13068/Tales from the Dockside: Oil rush

Tales from the Dockside: Oil rush
Date of Scene:	25 October 2022
Location:	Helicarrier, Port of Al-Sidiq
Synopsis:	Boots on the ground at Port al-Sidiq. Our SHIELD agents, and an interested party, begin to pull in information.
Cast of Characters:	Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff, Jane Foster, Daisy Johnson, Natasha Cranston

---

Nick Fury has posed:
Breaking news:

A concerned looking pair of newscasters come on, breaking into the traffic and weather portion of the broadcast.

"There are reports of multiple explosions at the docks in al-Sidiq. We have reporters on the way to the scene, but from what we're hearing, the fires have touched off in the holding facilities beside the quai. Emergency responders are being called; fire, medical rescue, marine rescue and hazmat and area hospitals are being put on alert?"

The report repeats like this in various fashions with little else added other than flames and pictures of the fires from the reporting helicopters from a distance. There is no announcement from the government at this time.

***

The helicarrier is out and away, a few handfuls of thousands of feet above the world. It's not in US airspace anymore; where it is, no one knows but one Nick Fury and the navigation crew. It's cloaked, and running silent.

In the conference room, then, a meeting of the minds, as it were, is occurring. Splashed upon the screens is a live coverage of massive explosions coming from international shipping docks, based in a Middle Eastern oil producing country. It's been going on now for at least an hour, with the warehouses burning in great conflagrations. Firefighting crews and emergency crews are overwhelmed, the hospitals aren't set up for this sort of Mass Casualty Incident.

Nick Fury sits at the head of the conference table, his fingers entwined as he lounges back. His expression is inscrutable, the single eye focused on the screen there on the wall. Each of those Agents he's asked in today, they each have a copy of satellite surveillance of the movements in the past week across the desert. It's an obvious gathering of power; caravans, possible weapons systems, training grounds, but not one country, not one organization is able to comment upon it without serious political ramifications. The dance of diplomacy.

It's a dance, however, where Nick Fury and SHIELD lead rather than follow.

"Now," Director Fury needs no introduction, and he also knows everyone at the table; as he'd say, 'I know them better than their own mothers'. "We haven't had enough time to embed properly, but I am at liberty to say that we do have assets assigned to the region. The //plan is//," the two words are stressed, "to keep the bastard we know from going down." ? And making sure he knows that he is most decidedly in debt to SHIELD. "Because the one that is playing their games have backers that you all just might recognize and say 'hi' to at some point, should this fail."

Turning his face to the screen, and the flames that have taken over the docks, the warehouses and some of the container ships, the Director's expression is still impassive. "No one's taken credit, obviously. Hell, I don't even know if our boy did this or not. That's your job."

He looks back at the team, each of them one by one. "Do you have any questions? You'll be taken by Quin to a set down point, and you'll have clearance to the docks by the shore police. Your IDs are in your folders." Does he even have to say 'If you run into any problems?"?

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would go to fold her hands together and give a nod over to consider over as she would move to review the data. It's a 'get in there, find out what happened' and if necessary deal with hte problem with subtlety. "Nothing yet through any sort of funding that whomever did this would have had access to?" That sort of information could take time, particularly over with what little knowledge they had. Tracing and backtracking..

And better the devil you know than the one you don't. Particularly when one escalation threatens regional stability,a nd everything else in the region topples along with it when everyone else takes the initiative to make a go for power, and everything that entails. she would glance over at the others, moving to take another survey going through the data. Skimming it. Looking for smuggling points, places things could have been brought in, the cells responsible could have worked together at.. Likely points where logcal logistics would have rendered aid to the attackers. The operation was too large and organized to have been done outside of the area, as far as she was concerned. So they'd have rally points throughout the area, likely where support was and they'd been armed.

She's quiet, reviewing the infromation. And thinking as to how she would hve done it. Whether as an organized terrorist cell funded by outsiders or a frontal intelligenceoperation done so by the full organization and supported.

Field investigations were always fun.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane has seen better days than these ones, but a conflagration in the Middle East might be the byline for "history of the 20th century" in a nutshell. Her attention remains fixed on the data in the folder rather than meeting Nick Fury's eye, for what truths might be inscribed on the fixed look of a man who knows too much? That makes two of them, just that one's better than hiding it than the other. All bets on who that might be?

Her thumb passes over the edges of the paper, careful not to split the delicate skin or dog-ear the more resilient paper. Details, schematics, data: these things she live by. Specifically in the numbers and acquired information they /do/ have. "Then our efforts also include anything which would incriminate our boy," such a term. But it functions, for someone running on nearly minimal sleep.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Explosions in a rather hostile country. No one taking the blame for it. It's an international incident waiting to happen! Or maybe it's a civil war about to erupt. Whatever the case may be Daisy is attentively looking over the datapad with the surveillance data, flipping back and forth, fingertips taptapping on her lips, considering all the possibilities. "Do we already have any kind of link between this massing of power and the explosions?" she inquires. She thinks not but better be sure than sorry after for not asking.

The only bad questions are the ones you don't ask after all!

Yet she also knows more questions will be found -down there-. And that brings a smile to her lips. She's always been a field agent at core, even if she started as the plucky hacker. Not that she has been lax on those skills. She continues skimming until finding a few spots that -might- have some footage on what may have happened. A long shot but they are SHIELD. They make the impossible possible.

"I am ready to roll." she then finally says, datapad put aside and she opening the folder to take out her ID.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    No one likes to be called out of bed at 3 AM. Especially not when they weren't even in it yet. Natasha glares at the phone for a few moments longer, then tosses her head and mentally counts to five before answering, putting just the right amount of half-awake stupir into her voice. "... This better be good if you want to still have a job tomorrow..."

    "My apologies, miss Cranston, but there's been an incident at the al-Sidiq docks. Multiple explosions, apparently, the damage is still being assessed, but the harbor is in ruins..."

    Natasha's confused frown is, for once, unfeigned. "... That's terrible. Release the aid package in the nearest warehouse, get things moving. You don't need my authorization for that, so...?" She leaves the prompt hanging in the air, heavy with the implication that the explanation had better be a good one.

    "... The Cordial Star was in the harbor when it went up, and it may have been damaged. I thought you might want to know given that it was flagged as carrying expedited-priority shipments..."

    Natasha blinks. "... What was it doing in al-Sadiq? It was scheduled to return around Africa, pick up the shipment from Cape Town."

    There's a surprised pause at the other end, as there usually is when Miss Cranston displays unexpectedly thorough awareness of the goings-on of the company she seems to ignore half the time, followed by a clicking of keys as the secretary on duty frantically looks up the answer. "... Ah, it says here it diverted for a priority shipping order from al-Mutraqa Developments. Triple expedited rate."

    "... I see," Natasha lies blatantly, sleep forgotten. "Dig up the manifest and all details you have available and send them to my tablet, and while you do that, call Abby and tell them to have the jet prepped and a flight plan filed by the time I get to the airport."

    Natasha hangs up, thinking furiously as alarm bells ring in the back of her head. This smells, and she doesn't like it. Time to find out what evil lurks in the hearts of Man...

Nick Fury has posed:
"It's interesting that you'd ask that question, Agent Romanoff," and Fury swings his chair around to lay his single eye upon her. "We're trying to determine if the information we have is valid, or if the fool is just being used as a lackey and has absolutely no idea what the hell is going on. I'm not quite ready to divulge, but the moment that our crack accountants track it back logically, you'll be the second to know." Maybe third, after Commander May. Or even at the same time!

Jane's musing does bring the Director's attention around, and he nods slowly. "Our boy is an idiot. It could be that he thinks torching his place will get the attention he thinks he deserves." Or wants. "Could be a thousand or's, because I place absolutely no limit on stupidity and violence when it comes to some people." He exhales in an irritated sigh and pushes back on his chair to rise to his feet. He turns off the monitor, silencing the news reports. They'll all see what there is to be seen down there shortly, after all. As for surprises?

They're SHIELD.

"Daisy, you're there because I don't know that yet. I have suspicions, but we can't act on that. I need eyes and ears as well as boots, and you're the one we got." Nick is all about the pep talk, after a fashion. "There's been communication back and forth; sounding like a couple of teenagers in a cafeteria fight." So, there is a trail, after a fashion. His gaze lingers on the young hacker, and he nods slowly, probably in answer to a thought that crosses his mind, unspoken. The only thing left that he's able to say on the matter is, "It's time to go to work.

"The Quin'll drop you off just outside the port, cloaked, so don't go scaring the natives, okay?" It's meant to be a touch lighter, but given the circumstances? "First extrication rendez-vous is in 24 hours. Location is marked in your data packs. You miss that, second is further afield, at the 36 hour mark. After that, you better have a damned good reason for calling home, asking for a ride."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would go to fold her fingers together. Lovely. Unfortunate but to be expected. So they're going in with little information and what they have may or may not be accurate and they could be going in blind, expected to take a low profile, and then complete the mission with thier own discretion as to how to accomplish it. There's a low, thin smile over from the Black Widow.

"Of course, Sir. We'll resolve the matter efficiently." They have a good team assembled. Data analyst, assassin, field agent, and supporting personnel. She would nod over at the others. "Ready to deploy as soon as the rest of you wish to." Natasha has most of the gear she'll need on her, anything that's mission specific she presumes will be on the Quinjet. And anything that Fury -does- with their lovely little seemingly incompetent puppet so far will be handled separately. IF they need to know they'll be told.

Because compartmentalization is a thing just for when things escalate.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Johnson," Jane asks, beginning by triggering Daisy's name before pushing any buttons. "Any chances you could acquire us satellite data to get an idea of the movements around here? I would prefer not to walk in completely blind, for all the smoke and the fire. Gauging movements prior to the conflagration would help." She returns to the task of sorting through her folder. The contents give a particularly fine story, and the rest will be plucked by a variety of different devices and sensors carried along as part of the normal collection buried in any agent's go bag. Hers just happens to contain a few stranger objects, not entirely taken from WAND's archives. Though she has every right, at that.

Paper sighs as she tips the folder into her bag, and then nods resolutely to the Widow and Quake. "I'm ready."

For in all actuality, if the smoke is in the air, the sand already ran through the hourglass and they're working on borrowed time.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"I will be a good pair of boots, Sir." Daisy quips back almost instantly. And then realizes she is talking to the DIRECTOR. She coughs as if to sort of disguise what she just said even if it's to no avail but then nods sharply. "I mean, on our way."

She gets the lanyard around her neck with the ID provided and joins the rest of the team in getting prepped for it. Backpack with a laptop and her infiltration tools for hacking into the place and take over their network. Tools for intercepting communications, yadda yadda. There's a lot of tech there! And SHIELD only provides the best.

"I can begin pulling out some of that data, yes." She answers to Jane. She starts tapping on her wrist pad to begin fetching on some satellite data on movements before, "Accessing. But will take some time to filter through the data and figure out those movements previous to the attack."

She gives Natasha a thumbs up, "I am ready."

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    Cranston One isn't quite as fast as a Quinjet; on the other hand, with Cranston Multinational's very capable diplomatic division smoothing the way and a perfectly legitimate flight plan, it receives permission to land at the nearest airport before it even clears U.S. airspace.

    Sometimes it's useful to be rich and well-connected, Natasha muses to herself as she peruses the manifest, then scowls once more as she sees the damning "CONFIDENTIAL" marking the cargo manifest. It means that the client has paid an additional premium -- and signed several additional legal documents waiving CMS' liability -- in order for the cargo to remain a secret even from the people transporting it.

    I could've sworn I'd ordered that particular service scrapped entirely. It certainly shouldn't have been offered, so... How did al-Mutraqa even know to ask for it?

    She glances at her other tablet, which connects to a different network entirely, and looks through what little information there is available on the client.

    Very little indeed; private investment, limited-liability, offices in three tax havens, a big neon sign saying 'Paper trail deliberately being obscured'.

    She glances down at the nondescript suitcase beneath the seat across from her. Its contents may yet become needed.

Nick Fury has posed:
"You do that, Agent Johnson." The response from the Director is eventoned, though his head turns ever so slightly. His detractors may say that he's turning his head to look at her a little more clearly with the single eye, but..

"Good luck down there. Remember your extrication times."

The ride in the Quin is like most rides; the pilot is more than capable, and the aircraft touches down with nary a bump. It was outfitted with everything an agent might need in the field, minus the tech touches that others may bring along in their own personal go-bag. ICERs, longer range weapons, flash/bang grenades down to the fine-tuned, delicate instrumentation. Nothing but the best!

It's so hot down there, however, that the heat gradient is easily felt. While the desert holds its own ambient heat, the flames make it near impossible to get close on the larger fires. Like the Director said, however, those IDs do allow passage in, and when worn, very few people give more than a first, cursory glance. After all, they're way too busy.

The sound of disaster is all around. Klaxons are sounding, the flames themselves are roaring, and on the ground, there is chaos. Electricity is off; the grid can't handle it, but for a few buildings that quite probably have their own very basic generators. Secondary, spot lights are set up, the larger generators humming away early.

It's pretty much how the Black Widow might have imagined it; there's just too much chaos for any intel to be accurate. It's a disaster site, and scanning for information is best done on the ground where leads can be followed close up and in person.

The ships in the harbor, some of them are in bad shape, thus blocking the path of those that are only slightly damaged. It's locked, the shipping seized.

The satellite data; the history that had been given is only a few days old. It's when movements in the desert were first noted, a couple hundred klicks away from the port. Buildings erected in the middle of nowhere, air strip, and trucks. Communications were just as the Director had noted it; fights like a couple of teenagers, each demanding some sort of fealty in the form of money. Only, one is the leader of a (apparently tenuous) government, and the other?

Obviously someone who feels like there's a chance in the sun for himself.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Things area lways different than expected. A satellite might give you a birds eye view of the area. Or it could scan down to tell what the writing on someone's newspaper was. Or with SHIELD's technology, X-Ray vision down to what they had in their wallet. But this is a war zone as far as catastrophe goes. An environmental disaster, obliteration of infrastructure, mass casualties..
    She would glance over at the others then, moving to quickly glance at Jane as they would make thier way forwards and speak quietly. "What do you think our best bet is locating whatever material they might have left or had used?" Yes, Natasha can do that sort of thing on her own, but Jane's the scientist of the group and can probably pick up more forensics evidence than they can. Plus, it's a good way to evaluate her field potential and how well she does at these sorts of things.
    Natasha is blending in, adjusting her posture to fit wiht the locals, smearing some deritus over her face and her hair to smudge it up. Going to switch to the local language to not have anyone listening in think that something is out of place as she moves to consider. Go for teh shipping first, go for the blocked ships.. Or the military infrastructure where if anyone can seize it they would have a leg up in controlling the area with everyone at the scene of the calamity. A quick hand gesture is given over to Daisy. A few quick jabs around indicative of deferring to Daisy as to which area they should investigate first. Natasha wants to see where the field agent's instincts lead to. It's always good to evaluate how everyone else does in the field.

Jane Foster has posed:
Out of the fury frying pan and into the fire. Jane needs little time to prepare on the way down, since the majority of her work involves reading from a tablet until they touchdown and she can leave the jump seat. No one expects /her/ to demonstrate the facility of infiltration or firing at unexpected people as Natasha of the Romanova variety. On the other hand, functioning as a civilian instead of spy is very much in her bailiwick considering she is that civilian contractor to a spy agency for the most part. Carrying around a bunch of gear suited to identifying the toxicity and particulate levels in the smoke is simply one start, and she keeps a recording feed working where they probably won't see it. The bud is tucked to her folded back coat sleeve, where it won't be overly obvious and any opportunity to displace the thing might draw attention.

She pulls down a pair of those modified glasses that she and Jemma share, since actual goggles might be excessive unless they're wearing respirators. On her part, she pulls down a mask at the bare minimum to presumably stop her lungs from being affected by said burning ash and Odin knows what else. (He doesn't. He's asleep.) She skims her way through a turbulent lane, superimposing whatever map information they have for the port over the likeliest understanding of where the harbour master office is likely to be. Or offices. "We find the hub where the manifests are most likely going to be contained and figure out who our top contenders are. Compare that to what we have plotted on who happened to be in the port itself, and look for the glaring holes or the anomalies. If we have sixty shipping crates currently burning that ownership isn't accounted for, then we can take that as a direction. I'll get a few scans running for any heavy metals, toxic materials, or anything particularly interesting to assume there could be materiel."

Let it be said, she's speaking calmly in a language that's not likely to be overly unfamiliar here; nor too understood. Russian. In fact, it's quite good. Pegged exactly to the Muscovite dialect, as it is. SHIELD must be paying for Duolingo hardcore for Jane; then again, her need to understand cosmological stuff does mean a lot of the good stuff from the last century was written by the Soviets. Not too out there, is it?

The smoke swirls around her and she echoes off of Daisy's movements while taking her own measurements, and therein compiling a profile as one can when the place is ablaze. Heat sucks, even for someone not much bothered by it in some circumstances. "If we can get a link in to the network, we can start pulling. Assuming they're not working strictly in paper; in which case..." Yuck. Old-fashioned legwork!

Daisy Johnson has posed:
The actual infiltration into the area Daisy leaves to the schmoozing of Natasha's abilities. She's the one best at it! And also, she's too busy nerding it out through her wristpad, reading the display and muttering to herself. She stays mostly silent and it's only by chance she doesn't bump into a soldier. A polite smile later and she joins back with the others.

"Comparing the ship manifests with what we have should be good." this in agreement with Jane, "Should we divide and conquer though?" she looking up at Natasha now. "I really wanted to get a -look- inside that military infrastructure if I could get my mittens into their network.." a beat, "Also, I am getting some info." she reads the decoded communication between the two 'teens', "Seems there's some kind of power play at work here between the boy we already know and ...." she frowns. "... can't id who it is yet. But we should have clues here."

There's a 'beep' and then, "And ..., seems we are not alone here. Someone else is accessing the data on ..., Cordial Star. Owned by CMS. It got diverted here a week ago. Something's fishy, could be a target to investigate as well." she points out.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    Natasha is met at the airport by several extremely solicitous people who want to assure her that everything is under control and her personal presence is not required, but their polite recommendations wilt before the cheerfully whimsical but utterly stubborn CEO. It can be hard to outright say 'no' to someone who can, with a few decisions, noticeably affect your economy; plus, her argument that she'll be better able to direct the aid shipments already enroute if she has a better idea of the situation has merit.

    She's allowed passage into the city proper and -- after securing lodgings by the simple expedience of buying the entire hotel when the manager balks and ordering him to make all lower floors available to the injured.

    Her next stop: Locating captain Coltrane and, if he's still alive, see what he has to say for himself...

Nick Fury has posed:
Trucks drive by, men barking orders in a localized version of Pashto, and while //women// are being given a quick glance, it isn't for very long. It's a mess, but as the minutes tick by, things are starting to look a little more organized, even if the toll is rising and the injured are being carried away on makeshift stretchers. Natasha does find the easiest routes, the ones least watched, and as an added nod to the woman's intuition and training, also the ones with the least amount of cameras (whether working or not!).

As a result, it's a little bit easier to set up, even if connections are thin. Boosters are a thing; they're both a blessing and a curse. Nothing says 'look at me' like a boosted signal, though Daisy is good enough that she'd be able to piggyback onto another channel. Catch the wave!

Money, extortion threats, and promises of building a larger tech infrastructure (Or is that bringing tech in to demolish them and THEN build?).. all seemingly written in rapid-fire bursts. Very much like angry young adults. That second player is spending a great deal of money to bring things in, and out..

If there is any question about whether or not there is still an eye in the sky, let it be answered now. A quick communication burst comes over the data pad, "We have a new player in the field. Hotel Dusit Thani. You'll know her when you see her."