4540/Just Like Old Times

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Just Like Old Times
Date of Scene: 30 May 2018
Location: Dockside by North Hempstead.
Synopsis: Another segment of a smuggling ring is dismantled, and The Shadow has learned where she needs to go to find the next link in the chain...
Cast of Characters: Shadow, Hellboy




Shadow has posed:
    Ever since people first realized there was wealth to be made from moving stuff from where people had too much of it to where it was in demand, there have been people who decided that there was even more wealth to be made when the stuff you moved was not constrained by burdensome laws.

    Of course, smuggling brings its own inherent risks - the people who make aforesaid laws tend to frown on people flaunting them - but there are always people who feel that the potential reward is worth the risk. And when what you want to have is not legally available, these are the people you turn to - and they'll be happy to meet your needs if you have the money...

    All of this really isn't on Tony Fives' mind very often. He thinks of himself as a businessman, not a philosopher. And if his current client is willing to pay top dollar for some old statues that aren't even made of precious metal, he's not being paid to wonder why or care what the client wants them for. He /is/, however, very good at his job, which is why he's personally overseeing this particular shipment as his boys are preparing to move it from the warehouse it was delivered to by their trans-pacific contacts to the trucks waiting to take the merchandise on the next leg of their journey. Given that the artifacts were described as 'fragile' and the client added a very stiff penalty clause on any damage, work is proceeding slower than he normally preferse, but all's been quiet so far.

    What he doesn't know (yet) is that just yesterday, his trans-pacific partners have been... visited... by one of New York's more secretive vigilantes -- or that their leader screamed out every secret he knew before the vigilante was done with him. Including this location. And the planned timing of this transfer.

    The Shadow... knows.

Hellboy has posed:
SHIELD often made it their business to get into other people's business, so HB often got little calls, tips and requests to check out the odd area here and there. It might be surprising to some to learn that more often than not these spots were 'duds', or were very anticlimactic in any case. Just find an empty lair, jot down what you see, and call homebase with the appropriate info.

When he got a call during his off-duty hours, however? That's when he knew things things were a bit more serious, and perhaps a bit more desperate. Yeah, the big guy wasn't exactly thrilled, but this was what the job was at the end of the day.

So this was why the big red half-Demon was currently crouched down behind a big wall of crates, one hooved foot steady against the ground even as he knelt down to make himself as relatively unseen as he could be. He wasn't dressed for a day of spelunking and monster splattering. No, in place of the trenchcoat and the belt and the gun, he was wearing a pair of khaki shorts that came down to the knee and allowed a space for his tail at the back, along with a blue 'gym' style shirt, as they were one of the few sorts of shirts that actually fit around his particular build. On the front of the shirt was a Captain America shield, and in his left hand were a small pair of binoculars, even as in his mouth was a half-smoked cigar, the glowing ember perhaps undermining his super sneaky spy approach just a tad. So far, he was so focused on studying the goons on their patrol routines, that it seemed literally anyone could come up behind him. In fact...

Shadow has posed:
    Some sounds are unmistakable for anything but what they are, and will focus one's attention admirably. Such as, for instance, the sound of a hammer being cocked just behind your ear.

    At this point, Hellboy can consider himself something of a connoiseur on this particular field, and what his ears tell him is 'semi-automatic, large caliber, very sharp sound meaning no muffling from oil and crud residue in the gears and corners, so being kept in very good condition.'

    It is not comforting news, although there is a bright side -- in his experience, someone willing to let you hear them cock the hammer isn't planning on shooting you immediately. Whether it's because they want to talk, or just because they like to gloat, any second they're not pulling that trigger is another second you get to live and maybe figure out a way out...

Hellboy has posed:
Anyone this close would be able to see that fine healthy black hair of his, freshly groomed and cleaned, and long enough to be tied into a tight little miniature 'topknot' so to speak. The top of that head was bald, the crimson red skin tough enough to look like it might have been carved out of some form of stone or granite. Around the top of that head were two circular stumps of the same color as his skin. And anyone this close would be able to notice that right hand, huge and oversized, three fingers and a thumb, the thing honestly looked devastating. Every so often yellow glyphs or runes would appear, glowing bright before fading away.

Hellboy tensed for a moment when he heard the sound, his tail going flat for the faintest of seconds. After a moment it seemed he recovered from this shock quite well. And when he spoke with that deep, deep voice of his? It sounded like someone who'd done this dance before.

"Awright, buddy, let's just cut to the chase...I'm more or less bullet proof. Which means if you shoot me, it's gonna sting like a mother and mess my whole week up, but it ain't gonna do what you're hoping it's gonna do. And after I'm gonna throw you to England across that pond over there. Is that what you wanna do with your life? Huh?"

Shadow has posed:
    There is a notable pause as the person behind him digests this response, and then a sense of withdrawal, as if someone just took a few steps back to get out of melee range, and then a voice.

    "...What manner of creature /are/ you?" ... Rude, perhaps, but not exactly an uncommon question. And there's something familiar about the voice...

Hellboy has posed:
"I'm a Gothamite. Name's Hellboy."

With that, the 'creature' slowly rose to a standing position, turning around to regard the figure. He seemed to be confident that she wasn't going to fire, or at least confident that he could handle it if she did. It was now easy to see the full frame of him, even as he stared at her with those glowing yellow eyes, that mouth open in a seemingly permanent display of underbite(even if he was currently chomping a cigar.) Looking back briefly just to make sure that the goons hadn't rounded up on them both, he reached his left hand into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a black leather booklet. He flipped it open, showing his badge and what looked like government-style ID.

"Nice hat. Got a flair for the dramatic, do ya?"

Shadow has posed:
    A dark trenchcoat and opera cloak, billowing gently in the sea breeze and blurring at the edges until it's impossible to tell what's cloth and what's simply moving shadows. Blazing blue eyes staring out at him from under the brim of a black slouch hat. A crimson scarf concealing the rest of the face. The moonlight glinting of the metal of a gun pointing between his eyes.

    For just a moment, Hellboy can't shake the feeling that he's been here, seen this, done this before, but then the moment passes as the figure lowers their gun.

    "Some of us may be 'more or less bulletproof'. Others have to rely on... Other methods... to avoid getting injured by flying lead," the figure responds. "I take it SHIELD sent you to investigate this smuggling operation?"

Hellboy has posed:
As the woman spoke, Big Red noticed that the cigar was almost dead and took the stub, putting the last few embers out against the palm of his great stone right hand. Even as he did this he exhaled a final plume of smoke out into the night sky, and as he listened to her, something seemed to 'register'. His eyebrows went wide and he suddenly snapped his fingers(on his left hand) before speaking.

"Whoah hey, are you the new Shadow? I met the other guy way back when. He was a real asshole, but he knew what he was doin'."

Every so often he looked over his shoulder, idly checking the situation, but he was now definitely interested in learning more about this person.

"So do you got the Peter Pan shpeal like he did? Ya definitely got his social skills down to a T."

Shadow has posed:
    Blue eyes narrow, seeming to bore straight through Hellboy's skull and measure the soul within - another mannerism he probably recognizes now that he's exposed to it again - but after another moment the figure appears to conclude Hellboy is not attempting to lie.

    "... I'll let my grandfather know you think well of him next time we speak," the Shadow responds. "For now, however, I believe we have a group of smugglers to chastize. According to their former partners, someone paid very well for a collection of supposedly non-valuable artifacts, but they did not know who or where they were going past here..."

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy let the examination happen, and Natasha's vision might show her a couple of confusing, conflicting things. For Hellboy was Anung un Rama, the son of Azzael. His mother a descendent of Arthur the lost King and the wielder of Excalibur. Hellboy's blood was destruction and fire, salvation and sainthood. Hellboy was heads and he was tails, his destiny still in the air waiting to come down.

But he also wasn't a liar, that much was obvious to ones who could 'sense' these things, like the Shadow obviously could. When all was done and the stranger in the hat seemed satisfied, Hellboy would give her a nod even as he rolled his wrist and readied his hand for action. Interesting that when he moved that right hand, the sound of stone scraping could faintly be heard.

"Grandpa, huh? Good to see you keeping the family business afloat. Well awright, I'd welcome the help in clobbering these goons...but could I ask, that you try not ta mist these guys? SHIELD are tryna keep body counts to a minimum these days."

Shadow has posed:
    There is a sound that was probably a snort before whatever is distorting the Shadow's voice got to it. "I'm looking for answers, not corpses," The Shadow replies. "Terrified goons serve my purposes more than dead bodies."

    With that, the pistol - as HB surmised, a heavy caliber semi-automatic - is returned to its place in the harness briefly visible as the Shadow opens their coat. "Would you care to do the introductions, or shall I?" the figure asks.

Hellboy has posed:
"I figure I'll knock, get 'em to take the survey I'm conducting. Then?"

As he spoke, that right hand of his hoisted three impossibly heavy crates with his left hand, only grunting ever so slightly as he lined up the sights.

"Then, while they're focused on me, I figure that'll make yer job easier. Win/win, right?"

Even as he spoke he was launching those crates into the air like three fish-packed missiles, one smashing through a distant window, one smashing against the nearby reinforced door, and the other exploding near three guys on the docks, three guys who were now spooked and hyper-focused on the charging red behemoth. Sounds and yelling were coming from that warehouse even as Big Red charged across the wooden floor of the docks with those heavy hooves of his clacking on every step. It seemed he was now, officially, in business mode.

Shadow has posed:
    That sinister chuckle is another thing Hellboy definitely remembers, and he doesn't need to look back around to realize that the figure has vanished from sight. He can just about see the Shadow's eponymous shadow flitting along the ground, flickering in and out of view from the sparse lights even as the warehouse guards start reacting to the obvious threat.

Hellboy has posed:
The inside of the warehouse was dark, dingy, soggy and damp as the hard concrete floor was covered in wet and muddy bootprints. Currently it was a wasp's nest of activity as men were running around, many of them charging outside in order to deal with the loud, violent, obviously demon-looking threat. The sounds of heavy impact and shouting could be heard over there, but near the important long crates, a small team stayed hunkered down, waiting and fearful. These men were wearing jackets and various nondescript clothing, eight men in total. Two holding shotguns, three holding uzis and at least one man holding an old beat-up AK-47...but though beat up, that thing was a death dealer no matter what condition it was in, that much was certain. They were holding firm and waiting, even though many of them had a cold sweat...and even though they got extremely jumpy when one of the big, overly-muscled goons that charged outside came right back into the warehouse, by way of being sent smashing through one of the first floor windows. Now it was easier to hear the sounds of desperate combat, and see glimpses of chaos. Clearly, Hellboy was doing his job.

Shadow has posed:
    ... And while they're so intent on anticipating the threat approaching before them, they completely forget to check behind themselves -- or notice, in the noise, the muffled grunts and thuds of their colleagues being subdued one by one, until by the time Hellboy steps into view and Tony Fives yells the order to fire, it takes him almost three seconds of holding down the trigger to realize he's the only person shooting...

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy is keeping his head low, and is holding that stone hand infront of his face as those full metal jackets crumple and occasionally ricochet off of that indestructible artifact. For his part, HB is cut and bruised in places, it was clear that the gang outside did everything in their power to do a number on him. Unfortunately for them, all it really did was put holes and rips in a shirt he really liked, that was why he made some of them drink the sea water before sending them all off to dreamland.

Back to Tony, that realization of his isolation would probably come after HB gets close enough to reach out with his stone hand, taking a brief bullet onslaught to his throat and face before he clenched his hand shut and as a result, smushed that gun into uselessness. For added effect he even bent the thing into a U-shape while Tony was holding it looking horrified, looking around for help that wasn't coming. Tony started to think about going for the pistol in his side holster, but Hellboy's glowing yellow eyes narrowing in disapproval quickly put an end to that idea.

"Buddy, are you in trouble tonight. This the guy you were looking for, Shadow?"

Shadow has posed:
     And just when Tony thought his day couldn't possibly get worse, a sinister chuckle from above and behind him proves him wrong. He turns around almost against his will and lets out a little moan as he meets that blazing blue gaze.

    Why yes, yes he is. Hello, Tony. Your... 'Partners'... had a lot to say about you..." A black-gloved hand shoots out from the formless shape, lifting Tony up by his neck. "I have some questions about your latest shipment. You /will/ answer them. I /will/ /KNOW/."

    And Tony Five's whimpers are drowned out by the sinister laughter echoing through the warehouse...