Bind Eyes and Ringing Ears
Rplog-icon Who: Agent 13, Gambit
Where: New York City
When: July 13, 2012
Tone: Gritty
What: A small SHIELD team is sent out to investigate a break in at a building which they have some kind of interest in. What results can best be described as an explosive situation.


01:57 PM Though it appears as nothing more than a modest office tower to the casual observer, the facility Gambit has infiltrated is decidedly more complex on the inside. He purses his lips in a soundless whistle as he drags one fingertip across a biometric scanner. He draws a smiley face, during which time the small panel begins to glow, then vaporizes.

The door it's guarding slides open, revealing a complex computer terminal with many flatscreen monitors of various shapes and sizes surrounding it. Gambit makes a beeline for the main control panel. When he slots a thumbdrive into place it initiates an automatic downloading sequence. And then he waits, leaning against the wall and lounging casually, inspecting his fingernails and occasionally glancing up at the download's progress.

Normally SHIELD would allow for such crimes to be dealt with by the police but this particular building is of a lot of importance, the information kept with it the kind that could be potentially dangerous if it were to wind up in the wrong hands. That's why Sharon and a small team of SHIELD agents are dispatched to check things out.

Numbering about five in total, Sharon splits them up once they arrive, breaking the team into two smaller ones with one of three and herself and one of the younger, most junior agent as a team of two. She has already briefed them, telling them to be quiet, give a (quiet) call-out if anything or anyone's discovered inside that isn't supposed to be in there... all SOP. The larger team goes around to enter from the back and Sharon and her charge go in from the front, allowed access as they are expected. Now to go on the search.

Gambit draws a small, triangular knife from his belt and proceeds to clean and then trim his fingernails. All the while, the progress bar on his download climbs and climbs. Thirty percent. Forty. Forty-five. Fifty-five.

He doesn't start getting impatient until after the halfway point. Only then does he start bouncing in place, looking up more often, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed together.

Slow. The bane of many but for Sharon it's a blessing as it gives them time to make their way up to the same floor and then find the exact location of the office from which the thief's busy being bored to tears. Sticking her head in after they take up position at either side of the door, the silence from her so thick it's almost tangible.

"I think I found the target," she whispers almost silently, the comms designed to pick up on sound at a range which can be called 'subvocal'. "Seventh floor..."

Sixty-five percent. Seventy. Eighty.

A flash of movement catches Gambit's eye. He freezes, the knife still in his hand, his senses questing out for any sign of invasion. He relaxes slightly when nothing immediately presents itself, but he remains alert. His boots brush noiselessly against the floor as he sidles closer to the terminal, preparing to yank the thumbdrive the moment his download has been completed.

No, it didn't present itself immediately and still doesn't. Not until several more minutes pass. Time spent waiting for the other team to regroup and get into position. Once everyone is where they should be is when the shit starts to hit the fan.

"This is Agent 13 of SHIELD. We have you surrounded. Stop whatever it is you are doing and come out with your hands up." With how high rises are designed he should only have the one entry and exit point which means he won't be able to rabbit out another door. Here's for hoping he doesn't get it into his head to try and jump out a window.

Ninety percent. Ninety-five. Ninety-seven.

A string of barely decipherable curses in a mishmash of French and English are Gambit's first reply to being interrupted. He turns toward the door, shielding the terminal with his body for the final few seconds of the download. When it's complete, he pulls the thumbdrive and stuffs it into his coat. "Sorry," he calls out, lifting two fingers to touch his brow in an old-fashioned salute. "I can't stay and play."

He lifts his knife between finger and thumb, displaying the otherworldly glow that has suffused it. When he throws it, it travels so fast that it actually whistles. It's not aimed at anyone directly, rather it buries itself just above the door. When it explodes, it not only lets off a concussive boom, it sends tiny shrapnel and larger bits of rubble in all directions.

"Watch out! He's got a..." Weapon? What is that? The guy shouting's voice trails off but then startled shouts and grunts are given as the pieces of wood and plaster are blown free from the wall and doorframe; no serious injuries thanks to the armor they are wearing, it's a good distraction even if there's no groaning people bleeding out from belly wounds or gaping holes in limbs. About the worst of it is Sharon who looked in at the wrong time and got a small gouge cut out from under her eye as a splinter flew past her face.

Wincing, Sharon motions towards the target, yelling. "Get in there and get him," she shouts, the motion of her face getting the cut to bleed freely, the sticky red left to run down her face. That will have to wait.

The dust hasn't fully settled when Gambit rushes the door. His staff is already out, though it's extended to only four feet at the moment. He strikes at someone's knee, stomps on a foot, and jabs his weapon at a torso without even breaking stride. When he collides with a woman, he carefully holds his weapon aside and backs up to give her some space. "Bonjour," he greets, gracing her with a wink and a brief, gentlemanly bow.

Then he's off, once again attempting to battle his way through the line of defense. The very stout line of defense that's composed of experienced SHIELD operatives. The Cajun's eyes narrow and he pulls something from one of his many pockets. It's a string of Mardi Gras beads.

Wait. Is that...? Turning to look at the figure as he leaves, Agent 13 blinks once and then twice. Tall, Cajun accent. She just met someone like that the other day but surely it couldn't be. Could it? "Try to detain without resorting to lethal force," comes the hurried instruction. Not saying those with her are trigger happy but the rookie is getting excited and this is an unique situation they're being presented with and they just might forget to try and subdue the thief first.

The beads gets a chuckle from one of the guys who is making a reach for Remy, a sound that is not exactly warm or friendly in nature. "This isn't Mardi Gras. Put those damn things away."

"Just a lil' souvenir, mon ami," Gambit replies lightly. The beads make a sharp, high-pitched noise as he whips them in a circle above his head. One by one, they charge up with the same reddish glow as the knife. Finally, Gambit wings them into the thickest group of agents. The beads seperate en route to their target, turning the cheap necklace into a rain of tiny explosions. Another distraction. With SNAPing and POPing still filling the air, the thief spins around and tears into another group of defenders with his staff. He singles out two of them, striking out at both in turn with a single, smooth, high-high-low-high combo.

The explosions are nothing compared to a bomb or something of similar ilk going off but it does get them to startle, once again distracted by the sounds and everything else. By the time they recover Remy's already upon them, on the attack.

SHIELD is very good at training their personnel in all sorts of methods of martial arts, self-defense and other forms of combat but they are thrown for a loop where Remy's style of combat goes. The new guy's taken out with a well placed staff to the temple, knocking him out. Another agent gets his feet swept out from under him which knocks the wind out of him when he hits the floor. He'll be back in the fight but not before he can get a good lungful or two of air in him. The other three are fine and are moving in.

Sharon pulls out a small pellet-like flashbang 'grenade' but she doesn't throw it yet. She can't afford to take the last two of her people out of the equation. "Put down the weapon and we can finish this without anyone getting hurt," is called out by the blonde.

A mischievous grin creeps across Gambit's face. He gives his head a quick shake, sending shaggy, untidy hair in all directions. "Don't worry, chere. I won't hurt you," he purrs. "Not unless you ask nice."

His path cleared, he tears off down the hall at a dead sprint with a gleeful chuckle trailing at his heels. "Catch me if you can~" he calls, his voice lilting and sing-song.

He won't hurt her? He /won't/ hurt her? Reaching up, she wipes the blood from her cheek and yells out, "You already did, you gumbo-swilling jackass!" The barbs are shouted as he turns around and flees. Sharon grits her teeth and sets off after him, the remaining two agents following after.

The woman's fast and is able to get within tackling distance of LeBeau and soon she's throwing herself at him, trying to get him around the legs.

Caught by one ankle, Gambit sprawls out on his stomach with a loud "OOF!" Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, he flips over onto his back and eels away. "Dat wasn't very ladylike," he chides, clucking his tongue disapprovingly at Agent 13. "If you don't show me some manners, I have to teach 'em to you." As polite as it is, it's a warning. With a final tug, he pulls his foot free and bounds to his feet. "Last chance to walk away, chere. You sure you wanna ride dis train?"

Sharon regains her feet at the same time Remy stands, her expression angry. "You don't know me well at all, do you," she hisses, that getting one of her fellow agents to look at her. "Of course I want to." She doesn't move to leap at him again, however, instead opting to hold out a hand for some reason. "I don't know why you're here but I'm sure you're up to no damn good. What did you do?"

"Dis ain't a James Bond movie. You don't get to hear my plan." Gambit's glowing eyes dart this way and that. Then, smiling, he produces yet another treasure from his pocket. Two metal rings connected by a thin, tightly coiled wire. He lets it dangle at his side. His other hand is occupied by a spread of playing cards. Each takes on the glow that has come to signify a pending explosion.

That gets the men to freeze, not wanting to risk another run-in with exploding projectiles. They look at each other and then Sharon who merely grins. "I don't think so." The small pellet has been held in her off hand this entire time and it's thrown at LeBeau's feet. The other hand - the one she had held out - is quickly brought up to shield her face, hopefully enough to keep the bright light from hindering her vision. There is nothing she'll be able to do with the lound noise that will produce but she would really rather be able to see Remy and deal with the ringing ears than be able to hear and not see what he's going to do.

Displaying uncanny skill, Gambit throws all five of his playing cards in an arc that forms a loose half-circle around his body. This effectively creates a wall of explosions that separate him from the SHIELD agents. While there's no fragmentation, there's a great deal of concussion, heat, and noise. In effect, he has replicated Sharon's flashbang using his own abilities.

The combination is spectacular, to say the least. The wave of concussive force knocks Gambit from his feet. He pinches his eyes shut and claps his hands over his ears, but neither measure is particularly effective. Half-blind and completely deaf, he shakes his head and scrambles backward, still mostly sitting on his ass. "Huh? What?" he asks, but to no one in particular. "Woof. Hey! I'm still breathin', lady. Dat all you got?" The words are shouted at the top of his lungs, but they can't beat the ringing in his ears. He loops his curious hoop-and-wire device around his wrist to secure it and climbs slowly back to his feet.

This is one of those times when the saying 'great minds think alike' sucks and the person who came up with it to begin with should be shot. Or brought back to life and then shot, depending on if they're alive or not. Three people are thrown off of their feet and sent flying only to wind up a heap on the floor five or so feet from where they were standing. Like LeBeau, their ears ring and are all but utterly without sight thanks to his improvised defensive weaponry. Sharon can already feel the headache come on, it getting her to groan, the intensity migraine-like and about causing her to throw up. And the men? They're in no condition to move at the moment as they got the ear-splitting, blinding effects from his cards as well as Sharon's flashbang. Remy, this is a good time to make with the get-away.

Gambit staggers toward a radiator and clips one of his device's rings around it to anchor it in place. He pauses just long enough to blow Sharon a kiss, then he tears off toward the nearest window. The coiled wire connecting the "anchor" to the "handle" plays out behind him, so thin that it's barely visible.

Instead of slowing down when he nears the window, Gambit speeds up. He jumps just before impact, curling his body into a tight ball that shatters the glass rather than bouncing off of it. His descending rig controls his fall, but barely. When he runs out of wire, his toes are dangling just a few inches off the ground. "Whoo!" he cheers. "Wow! Holy shit, what a rush!"

Once he's collected himself, the Cajun lifts a hand to wave at the remaining inhabitants of the seventh floor. Then, whistling tunelessly, he stuff his hands in his pockets and walks away.

The egress out is unhindered as there's no way the SHIELD members can move without coming across as Keystone Cops, too blind and dizzy to do anything but lay there and groan. Sharon is the first to recover her wits some, at least enough to put a call back into base, her voice almost a yell because she can't hear.

"Base, this is Agent 13. You're not going to believe this shit." The details are given and then she lays back, chuckling to herself. "Fury... is going to be pissed."

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