1180/Raiders of the Lost Reliquarium

Raiders of the Lost Reliquarium
Date of Scene:	15 April 2020
Location:	Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Synopsis:	Caitlin encounters Elektra stealing a relic from a church, and engages in hot pursuit.
Cast of Characters:	Caitlin Fairchild, Elektra Natchios

---

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Nazi gold?!" Caitlin sputters at the words.

The friar across from her grimces and flails a hand at her. "Aye yi yi, caiate," he hisses. Caitlin slaps a hand over her mouth in embarassment. The friar exhales heavily and looks over at Father Pat, his twisted body sprawled in his wheelchair. "I thought you said, she was sensible?" he asks in heavily accented Spanish.

"C'mon man, you can't just drop 'Nazi Gold' on someone and expect them not to react," Pat says in his creaky but resonate baritone. A grin works across his misshapen features, and the lumpy dwarf turns his one good eye towards Caitlin in something like a wink. "I just about crapped myself when you told me the first time."

The friar presses his lips into a thin line at Pat's casual vulgar language; Patrick just rolls a shoulder at him in a shrug. Caitlin titters.

"Fine. Yes. The Jesuits, we ... redistributed some of it from some former members of the Franciscan Order."

"Stole," Patrick wheezes, tauntingly. The friar scowls. "It's not stealing if it was not their property to begin with," he snaps defensively. "And they were excommunicate sub rosa-- we are getting off topic," he protests. Patrick grins again and lifts his stumpy hands in surrender.

"There is a substantial amount of it in a reliquarium in Rio de Janeiro," the friar tells Caitlin. "We've been smuggling it out and distributing it to the poor for several decades. Making it last. Unfortunately an earthquake has hit and the church is no longer structurally sound. We need help moving the gold. This is not something we can do secretly, and it is enough value of gold and... come se dice... reliquaries. Artifacts," the Friar explains. "That criminals will be tempted. We do not wish to hire armed guards or mercenaries, but a member of the faithful who can protect and intervene... it would be a good thing, Senorita Fairchild," the Friar says.

"Doctor," Patrick corrects, with a cough. The Friar grimaces.

"Doctor," he amends. "Will you please come to Brazil, then, and be our strong shield?"

Thirty hours later, Caitlin Fairchild was standing guard in a church in Rio. The Church of Our Lady of Victories, the stately service chapel for St. Ignatius College.

This works well for Caitlin, who can more or less blend in as a college student; a thick hoody, slightly baggy jeans, and her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail gives her a discreet look. She's even got a baseball cap on, for added disguises. The gold's been transferred into heavy storage boxes; a brilliant idea on the redhead's part was to pack them all out in explosive storage boxes and put word out that the Brazilian Army was disposing of some lost, unstable ordnance. A little bribery and some fast talking had sold the idea, and a few Army uniforms were visible a (safe) distance from the church as faux soldiers loaded the gold into a borrowed garbage truck.

It's big, it's heavy, and it was cheap.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Cai-- Dr. Fairchild," the friar says, hailing the redhead. It'd look suspicious if Caitlin was seen doing that manual labor while the menfolk were about, so she was pretending to busy herself with keeping cool drinks and sandwiches coming. Not that she really minded overmuch; cooking was Caitlin's stress reliever.

"Si, Friar Castillo?" She'd burned through a basic book on the Brazilian portmanteus of Portugese and Spanish language, enough to be at least politely conversant.

"That's the last of the g-- heavy boxes. The relics are coming up now," he tells her. "They are not quite so heavy, but they're very fragile. Are there--" he looks around the entryway. "No issues? No one's come by?"

Caitlin presses a fruit punch into his hand and smiles beatifically. "Nope. Turns out that if you tell the Army there's a bunch of bombs, and tell the civilians there's some black mold also, everyone decides to just steer clear," she says with a satisfied expression. "I think we might actually pull this off."

The Friar grins back and starts moving to direct the work crew to bring up the last of the boxes, the plastic storage containers containing carefully packed and preserved artifacts-- some of which were stolen from European churches and hidden in South American during the end of the Second World War. It's been hot and laborious work even during the late Brazilian evenings, and the combination of mosquito bites, humidity, and hard labor is making even the doughtiest of the faithful exhausted. The reliquarium's deep in the basement; several laborers take a break from that long walk and rest to eat and drink their snacks, leaving a few containers piled on the floor at the head of the stairs and more of them down below in the ancient and little-used wine cellars.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
To say that Elektra had a strained relationship with her former mentor Stick was an understatement. They had been at odds more often than not. And Elektra was still on the fence whether he deserved a Sai to the heart or not.

But when the message came in, that the Chaste needed to get their hands on an artifact out on Brazil there was little hesitation to her. It is what she did, was it not? What she had been bred to do.

"Go to Rio, infiltrate the Church of our Lady of Victories. Deep down in the reliquarium you will find it. Bring the item, I believe it will help in our fight against the Hand." Which to Elektra was doubtful enough. Not that she didn't believe in the power of prophecies, considering what she had been following about this Black Sky weapon. And, admittedly, she was curious enough.

The flight to Brazil, those hours on the plane, was just what she needed to brush up on her Portuguese, some hours to survey the area afterwards. Seemed easy enough, just some friar running about, a few army people...

And so the plan was put into motion, a bribe made to get one of those army uniforms, just loose enough that she can wear her sleek armor underneath, stashing a few weapons and some of her infiltration tools. A cap up on her head, hair twisted and under it and so she makes her way in, just another one of the guards that is on their way inside the church to retrieve more artifacts. But her aim is another. To go deep into the reliquarium and steal the artifact.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
The reliquarium would have been hard to find if it wasn't currently opened up. It sees just enough use as the sacramental wine is transferred up and down. A few old casks are a nod to when the college's friars made wine and beer to help fund the cost of operating the sprawling university campus. The friars are being cautious even now; the gold was packed up overnight and transferred to an alcove to be brought upstairs later. But one of Elektra's talents would have little trouble finding a secret door behind two massively stout barrels, which opens quite smoothly at a touch.

Gold spends, and the Nazi-stamped raugoblds glitter with a lascivious appeal. Some remain in half-filled boxes; there must have been several million dollars worth of the hoarde remaining. The Jesuits were apparently spending it as fast as they could without raising suspicion, and still there's a significant amount in place.

Gold lures looters, but the artifacts lure thieves. Their value: worthless to some, but incalculable to the right collector. Phylacteries, rings, scepters, rods, crowns; some items crudely made and enshrined with great reverence in stunningly assembled boxes. Others, mere gaudy accessories to an ugly period in history.

It takes only a few minutes to search through the carefully labelled boxes and cross-refernce the packing list some dutiful friar assembled. 'Rosarium est Pucelle d'Orleans' is written next to a number. The container is nearby, and inside is a rather crude looking rosary of wood and cheap glass beads.

Heavy footsteps announce someone coming down the stairs, and there's a shuffling of others with them. A flashlight shines ahead of the group rounding the corner. "You know you could send some of these to museums," Caitlin suggests, turning to look over her should at the friars. "I bet the Smithsonian's got good security. There's no reason to ship all of these back to Rome, they'll just end up in a vault somewhere."

The friars don't look thrilled to be taking suggestions from the redhead, but given her sheer stature and significant notoriety as a superhero-- not to mention the free private security-- they hardly seem willing to argue with her.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Gold. A perdition to many yet to Elektra it gets barely a glance. Sure, she has enjoyed her luxuries, and still does. But there's never been a greedy aspect to her that often falls upon those that do what she does. That desire for more and more material wealth. Her interests have always been elsewhere. And as such she skips past all that, a glance here and there and finally here is her target. The Rosarium. Peculiar little thing if one is going to be honest, and crude, yet she has learned to look past what's on the surface by now. Just like people, some things have that ability to surprise us when we go deep enough.

So she begins to slowly open the container, retrieving the Rosarium between her gloved hands.. Yet just as she is doing so, steps. A frown. She didn't want to be detected. The Rosarium is slipped within the folds of her uniform. A bit bulky, but it's fine.

And then she seeks the shadows, the ones where she has learned to hide so well in the last years. Just beyond a couple of crates, crouched down, back to the crate. She waits then, patient. Listening.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's head almost brushes the ceiling. It's enough she stoops a little, reflexively, and turns up the portable lanterns illuminating the room. The light chases the shadows back even furthur. The redhead picks up one of the heavy crates of gold-- which must weigh at least fifty pounds-- and carries it out in her hands with little visible effort, the rope handles creaking against the green-painted wood.

"<Ay ya, saints preserve,>" one of the friars mutters to the other in Brazilian Portugese, as they start carefully packing away more artifacts. "<Another American who thinks their country is the center of the world.>"

"<Quiet, Dominic,>" the other murmurs. "<She means well, and she's helping us. It's a mission of charity, for her.>"

"<I still would have preferred a man. It's weird to have women in the monastery,>" Dominic complains.

"<Anger and lust are both dangerous temptations, brother,>" says the other Friar, and chuckles at Dominic's discomfiture.

There's a pause. "<Where's the Rosary of Pucelle d'Orleans? It was right here.>" The friars look around at one another and shrug. "<Blessed Virgin preserve us,>" says the complainaint. "<Let's find it before we send any more boxes up. It must be here somewhere.>" Flashlights turn back on and the friars start searching the reliquarium. It's not a tiny room-- perhaps forty feet by twenty. A few shadowy corners remain but they may not stay that way for long.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Elektra has to suppress a roll of her eyes at the discussion going on between the friars. Yet it's not as if she finds it too surprising, and her focus then totally goes elsewhere when they notice that the Rosary is missing. Sharp, prepared. Maybe she won't be able to get out of here without being noticed indeed. Though with it just being two right now, and the American woman outside, she favors her odds.

So she waits until they are closer, using the shadows to her advantage... Her hand reaches deep inside her outfit, snatching out a couple of sleeping darts. She knew she might need to silently handle guards, or nosy friars. And while she wasn't here on an assassination mission (for once!), she wasn't going to let them stand between her and her objective.

Closer. Closer. Just before the flashlight can find her she springs up, silent. Deadly. One dart is sent towards the one closest to her, then another in a smooth sequence to the second.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Hkk!" The first friar takes a dart to the neck and claps a hand to it. The dart is swept away like a biting bug, but the potent soporific is delivered already. He staggers, eyes roll, and he collapses to his knees and then to the floor with a groan of protest.

The second one twists in response to the sound, and the dart hits his shoulder instead of his neck. "Ayudame!" he calls, frantic, and his shaking flashlight casts dancing lights in Elektra's direction. The trembling motion is so violent it almost strobes at her, giving the ninja a fast few steps to slip into cover again. Then he, too, collapses in place, and the other friars dash over to hisd aid.

"Doctor! Ayudame, help! Two men have fainted!"

Caitlin hurries in with an alarmed expression. "I'm not -that- kind of-- nevermind," she says, and moves to the two downed friars. "Basic first aid, get them on their side, clear their airways," Caitlin says tersely, and does just that with one of them while his brothers attend to the other. "Is anyone light-headed? Is there a gas leak?" she inquires, and one of the friars shakes his head negatively-- but gives the room a fearful look about.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Not exactly her cleanest throws. Elektra clearly blames her times in Hell's Kitchen as of late. Maybe she is starting to go soft, or lacking practice. A frown, stop losing focus. But regardless this seems to have caused just the distraction she needed to slip out.

When the two men clattered to the ground she moved closer to the door, very close, taking use of both the friars and the American's attention being on the two fallen men. She waits until they begin to tend to the friars just before she slips out, stepping between beats, silent. Adjusting her cap on her head, pace cool and not faster than it should be. Yet she also knows it will only be a matter of time until the darts are discovered, indeed one of them being rather close to where Caitlin is, having clattered against one of the wooden boxes when the friar snatched it off his neck and fallen harmlessly near him.

As for Elektra, she has one aim now. Reach the motobike she hid, make her way to the favelas, loose any pursuers there and then make way to the private plane she chartered.

She speaks to the guards resting outside when she walks out, <<Necessitan de ayuda la em bajo>> they need help downstairs. A simple distraction that she attempts to perhaps give her enough time to escape.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"What were they doing?" Caitlin asks. The ninja ghosts behind Caitlin's back, completely missed. The redhead is focused on the task at hand.

"N-nothing!" one of the men says. "We were packing, I think one of them said they were looking for a relic, and ..." He trails off when Caitlin spots a needle on the ground. It's picked up and scowled at. A droplet of blood on the tip, the fletching looks new... she sniffs at it and her eyes narrow. "That's .. that's a chemical scent. Like a barbitol," Caitlin muses. She looks around, and her eyes fall onto an open box with the contents clearly missing.

She sniffs again-- and this time, a faint scent of some perfume or odor that is quite alien to that of the friars. And it grows stronger headed up the stairwell...

"MOVE!" Caitlin explodes up out of the stairwell with shocking speed and actually gets some air, landing with a skitter-step. The needle's still clutched in one hand. Her eyes sweep left and right, wild, trying to find the --

There. A motorcycle in the parking lot! The ballcap's ditched and the hoodie as well, leaving Caitlin in sport sleeves and a green athletic top that leaves her shoulders and a few inches of midriff bare. She breaks into a run as Elektra arrows off into the night.

In the rearview mirror, Elektra would see Caitlin skidding out into the street in her sneakers and sliding across the asphalt as she changes direction. And then, incredibly, chasing after her.

And more incredibly, /gaining/ on her, arms and legs pumping like a professional sprinter and a look of determination set on her face.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
The guard outfit has been ditched by now as well, the cap and the rest on the floor next to the bike. The reliquary was secured inside a tight fitting, padded case that she secured across her torso, against the black and red outfit that she wears now. That bulky outfit just wouldn't do considering they may be just on her trail now.

But then the Kawazaki is roaring out into the night, speeding through. A clean escape ... No way they will be able to find her now on those army trucks and cars. Not while --

A look through the rear mirror spots someone in pursuit. -On foot-. Just her luck ..

But she came ready, she weaves through the streets expertly, following that set escape route she had planned, almost lying down on the asphalt when she takes a sharp corner to another side street, getting more and more into the streets of the city. And still she is gaining on her. A frown. This won't do. So as they are going through an interception between two alleys she stops the bike, tires screaming. No time to lose. She tosses two smoke bombs to the ground, filling that part of the street with smoke, some sound made one way but she tries to go the other, attempting to make use of those old ninjutsu ways of smoke and mirrors. Misdirection.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Behind Elektra there's a sound like a high-powered vacuum whinging at full power and then, a gale-force wind. Bitterly cold, too, streaking subtle frost lines on glass and ripping down clothing hanging between buildings. Storm panels rattle and flap violently as the smoke is blasted upwards into the night sky.

Caitlin looks up in time to see the ninja darting up the side of a building towards the rooftops overhead. She's clearly the epicenter of the blast point and an expression of frustration crosses her face. The last thing Elektra would see before disappearing onto the rooftops is Caitlin turning and dashing the other direction, presumably to find a different route upwards.

Four seconds later, there's a titanic *CRASH* behind Elektra as something heavy lands hard on the roof. Rafters crack and buckle, but don't collapse under the weight of the redhead as Caitlin lands the leap that carried her up there.

"Stop! Thief!" Caitlin yells in a deafening voice. Half the favela breaks into scolds and shouts of outrage, but undeterred Caitlin breaks into the fastest loping jog the roofs will accomodate, pursuing Elektra under the brilliant clarity of the night sky over Rio de Janeiro.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Looks like running isn't the only thing this woman can do!

Those dark eyes of Elektra take note as Caitlin dissipates that smoke, frowning, but she also can't help herself when she tips her chin up her way, almost as if in defiance, calling out a silent 'Come and get me'. But then just like a shadow she disappears on the rooftops of the favelas, running quick and nimbly across it.

And then that crash behind her. That's one way to make an entrance. She glances behind her at the hulking form in pursuit, the way those rooftops 'groan' at the jog she is imposing. So she chooses to go through those spots she finds more fragile, across a wooden beam from one building to the other, then off and catching the ledge of another before flipping up and continuing on across the edge, a glance tossed over her shoulder from time to time at the woman in pursuit.

She grits her teeth, already her breath pacing up at the exertion of the run, even as she knows she cannot afford to slow down, her black hair flowing freely while she runs.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Elektra's nimble and sticks to tricky paths. Caitlin's fast and strong, but forced to take more conservative routes. The compromise makes them quite evenly matched as Elektra frequently stymies Caitlin's steady gains with bursts of athleticism that make up for the speed difference.

Though Elektra's fantastically fit, Caitlin's akin to something like a juggernaut. She doesn't slow or fatigue in the slightest. She doesn't even seem to be slowing down as Elektra's muscles start to burn from the prolonged pursuit as seconds stretch into minutes.

She abruptly breaks course and finds solid concrete underfoot. With a grunt of effort Caitlin leaps laterally and slams into the side of a building, feet moving pell-mell for three steps to run along the wall and disrtibute the landing. The wall-run turns into another big leap for Elektra's location as the ninja darts across an abandoned tin rooftop. The wide-armed tackle misses Elektra by a yard.

But the tin rooftop collapses under both of them from Caitlin's weight, crashing into a dust-filled storage attic below it.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Elektra is just going through what tricks she might have left to throw on Caitlin. Maybe more smokebombs? Or perhaps a sleep dart. No, doesn't seem the type to fall to one of those. Maybe she will have to--

And then that wide-armed tackle, it makes Elektra jump over a small antenna dish on the rooftop, roll on the floor but then she feels it collapsing under her. She still holds on precariously to a beam for a second but then her sweaty hand slips and she falls as well, landing amidst the dust-filled storage attic. Uff, her back. She slowly gets up to her feet, coughing out as dust fills her lungs.

"Aren't you being just a bit too tenacious, girl?" She finally speaks out in her velvety voice, eyes looking around the place, squinting, not exactly catching sight of where Caitlin has fallen, the dust and debris clouding her vision for the moment. And the pain starting to grow throughout her back and the rest of her body.. Damnable human body!

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin gets to her feet, shrugging off a heavy crossbeam post like it was made of styrofoam. Dust clings to her and kicks up around her feet as she rises to her full height. Caitlin's not just tall-- she's built on the same scale as Asgardians. With the milkmaid complexion and red hair, she might well -be- an Asgardian.

"Okay, the next person who calls me 'girl' in this country is getting a real talking to," Caitlin grumbles in a sour-voice. "Bunch of sexist jerks. Don't enable them."

She kicks aside some debris and starts walking towards Elektra with a determined pace. "Second, you stole something that doesn't belong to you. I don't want to hurt you. I just want the relic back. I don't know who hired you to steal it, but stealing from a church is -wrong-," she says, plaintively. "And the rosary is worthless except to Catholics or scummy international smugglers. Give it back," she prompts Elektra, and extends an open palm as she stops a few strides from the ninja.

"Please."

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Elektra wipes her sweat-soaked forehead with one hand, continuing to observe as the juggernaut woman just shrugs off a crossbeam post like it was nothing. Yes, no running off anymore. Specially as she tries to take a step and feels the twisted foot. Oh, great.

So instead she prepares herself for a fight, hands sloooowly starting to slide behind her to fetch those deadly sais ... Until she hears the word 'Please'. It makes her brow quirk up, surprised. "You do realize you could had just taken it off me." she doesn't say off her dead body as to not give the other woman ideas but she doesn't continue on towards her Sais, instead her eyes considering Caitlin for a few moments until apparently she comes to a decision.

She begins to undo the strap that was tying the padded case against her body. "There is nothing worthless about this Rosary. There is power in old artifacts like these." power she has yet to discern what it is. But Stick is barely, if ever wrong, so there is a determination to her voice when she speaks it.

She extends the case towards Caitlin.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin steps forward one and a half paces, just barely as far as she needs to accept the case from the ninja. It's examined carefully, then tilted to the side to be opened. The rosary spills out onto her fingers. She squints at it, then carefully wraps the Rosary twice around her wrist and hands the case back to Elektra.

"Thank you." She seems to mean it, sincerely. "And I know. I didn't want to hurt you without giving you a chance to do the right thing," she tells the kunoichi. "Stealing's wrong, but so is senseless violence. Beating you up without hearing your side of it would be wrong, too."

She looks Elektra up and down, and frowns. "Why'd you steal it, anyway? Who paid you? Some antiquities dealer? Why'd you want the rosary and not the g-- the other stuff in the vault?"

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Sure, Elektra could figure out quite a good number of lies to offer back to Caitlin. Instead she goes with the truth, speaking out. "We need it." she begins, a nod given towards the Rosary as it's wrapped around Caitlin's wrist. "My ..." a pause, then a frown at calling Stick this, " .. old sifu believes the power contained in it may help tip the fight against the darkness we have been battling all our lives."

Not that Elektra is too much of a believer in powered artifacts but ..., even her knows that sometimes the power isn't exactly in the artifact but what happens with, or who wields it.

She gestures with her chin behind her. "They will just stash it somewhere out of sight of everyone. Do you even know what is the destination of this Rosary?" She then questions, settling her gaze back up on the tall woman, arms folding together.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Somewhere safe," comes the sullen response. It's clearly 'no'.

Caitlin's eyes are downcast, examining the beads dangling from her wrist and fingertips. "It's just... they're prayer beads," Caitlin says, uncertainly. "They're not magic beans or something."

She looks up at Elektra with suspicion on her face again. "If you really need them, then you could have asked," she points out. "Or gone to the Church for help. But I don't believe that you want these for some spiritual arsenal." The rosary beads rattle as she shakes them in Elektra's direction. "There's no secret order in the Church that's out there fighting ... evil monsters," she tells Elektra. "If there were, and this had power, they'd be using it. These are just old. They're historical, they belonged to someone in the Church. They'll inspire people. We can use them to talk about the history of the Church. I don't know who your ... seefoo is, but tell her stealing is wrong. Otherwise everyone would be stealing everything all the tiem because 'they need it more' than the person who has it. This isn't exactly the Louvre, either. You're knocking off relics from a Jesuit church. That's low."

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Safe from whom?" Elektra then counters, canting her head to the side, her eyes continuing to follow Caitlin, watching the beads being shaken in her direction. She listens in silence, brows furrowing and then she slowly shakes her head. "Low? Where it comes to doing what I need to do there's no low point. I am ready to sacrifice everything if I need to for what has to be done." specially considering her last few years infiltrated with the Hand!

She nods towards the Rosary, "You should give it back to me and let me go. It's not inspiration that people need right now, it's someone out there doing what needs to be done." she perhaps placing a bit of an harsh tone to her voice, never having been the type the inspirational type.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin pulls the beads against her stomach, and puts her other hand defensively between them and Elektra. "You blew your shot when you stole it," Caitlin says, flatly.

The redhead starts to turn away, then exhales and looks back at Elektra with a grudging sort of reluctance. "Look, I get the sense you could have hurt those guys, and you didn't. And you didn't hurt anyone else when you were running from me. If you ever make it to New York, come talk to me," she suggests. "I don't know what kind of help you really need, but I try to do the right thing. I can't let you take this, but I will do what I can to help you."

She turns and looks at the wrecked ceiling, sighs at herself, and walks towards the door into the room. "I mean, if you're desperate enough to steal, you're probably at least willing to ask for help, right?" she casts over her shoulder with a mild rhetoricism.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
For the split of a second Elektra seems to be considering whether to go for it or not in that unpredictable way of hers. Her shoulders tensing just so, her eyes narrowing but then she lets it go, slowly easing up. She seems to accept she won't be getting the Rosary today. Fair enough.

At the offer of help she lifts her brow again, perhaps attempting to discern if it's being given in a genuine manner or not, she not exactly too used to freely handed help. It's only when the readhead is going out through the door that she speaks. "Maybe I will.."

And then she can't help but wonder if this had been the plan all along. Because as she well knows sometimes it's not the item itself that has the power, but what is done with it, or what paths they bring people to cross which lead to the destiny of some. Curious. It makes her smile very faintly, watching the woman go. She was certain they would meet again..