6499/Diplomatic Immunity is the Best Immunity

Diplomatic Immunity is the Best Immunity
Date of Scene:	14 February 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Silver Sable, Black Cat

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Silver Sable has posed:
Diplomatic immunity creates some interesting legal boundaries. In very real respects, it's soverign soil. Not American. Police can't enter without an invitation, and no embassy would invite local police-- because a little spying goes in at virtually every one of them.

So after the Symkarian Embassy had been broken into, *their* spies went to work to find the culprits. It didn't take long to finger the intruders: Moldova.

So just past 3 AM, two figures steal across the ground of the Moldovan Embassy. It's a relatively large complex that can house the entirety of their UN staff in New York. Multiple outbuildings surround a sprawling, three-story colonial home. It bristles with lights and armed guards, even at this late hour. Most, lulled into a false security by the long hours and light labor, are dozing or otherwise distracting themselves from their guard duties.

Perfect cover for a silver and sable set of shadows to slip through a drainage grate and stealthily emerge in the shadows of the small garden.

Silver Sablinova glances at her wristwatch to check the time. "Two minutes until guard rotation," she mutters at Felicia. She wears a bodysuit of mottled ash and charcoal grey, and her wealth of silver hair is bundled up under a baseball cap. She wears light tactical webbing but no visible firearms or weapons. She cranes her neck to look at the area, hunkered down in a squat that clings to the shadows. "Perimeter is light," she observes with a cool, Eastern European accent. "Lots of ground cover. Cameras." She points with two fingers to indicate them. "There's a drainpipe up to the third floor but it doesn't look stable. Ideas?"

Black Cat has posed:
In the shadows of the Symkarian woman is another living sleek of black. With her own light hair tucked up underneath a matte-black stocking-cap, Felicia's foregone her flurred ruffs at wrists, ankles, and about her chest for a more covering top of ink-black turtleneck. Matched by equally-nonreflective pants, boots, and gloves, the ensemble doesn't detract from her build and curvature in the least, even without the glinting fluff, and her smile is megawatt in anticipation as she glances over at Silver.

"A distraction is never something to ignore. These guys, they're bored. Flash 'em, that'll get their attention." She gives the far more serious woman a wink before craning her neck to look around the visible area again, double-checking at the cameras. "Cut a line to the feed of the cameras. I can use my grappling line to sneak up to the highest floor and go through a window?"

Silver Sable has posed:
Selina gives Felicia a look of amusement, impatience, and shock at her impertinence. But mostly amused, eyes flickering up and down at the silver-haired thief. "Any excuse to get me to take my top off, isn't it?" she queries Felicia, rolling through her vowels. She doesn't wait for an answer. "A fire would be too much. I have an idea," she says, and digs around in her belt. A small wrist rocket is assembled in seconds and she drops a ball bearing into the pouch. Silver takes aim and fires with a soft *twang* of rubber contracting. It takes her several tries, pellets arching high over the wall. But the third smacks the floodlight she's aiming for, plunging a portion of the yard into darkness with a crackling of sparks. No one comes running to inspect it, but the guards on duty alter the course of their patrols-- and their attention-- to inspecting the light.

Silver dashes across the garden area quiet as a whisper and circles to a small outshed attached to the house. She disappears inside, and there's a sound of wire snippers working.

Silver leans out of the dark door and nods once at Felicia.

Black Cat has posed:
"I'd be doing those poor jerks a service," demures Felicia with just the right amount of snideness in tone. Still, she grins again and falls silent to watch Silver at work. Once the portion of the lawn falls into darkness, she twitches before catching herself. Not her turn -- not just yet.

Instead, she waits, crouched on the pads of her booted feet in something almost like a runner's set, avidly eyeing that small outshed. Her irises, normally a brilliant green, are shifted towards Carribean-blue due to her specialized contacts. Given they filter through the spectrums of light, she can see through the incipient darkness as clearly as day.

Then comes the nod. Like a flash, Felicia darts out towards the house behind the backs of the approaching guardsmen. A lift of her hand and the grappling line thwips out to hook solidly to the edge of the roof. Up she goes in a silent swish even as one man turns around. The beam of his flashlight scours where she once stood. The Black Cat is now clinging to the roof after scrambling atop it. She touches at her ear. "No cat on a hot tin roof jokes. Which floor again, for that painting?"