1531/Shipment 08-FF-OHN0111!1

Shipment 08-FF-OHN0111!1
Date of Scene:	18 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Black Bolt, Darcy Lewis, Molly Millions

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Black Bolt has posed:
     Dark, dirty, filthy. Not really the descriptions most people associate with Midtown. Easy to see only the soaring glass and steel skyscrapers, then assume they're the soul of the city. Even the glittering pinnacles of obscene wealth and privilege get rats and bedbugs. The janitors and cleaning staff know the hoity-toity businesspeople stink, and don't sweat perfume.
     Behind the shiny towers and glimmering facades are dark places. Those in the know might happen to hear of a place simply called 08. No obvious connection. It's not an address or a bar code, though entry comes strictly by anonymous cryptocoin deposit - a retainer - and dark web notice. Unless you're a buyer, prospective or vouched for. It's not a perfect system, but it works.
     Shipments come and go. This one is Romanian, a smattering of Pakistani tech and some dabblings described as 'ideal' for companions and wet work. No one describes the lifelike synths as /human/, of course. Too close to the mark. But the few dim schematics anyone might Scrounge from the dark web give kind of an auction catalog of talents: pretty, strong, financial acumen, firearms, subservient protocols, aggressive defense regimen. There's a lot of the aggressive defense sorts, bodyguards and the like.
     A dark alley, a graffiti sprayed door, dumpsters overflowing with incriminating financial data hot-laced to identify identity thieves. It's not pretty. Not the kind of place a quiet man in a dark suit really belongs, but what are they gonna do? Not much in the vicinity of New York can hold up to the alien tech systems employed for the last twenty five millennia by Attilan.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Her contact got transferred out. It was upsetting that things like that would happen within SHIELD, but Darcy was aware that organizations like the one she worked for was more than capable of such things. She's been threatened with such things, after all.

Knowledge didn't make her any less upset, and so, Darcy went for a skate to clear her head.

Pink contant lenses covering her green eyes, joints protected by gear, a tank top and a pleated cheerleader like school girl skirt over torn leggings, Darcy skates down the sidewalk with music in her ears. Her phone is in the inside pocket of her jacket.

It's a side glance into the dark alley. Man in a suit.

Darcy sways herself into a stop, head tilting to the side as she digs a bluetoothed ear bud free from her right ear, and she studies the man for a few moments.

Molly Millions has posed:
    The problem with being two hundred years out of step with the locals is the difficulty in finding parts. And the problem compounding that is working out who has a vat or three with your name out the back. It's not that Molly's not aware of the dangers inherit, it's that in her present circumstances she can't afford not to check the place out. Which is why the lean woman sometimes known as Molly; clad in black with silver lenses on her face is presently being vigorously frisked while one of their 'friends' is conducting a scan nearby.

"Hey, that? Is not detachable." she drawls at one of the guys, grudgingly taking off her jacket and turning around before her head turns towards the guy with the scanner,"Well?"

Damned shame for her that she doesn't understand the language. It would probably be useful to her to know that the guy with the scanner's confirming a couple of things... one that she's augmented, and two that she's apparently worth taking, by force. If she wasn't wired for speed, likely that? Would be all she wrote. The one off to her left pulls out a shock stick as his friend goes for a gun, apparently too eager to wait for her to step inside their parlor.

Black Bolt has posed:
     He's the sort to belong in a club, not out here. Dingy places, dingy soul. The suit alone probably costs a pretty penny tarnished by the dark surroundings, though his boots repel the grime. Almost casual, Blackagar presses in a code on the screen of his mobile device.
     While Molly is shuffled along the mortal coil, they're prepared for another buyer. Or preparing.
    The door creaks. It slides back into the wall, revealing a shoebox of an entryway meaning to limit access to one or two people at a time. Safe plan, safe purpose, right? It also makes filleting him with swords or enfilading his body effortless from a series of hidden holes in the wall. So they might think. Not much warns him about the other woman ahead of him, giving the sliding wall hiding him from her. Maybe they can hear one another, at least. The Midnight King patiently steps into the recess, looking briefly down the alley. His expression is far too calm and nearly detached.
     Darcy might be concerned about that, and maybe she isn't.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy often has bad ideas.

Like running OUT to grab keys to a truck, then bitchign out ever SHIELD agent she saw while evaccing a pet store during a giant death robot attack on a small town in New Mexico.

Pushing herself foward, the roller girl of an Agent rolls toward the door and the man in the suit, looking too calm for this shit. Besides, doors spray painted like that don't typically slide INTO walls like that. Of course she's concerned!

A quick turn and Darcy propels herself through the doorway and twists so she can quickstop on her toestops. The move puts her back to the hallway forcing her to twirl on a wheel to face forward again.

Someday, May might be able to teach Darcy to think before leaping. Maybe. Widow and Cap may have to get involved in that bit of training.

Molly Millions has posed:
    'Merchandise' doesn't exactly get the same entrance as a buyer, it's true. And here? Molly counts as merchandise. Though there might be some unexpected delays or slick manuvering to try and insure that their Very Important Visitor in the form of Blackagar doesn't get inconvenienced by the tech procurement team... but perhaps that might work out for Darcy.
    Simply because the razorgirl's a little faster and more alert than they were ready for. The shock-stick misses it's first attempt, and really she has no qualms about lashing out with her blades as she snakes around to grab the 'guy' with the shock-stick to face his friends. At least it forestalls bullets flying, but no doubt requires the reshuffling of personnel to 'deal' with the problem of merchandise getting feisty.

Black Bolt has posed:
     There just isn't room in that coffin box parlour for two. Darcy has nowhere to go but into Blackagar, and that by shoving him up against the wall. Assuming he chooses to be anything other than an immovable force, his feet planted and his shoulders flat. The extra few inches does not give a comfortable amount of room. It's not even an elevator shaft of sorts. Though the owners of this joint, rented out as it is, oughta consider it. The door slams down, giving few choices.
     He doesn't even issue a grunt. His hand comes up to land upon her shoulder, steering her from smashing directly into him with momentum. The heel of his palm is likely to fit against her collarbone for the gentlest cushion possible.
    The quick shouts and complaints from the other side report someone /else/ has decided to invade their metal space, an unknown. Things bend and bow as the humming shriek of electricity starts to spin up.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy oofs as she's manhandled to a stop. Balancing on her rubber toe stops, pink eyes look about as the room starts to complain.

Well, crap.

"I'm going to assume you had this well in hand," she quips, wincing faintly at the heel of hand to collarbone. That's going to bruise in an hour. Darcy knows this. Darcy will deal with that later. For the moment, she keeps looking for... a way to go forward since back is cut off.

Molly Millions has posed:
    Geographically, it's probably a short distance, for all that Molly is entirely unaware that she's not the only unknown factor in the building right now. Time's not her friend, nor are the people in her immediate vicinity. The guy with the gun isn't opening fire simply because he knows that they have back-up in the building. Molly herself is endeavoring to try and back in what she believes is the direction of the box-trap entrance, easing back until she finds a wall and dragging her captive along. Which brings her in the direction of those prepping the electric charge for the two in the blind.

There's shouting there as others manuver to block her in and the guy currently with her blades up against her throat tries to explain to her in unnerving detail just how bad it will be when they get her,"Shut-up." is what she has to utter in response, flat and low, trying to think. Definitely doesn't need the distraction from important little things like not getting killed tonight.

Black Bolt has posed:
    The box blind was never intended to hold more than a single person at a time, unless New York skinny. Blackagar's built to proportions that would make Steve Rogers jealous, if Steve even knew how to be. It's no matter. What matters is neither he nor Darcy really have much room to move in a place the size of a shower stall when the walls are up, and the back door is wholly down.
     The steady clump of footsteps and the rattle of shouts makes for a terrible situation, both in maintaining concentration and figuring out what is going on. He can make out the shouts better than the thumps of feet or a body. He can hear the whine of some kind of security system online but not pinpoint the source, nor determine whether the whole chamber is lined in metal or just where his back is uncomfortably shoved back against. Nor can he simply utter 'It's her fault!' The only real light shines from his phone as the internal rooftop overhead LEDs go down, throwing them into darkness. Not good. Really not good.
     He shakes his head roughly at Darcy and points down, which may be the absolute worst situation for given the circumstances. No doubt some operator watching through inline cameras questions this man's choices in life or death, and possibly cheers him on for sheer bravado. Everything else requires her compliance as sparks dance and the buzzing surge pushed through is probably going to make it uncomfortable for everyone. If they live. If madmen are just out to startle rather than fry. One way or the other, he's applying his elbow with a jarring blow to the metal.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy's got nothing to help, in this tight space she can't build up speed on her wheels to do anything. And given that she is no where NEAR New York thin, all she can do is press as far from Blackagar as she can to give him the room to do what he's going to do.

Well, and she can dig her phone free, kill the music, and click on her flashlight app to try to keep a light on the situation.

Compliance, she can do. Most of the time. Definitely this time.

"Fuckers! You didn't think he'd come here without his own bit of insurance did you? You wanna blow this deal before it starts, you fucking go for it, you rat dicks! But I'm already letting his contact know what pieces of shit you are. So, zap us, but you'll get shut down so hard, you'll wonder where your bitch slap went!"

It's pure bravado and one too many action movies and listening to field agents at work talking. She doesn't know what this place is or who this guy is but.. if they don't know that she doesn't know... and if she shifts her phone over so she looks like she's getting ready to send that nasty text rather than alerting SHIELD that she's in over her head, then if dip-shits are watching then maybe they'll be spooked into letting them out.

Longshot. Darcy lives by them.

Molly Millions has posed:
    Possibly it's luck... but maybe the bluff worked? Maybe it's that on the other side of the wall the guys preparing to electrocute the box suddenly have to deal with one of their own getting shoved through the door, followed by a Molly. She doesn't know about the two in the box, it's purely a case of 'push all the buttons until something happens'.. one of which happens to be the door leading inwards. None of the button mashing helps her immediate problem, and indeed it gets abandoned as one of the larger guys pulls her away from the controls with shouts of protest.
    It's a simple matter to her, to bury her blades into the mans throat, but the first of the reinforcements has arrived and all she can do is dive for cover as gunfire goes off. After all, to them they just need her tech, not the useless violenty meat bits that go with it.

Black Bolt has posed:
    One or two of those buttons send a ripple of electricity zorching through the floor. Shoes might ground those in the coffin box, but as Blackagar's shadowy hair starts to rise around his face, he curls his upper lip. The metallic, thin band around his head isn't just for some weird fashionable show. He's not full frontal hipster with his jewelry and accessories.
    A faint cyan shimmer enfolds the narrow runes inscribed; the trifork glimmers in the dimness. Psionic energy concentrates unseen as he slams his fist in three rapid strikes against the wall. Metal bends and the nails spring out, whatever other precautions used to seal him into his coffin parlour probably going flying. His palm might just go through the metal, tearing pieces open and revealing a chamber wrapped in darkness, blood, and lurid light.
     He can't shout 'Out' or bring attention to anything. What he can do is kick at the forward wall to let the snarling spitfire of an agent behind him out.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
And out Darcy goes, as soon as things are clear enough for her to get out. She's never been more thankful for rubber toestops and rubber outdoor wheels. She rolls into the room just at hte fire fight is starting. She drops to elbows and knees, letting her momentum slide her across the floor and behind some cover. Her head comes up to look up at able to punch through walls guy, so make sure he seems okay.

Anyone else think it's weird that he's not talking? No one? Just Darcy? Okay. Cool.

Hidden for the moment, the agent takes stock of what she has and what's near her that she can try to leverage to help get her and by extension Silent Man out of this mess.

Molly Millions has posed:
    Darcy's not the only one taking stock, granted, in Molly's case it's of the distance between her and the body nearby as people are shouting and waiting for her to appear. She reaches out to grab the guys leg and pull so that she can claim his gun, trying hard to ignore the fact that a bullet almost strikes her hand in the process. She twists to fire around the side of the desk she's behind.

"So I'm guessing that's a 'no' on the parts, then." she calls out from her precarious point of safety, checking just how many bullets she has in the chamber and oblivious to Darcy and Blackagar for the moment.