2012-09-10 Severance Pay

The contract had gone out over the grapevine just a few days ago. One of the underworld's more impressive suppliers had been betrayed by a client, and he wanted it fixed. Not by mending burnt bridges, no; he wanted to scorch the earth where they stood and make an example out of them. /No one/ doublecrosses the Supplier and gets to just walk away.

To those who took on the contract, he was generous; gear was provided if requested, as was fast, anonymous travel to the target destination: Madripoor. Specifically, a warehouse near the docks that looks, from the outside, like all of the others. It's only when one gets closer that it becomes clear why it is that the owners have chosen to hole up in the most lawless country in the Strait of Malacca.

The target warehouse is a part of a larger complex, crawling with guards. The specifc warehouse is easy to pick out from the others; it's the one whose guards have the most expensive-looking gear. Night vision goggles built into their protective helmets and armored suits allow them to see most threats coming, even in the oppressive darkness of midnight. The patrol in pairs, never alone, and there are sentries posted outside the doors.

A few guards look bored with their work, smoking and quietly chatting amongst themselves as they make their rounds.

That will change soon enough.

Two reasons the Cuckoos are here. One, friends. Friends do things together. And two, Madripoor. They've been curious about it since they met Patch in Vegas. To those who don't know them, they're an odd trio of too-pretty girls who never talk to anyone. Eerie. But, they seem comfortable with the whole deal.

Now they're here and their gestalt mind is awhirl with excitement. |"We like their toys,"| they think. |"We want some of them."| |"They'll be useful."| After observation, they've got something to share with Laura. |"We can distract the guards but can't do anything about cameras."| They're really here to help.

Just how Knockout heard about the job is anyone's guess. She's fairly new on Earth, having only just arrived a day ago, if even that long, but somehow managed to get signed up in time before the shindig. Promising to provide the 'heavy fire power' if needed, she signed her name on the dotted line and then played the waiting game until time to go arrived.

Compared to the guards Knockout is grossly under-equipped, forgoing anything like defensive gear and weapons that others might have rushed to don, the warrior either assured that she won't need it or over-condfident to the point of being cocky. Keeping to herself for now, the Amazonian female listens, watches and mentally prepares.

Laura occassionally forgets that she's in public when she indulges in her habit of responding to the Cuckoos' silent conversations out loud. "Cameras are easy," she assures them, the tiny 18-year-old craning her neck and tilting her head up to sniff at the air. She's wearing a sleeveless black bodysuit with a subtle X eblazoned on the left breast, combat boots, gloves and an equipment harness full of all kinds of useful stuff.

She'd heard about the job when she started looking into freelancing again, and it looked straightforward and mostly-unobjectionable, so here she was. She'd been surprised when the Cuckoos had volunteered themselves to come, but she was happy to have them along and confident they'll be fine.

One piece of equipment that had been provided to all of the contractors was an earpiece, and now that they are within easy reach of the warehouse, a smooth female voice speaks quietly in their ears.

"The Supplier appreciates your assistance in this matter. Should you happen to retrieve any of his technology from the site, you will receive an appropriate bonus." There is a brief pause, and an audible smile. "No alarms have been sounded as of yet. You should all be free to proceed however you see fit. Please," she says, and the voice takes on a slightly more vicious undertone, "Have fun with it."

The warehouse itself remains quiet, and its guards, oblivious. They continue their patrols, scanning their surroundings for anything unusual. Nothing is standing out to them just yet.

The girls speak to the minds that they've marked as 'theirs' for the moment. They can feel Remy inside, already at work. |"We can prevent the human elements from sensing any disturbance so long as no other defenses are triggered,"| they murmur to the others. The mind that speaks is, without question, that of the three silent girls. |"We have done so for the moment but we are also preventing outside interference."| They are also carefully stifling the wider area beyond the warehouse. |"Our resources are divided at the moment."|

Voices in her head is not exactly something Knockout's used to and every single time the girls 'speak' she glares at the floor, frowning as she listens. Imporant information is being relayed, after all, but that doesn't mean she has to like the method in which the girls are using to convey what they do. "Hmmmhmmm," she mutters under her breath, leaving her own commentary short.

Laura adds, "Remember, he wants an object lesson," her lips curl in a predatory smile. She hasn't gotten to cut loose in... a very long time. Laura could take or leave it, but X-23 just can't wait to get started. there's a sort of barely-restrained hunger to be about it bubbling under her focused surface, but that's somewhat to be expected. "I say we find the stuff, wipe the place out, level it without a trace," she suggests, screwing a suppressor onto the end of a long rifle. There's no scope, but she hefts the thing and starts methodically breaking cameras at an inhuman range, the bolt action making a little >chik-chak< between each shot.

One camera down. Two cameras down. Three cameras down and noone, at least outside, seems to be any the wiser... at least, not immediately.

Almost simultaneously, the guards all tilt their heads fractionally to one side as their comms go off. Whoever is inside monitoring the security feeds is /not/ distracted by the Golden Girls repeat playing on their little TV and has noticed the feeds start dropping.

"You /had/ to say it was too quiet," one guard growls at his patrol partner, who holds up his hands defensively. "I'm sorry!"

Now, the guards begin scanning the area in earnest, and a little red dot appears dead center on Knockout's forehead. This might be an excellent time to move.

The girls give Laura the mental equivalent of a nod. |"We thought we should retrieve everything we could first."| |"Then."| |"Object lesson."| However, they can feel the minds getting away from them. |"We're still tired."| |"The stadium."| |"We could kill them all easily, but..."| They don't want to use their power for that. |"Tell us when to go, and we'll go in."| They make one last effort and the ones monitoring the feeds are hit with overwhelming exhaustion so deep they could sleep forever.

It takes a second before Kay notices that she has been targeted but while it takes time for that to dawn on her it takes zero time for her ire to be raised, the woman living up to the whole 'red heads have fiery tempers' notion. Frowning, she holds up a finger, gauging the distands between herself and the sniper before hefting something metal and heavy, first tossing it up and down a few times so to gauge it's weight, and then it's slung towards the rifleman's head. Even if he is wearing a helmet he will have his clock thoroughly rung and if he isn't... traumatic brain injuries falls under what it is they're allowed to make happen with, hopefully, otherwise Knockout's going to get her ass chewed. "Move..." And now she runs forward.

Two more shots to finish cleaning out the cameras she can see from this side, and then Laura puts a third through the guy by the front gate. Efficient, but not satisfying enough for X-23's taste. She lays the rifle into an equipment bag that'll go back onto the transport later, then picks herself up and starts her run for the warehouse, low and fast. "Let's go. Cameras on this side are out, not sure if there's more on the other side. Remy should have got the ones inside by now," she says into the com as she goes. Bit more open ground to cover than she'd like, but she'll live.

As Knockout tosses the heavy metal object up and down, the red dot drifts down slightly. And then, as the sniper catches the projectile in the face with a *WHANG* audible even at this distance, the dot vanishes entirely. He certainly won't be a problem, nor will the guy at the front gate, who is taken down by Laura's shot as if his armor wasn't even there.

The guy watching the feed may be out like a light, but most of the damage is already done: the patrols are on high alert, actively hunting for whoever, or whatever, has started assaulting their happy little compound. The night vision goggles are coming off in favor of the massive floodlights that suddenly illuminate the area with harsh white light.

The points of entry are, of course, attracting extra guards in light of the current fracas, and their weapons are different than the others: they have little red glowy bits, and as they disengage the safeties, they make a quiet, rising whine.

The girls shift form and start moving. They're incredibly fast and as soon as the lights hit them, they're -brilliant-, dazzling and blinding as the light bounces around their organic diamond forms. They each head for one group of guards, keeping in sight of each other but not staying close, oddly enough.

The weight of a human is nothing, metal snaps in their hands. Bullets and other weapons bounce off their skin. They aren't brilliant fighters but they make up for it by being what they are.

While the others are doing their thing Kay does her own, that being the laying down of some serious damage with no one or nothing spared when it comes to the level of damage that is meted out. The same force used to break stone and concrete and twist metal is applied to bones and softer body parts, leaving a trail of broken bodies and whatever might have once counted as defensive structures. By the time those with the strange weapons are noticed she's taking cover, giving herself a chance to catch her breath and regain her senses. Even she knows when to slow down. "Careful..." she advises over their coms. It might really not need to be said but still. No sense in rushing forth and getting offed.

Laura eschews the gate in favor of vaulting the fence, instead, and dashing across the gap between said fence and the poor slobs that stole Hammer's stuff, seemingly heedless of the firearms being employed. The Supplier wanted an object lesson, and he's getting one-- Laura's first up-close-and-personal attack is a flying roundhouse kick-- which owing to the claw that pops out of her foot sends the guy's head flying. And then rolling up against his buddies' feet with a shocked expression staring up really, really dead at them.

While all of this has been going on, Remy LeBeau has been the golem in the gears. Having already infiltrated the facility, he's taken out guards at key points, neutralized more of the cameras, and defeated the more potent internal security systems, all without being spotted or caught.

Until now. His luck has run out. He's been backed against a wall by two guards. He holds his hands up and smiles disarmingly. "Sure we can't talk dis out, mes amis?"

When it becomes apparent that there won't be any talking, he spins, triggers his staff, and swings it all in one motion. Babe Ruth would be proud. The weapon makes contact with the first guard's head, which slams in the second, knocking them both unconscious. The tip of the staff is held up to Remy's lips and he blows away an imaginary wisp of smoke.

Back to work. Now that the general alarm has been raised, he focuses on destroying as much stuff as he possibly can. Every time he crosses something that looks important or expensive, he latches onto it, charges it up, and runs like hell. The trail of exposions he leaves in his wake are a sure sign to all involved that he's still alive and kicking.

The Cuckoos have no trouble with their chosen targets; they go down like sacks of potatos, and won't be bothering anybody for quite some time. The two guards watching the nearest door, however, might be more of a problem. They raise their weapons without so much as a batted eyelash at the triplets' brilliance, and squeeze their triggers. A hair-thin red line snaps out from each rifle, but their initial shots miss. Which is good, because the wall they strike instead suddenly has a massive smoking hole blown into it. They take a second bead.

Knockout is similarly having little trouble. For all of their gear, the men /are/ human, and all it takes is one angry Amazonian fist to the face to put them down for the count. Some more permanently than others.

One guard blinks as something impacts his boot, and looks down to see his buddy's head gaping up at him. He looks up, pale as a sheet, and immediately drops his weapon, throwing his arms up over his head. "I GIVE UP!" he shrieks at Laura. Nobody pays enough for /this/!

The Cajun is charming, and he also has a mean swing. The two guards go down in a heap with a gurgly groan coming from one of them. That... could have gone better, for them. Still, it went great for Remy, who leaves a trail of happy little warehouse-rocking explosions in his wake. Smoke begins rising from shattered windows, and the beehive is /good and stirred/ now. The remaining guards inside go Gambit Huntin'.

In the confusion of the explosions and the sounds of gunfire the Scarecrow had slipped in, taking the chance to play with some new toys of his own. Choosing to wear his full costume as he carefully slipped by the main areas and seeked out an unguarded entrance to slip in, he was used to sneaking into heavily guarded places, and escaping them though tonight he had an oppurtunity to begin testing the full potential of his fear gas on unsuspecting guards. Crane had added some hand guns to his aresenal tonight along with a new fear gas dispensor, a favourite custom made device shaped like a skull held in his non-gauntleted hand his mask also had a new update, night vision except it also gave the added bonus making them glow bright orange.

The Girls have a brief moment of being taken aback. Light and energy weapons concern them most. But they live with Laura and Remy. Chunks of wall, coming back at the shooters with the speed of something fired out of a cannon. This is enjoyable, better than having a raging headache.

Then the girls are right on top of the shooters to take them down... and to take the weapons. Thank you very much. The doors behind the shooters are closed but all three girls hit them at once at full speed.

Once it seems it's okay Knockout continues with her entry, keeping on with the carnage and destruction that soon causes a smile to turn the right side of her mouth up in what can only be a grin. "I'll provide an entry point in if needed," she lets those outside know just as she comes up to a door. A glance to her side has her noticing the Cuckoos with the weapons and then another glance has her noticing a heavy door, one that is perhaps meant for vehicles to drive through while dropping off and picking up cargo. Looks solid and it's something that's proven to be true when it's rapped against with a couple knuckles, the smile turning evil. Several punches has the door bent in at a ninety degree angle and then several more rend a corner upward, more than enough for her to enter through. "Where are you guys," she calls out over the device, her voice gruff.

Laura catches the gun, advancing on the guard with a tilt of her head like she's found a particularly strange mouse or something. She gets up very close to him and then looks at the gun, holding it up for him to see. "I don't think these belong to you, do they? He's very unhappy." Snikt. White-hot pain lances into the man's lower abdomen. "I think he wants to hear you're sorry," she adds, then lifts her arm. It's messy and probably very loud, and the less details shared, the better. Spectacle. It's what she was hired to produce.

The only gizmos and gadgets Remy's bothered to scoop up are ones that fit easily into his pockets and won't slow him down. Everything else is being destroyed. And I mean everything. At one point, he opens a door, sees several guards on the other side, immediately slams it, charges it for a potent explosion, and runs in the opposite direction.

His group of pursuers is growing pretty rapidly. Never at his best in a daylight fight, he opts to charge a handful of cards and launch them at the ceiling. He smiles as the resulting BOOM brings down an avalanche of shrapnel and debris. "Dat's one of my favorite tricks," he admits aloud. Then he's off again, trying to find his way the hell out of this place.

The guards Scarecrow encounters don't know what to make of him. Their weapons come up just in time for them to catch facefulls of fear gas, and then they're little more than incoherently shrieking tangles of limbs convulsing on the floor, desperately clawing at their own armor as if being smothered by it. Safe to say the toxin works, doc.

The Cuckoos are successful not only in putting down the men with the shiny guns and taking them as their own, but the heavy metal door crumples like so much cardboard when their combined might plows into it. Well, that's one point of entry.

Knockout makes her own door with little trouble, and she does find vehicles inside. Vehicles with large weapons mounted to them, pointed right at her. Thankfully, right now, they are unoccupied.

The guard Laura's speaking to manages to gurgle out something vaguely like an apology before crumpling in a heap. Indeed, the less spoken about that, the better for all parties.

The guards in the room Remy finds look up and have just enough time to say "Hey --" before he slams the door. They go rushing for it and catch an explosion in the face. This is not a good day to work for this warehouse, seriously.

Ways out are easy. There are doors galore, to say nothing of the doors made by the invading team.

Using the darkness out of habit and necessity the Scarecrow was listening carefully hearing the rush of two guards, The Scarecrow slipped off to a side corridor crouched down low waiting for them to get in close. As they passed the Scarecrow leapt spraying his gas in one guards face and stabbing the other in his side with the fear gauntlet, both stare in disbelief obviously knocked off balance as the Scarecrow seems to smile. Razor sharp fangs emerging from the mask and the walls seem to melt around them "Nightmares on special offer courtesy of Mr.Hammer."

That Scarecrow mask moving as if it were a living face the guards turn to face each other only to see another Scarecrow leaping in to attack and both with similar reactions raised their guns to shoot and riddled each other with holes. Walking on from the scene eyes focused on the prize seeking out the guards with those prized weapons or atleast the main warehouse there he could slip in and be undetectable amongst all those crates picking one guard off at a time to show them some more terrifying deals.

Once the girls are inside, a quick scan locates the crates in question. The girls start moving those outside one at a time, simply tossing them one to the other. That'll make it easier to find them when they find a way to bring the building down. Whenever they meet resistance, or catch sight of someone trying to escape, they use the other, less awesome crates as projectiles. Their aim is pretty darn good, actually. They're very coordinated in this form.

Knockout at first braces herself, fully expecting those to be manned and fired upon her. Imagine her delight when she realizes that is not the case and she can be rid of them without having to worry about pesky details like dodging weapons fire. Hoisting one up over her head, Kay grins and throws it, relishing watching it as it collides with anything and anyone that she decides is a good target.

Even as the squished corpses are taken in and tallied something comes to mind and, with a sheepish tone, everyone on their chan can hear her. "I believe the proper phrase to use during times like this is 'heads up'," that quipped by the Apokoliptan heavy hitter just before a second tuck is thrown. And then a third, the process repeated until she runs out of trucks to toss about.

Laura steps over what's left of her most recent guard to make entrance to the warehouse-- Literally. Her claws pop through the inside of the wall and carve a circular hole in the wall, which she then kicks in. She darts in just after, right arm still dripping red when she finds herself accosted by one of the men inside who missed her thatrics to date. Laura pops him in the throat with two claws without so much as breaking stride, and begins to hunt stragglers through the shadows to efficient, very firm ends.

"Mmm... Dat looks important. And shiny." Another high-tech toy is added to Remy's haul, snagged up on the fly. At this point, he's leading most of what's left of the security force on a merry chase. One that's taking them straight toward the door peeled open by the Cuckoos.

When his backup is in sight, he skids to a halt. "Gentlemen," he says, addressing the guards cordially. "I'd like you to meet de cavalry. Get 'em, girls."

He doesn't hesitate to launch his own attacks, either. Steel ball bearings thrown in a wide arc, each hurled with the assitance of his mutant ability. They whistle through the air, moving fast enough to break bones or punch through concrete.

What few guards are still capable of basic human functions have made a decision: run. like. hell. There is no paycheck on Earth that is worth this, and their boss is kind of a dick, anyway. Screw him and the horse he rode in on, look what these freaks did to Carl! Poor Carl, crushed under a flying armored car which then explodes as a second one impacts it. And he was three weeks from retirement, too.

The Cuckoos are able to move a good four crates outside before they run out of things to carry that look like they belong to their employer. Remy did a very good job of blowing things up, basically, is the deal.

The Girls give Remy a smile, but they don't charge the men. Oddly enough. Sophie remembers about the comms and says, "Clear the building, please," in a cheerful voice.

They've done a good scan of the place. They know what pillars are most important. Without hesitation, they begin breaking them. Not -through-, necessarily, though that's acceptable. Enough that when they get to the last ones, a good push will take the whole affair over.

The scarecrow slips out of the building taking position enjoying the show as the building is being brought down, his eyes scanning the area from time to time. An enjoyable time for him though his hall substantually smaller, still many guards will have nightmares about what took place here tonight.

"Scarecrow cleared.." He announces over his communication device moving back to the meeting up area after the fun had been had, he was looking forward to getting back and instigating his own plots though little distractions always seemed inviting.

"Right..." Knockout turns around and exits the building, announcing that she's out once within a safe distance, the others allowed to play cleanup. What she'll be doing is working on getting herself calmed down, not wanting the adrenaline rush to get the better of her while on the trip home.

Laura exits quickly enough-- she's chasing the fleeing... theives. Again, she was asked to provide an object lesson. It only takes ONE person to explain to the boss how awful what happened was. She comes out of the warehouse behind them, methodically snapping shots with one of the selfsame guns they stole. More then one will probably get away. Most of them are just going to die tired, though.

"What de-- ? Oh, thanks." When the girls all move toward other objectives, Remy is left to deal with the army. So he does what comes naturally. He launches an entire deck of cards directly into their midst, then turns and sprints toward the door. "Done my civic duty," he calls cheerfully. "I'm outta here. Race you to de hotel minibar!"

Cool Weapons don't look at explosions. As Laura chases down the retreating guards, the warehouse collapses in on itself behind her in a rush of dust and kinetic explosions. After a moment, the flames from inside catch onto the rubble, and the fire begins to pick up in earnest. At least one guard does escape, but it's mainly due to Laura's intent more than any talent on his part.

The female voice pipes up over the group's earpieces. "Well. When we say 'scorched earth,' you do deliver," she muses, approval clear in her voice. "Lovely work. The supplier passes on his gratitude. If you head east from your current position, a boat is waiting to deliver you and any retrieved tech to the airstrip. Your checks will be waiting for you when you land in New York."