2013.06.01 - Floating Fracas

The intel Oracle lifted from her surveillance of Grodd was limited, but clear. Heretofore two-bit smuggler Luis Salvatore is bringing in a shipment of guns to Gotham today. A big one, apparently. Big enough to merit using a cruise liner, a 2000-person luxury ship called the Sun Set Queen.

A little digging into Mr. Salvatore's private business -- incorrigible snoop that Oracle is -- revealed that the reason for using such large transport is because of the nature of the shipment... its origin and inventory. There are the standard field arms one might expect of a gun-runner (sidearms, longarms, semi- and full-automatics of various sorts and ages), and some heavier ordnance as well (rockets, grenades, mortars, and their respective deployment systems), all of it military-grade and decidedly not welcome on the streets of the city. But the really special cargo is coming in from somewhere in the South Pacific and includes technology that will take 'urban warfare' to a whole new level. It's the sort of technology bigots like Humanity First would simply adore getting their grubby mitts on. And with the recent happenings on Staten Island, that's not a good thing. The last thing the city across the river needs, with tensions so high, are armed factions taking to the streets. Just what precisely the technology is, though, Oracle has yet to discover. She knows, however, that it's being kept in the bowels of the ship, down in the cargo hold, and that it includes both the weapon itself and its deployment system. It's also considered to be quite volatile, once primed. Before priming, however, it should be completely and utterly inert.

Of course, the very word 'inert' suggests to Oracle that said weapon may not be ordnance. It may, instead, be biological or chemical in nature. Muy no bueno... to mangle the Spanish.

Thus, she's pulled as many of her operatives as she can on such short notice, prepping for a pre-emptive strike against the gun-runners. It's a dangerous proposition, what with all those potential hostages on board.

Thus, she's divided her people in to squads, each with their own parts to play. The Blue Beetle and Question will drop onto the bow of a ship from a helicopter piloted by that most Amazing Aviatrix of the Second World War, Lady Blackhawk. Domino, however, is set to infiltrate the ship from the stern, via a small, stealthy, inflatable raft. Of course, Domino's response to the intel, when Oracle revealed it her was something along the lines of, "Right. I'm bringing a friend." No room for argument. (So, Oracle's just hoping said friend is a good friend.) And, she has a third squad in reserve, should the situation warrant it.

As the helicopter lifts off from an undisclosed heliport in Gotham, and the black skiff takes off from the pier, Oracle's digitized voice can be heard through the linked coms. "Okay, remember: The goal here is to get in as quietly as you can and neutralize the smugglers without a) alerting the crew and b) alerting the passengers." (The more important part, in her world.) "And to do it all without killing anyone." Despite the fact their opponents will be under no such restrictions. "My intel says most of them will be belowdecks with the cargo. There are at least six crew members in on it, including at least one on the bridge. The ship technically isn't scheduled to stop in Gotham, but they've contrived an 'maintenance emergency' that will require a stopover, but confine passengers to the ship. So no one should be disembarking but the smugglers and their cargo, which is marked as 'maintenance parts' in Cargo Bay 4."

The drop point grows ever clearer. "Last chance for questions."

The two words that had immediately gotten Domino's attention in all of this: Weapons, and Civilians. Weapons are easy, she's slagged plenty of ordnance dumps before. It wasn't all that long ago that she had turned an illegal arms bazaar into an artificial reef in another part of the world. The problem here, naturally, is the civilian involvement.

Now who does she know that's both readily available and very good at clearing out innocents?

There's no need for a fancy rappel to get up onto the ship's deck from raft level. She's got her very own teleporter for that. Tonight's operation calls for the typical assortment of blades, some collapsible batons, flashbang and polyfoam grenades, and guns with an assortment of sound suppressors and non-lethal payloads. Nothing on her person is lethal unless she chooses to use it in such a fashion.

Because these two are working separately from the typical Gotham crew, Dom's given the two-mutant team their own designation. "Aces in position. Unless anyone objects we're gonna cut low and look for the Fatman." Translation: They're hunting the big, nasty ordnance belowdecks. Then to Nightcrawler, she asks "Think you can safely get us in through the hull?"

Maybe she'll get first dibs on the weapons shipment aboard this ship while they're down there, too.

A boat. It's as if Oracle knows him! Even if it's a Zodiac, well.. they're far cooler than a helo any day of the week. So, Kurt plays with the thing, flying over the white caps, ink-black hair whipping behind him, those glowing yellow eyes set in that middle distance, aiming the craft a fair distance in the wake of the stern. He's running silent, as in, no lights in the least. Call it a navigation hazard; he'll confess on Tuesday if there are boating accidents because of it.

Kurt is dressed in subdued clothing as befits the whole 'infiltration' thing, though with some disappointment; two swords hang easily, however, his manner suggesting that he's more the comfortable with the weight of them, and their positioning. He won't leave those behind!

"Ja.. will we be on time for dinner service?" There's a question.

Still, Nightcrawler is ready, and he's not about to approach the ship; there's no need to in their case. He cuts the engine, allowing the boat to coast in to where he believes is an optimal spot, and turns back around to check on his partner, his tail sweeping around, taking the opportunity to snake it around Domino's waist. He gives a look, most of his face shadowed in the darkness, but really? The expression is there.. Of course I can. What he does say, however, is "Ready, liebling? Deep breath." An impish grin creases his face, and his tones are light, almost apologetic. "Just in case I miss."

BAMF

As if that helps.. and the moment Domino and Nightcrawler are on board, on the lowest deck. Kurt points to the stairwell.. and within the next heartbeat, they're on the stairwell landing, ready to go down.

"No questions here, other than the one I got ready to hop outta my bird," says Lady Blackhawk, with a nod to Q. "Watch that first step you two, it's a doosie," she cheerfully tells him and the Blue Beetle, as she slows the chopper down to bring it into a hovering position over the drop zone, handling the cyclic control and the throttle with skilled ease.

"I gotta say, Beetle. These upgrades... you know how to make a gal happy." This 'copter's made Zinda's whole /month/.

The entire helicopter trip, The Question sat in his seat, saying nothing other then to make non-committal 'Mmmmm.' noises at appropriate places in the conversation to let Blue Beetle, Lady Blackhawk, and the voice of Oracle know he was paying attention. Zinda's pun makes him chuckle. Otherwise he might have been a faceless mannequin in a suit, trench coat and hat seat-belted into the chair.

As the drop point approaches, The Question unbuckles and stands. He removes his trench coat, folds it neatly and lays it on the seat. He takes off the suit jacket and hangs it on the back. Finally, to Blue Beetle's great surprise he takes off the fedora. Foe a minute The Question holds it in his gloved hands, before placing it gingerly on the trench coat, as if loathe to give it up.

Opening the hatch, the faceless man in the orange shirt and yellow tie grabs the rope ladder and jumps out. In a surreal ballet he climbs _up_ it during his fall as it unfurls. Once his wingtips touch the the deck, he's enveloped in a cloud of yellow smoke, which lingers just long enough to cover anyone else's descent. When it clears, The Question his gone.l

"I'll take care of the bridge," says his voice over the comlink.

So Ted is playing passenger, something that he totally isn't used to thanks to usually flying in the bug when he goes places. But hey being a passenger is nice for a change, he doesn't have to worry about all the flying stuff. However he isn't used to riding in something that is just totally low tech, that just feels weird. He does his best to try to communicate with the pilot as they ride. "That's just the tip of the iceberg, I have some tech that will just make this thing completely silent. Would make it a lot easier to sneak up on people you know. Also over here, we have room for brownie machine I have. And there, I can put in a slurpee machine. We won't get started on what else I can do to the communication rigs on this thing. You should see my Bug sometime, that guy even works as a submarine." See isn't technology awesome like that?

Once they get to the drop point, Ted stops the sales pitch though, cause hey there is only so much one can squeeze into a brief helicopter ride. Before jumping out he checks the status of his gear, and then just grabs a cable and leaps out. Hey doing this stuff is just completely fun, to bad he has to team up with Creepy McNoface some more.

"Remember," Oracle says in response to the Question's comment, "most of the bridge crew aren't in on this -- and have every right to be pissed we've invaded their vessel. And, I don't know which of them is in league with Salvatore. But, we want them to cooperate and get the boat into shore so that we can nab the mooks on the pier, too." There are only so many operatives to go around. So, first priority: Secure the boat. Second? The pier. Though, if they escape, she can likely track them later.

"Cargo 4 is in the aft of the ship," Oracle tells Domino and Nightcrawler, "near the engines. The crew manifest says the engines shouldn't have more than 4 people on shift, at this hour. Which means anyone else you find down there may be targets. Let me know what you find." Because on ship surveillance is a closed system. For the moment.

"Lady," she says, then, "you got that special payload ready?" It's basically a net that can be shot out of one of the bird's forward cannons. "Drape those one of those comm towers with it, for me, will ya?" The round balls at the aft of the ship that look like mini Epcot centers. With that net in place, Oracle should be able to hack the system much more easily.

"A stealth copter would be awesome, Beetle," Oracle grins, now. "But, for now, keep your eyes open. We need to isolate the guilty crew from the rest of the crew and passengers. I don't want anyone thinking hostages are a good idea."

"Oh very funny, B--

Bamf!

"--lue."

It's like something out of a James Bond flick. Domino and Nightcrawler descend into the depths of the oceanic beast with nothing more than a suppressed pistol guiding their way. It would be no surprise to some that she's all in black, armor and hardware leaving ghostly white fingertips and face to sort of hover there within the shadows.

The Question's response is followed with a soft "Copy that." Just who the voice belongs to she's not sure, all Dom knows is that there's others working this same gig and that they're all, quite literally, on the same boat.

One problem with large ships? They're large. Getting lost around here would be embarrassingly easy. That's why she's fielding an unfamiliar new piece of tech which maps it out as she goes, providing at the very least a quick way to figure out where she has already been, and how to get back out that same way. It's nothing more than a screen strapped to the underside of her left wrist. Just in case.

Oracle's information is repeated back. "Cargo 4, got it." With that she glances back to Nightcrawler, making a clicking sound in the corner of her mouth and shifting her gaze up to the ceiling. "Mind giving a head's up on our trip?" He's good at hiding in the shadows, lurking on the ceiling could come in handy.

"Must be after dinner, then. Shows, I never liked. Too many feathers," Kurt mumbles, though his good humour doesn't fade in the least.

The tail is still curled round Domino's waist, though it begins to drop slowly as he takes stock of where they are. The elf isn't talking on comm; it's easier that way, and no one needs to get confused with everyone talking at the same time. Instead, he nods his acknowledgement to his partner, and jumps easily into the air, touching the ceiling with his hands, pulling himself up so his feet touch; and there, he lets his tail dangle. Just in case.. for the time being.

Moving forward, or rather, aft, Nightcrawler effectively disappears into the shadows, completely hidden from sight for the moment. He does reappear, however, those glowing yellow eyes blinking from the darkness.

"There are three before us.. in uniform," is whispered on the 'team' channel, that bit for just the pair.

"I /know/ you're kidding about the food, because if /anyone/ eats in my cockpit, I'm breakin' their nose," Zinda mutters into the comm system, in a tone that makes it hard to tell if she's exaggerating or not. She saves the spiel about unitasker gadgets like brownie-makers having no place in her kitchen, never mind her helicopter... for now.

When Oracle gives word, she presses her foot down onto one of the pedals at her feet to turn the aircraft juuuuust enough to line its nose up with those comm towers. There's a loud FWOOMP! sound as she launches the net to its target. It lands perfectly, of course. "You're good to go, Skipper."

Some people don't have GPS or other wonderful toys. The Question is one of those people. What he does have is an uncanny ability to find old-fashioned paper copies of ship blueprints and schedules and memorize them. Which is why when he sits down at the off-duty bridge crew bar there's no one in there but the bartender.

"Understood," The Question says to Oracle as he grabs a tray.

"Excuse m-- AAAAAIGH!" says the bartender as he turns around to see a patron with no face. That's when The Question cold cocks him with the tray. He pours three whiskeys and puts them on the tray, then puts on the bartender's jacket. On the way out the door with the drinks, The Question puts on the bartender's shipman's hat and pulls the brim low. He straightens the name tag on the jacket. It reads: CHARLIE.

'Charlie' strolls into the bridge holding the tray up to further obscure his face. He puts a drink on the console at the Captain's elbow. "Sir," he says, "compliments of the maintenance crew." He places the other drinks around the room careful not to let anyone look right at him. "They apologize for second change, but they ask that anyone you can spare go down and settle a dispute about exactly how it's to be done."

From beneath the brim of his borrowed hat, The Question looks to see what bridge crew members look guilty and 'volunteer' to go see what's going on.

Ted has to speak into the comm when Zinda says her thing, "But the food part is awesome. Everyone will love to fly with you if you offer refreshments." Plus the mini skirt, that totally doesn't hurt at all. "When we get done with the mission, we'll talk about the fun stuff, the weaponry." It's a shame that Ted didn't get to update the communications stuff on the chopper, that totally would have been helpful. Could intercept all of the bad guys stuff and even give out false readings to them.

But then Ted has to try and be stealthy, and once again he is reminded that a blue costume is totally not the healthiest thing. He mutters to himself as he sneaks around a little, "If I survive this one I totally have to make a stealth beetle suit or something like that." But as he sneaks he spots a guy coming towards him, totally looks like a bad guy so Ted uses his nice BB Gun to send a compressed air blast that sends the guy overboard.

Actually, Oracle likes to be able to hear everything that's going on -- like what sort of obstacles her operatives are facing, the numbers and placement of the baddies when available. It makes her feel better, or at least more situationally aware. She's not really fond of separate channels, unless necessary. But, well, what she doesn't know...?

As it is, she's actually preoccupied with comm-chatter of a completely different sort, at the moment. When Zinda's shot hits its target, and the net drapes over the comm tower, Oracle's connection to the ship becomes much simpler. "You're the best, Lady!" she grins sending tunnellers quite literally through the net to override the onboard firewall and hack into the shipwide surveillance system. As feeds start lighting up her boards, she starts flipping through camera angles... "Okay, gang. Make it easy on me. Report your position." So she knows which cams to bring up.

Meanwhile, the net soaks up all the ship-to-shore traffic and reroutes it to her directly. She engages a completely different voice change setting, now, emulating the Harbor Master, as the Sun Set Queen's communications officer requests information on the helicopter buzzing their ship.

Of course, the Question's words to the bridge crew make it fairly clear where he is. Good enough. Oracle brings up that feed and flicks it up on one of her many monitors.

The Captain, however, is actually fairly preoccupied with the whole helicopter thing, too. He's standing over the communications officer, scowling, and barely register's the faceless server's drink delivery. "You know my policy on drinking on duty," he says shortly. "Thank the maintenance crew, but take the drink back to the bar,"

"Roger, Sun Set Queen," the Harbor Master is saying, now. "We can confirm a sight-seeing flight is scheduled along your route at this time. Chances are the pilot just got a little stick happy. We'll make sure they get told to back off."

Meanwhile, the XO is moving toward the door. "I'll go check on maintenance," he tells the captain, who rather absently waves him off.

And, there's a splash overboard as some poor mook in a white ship's crew uniform is sent unexpectedly overboard with "WHAAAUUUUGH!" that echoes across the water. *SPLASH* Perhaps he'll be lucky and find the Zodiac.

Too many feathers? "Everyone's a critic," Domino responds with a slight grin.

Three bodies confirmed, a minimum of one unaccounted for. Maybe they're actually part of the crew, maybe they aren't. It's not her call to judge them, none of them have that sort of time. Thus, the solution's quite straightforward.

"Got one at my eleven. Other two are yours, drop 'em quick and quiet. Eyes out for more."

The one she singles out doesn't see her until it's too late, the albino coming in low and fast. Open palm to the gut, foot hooked around an ankle, grab, turn, down. When that guy manages to come back around he's going to have a headache born right out of Hell, but he'll get over it.

Despite the gear Dom's nearly silent as she rolls across the floor, coming up in a crouch with that one pistol out and ready on what would be guy number three. Nightcrawler's second. Again, just in case. It proves to be unnecessary, a thin smirk crossing ebony-hued lips. Right on schedule.

Back on the comlink she oh so helpfully offers "He's got a point. I would kill for some froyo. Sorry--I would severely injure but not mortally wound for some froyo."

Once more Oracle comes through the speaker in Dom's ear, glancing down to the tracker on her wrist. Coordinates are relayed, then the merc turns toward the nearest camera with a grin and a suppressed pistol salute. "You readin' this? Welcome to track my HUD if you'd like, usually don't use it."

Kurt's happiest in the shadows, hidden in the darkness. He is the stuff that nightmares are made of. Rather, no. He imitates that which nightmares are made of, that is.. ever see a spider seem to follow a person around on the ceiling, then just.. drop? Usually scares the living daylights out of the victim.

Take out 'spider' and put in 'demon', and, well.. there it is.

The fuzzy blue elf takes hold of two of the men's heads, one on either side the moment he lands, taking advantage of surprise, his three-fingered hands laying flat. "I advise a visit to the infirmary after-"


 * THUNK*

"-you wake up."

The pair of heads crash together 'just so', and the moment they do collide, both fall to the ground, quite unconscious. "How is your insurance with the company?"

Then, it's a simple matter of zip-tying, before his quick leap back up. He's back in place, upside down on the ceiling, his tail hanging, just in case there's a need for a quick *bamf*.

"I like Klondike bars, myself.."

"I'm a combat pilot. Not a stewardess," says Zinda, flatly. Apparently some modern terms have yet to make it into her vocabulary. "Flight Attendant" being one of them.

"Skipper, you want me to move away from the target? I can take 'er a bit further over the water- if the German fella thinks he can evac the team onto the bird if we need it..." she suggests. "Unless you reckon you might need air support." Hey, at least she said /German/. Her vocabulary isn't /entirely/ out-of-date.

"Yes, sir." says Charlie. He picks up the Captain's drink and puts it back on the tray. As the XO walks off the bridge he turns and passes behind the conspirator to pick up the other drinks. It's all very smooth and choreographed, designed to keep him just out of the man's peripheral vision. He pulls open the door and let's the man pass ahead of him. "And thank you Commander," he continues for Oracle's benefit, "for going down there to check on them. Even just one person should person should be plenty."

When the XO goes down the hall, The Question goes the other way only long enough to turn a corner. He opens a laundry chute and unceremoniously dumps the tray and the drinks down it, followed by Charlie's coat and hat. He walks after the XO, unexpectedly silent for a man in half a suit. As they go, he picks up a cardboard cutout advertising Robert Goulet's act in the lounge. He carries it a long, using it to disguise the fact that the distance between them is closing.

When he gets close enough The Question says in his flat muffled voice, "It's a good thing you're going to straight them out." He puts Robert Goulet on his cardboard feet. "That stuff can burn your face off." When the man turns around, The Question launches a roundhouse kick. His tie whips around and he flashes orange socks.

So the fun things happen, and Ted accidentally sends a singer into the drink or something. But hey it wasn't a good singer! But he does have to answer Zinda, "I have robots to serve the drinks." Heck he has robots that change his clothes for him, robots to serve drinks aren't that far off. But anyway Blue Beetle goes back to sneaking around and still muttering to himself, "Maybe I should lay off the sweets, I'm starting to think that I'm getting a little out of shape for this."

The 'man overboard' alarm begins sounding throughout the ship. This will quickly bring the majority of the crew on deck to begin rescue procedures. On the bright side, this will keep most of them occupied for the next several minutes.

Sitting behind her console, however, Babs nearly chokes when Domino amends her froyo comment. Careful to keep it off comm, she laughs. Still... Froyo... not a bad idea. But, maybe not just now. She still has work to do. She rolls her eyes as Dom waves to her on camera. "Thanks, Ace," she says dryly, thumbing the comm back on. Yeah, the HUD is easy to track.

She smiles at Zinda's tact. At least she didn't call the mutant a 'Jerry'. That's something. "Actually, do a buzz over the pier, would you?" she says. "Our on-shore dealers should be gathering there by now, and I want a read on their numbers."

The XO is mostly oblivious to the smooth moves of the faceless crewman behind him. Oracle, on the other hand, is not. She can trace the pair of them easily. "Roger that, Q," she says lightly... just as Q's foot connects with the XO's jaw and the man's head snaps back. He goes tumbling backwards, stunned, but not unconscious.

"Beetle," Oracle says now, "head on over to the Lido deck. Salvatore's cell phone just lit up and satfeeds say the guy he's talking to is somewhere around there."

Meanwhile, on shore, a small contingent of dock workers are slowly prepping for the cruise liner's arrival. Watching them all from his dark-windowed sedan is Chief Mook, Luis Salvatore.

"Oh what would you do for a Klondike Bar," Domino quietly sings while extracting a triple A battery-sized camera from her harness and connecting it to her headset, perched over an ear. Chopped black hair gets swept out of the way right after she powers it up. "Oracle, you can follow on three-thirty one point eight. Hope you aren't one for getting motion sickness."

When the man overboard alarm sounds she nearly drops straight to the floor, head darting from one side to the next. "Wasn't us..! What's going on out there, guys?"

This always happens. It's inevitable. If there's more people involved, someone will always trip an alarm.

Eye contact is made with Nightcrawler once more. "Timeframe's getting bumped up slightly, Blue. We need to find the engine room." An identical sidearm comes out in her other hand with a soft metallic -Click.- "How's about we take this show around the world?"

The blaring of the alarm klaxon for 'Man overboard' brings a yellow-eyed gaze around towards the water, though that is now behind a few layers of bulkhead. Things are getting a little loud, which will easily work in their favour! With a little luck, that is.

"Ja," comes from the German over the comm. "I can. Just be sure to tell me where you are." Beat. "Easy peasy."

Dropping from the ceiling once again, landing on all fours, Kurt's tail whips around Domino's ankle, and he grins, the points of his canines easily showing in the shadow of his face. "Here we go!"

In the next heartbeat, where the two stood, albino merc and blue mutant, there's nothing but .. a touch of infernally provenanced aether- that is, sulfur. Brimstone. That which hell is said to have in great abundance.


 * bamf*

Only to reappear once again, into another room, and.. in the next second, he's ready to take out any that may appear in their way with a punch, a kick. It's quick paced, to the point where any camera feed may very well need to be slowed down to catch exactly what is going on.

"Roger that, Skipper," says Lady Blackhawk, turning the helicopter once again to fly in closer to the pier. She does bring herself a bit higher in altitude, so as not to look /too/ suspicious- she knows how to operate the camera feed to Oracle well enough to zoom in nice and close for her. She just kind of sighs, dropping her lectures on eating in the air for now- let them learn the hard way the first time she has to dodge enemy fire after they've had a couple "fro-yos" (whatever those are).

"I got a clear shot at the dealers. Say the word if you need cover. Smoke bombs are primed and ready. Otherwise, I'm still close enough for a quick evac."

The Question moves to put his hand in his coat pocket - until he remembers he isn't wearing his coat. Pity, he had a sudden use for the bottle in it. A genuine glass bottle of No-Cal Chocolate Soda circa 1952. Ah well.

Instead, The Question pulls a breath-spray aerosol out of his trouser pocket. What kind of man carries breath-spray when he has no mouth? That's the Question.

Hauling the stunned man to his feet, The Question puts the butt of the aerosol in his back like a gun barrel. "No-Cal soda is like thugs that go down with the first kick," he mutters to himself. "They don't make them any more."

"Let's go see your pals," he says louder to the man, shaking him by the collar and pushing the 'gun' into his back and marching him toward the rendezvous. As they walk, The Question sings to himself. "...exciting and new....come aboard...we're expecting you." The whole group can hear it.

Beetle follows the boss ladies words and heads on down towards the Lido Deck, "Hey Oracle, why do they call it a lido deck? " Hey if anyone knows it's Oracle, she is who is super wise and smart. So he heads on his way to said deck and starts looking for a guy on the phone, "You want me to take this guy out, or you want me to tail him? Oh and would know be a good time to tell you that I left a box of my minicam robots on the Helicopter. You can totally use them to give you more eyes down here if you need them." Those snoopie things are really nifty, Ted totally needs to make more of them!

"It means beach in Italian," Oracle tells Beetle, without missing a beat. "English tourists brought the word back with them from Lido di Venezia and other such places in the 19th century and used it to refer to sunbathing and swimming pools." There. There's your trivia for the night, compliments of Encyclopaedia Oraclannica.

Dom and Nightcrawler quickly find themselves in the cargo hold near the engine room. Needless to say, the half dozen mooks within are entirely shocked at the sudden appearance (amidst a cloud of smoke and brimstone) of the two mutants. They cry out in at least four different languages and raise their weapons. Two go down almost instantly when a kick or a punch connect. The others dive behind almost anything they can put between them and the invaders from Hell.

"Beetle dumped someone overboard," Oracle clarifies, as to the alarm. "I think he's going to be okay, though." The crew is very good. Of course, the biggest challenge, now, is keeping the gawkers among the passengers away.

More importantly, however, the five remaining crew conspirators are now all scrambling (with various degrees of stealth) to try to make their way down to the cargo hold to make sure their shipment is secured.

"A little late for the 'bots," Oracle notes to Beetle. "Lady's not in range to deploy them." For the moment. "I'll make-do. Trail the guy for now. I want to see who else he meets up with. I'm betting he's not the only passenger onboard who's got a stake in this."

The XO raises his hands as Q presses the found object into his back. "I don't got a clue what you're talking about," he says, totally bluffing. " A beat. "And what the hell is No-Cal?" Nonetheless, for the moment, he cooperates, waiting for a more opportune moment to try to reverse his fortunes. It's down belowdecks with them, then.

Meanwhile, back on shore, the camera from the helicopter gives Babs a good overview of the pier. She can see the sedan, parked several yards inside the unloading zone. A fairly sizeable U-Haul truck arrives, and backs up to the loading area. There are a dozen men waiting the ship that draws nearer and nearer to shore, it's horn now sounding out above the rest of the noise along the dockside.

"Stand by, Lady." Oracle adds another comm into the mix. "What do you think, Huntress," she says now. "Do you want a smoke screen, or do you think you can get to Salvatore without it?" Salvatore, of course, sits in the sedan, speaking on the phone and scowling darkly. He is NOT happy.

Around the World, one of a dozen little tricks that Domino and Nightcrawler had worked out not that long ago. The teleporter has his combat bamfs, the mercenary has quick trigger fingers and an uncanny ability to place some of the luckiest shots in history. On top of that, they happen to have Oracle's help in calling out the coordinates for where people can be found in the area immediately surrounding them.

The instant the two teleport it comes down to instinct. Two suppressed shots here--bamf!--a two-toed kick there--bamf!--three more suppressed shots--bamf!--an errant body gets flung into something solid--bamf!

Somewhere along the way one of her bullets skips off of the bulkhead, whizzing through the air like a bumblebee. Its altered trajectory places it in just the right spot to knock out the last guy an instant before they rematerialize in a thick blue haze, temporarily masking Dom's HUD camera. Before the smoke from the first 'port dissipates the two have managed to completely clear out two of the rooms, the enclosed air so thick with sulfer that it could almost be cut with a knife.

It's followed by the sound of shell casings raining down upon the floor from various spots about the room, like tiny bells chiming out of tune. "Okay, that was pretty rad. Just..give my stomach a moment to find me."

A quick bit of recon shows that they wound up right where they needed to be in Cargo 4. Another thin smirk falls into place, the merc gently tapping the side of her HUD camera with a pale finger while looking at the sign on the wall. This time it's not luck, it's Oracle.

"Aces in the hold. Nightcrawler, try to single out our WMD. I'm on crowd control."

Bamfing 'round the world! Nothing like it. And when done with a friend? Well.. it's always better with a friend.

There's no hiding when with a teleporter. Nightcrawler's got this worked out, virtually down to a science, the art of room cleaning, and with Domino in the mix, it's like clockwork.

At least Kurt is used to the scent of brimstone, though some of those poor souls may not be, and before they go down for the count, the coughing starts.

But now, all is quiet. Except for the klaxon, that is. And, as of yet unheard, the approach of other, diligent cargo hold tenders.

Kurt's on the ground, now, crouching on all fours, his tail still but for the twitch of that spade tip. "Jawohl.." and he begins to look at the crates; the dimmer light in the back of the hold no problem for those pupilless yellow eyes.

Huntress has been hiding in the best vantage point she could find in the pier area since this whole op began, and she was starting to feel a bit like that time the Bat told her to watch a frigging gate while he and all of his ilk did all the fun shit, like kicking people in the face. Damnit. She shifts slightly in her hiding spot on the corner of the closest building to the unloading zone -- one thing she does appreciate about dockside work is the lack of good lighting above street level -- and watches the U-Haul squeak to a stop.

And finally, finally, Oracle speaks up. "Not used to working through smoke, HAL, so better not." The nickname has stuck, but the meaning and tone behind it have changed. She unholsters her crossbow and takes careful aim at the sedan. She's got at most three seconds to take out four tires, and the steel quarrels are a bit on the slow side. "You ready? I'm about to stomp on this little anthill over here."

The Question half steers, half follows his new-found friend belowdecks toward Cargo 4 until the sounds of ricochetting bullets, people coughing and falling bodies reach his ears. "That's what I'm taking about," he tells the XO. He gives the man a wedgie before spinning him around and spraying the breath freshener in his eyes. He follows it up with a sock to the jaw with his other hand.

Stepping over the man, The Question sprints the rest of the way into the bay.

"You didn't save any for me," he complains to Nightcrawler and Domino. The monotone makes it hard to believe he's that hurt.

The Question pulls a piece of paper out his shirt pocket and unfolds it. "Here," he says to Nightcrawler, "The serial numbers we want are on this." The paper is a kiddie place mat from some restaurant. The numbers are written in crayon.

Putting his watch in front of his missing face, The Question asks, "Beetle, do you need a hand? We're saving you a seat."

"Gotcha Oracle. Just follow for now." Man he doesn't get to do anything fun any more. Well okay hanging out in the lab and building new stuff is always fun. So Ted just follows the guy. "You know next time I work on a boat like this, let me know. I could have bought tickets, come not dressed as a bug. Could have brought you along, it would have been fun!" Now he goes back to the following the guy, his little talk over with. And hey, the guy does stop a few times and talks to people, but never for long. He just talks and moves and, "Oracle, you getting that? These guys involved or just people he may know from other things?"

Oracle can see very clearly through Dom's camera feed just what's happening in the hold. Though, truthfully, the bamfing? Holy camera-jumps, Batman! She glances between it and the steady feed from the hold proper. Wow... Just... Wow... "Nice trick, Aces," she says softly.

Once they've taken care of the half dozen mooks there, however, there's no other immediate threat. "What's the inventory quantity look like?" she asks the pair, now.

As Nightcrawler crawls about the hold, there are at least a dozen boxes marked as 'maintenance parts'. Atop one specific crate, however, there is a single black shoulder pad that appears to match the set Domino currently wears. Attached to that pad is a very neat hand-written note that reads: "I think you lost this. BSY." It's sat in a place the 'Crawler can't help but see.

"I'm getting it," Oracle tells Beetle. "Running facial rec. Not getting any hits, though." That is, however, until the man wanders slowly past a pool and comes to a bar where a handful of other men stand around looking awkward and nervous (unlike the tall, wiry fellow himself).

The man cups his hand over the receiver and smiles to the four. "Would you be so kind?" is all he says to them, gesturing with his head in such way that, despite his best efforts to stay unnoticed, they can't help but see the Blue Beetle. Looking quite surprised, they now reach inside their coats for weapons, heedless of the fact there are other people milling about on deck.

The XO goes down in a heap, eyes stinging, crotch in agony, head slammed against a bulkhead and jaw very badly bruised. It wasn't a glass jaw, but close.

Oracle tracks Q's movement into the cargo hold and sees him hand off the pages. "Heads up," she says now. "Party of four coming down the aft stairs toward the hold" Then, she turns her attention to Zinda.

"That's a no-go on the smoke screen, Lady," Oracle says to Zinda, now. "High-tail it back to the boat, and prep for evac." She eyes the action from all sides, trying to decide just when it's time to call in the proper authorities. Because someone's got to unload the shipment, still, and make sure the weapons are relocated somewhere safe. (Though, damned if she's not going to make sure she gets a look at that unregistered technology, first.)

"Ready when you are, H," she tells Huntress, now. "Just make sure Salvatore doesn't escape. I don't care so much about his goons." Though she knows the purple-garbed woman isn't about to let anyone get away, if she can help it. "I want to know who his clients are." Because, for some reason, they've been very, very hard to track.

While watching for other people, Domino's expecting other crew workers to show up, not a faceless man dressed in bright, vivid colors. "Gah--!" Blink. Stare. "We didn't find Dick Tracy yet, sorry."

This guy has got to be on their team. He is on their team, right..? She doesn't want to fight a man with no face.

Creepy!

Oracle's question is replied to with a "There's bunches of stuff down here. C'mon, let's window shop." She picks a row at random and lets the camera lens fall upon all of the crates stacked up, going so far as to get a close-up on a few of the shipping labels, just to be sure. "I think I'd be beside myself with joy if I knew about half of what was inside of these."

With the news about four more guys inbound Dom looks back at The Question with a slight grin. "You wanted some asses to kick, didn't ya?" She can handle taking a quick inventory.

Of course, if she knew what Nightcrawler is discovering nearby...

Kurt is looking around the cargo bay, his attention pulled briefly by the arrival of .. ah.. one of theirs. Not that he is overly concerned. When Dom takes watch, there's little that he needs fear; unless, of course, she gives him warning!

Which.. she doesn't.

Taking the piece of paper, Nightcrawler blinks those glowing yellow eyes as he looks at the numbers. "Danke," is offered, and he turns back around to start at the crates fully, tearing the top open of one before he pauses. Something in the corner of his eye that doesn't seem to belong. He leaps upon boxes, and flips up and over to reach the one that has caught his attention. "Lieb- Domino.." his voice rises softly and he picks up the bit of black armour that seems to have Domino written all over it.

Perching upon the crate in question, there is that note.. and he picks that up too. Slowly. And he reads it:

"I think you lost this..?" but obviously the note doesn't add that particular punctuation of inquiry.

Looking at the crate now beneath his feet, Kurt looks puzzled, but that's now beyond the point.

It doesn't mean that Kurt sounds overly confident, mind.. "I think it's here."

"Got it." Huntress fires at the two vehicles in the unloading bay, two tires on the sedan and two on the U-Haul. Of course, the moment the first one hits the area bursts into activity. She stays in place until she's fired the last quarrel even though she knows that with each one the bad guys over there have a better idea where she is. Of course, by the time that last quarrel punctures the U-Haul's front tire, she's already on the move, snapping a pack of wooden bolts into her crossbow and racing toward the vehicles. Anyone who sees her or aims at her is getting a bolt sent at their arm or leg or shoulder for their trouble, all non-lethal hits hopefully, and YOU'RE WELCOME, BAT.

Now, where is Salvatore? She'd like to have a word with that bastard.

"Got it, Skipper." The helicopter once again veers around, away from the pier and towards the pre-planned evac location. She tries not to watch Huntress kicking all sorts of ass, since she'd just get jealous. Now now, Zinda. You can't shoot someone on /every/ mission.

"Heh," is The Question's response to Domnino's Dick Tracy line. "When you see him, tell him I have is watch." Stepping to the side of the door, he drops into a martial arts stance that is far more Asian than his gumshoe attire - even without the coat and hat.

"You can't always get what you want," he says about the approaching asses, "but if you try sometimes, you find you get what you need." Zen proverb or Rolling Stones lyrics? There's probably no time to choose before the door opens and The Question lays down the kung fu.

And then there's Ted, who sees the guys going for what he assumes are weapons. Weapons are just never good, especially when there are other people around. Well some weapons are good, like the Beetle's BB gun. He draws it from it's holster and fires at the guys taking aim at him. Luckily it's set to the blinding flash setting, so that no innocent people will be hurt by it. They just may not be able to see for a little bit until their eyes clear from that.

"Uhm Oracle. Yeah the guys are like shooting at me and stuff. Well they will do it when their eyes clear. Uhm what'cha want me to do with them?"

The shipping numbers are easy to spot and catalogue, though popping the tops of any of them will reveal various weapons of various sorts of lethality. There are only two particular crates of note -- the one upon which Nightcrawler found the pauldron, and the one immediately beneath it. They are marked as being 1 of 2 and 2 of 2. A matched set. (In this case, what looks like bricks of heroine... but isn't.) However, it's probably the mutants are distracted by the armour.

There are at least four goons in the U-Haul -- two in the cab, and two in the back. They have serious weaponry on them, which they quite willingly turn on the purple blur that aims at them. Her well-placed shots, however, shatter femurs and jar weapons from their hands. Which doesn't put them out of the fight. It just makes it harder for them to be effective. (Which seems fair, since they're four big strapping guys ganging up on one small (compared to them) not-at-all-defenseless woman.)

Salvatore is in his car. As the tires blow out, however, he and his driver are scrambling to get out of the vehicle. His driver pulls a gun and starts trying to track Huntress, his bullets always at least a foot behind her. Salvatore swears at him, saying, "Just get me outta here, ya idiot!" He's perfectly happy to let the other goons try take her down.

The four men that run into Q's fists are, to say the least, somewhat unprepared for that sort of attack. They're more ranged fighters (and even then... not the best) than they are hand-to-hand sorts. This isn't to say they don't put up a valiant effort. But, disarmed quickly, even their pile-on group tactics aren't nearly up to the task. At least one of them, however, is a little better than the others. He might even manage to get in a couple of good blocks, maybe a hit or two. At the very least, he's more of a challenge than his fellows -- though his fate is still something of a foregone conclusion.

"Any way you can subdue and apprehend?" Oracle says to Ted, now. "We'll need to leave them for the cops. Protect the bystanders, if you can!"

Annoyingly, Mr. CellPhone is able to use the moments of flashy distraction to slip away, fading into the crowd and out of Ted's line of sight.

"Yeah, sure thing," Domino replies to The Question with a smirk. "Hey, didn't they play that song on a few episodes of House?"

Gosh, it's been such a long time since she's heard Domino being spoken by Nightcrawler. "Present and accounted for."

Also puzzled. Very, very puzzled. "That's..." Hers. Or, it had been. "Lost..?"

''Okay, Dom. How many jobs have you taken where you wound up without your armor in the last twelve months? Once in Antarctica, once on La Isla Bonita, once in Japan, twice in Siberia, twice in the Middle East, three separate occasions in Madripoor, about six times in Gotham--this really isn't helping.''

"Oracle, we may have a problem. Someone was expecting us." Us, is she sure about that..? With a subtle clearing of her throat, she corrects "Expecting me. This might be a trap." Stepping closer to Nightcrawler so she can glance at the note, she adds "Do the initials 'BSY' get any hits in your system?"

The note also falls under the camera for her HUD. Maybe she could track it by the handwriting?

Kurt nods at his partner, his voice low, "When had you lost your armour?" He's resisting the urge, he is! "Or in a position to have lost it.." So many missions that he knows of, but.. it's not his to have kept track of.

The fight with the four men gets a glance, but not much more than that, truthfully. Nightcrawler is in agreement with the merc, and he nods his head. "I think someone expected her." and holds up the bit of armour. In case there is a camera nearby.

"But it means nothing to me, nein.." he admits a little disappointedly. Blue shoulders droop a little, and his tail swishes with irritation that he's managed to keep from the rest of his body, and his tones.

Still, he's on the crate, and he begins to pull the top from it.. crate 1 of 2, to reveal those bricks.. and bricks.. and bricks.. of something.

"I think we found it. It wouldn't be hard to take the trip in a couple bamfs. Items und people."

Huntress's target is Salvatore. The rest are just in her way. The one with the shattered femur simply gets his weapons kicked out of his hands. The more mobile ones take a little more effort to put down so they stay down. That's not to say that it isn't effortless for H to do so. I mean, hell, that guy right there weighs at least twice what she does and is taller, too. But, after taking a couple of hits in the process -- damn, breathing is gonna hurt for a couple of days -- they're all at least to the point that they can't stop her from going after Salvatore directly. Except the driver. And he looks like a bigger challenge. So she deals with the man in classic movie style. A tired huff and a bolt snap-shot from the hip aimed for the man's shoulder. Take that, Dr. Jones.

"I can hold 'er steady 'til you've got everything 'an everyone on board, Herr... uh, Crawler," says the pilot. "People on first. I'll prob'ly have to compensate for the weight of the weapons, an' I'd rather not have ya 'portin' anyone into the blades."

The Question is a lot better fighter than people think - he was trained by one of the people who trained Batman - but he doesn't quite even the odds the way the Caped Crusader does. He's got no Batarangs, no flashbangs. He's got the yellow fog but it's already dark in here, and The Question can neither let them get past him or blind his teammates. So he lets them pig pile him to waste their time, but this gives the guy with a knack for fighting knock The Question around while he's dealing with the others.

When he can finally put the last one down, and the fracas is over, The Question's tie is a skew, his hair is a mess, and his shirt tails are hanging out of his pants. "If we run out of time, get the crates out," he says while tidies himself up, "I can disappear."

Okay now what does he have that he can use to capture these guys. Oh that's right, Ted brought along some knock out gas, cause hey you never know when you'll need it. He tosses the gas over at the people that Oracle wanted. And then he follows through by just rushing at them and going with the few punches and kicks. He didn't notice the other guy slip away sadly, but hey maybe they can find him again!

Sat behind her console, Barbara sits up a little straighter. "Say again, Domino? Are you sure?" Because, wow. That's not good. A weapon shipment apparently destined for mutants... and at least one of the mutants on her team is somehow targeted? She takes a deep breath, fingers rippling over keys. "Okay. Stay alert. I'm running the initials, but there's nothing significant coming up that I can see... Cross-referencing with acronyms. No. But, if they were expecting you?" A beat. "How's your pop culture? Ever hear of the 60's show, The Prisoner? There was a catch phrase: 'Be seeing you.'" That's all she's got.

Regardless, she checks her feeds again. As the last of Q's opponents goes down and Ted launches knockout gas at the others, smacking them around until it takes effect, she says, "Okay, heads up, people. The ship will be docked shortly. We need to get the perps and the cargo off of it. Lady, fix the bird over the Lido deck. Evacuate Beetle and his baggage, if you can, and head for the helipad. 'Crawler, I don't know your range, but the helipad is right on the bow." She rattles off the coordinates he'd need to get up there to join Ted. "Get the all-clear from Lady before you pop in." Because the pilot really does know best in this case, and Oracle respects that.

On shore, the driver is punched back by the impact of the Huntress' quarrel, leaving Salvatore vulnerable. He drops his cell phone and tries to scuttle away, but, the truth is, Salvatore is one of those guys who's a bit too fond of his pasta and imported beer. So, he's not in the best shape in the world. He's also not the bruiser his driver is. Though he makes a valiant effort to scramble away, he throws his hands up as the Huntress stalks him, "Don't hurt me! Please!"

The question now on Domino's mind is, are these two crates really filled with inert weapons or are they seconds away from detonating right in their faces? A concerned glance is passed to Nightcrawler. "Think you can handle evac'ing all of this?" It's a lot to ask, of anyone. There's a lot of bulk and a lot of weight to deal with. But, the alternatives are likely not pretty.

Oracle's response is ..slightly chilling. "That was a bit before my time," she admits at first. The acronym has her lightly biting the corner of a blackened lip, however. "I'm not sure how they could have been expecting me, you're the only one that knew I would be here tonight. I didn't even tell 'Crawler until two hours before we left!"

''Not good. Hopefully I didn't just compromise the entire mission. Hate when that happens.''

Dom looks back to Nightcrawler and nods once. "Sweep and clear. I'll hold the fort with Blankface over here." And..y'know. Hopefully not explode.

"I adjust for altitude," comes as a response, though he nods his head in acknowledgement. "I can do either or.. or both."

Kurt's tail swings around again as he catches the ending of the battle. He has the courtesy to look a little sheepish. He probably could have helped, should have helped.. but it looked well in hand! Ish. Mostly!

Nightcrawler waits until Domino's seen the packed goods in the one crate, trusting that there is probably so much more in the other one upon which this open one sits. Closing it up again, he's got a tight smile playing upon his lips. "Just tell me which crates you wish gone as well, liebling. I'll take them to the helipad."

"Danke, Oracle." Sweep-and clear.. and so it will be done. Taking hold of crates, touching them, and in the blink of an eye, mutant is gone, as is that which he had in his hands, in his tail. Back.. and forth. The bamf express, as it's referred. Mind, he didn't say if it was easy, or in his reach or beyond it. It's obviously not too taxing, because he does make quick work. Until the last two crates.

It's to the other two in the hold with him. More Question, obviously, than Domino. "If you wish a quick ride, take a hold, und a deep breath." Beat. "The deep breath doesn't do anything. It just gives you something to do."

There is a moment when curiosity strikes; he remembers-- the Zodiac. "Oracle?" Without waiting, Kurt asks, "The Zodiak. So the helo isn't quite so encumbered. Wo ist das?" Domino says, "Yeah really, arm -me- with more automatic weapons, sheesh!"

Huntress chases after Salvatore and knocks him onto his face, putting a knee into the small of his back while trussing him up with zip ties. "Fine, I won't muss your greasy head. But you're gonna WISH I had." Leaving the man hogtied on the ground she scoops up his phone for Oracle to play with and then with a moment of consideration also snatches up Salvatore's rather tacky off-white Panama hat with a reddish patterned hatband. She rolls the hat and tucks it into her belt at the small of her back before straightening up with a bit of a wince. "Oracle. Rodeo's done here and I've got a prize hog for you all wrapped up with a bow."

It doesn't take long for Zinda to get the helicopter over the Lido deck, with the rope ladder in reach for Blue Beetle "in position 1 and holding," she reports. "Q, try to get your scrawny butt on this bird somehow, I don't much like leavin' a man behind, disappearing or not," she adds to the faceless fellow. "If you don't, I'm keepin' this mighty fine hat of yours." Motivation. Sometimes it is needed. Once Beetle is safe and sound, it's on to the Helipad.

The Question stoically watches the indigo-skinned demonic-looking fellow strobe in and out exchanging crates for brimstone. "Ah," he deadpans as he realizes where it was coming from. Then Nightcrawler offers him a ride, and if anyone defines curiosity, it's The Question. He gives what the other operatives - what else - a blank look.

Whatever pithy fortune cookie remark he was going to make is ruined by Zinda threatening to take his fedora. Shrugging, he takes hold of Nightcrawler. "I'm not scrawny."

Once the chopper with the nice ladder shows up for him. Ted makes his way up and on board. "Totally giving you an automatic wench. This way people won't have to climb up." See always thinking of ways things can be improved!

The Zodiak? Oh. It's been taken care of... though, perhaps not by anyone they might have expected. Indeed, the wiry fellow with the cell phone is happily motoring off in it. He turns back to the ship just long enough to give a salute -- Prisoner style... Thumb and forefinger in an 'O' around his eye, the other three stuck up in a light spread: Be seeing you...

Babs checks her feeds again, however, "Uh..." Yes. The Oracle sounds uncertain. So much for completely All Seeing... "The Zodiak's gone. Someone stole it!" Well...

Frack.

"We'll have to make-do. Lady, how're we for weight? 'Crawler, are you good for another trip or two if the helo's overburdened? Over to shore?" She doesn't know his limits, though he seems to be okay.

Speaking of shore... "And if you are, can you collect Salvatore for me, while you're at it? Let's drop the garbage off at the dump --" i.e. the thugs and evidence off at the cop shop, "but I'd like Mr. Salvatore evacuated to some place a little more secluded for an hour or two, first. We have a few things we need to chat about."