13226/Vague Temptations

Vague Temptations
Date of Scene:	31 October 2022
Location:	Local Chapter VII
Synopsis:	A simple enough job, with less than simple intricacies. Nothing is as it seems.
Cast of Characters:	Clea, Felicia Hardy

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Clea has posed:
Through the ages there has been a secular order of collectors who specialize in literature that predates history as we understand it in the modern world. Arichaeologist periodically stumble upon these reserve of preserved tomes, some carved in stone or wood, only to see them disappear before they ever reach museums or lab for proper study. There's theories abound to the nature of these ancient texts, a slew of stories written based on the meer rumor of their existance, but no hard fact proof that they are based in any truth.

Until now.

A team working out of Anatolia unearthed a tomb littered with the bones of eight individuals around an alter upon which laid a ninth. Study indicated that it was a form of ritual sacrifice, but to whom remains unclear, as all of the effigy was thousands of years old and dedicated to Gods that none have worshipped since Antiquity.

Amidst this repository is an incomplete tablet, which was shipped back to New York by a privately funded research team at Local Chapter VII. The lab is in an old mansion outside of the City. The owner had left it to the Chapter after their passing in 1975 and since it has served as both Chapter House and research lab for the Masons.

Which is where Felicia comes in.

There are other interested parties looking for this tablet. Some less reputable than others who see the value on the black market offering sizable financial compensation for acquisition. And when you want something exceptionally difficult to attain, you pay for the best.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Now an Avenger, Felicia didn't cut ties with any of the fences, or clients or special interest groups whose clientele she had so carefully and meticulously cultivated over a life time of thievery. No, you don't just throw that away because you've 'gone straight'. That's foolish.

    One of those unburnt bridges recently reached out and had put in a request for a special piece. Every piece Felicia grabbed was special in some way, and yet this one, this job. This felt different. The crew she normally worked with on a heist was replaced via request by this particular client. Who had a whole team in mind. They wanted this kept as close to the chest as possible. Not unusual in this line of work, but still, it puts Felicia on edge when she can't work on her terms.

    Fucking Micro-managers.

    The thief lands on the dock wearing a black cat suit with white fur around the collar and the wrists and down the calves. Because the cold is starting to blow in off the waters, the harbor is going to be especially cold tonight, so the pony tail is foregone and Felicia wears her hair loud and billowy. To fight the chill. That's what she tells herself. A gloved finger presses against her ear. "Cat's on the roof." She reports meaning she's in position and watching the mark's boat docking.

Clea has posed:
The team is what might be considered traditional in the serial novels of the early twentieth century. Some of them thugs meant to act as muscle if things went tits up, there was one individual that clearly represent the technical expert and another who was clearly there to make sure they actually got what they're looking for. A gaunt man who looks as if he should be walking with a cane, but had a steady gait when Felicia had met him. He steps from a black van further down the long winding road wearing dark clothing and a dockmens wool cap. His complexion is dark, but pale. Clearly from Middle Eastern decent, but age has worked terrible upon his tone. His accent, as he's the only one who speaks, is with a Turkish accent. "We are all getting into position."

The tech expert remains on the boat, the two heavies make their way with the thin man towards a position down the long trail that leads up to the Mansion grounds.

The Mark is coming by boat from a private airfield where the tablet had been brought under heavy guard. The cigar boat sends up spray in its wake as it crash across the waves of the bay towards the docks that will lead up the side of the cliff where the mansion sits like a thorny crown.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Seeing that the boat is the weakest point of protection, Felicia's research and expertice was telling her now was the time to act. Once inside the mansion on the cliff it's going to be harder to ingress and egress and security is going to be tighter than it physically can be on a cigar boat.

    That's what Felicia was telling everyone in the meetings during the planning and recon stages, but she somehow is the youngest in the mission and as such, no one really wants to listen to her.

    More than a few times she huffed, crossed her arms beneath her chest and moaned about how her dad wouldn't have been relegated to the sidelines like she is now.

    Idiots. She tells herself before she's about to go rogue, and take charge on this mission. Grappling line is given some slack and she makes sure the claw is mounted to the rooftop she's leaning over and is about to swing out over the water and to the boat, when she's stopped.

Clea has posed:
The hand that stops her belongs to a pale woman who most certainly had not been there moments prior. The buzz of mystical electricity still tingles around her long digits as they give Felicia pause just long enough for the blonde Clea to step up beside her with all the calm regality of a Queen. She's dressed simply, at least simply by her standards, and certainly doesn't look the part of any brigande: Blue robes worn loose, trousers of a matching color, and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. The hand retracts that she can place her index finger to her lips and point out over the bay where the cigar-boat is rapidly approaching the docks down below them.

The groan of thunder in the sky and the illumination of lightning rolling through the gray clouds preceeds the approach of the vessel. There's a shimmering green beneath the surface of those dark waves as they break upon the front of the boat. Ethereal, as it forms a shape that temporarily resembles the elongated body of a serpant hidden from view by the sides of the boat upon which the Masons (and their guards) are descending upon Felicia's team at the dock.

From one side of the boat a mass of darkness erupts from the waterline and slaps against the deck. An slithering appendage that slashes through guards and wood, severing legs and shattering planks. A deep gutteral roar rivals the crack of thunder above them.. With one finger, Clea reaches over and turns Felicia to face her, "Wake up."

Another crack of thunder and Felicia is alone, the night is cold, and there's a thunderstorm on the distant horizon. The cigar-boat is approaching the docks, completely unharmed though moments ago it had been torn assunder right there for her to see. The team is position, and the voice of the gaunt Turkish man speaks into the cats earbud, "Wake UP... What do you see? They've turned off course! What are you DOING up there?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia's breath is short and her hand is shaking. The icy air and the spray of the water off the river is more than enough to chill anyone in a catsuit to the bone. But she's prepared for that. The suit is insulated, thermal and purpose built and made. This isn't the weather that has her feeling the chill. The white haired woman looks back down over the boat and then lowering to one knee she looks back towards the black van. "I'm not your over watch Emir." The woman says lowering her finger from her com, but not pulling it out yet.

    She's going rogue, but she's not going to hinder herself and not know what people are saying. Looking back to where she felt Clea standing moments, ages, ago, Felicia has to pause to catch her breath and double checks her suit that her zipper is pulled up to her neck. Something's wrong.

    Eyes back out, she's scanning for her previous team, and making note of their locations, and making note of the locations of the few guards on the boat, and a scan of the waters, maybe there is something, some snake being under the waves.

Clea has posed:
It has gotten significantly colder, but that's easily explained by being this close to the waters edge and this high into the hills outside of New York. The approaching storm likely makes it all the worse. Each crack of thunder through the darkening clouds overhead echos against the side of the cliff and sounds like a sonic boom reverberating back towards the heavens.

Below, the team is getting antsy. Emir is getting antsy.

He says something in Arabic, which most certainly was not agreeable to Felicia's comms, and then motions to the two hulking brutes with him who reach beneath their coats to retrieve their handguns. They move like well trained soldiers towards the side of the docks, likely trying to get a view of the cigar-boat that's wrapping around the back side of the cliff. Felicia can see it from above, in short order they will pass beyond approach and possibly head back into open waters of the bay.

While the waters aren't calm, there's no serpant to be seen.. at least not as she had in that vision. Just the crash of waves against the small vessel as it skips and cuts the water towards their destination. Though she can make out something glowing aboard. From the distance and height it almost looks like a cigarette burning, temporarily illuminating a scarred face each time it pulses. A face with green eyes, that stare at directly at the docks where the team is moving.

"Uh... something's happening in the mansion..." The mousy voice of Wiz, the tech brought along. "I think there's an alarm, all the doors are locking... wait, no no no... they've... Oh god, they're shutting me out. I think they know you're there!"

Emir curses and waves, the goons move quicker, trying to take aim on a boat they can only barely see. "DO something! They'll get away!"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia's breath isn't coming, the cold isn't fading, and the boat, isn't getting easier to infiltrate. Once again, Felicia makes sure her hook is set, and without a hesitation this time, the thief swings down, and builds a decent ammount of speed from her free fall before she's starting to arch up in her swing. The claw releases and the metal line recalls through her wrist mounts and into the furr before she hooks onto a dock crane at the water's edge and will use that to swing out wide over the water. Releasing and soaring through the air, hair flapping against her back like a white cape, the thief is landing on the bow of the boat and uses her claws to keep herself from rolling past and over the edge. Low and down, Felicia moves quickly to the nearest guard, and the part of the boat where the pilot, navigator, the steer-er might be.

Clea has posed:
A shot rings out from the direction of the dock, but the handgun lacks the power to actually do anything but harmlessly splinter wood. Which Felicia hears only as a distant crack as she swings out over the bay and lands on the bow of the boat, much to the surprise of the guards.. a handful of them given the size of the vessel. What they lack in numbers, they make up for in arms, though. Each of the four has an SMG, but she's caught them by surprise. "Holy Sh-" Turning to try and make some quick move to get her before she can get them, firing wild and cutting several bullets through the deck as they raise the weapon.

It's certain she wont be standing around waiting for them to target practice her.

These goons represent a minimal threat, at best, for Black Cat, but the man with green eyes stands unphased by her sudden appearance. "Felicia Hardy." He murmurs in British accented voice. "This seems a bit below your league, wouldn't you think, dove?" His hand down by his side flickers with that orange glow she'd seen from up high, but down here she can see it for what it actually is: Some form of mystical ring that flickers and glows as he twists his fingers, drawing symbols in the air.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Landing on the boat and not waiting for the goons to start shooting, Felicia's arms snap forward and the grapple lines snake out with practiced speed, force and aim, knocking two imported weapons into the water. Pulling hard, Felicia is then sliding on her chest across the waxed top of the boat, while yanking two men forward into the windscreen. The lines recall again and with a motion her claws hook into the wood of the boat again and she's going heel over head and landing in the seating area of the boat and a fist is brought forward to punch hard into the 'captain'.

    Three down easily enough, Felicia stands and looks towards the glowing ring equiped man. A deep sigh and the thief frowns as she takes a step back as he's drawing his circles and symbols in the air and Felicia says, "You forgot one thing wizard." And she gives him a pause to let him think what it might be, "Newton's first law." And she grabs the steering wheel and RIPS it hard in one direction, causing the boat to quickly turn in one direction, hopefully enough to catch her foe standing flat footed, literally.

Clea has posed:
The man watches Felicia take apart his guards with a kind of casual disinterest. These were hired goons, not fledged Masons, so its almost amusing to see them through themselves against the wood chipper to protect something they likely don't even understand. One brow perks as she takes out the Captain and grabs hold of the wheel.. "What are the laws of science, but lines to be blurred." He murmurs, extending the ring fingered hand out as she pulls on the steering.

The boat starts to rip in one direction, then slows to a complete stop against the force of a wave suddenly slapping against the stern of the ship to push it like a guiding hand. "You should have said no to this contract, Ms. Hardy. We're not your enemy and you don't understand what it is you're after."

While the glowing ring remains stoically, annoyingly, unphased... the remaining guard is not so lucky. He is hurled over the edge into the dark abyss of water. Flashes of her vision, that long ichory black appendage slapping upon the deck to rend flesh and wood... It is not some dark creature that fells him, however. At least not today.

"We're protectors, just like you. And just like you, we can't let som- ARGK..." Whatever speach he was going to speak is cut off by the blade jutting out the front of his chest... He turns and stares at his assailant, the cold eyes of the gaunt Emir.. Still shimmering from whatever he'd done to get onto the boat.

While he says nothing to the impassive individual who just killed him, there was recognition in his eyes as he fell to the deck. Leaving Emir standing with a sword at his side staring at Felicia. "Shall we finish the job? Or do you wish to continue being a thorne in its progress?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia's hand falls, partically out of embarrasment at her Spider-man like pun or jab, or jib, or ... quip! Felicia doesn't like to quip like that. But she is standing in the middle of a boat, with a guy about to blast her away with some Harry Potter nonsense. And all she can do is maybe try and dodge it when she finds the boat some how stopping in the middle of a storm.

    That's a bad sign.

    Then the man's chest bursts with a piece of metal, and Felicia is left facing Emir, and squinting softly. "Lets get to work." She says, turning to sit down on the navigator's chair and throttling up the boat, cutting the wheel to go back to the dock and not towards the mansion.

    Now despite the frigid air and waters, Felicia is beginning to sweat behind and around her domino mask. Thinking about what she's going to do to get out of this... Maybe she can push on those bad luck powers, and at least sneak out of this scenario with her life.

Clea has posed:
Emir seems... well he seems the same. He nods to her agreement and slides the sword back into the length of cane it had been sheathed in previously while making his way the short distance to one of the seats up front of the small vessel. Carefully picking his footing over the spread of blood oozing out of the fallen Mason until he's safely sitting staring at the approaching docks. "Need not worry about the rest of the team." Without explanation, that's a rather disconcerting statement.

He kneels down and opens a small hatch by a metal ring and stares into the darkness with a widdening grin. A creepy expression on his gaunt face, he retrieves a small wrapped leather item about the size of a television set, but not as thick.

As he unrolls the leather straps, something foul coils from the water to either side of them. A stinch like rot, but from thousands of corpses left in the Summer heat. As well as a gurgling groan, words spoken from watery lips in a language that almost hurts to hear spoken. It doesn't seem to phase Emir, or he simply doesn't hear or smell it.

As they cut across the water, each slap of the boat against the waves takes the shape of twisted figures just barely visible beneath the dark watery edge. Monsters with long claws reaching out towards the boat, only for the hand gripping the edge to splash harmlessly as spray... and the glow something slithering towards them from the direction of the dock.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia's sense of danger isn't exactly the best, but when the water she's on is starting to look and smell like mass graves, and the splashes of the water take on zombie like appearances, the thief is not going to softly be still and wait for the coming sunrise to fuel her hope.

    A glance back at the impaled man she was about to face off with and Felicia can tell this wasn't just a dead guy with a sword wound. This was something much much more alien. Foreign. Unnatural. Emir is not all he's cracked up to be, and this place is not as safe as she's been led to believe. A look back up to where she was posted, as if trying to find the white haired woman who stopped her earlier, and Felicia takes one of the gun straps from a goon and uses it to tie the steering wheel in place, the boat is going to keep going into the dock one way or another. With the engine pinned, Felicia stands up, and is planning on using the loud engine to cover her advance on Emir.

    She aims a hand high back up to the dock crane, and then a foot is sweeping through the air to kick the cane away from Emir and she's using her other hand to snatch the leather bound thing and then her grapple claw hooks on the crane and she is pulled upwards off the boat. Maybe if she's fast enough and Emir is caught off guard enough.

Clea has posed:
Nothing is as it appears.

The slithering mass beneath the waves heads straight for the boat, but things play out as Felicia planned them. Emir is too caught up in tracing his fingers over the partially eroded words etched into the tablet to pay much attention to Felicia. It's a common mistake, one that he'll likely never duplicate in any future engagements... The kick sends the cane clattering across the deck, "You traitorou-OOF..." He claws at the book, but she's got it in her clutches. Using the force of her crapple caught in the cranes and the boats speed to yank it free from his, surprisingly strong, grasp.

He waves his hand in some mystical pattern and already she can see the poisonous green glow on them, caught like a spider on her own line, as he prepares to fire some bolt of dark energy...

Clea had not been up on that perch where she'd left Felicia, but neither is she not there. Her palm slaps Emir in the chest as the portal pulls back away from her.. knocking him into the seat he stood from. Her fingers touch together in symbol, twist at the wrist and pull apart, errecting a shield that catches the snapped off green bolt he hurls in her direction. Then another, and another. Her hands errecting symbol drawn shields with each shattered spark of energy when Hel flame hits Dark shield.

Felicia escapes... in so much as anything or anyone escapes anything... the water itself taking on the form of a tubular mouth as the serpant rises up to swallow boat, Emir, and Clea before splashing sideways against the water with enough force to send a wave crashing onto the raised dock.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia, dangling from her grapple hook as it pulls her up to the top of the crane, watches below as the man tries to assault her with magic, but he's shoved down and away into a chair on a runaway cigar boat that Felicia left at full speed towards the dock.

    Looking down she spies the white haired woman battling on the boat and she calls down, "Hey, GET OUT OF THERE!" She calls, trying to help before she spies the water itself becoming serpent like and likely about to kill both occupants on the boat.

    Clutching onto the tablet and leather, Felicia frowns with a deep sigh as she still gets that spooky feeling in her chest. Things aren't right. But she's alive and yet she's full of more questions than ever.

    Looking at the tablet as she crouches on the tip top of the crane, The Black Cat pauses and asks herself, "Who best to handle creepy magic stuff..." When the thought strikes her.

Clea has posed:
It would take a great deal more than a water serpant to kill Clea, and probably Emir. With the boat sped into oblivion, the night becomes unusually calm. Chilly beyond the season, but calm. Felicia now in possession of a tome older than any civilization currently standing or recorded in modern history, there are plenty of questions and only a handful of people who can even hope of answering them.

One of them was just swallowed.

Another lives at 177A Bleecker Street.

Aside from the obvious, there's something unusual about the tablet. It doesn't glow or speak, but gives an aura.. it wants to be read. Perhaps worse, the words that are visible are in some language Felicia couldn't possibly know, but as she looks at the covered piece, she's fairly certain it WILL translate itself...

IF she'd just open it and read.

But that's silly, right?

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    A curious cat indeed, but not a stupid one. Felicia takes the tablet and gently slides it into a pack on her back. No she doesn't normally have one, but she's not going to carry this thing all the way back to Manhatten, so she's going to put it in her back and get back to town the normal way. She's gonna uber.

    Looking back over the water, as if to see if the monster she saw in the middle of the night was still in her closet kind of feeling. She doesn't really trust her senses right now and she doesn't trust Emir or any of the guys that WERE on the team. Felicia reaches up to her ear and pulls out the com and tosses it out to sea. No way she's working with that guy again.