take advantage of the briefest moment of distraction to get the girl out of the guy's arms.

That really doesn't sound anything like one of the guys, true, but it does sound--odd, making him start to look back. That gives him just a moment of confusion, long enough to have that gun ripped from his hand. Looking back to Huntress--he suddenly has the child snatched from his hands. All in that bare beat, he's gone from having a bit of power to--being thoroughly and utterly boned. And he knows it. So he goes down fighting, emitting a loud roar and bull-rushing Huntress, hands stretching out to rip her limb from limb.

"It's okay honey." mutters Heather to the girl as she cradles her to her chest and then as the guy does his berserk charge thing, she grimaces and tsks, "Bad idea." she mutters, before saying to Angelique, "Ten bucks says she breaks his nose." And she's stepping back, turning around just in case, to place her body between the girl and any danger the guy might possess. Bodyguard, remember?

Huntress doesn't even bother to turn the gun in her hand to aim it at the man, she simply swings it at his head like a billy club, and then registers that Heather has pulls Angelique clear. She grins at him darkly, almost cruelly, then aims a vicious kick towards his gentleman area regardless of whether or not the first hit would have taken him down.

The sound that's emitted when the butt of the gun hits the man's temple is some sickening combination of a SPLORCH and a CRACK, and--the bigger they are, the harder they really do fall. He smacks into the wall and slides down it, blood spurting from the wound that makes the bits of skull visible. It's a good thing Heather had shielded the child. The kick to the gentleman's plums goes undefended, and a dark red stain starts spreading on his trousers. It's only a moment more, no longer, that his chest starts slowing quickly, and he'll breathe his last a moment later. The temple is the thinnest part of the skull, and that much force put behind it...

"You scout, I carry." says Heather simply. It's not that she wants to give orders so much as she just thinks she sees clearly here who is better suited for what. "You lead, I'll follow along. There's nobody else they're holding here, is there?" she asks as she cradles the girl lovingly and gently.

Huntress drops the weapon and rushes out to Heather and Angelique, then nods and starts ahead of them, looking at everything alertly even as she gets her bearings and heads for the gangplank. "Just us. Keep up." This might be a demeanor that Angelique has never seen from Helena before.

Young Angelique is likely not really thinking of it in terms like that. She's squirming in Heather's grip, though not as much as she was in the crewman's. She's scared, frightened beyond measure, but some part of her recognizes that Heather is with her teacher, the kind if stern Latin teacher. The only men seen next will be on-deck, and it's only a handful, running around quickly as the klaxon blares. There aren't any weapons up here, at least nothing beyond lengths of chain and the like--but then the nearest one, not more than fifteen yards away, sees the look in Helena's eyes. He looks from her to Heather to the child and back to Helena, then--turns around and walks in the other direction, leaving the women and child alone to head for the gangplank. In the distance, a late-model sedan is speeding along the harbor, dodging dockworkers and cargo alike, and eventually it can be seen that there are two figures in dark business suits in the vehicle.

"Friends of yours?" asks Heather as she carries the wriggling child. "Shhhh, we're taking you home baby." she says to the child as she moves to follow Helena. She's doing that pretty much on one hundred percent faith that the other woman is taking her someplace safe for the girl. "Or should we be heading somewhere else?" she adds.

Huntress snatches up a length of chain as she sees the approaching sedan, inwardly glad that most of the deckside crew are avoiding them but expecting the people in the car to be less ... amenable. "Doubt it. And nowhere's been safe for me for weeks now. Stay here." She starts down the gangplank, clearly planning on confronting the sedan-goers and maybe (hopefully) steal their car long enough to get some distance and then call for help. She thinks she's got Mandrake's phone number memorized.

Well, stay here... that doesn't really bode great for escaping, and Heather wouldn't listen if it weren't for the child in her arms. Sure, she's young, never had any kids of her own but she feels a deep protective instinct and heads near the gangplank to find a spot to hunker down and croon softly to the child.

The sedan screeches to a stop at the bottom of the gangplank, and two men get out of the car, hands immediately reaching for semi-automatic weapons from inside their suit coats. No words wasted on shouting or the like, oh no. They see the huntress, they start charging at her, firing all the while. At least they apparently don't see Heather, as they're focusing their fire on the Italian woman. Angelique huddles into Heather, clutching the remnants of her dress tightly. She'd held back her tears until the gunfire--especially with her teacher out there, dealing with the men, it makes her break down, and she burying her face into the bodyguard's side and sobbing loudly.

Sobbing is something Heather's never really had to deal with much. However, she does her best. She smiles to Angelique and chuckles, "Hey kiddo, you know she's tough. She'll be okay. You'll be home soon... hey, you hungry? I'm starving... I promise I'll buy you a hamburger as soon as we're out of here." Heather wants nothing more than to be out there as the one being shot at but... there is what she wants, and what she knows she's better suited for currently. If any of these sailors come upon her and the child, she's got to keep the girl safe.

Huntress can't stop her own charge at the men, but does her best to avoid the projectiles while throwing the chain like a bolo at the further of the two men. She can't help but stumble as one bullet digs a furrow along the outside of one leg, but she turns her reaction into a snarl as she almost literally throws herself at the closer man.

Angelique can't yet stifle her sobbing, but she does manage a tiny nod, given as she clutches the remains of the dress all the tighter. She curls up against the bodyguard, eyes squeezed tightly shut, startling with each gunshot. The further of the men gives out a sharp explanation as the chain wraps around him, making him stumble against the chain that serves as one of the handrails before going to one knee. As for the other man, when the woman leaps at him, he drops his gun without a second thought, going to take her on in hand-to-hand fighting, and he doesn't pull any punches. Strikes and grabs aimed for pressure points, jaw set as he glares at her.

One hand comes up as Heather runs fingers through Angelique's hair. She wants so badly to say 'stay here..' and go help, but that would be the height of irresponsibility. . . o o O O (C'mon girl. Take them down...) she does however look around to see if there is anything in reach that she can use as a weapon should the need arise. She can't count on luck keeping her and the child from being found. Plus, these guys have no idea how dangerous -she- is.... so they wouldn't likely leave the two of them alone, would they?

Huntress realizes about a second too late that she's now officially screwed. Her hand to hand skills aren't quite on par with someone like Mystique mostly because she really does prefer her crossbow, but the chips are down and she HAS to do this. And, knowing that that other guy is over there and he didn't drop his gun... She tries to steer the man fighting up close with her to block shots from the other guy, and hopefully with luck she'll get in a good hit or maybe even get a chance to shove Jackie Chan here into his buddy.

The gangplank, by dint of being a gangplank, isn't exactly very wide, so it's rather easy to maneuver the hand-to-hand fighter between her and the man still trying to extricate himself from the chain. The fight will be quick, hands flying both trying to avoid or soften blows--but then she gets her opening, when the man is just a little off-balance. Enough to let her shove him backward, where he takes a step then falls over his companion--and right off the gangplank, to the water below. Angelique starts calming down a little, thanks to the lack of gunfire and the fingers stroking through her hair. She still hugs herself to the blonde bodyguard tightly, still grips the tattered dress for all she's worth, but still. As for weapons, on the nearby wooden crates are some very thick nails and a miniature sledgehammer. The kind that looks deceptively light but an average person who hasn't worked around them might require two hands to lift.

Well, Heather is strong like ox. Right now she smells like ox too most likely. But she can shower later. She reaches a hand out for the hammer and when she hears the splashes, she just tenses up. She has no idea who went in the drink, but she's preparing to haul off and pull a STOP... Hammer time.. if one of those suits comes around the corner.

Huntress spares time for only ONE breath once she's managed to dump the men over the side of the gangplank into the water below. She yells up to Heather, "Come on!" at the same time as she rushes toward the sedan's driver side door. Hopefully, they left the engine running. She KNOWS she's gonna pay for all of this later, and fully expects to feel like complete and utter crap. But later. She still has to get Angelique to safety.

The car isn't running--but the keys are in the ignition, which is close enough. There's splashing from the water between the ship and the shore as the men frantically swim for a ladder--which isn't all that close to them, so the women have plenty of time to get the hell away before they can even think of doing anything about it.

Soon as she hears Helena's voice, Heather is up and running. She holds Angelique steady in one arm and says, "Here we go hon." before dashing down the gangplank. She slows down for just a moment and smirks. "Wonder if I'm anywhere near as good as the musclebound blonde god." she mutters... . o o O O (The hunky god.) she thinks. But then she throws that hammer down towards the swimmers with all of her strength, and very little accuracy. That done, she continues moving for the car, heading around and sliding into the back with the girl still in her arms. Not taking the time to unload and climb in front, "Go!" she says the moment she's in. She's also belting Angelique in.

Huntress clambers into the car clumsily, leaning to pull the passenger's side car closed before starting the car and peeling out. When the STUPID thing starts binging at her for not putting on a seatbelt she grimaces and pulls the annoying belt into place one-handed. "We're gonna have to ditch this car really fast. You have any transportation nearby, Heather? And maybe a cell phone?" She glances in the rear-view mirror at the other woman, her eyes catching the girl as well briefly before returning to the road in front of them. "Angelique, sweetie, I promise you you're gonna be fine. Just be brave a little longer, okay?"

The child doesn't let Heather go for anything, which makes belting her in something of a miniature adventure. When Helena speaks to her, she opens her eyes and looks up at the woman, giving only a small nod to show she heard. She's much calmer, the tears all but gone, but she won't really be better until they're far away from here, wherever they're going. Only one man climbs out of the water, gasping from the frigid water as he watches the sedan careen off into the distance before turning to race up the gangplank. The other man--well, the spreading redness in the water speaks well enough for him and how he was in the wrong place at the wrong time for that wildly-thrown hammer.

"God, I would kill for a burger, a salad, even a flippin' Snickers bar about now." mutters Heather. "And yeah, I have a car parked nearby. Company car, but it's a car. My phone was in my clutch. You still got that?" she asks as she gives Angelique a hug, "By the way, you have a gorgeous name, Angelique. You're really a brave little girl." she offers with a beaming smile.. that smile that she's practiced so much.

Huntress snorts indelicately. "No. Where's your car?" They need to ditch this car immediately, and she can already tell the adrenaline that kept her going is about gone and she does NOT want to be driving when it does. "Heather, I know you know nothing about me, but we both need to disappear, preferably somewhere secure. You're about as unrelated as someone can get, and I'm hoping with your ... skill set you'll have a way to help me go to ground. And maybe relay a message to my allies."

"Wait, you wanna disappear, go to ground, and you lost my clutch? I didn't come here with the intent of doing some rescue. So that thing had my -real- ID in it." mutters Heather. She shakes her head, "Well, this is going to get interesting.. in the ancient Chinese terminology. But yeah... five blocks down, got a sedan parked in a garage. We get there, take it to my employer's secure office facility. I'd take you to my place but... that might not be so secure very long."

Shit. "Sorry. Once we get in touch with my allies, though, they can probably add you to the protection list." GOD, Huntress hopes that Kit and the Bat and maybe Oracle will be able to keep the promises she's tossing out like candy. She drives for the parking garage as fast as she dares. "What level's the sedan on?"

"Bravo, second level. I never park on ground level." offers Heather. "Don't worry... I'm a big girl, I can handle myself. I just don't want to put either of -you- at risk at my place. I might even be able to get a chopper to take us somewhere tonight if we need to. Where's our little Angel live?" she asks, hugging Angelique gently.

"Gotham. But I'm not taking her back there until this mess is completely resolved. I will not risk those a... jerks getting another chance at hurting her." Their stolen sedan bounces a bit as they start up to the second level of the parking garage, and Helena can't the wince as the bullet graze on her leg decides now is a good time to speak up and protest being ignored.

Situational awareness is part of Heather's training, knowing when a Principle is injured. "I keep a first aid kit in the trunk, for clients. Think you and Angel here can patch up your... leg?" she asks, seeing the arms working fine and no signs of a torso wound. "I'll drive." Then she points to the left, "Over there.... oh... son of a.... can you -hotwire- a car? One guess where the keys were."

Huntress grits her teeth and pulls the stolen black sedan up alongside Heather's vehicle. "It's been a while, but I can try. That thing have an alarm?" She throws the sedan into park and pulls the keys before popping the hood and getting out. She takes two quick steps to lift the hood and rips any important-looking wires out of the engine so it won't be quickly usable. She then steals the prop rod to try and use as a slim jim to break into Heather's car. A quick glance proves the two cars to be from different manufacturers completely, so there's no chance to trying to cheat the doors or ignition with this black thing's keys.

"If it didn't have an alarm, this would be way too easy, wouldn't it?" asks Heather as she steps out after unbuckling Angelique and pulling her out in her own arms. "If we can find a pay phone, I can probably have someone bring us another car soon. But you need to bandage up that leg. Here..." and she reaches up, placing Angelique down for just a moment before ripping the sleeves off her borrowed jacket and holding them out.

Huntress says, "It can wait a minute. Angelique, stay clear for a bit, and don't ever do this yourself, okay?" She steps toward Heather's car, trying her best to not limp. "You know the movie Twins, Heather? I'm gonna set off the alarm when I pop the door. If you can, pick the thing up from the front bumper. Get it to at least thirty degrees and the alarm should turn off."

Like Angelique is going to be shaken off that easy. She clings tightly to Heather and won't let go. She'll go so far as to hold onto the bodyguard's leg if she has to. After all she's been through, she does not want to be apart from these women, even by a few feet. Especially since they've talked about taking her home soon.

Yep, the leg is what Heather was planning on. "Honey, I need to pick up the car. Can you hold my hand instead?" she asks after heading around front. Yes, she can lift the front end one handed, so she prepares and says, "So, this trick really works?" Before she holds a hand out for Angelique to hold onto while her other hand reaches under the bumper for the frame.

Huntress starts trying to jimmy the sedan's door with the prop rod from the black car. She must have practiced this a LOT in Italy, because...shit. The window breaks and the alarm starts shrieking. Well, that's one way to get into the car.

Timidly, Angelique unwraps one arm from Heather's leg to grasp her hand, though getting the rest of the child away will take a moment. She wants to go home, but she does recognize that her teacher and her teacher's friend are going to take her home. The alarm makes her recoil, pressing her free hand to her head as she silently looks up at the women.

"Okay, didn't need that window anyway." mutters Heather, "Watch this Angel." she says to the girl with a grin as she stands up, doing basically a squat and lifting the car along with her as she goes. It's not an easy lift, since she's literally pushing her muscles too hard, tearing them even as they heal. But she gets it up far enough and then says, "Okay, I'll drive now.. " Let's hope that we can get to the safe house...

Huntress breathes a sigh of relief when the alarm actually does turn off. Considering she based that factoid on an 'Eighties movie... "All right, you drive." She reaches into the car to unlock the doors, then limps around to the driver's side to hot-wire the car. Mentally cursing herself as her hands start to shake, she works as quickly as she can. It's a good minute or so, but the car's engine finally starts.

"Okay, I'll drive, but Angel, you need to hold her hand so I can drive, okay?" asks Heather as she tries to pass the girl off to Helena. The she slides in and puts it in gear before aiming to make it to the safe house ASAP.

Huntress avoids the front passenger's seat now covered in glass, and gets wincingly into the back seat, then gestures for Angelique to join her. They're settled in as Heather drives them out of the parking garage and now Helena's struggling to keep her composure as everything starts to hurt, and competing with that is an almost overwhelming urge to just sleep.

"Hold it together there." says Heather. "Angel, can you do me a big favor and help me keep her awake?" She asks this as she pulls out into traffic. She takes a turn, and another turn. She's not a great driver, but she does know how to evade potential pursuit. It shouldn't be long before she gets to the CMS office, where they have secure facilities -and- bona fide medics. By that time, she gets out and is helping Huntress inside after offering Angelique a piggy-back ride.

Inside, Heather calls out, "MEDIC!" She saw it in a war movie once, folks calling for a medic. It won't be long before said medical aid is made available, and Heather gets a secure line phone for Huntress. When she's done with the medical aid thing, the phone is sitting right there by her. Heather went to wash up, but took Angelique with. There, she goes to try to help the girl feel more comfy, trying to give her a bath before she washes herself.

((Fade Out))