14229/The Agence Byzantine

The Agence Byzantine
Date of Scene:	05 March 2023
Location:	The Unicorn
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Frederick Foswell, Natasha Romanoff, Cecily Winters, T'Challa, Namor

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Frederick Foswell has posed:
The Unicorn was the newest ship of the Newberry Ship Line, and was meant to be the company's pride and joy. The ship, which combined luxry with family fun had just left NYC for it's maiden voyage, a Transatlantic trip to England, when disaster struck. At Midnight on the ship's first night at sea men clad in Orange and Black jumpsuits stormed the ship from a series of motorboats and within an hour, completley took over the ship. Contact was made with the ship the next morning and the terrorists announced they were members of La Agence Byzantine, a notorious, and very mysterious subversive group from France, and that they intended on blowing up the ship and killing all of the crew and passangers if their demands were not met. The demands were simple, 500,000 dollars and the release of a infamous German terrorist, Ludvig von Graft, from Federal custody.

Ludvig von Graft was an infamous East German terrorist who blew up a cargo plane in the 80s, killing 5 people. The Feds were not interested in negotiations, so the call was placed to SHIELD and other available heros to help liberate The Unicorn, and safeguard the passangers and crew.

It was a dark nigh on the coast guard patrol ship as it drifted steathily to the Unicorn. The Terrorists had ancored it just 6 miles from international waters and were very vigilant in keeping an eye out for possible attacks. Luckily the lack of a moon and stars tonight made stealth possible. As the ship approached the captain of the Coast Guard vessle begin to prepare his papers, he had a briefing to do.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Well, this is the sort of thing that's always fun. Natasha would disagree on stealth being 'impossible' but they didn't have the assets with them to fully infiltrate and take out all the hostage takers in the timeframe they had. So the plan was likely going to involve a lot of jumping, boarding, and shooting. Which she didn't necessarily mind but it made coordination difficult..

And all teh likelier to end up in a standoff and a firefight on everyone's end. Nothing of which particularly thrilled her. So as they get ready for the briefing, the redhead woman is quiet.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Not that stealth is entirely Cecily's forte, but the 'security consultant' had been called in for the assist. The fox woman is a known quantity, both amidst the Avengers and all levels of law enforcement--and not entirely because she needs permits for the class of some weapons she owns. Not that she brought any of /those/ toys tonight. Close quarters in a cruise ship full of hostages is not a place for loud, aggressive, long-range weapons.

    Still, she sits and awaits the briefing, a thick, polymer storage crate sitting next to her. She's attired in her usual, professional garb, the black skirt and vest combo and the white blouse. Maybe the vest is armored because she's got a chest rig for a handgun and a belt for spare magazines but no plate carrier. The fox is also sitting towards the back of the briefing room so her fluffy tails don't block sight.

T'Challa has posed:
It was night as T'Challa laid on the beach chair wearing his speedo, and enjoying the wind on his skin. He was just about out of being wrapped up like a mummy as only his foot had a soft cast on it to hold it in place as the last little bit healed. Next to him was a cane that was black with a silver panther handle that he had made just for him, as under the cane was a thin sword of vibranium that was sharpened enough for him to cut through metal. He didn't notice the people coming up to the ship as he wasn't looking to see if there were any troubles his eyes closed as he was here to relax after his last battle had left him trapped inside the infirmary for a while, and he had just got his legs under him again not even having his Black Panther suit as it was still being worked on after being torn up so bad.

As the ship he was on slowed so that the others could get on this did wake him from his half-slumber as he opened an eye with a sigh. There was no way, he had specifically been told this ship was a good place to relax and enjoy the cruise, and there was no way that the one time he joined is when there was trouble. With a sigh T'Challa pushes himself up and grabs the cane as he starts moving towards the front. He was quite as a whisper as instinct, and experience has taught him how to walk, and breath to remain stealthy the night helping him as he knocked out lights, and cameras on his way to make sure whoever was doing this could not see him from the security room. With a thumb he pushed the panther head up just a little to check if the blade was ready, and smiled to himself as he pushed it back to look like a normal cane again.

Whoever this was has angered the King of Wakanda, and that was a very bad move as T'Challa walked the halls of the cruise ship setting up different areas he could move through unoticed as he made his way to the bridge. He would have a talk with the captain if he was not detained already, but if he was then he would just move to plan B. Without his suit T'Challa had to be a bit more carefull then usual so decided to make sure not only stealth was on his side, but an escape plan as well.

Namor has posed:
The Surface was getting bolder.

This is the second time in less than a week that a disaster has happened as a direct result of Surface actions. Granted, the first time it happened, the Svartalfheim elves had attacked. Now? Now it would appear that terrorists had taken over a ship known as the Unicorn - a new ship of the line. A maiden voyage interrupted by the contraptions of evil men.

Namor would not let it stand.

He watches from the dark depths. THe midnight hour had long since struck and a small boat made it's approach. He stares ahead. Even in the pitch black he could see perfectly. Finally, the figure of Namor, armored and ready for battle, emerged from the oceans, wings on his ankles carrying him through the air as he approached the cruise ship at speed.

Trident left behind: these men would fall pure. No trident.

Just fists.

Frederick Foswell has posed:
Captain Stuart Smith had been tasked many odd things while working for the US Coast Guard, but this was the most pressing. French terrorists had taken over a ship with civilians from all over the world on board. If thus did not get solved soon, things would get ugly in the international scene. He sighed before sitting down at his desk. He looked at the SHIELD agent and fox-tailed consultant sternly before saying

"Alright listen up! Last night terrorists from a group called "La Agence Byzantine" took over the Unicorn, and are now holding the crew and passangers hostage. La Agence Byzantine is a French terrorist group with unknown political or religious affiliation. In fact, we know so little that we had to contact French, Italian, and Belgiun intelligence agencies for help. And even those guys didn't know much. What we do know is that they are heavily armed and are decent at sqaud tactics so watch for that. At last count there was over 4,000 passangers and 600 crew on board, most of them should be confined to their rooms, but a few may be on deck or around the ship as shields, so watch your fire!"-

As this briefing went on T'Challa would be inching closer and closer to the bridge. Suddenly, he heard angry shouts in French and the sounds of crying and sobs approaching. If he were to hide he would see three of the captors, clad in orange and black jumpsuits and masks, forcing an elderly couple at gunpoint towards where T'Challa was. The husband, who was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and glasses had a nasty gah on his head and was slowly limping along, which seemed to make the terrorists madder. Suddenly, the man fell, and the terrorist in front let out a bunch of angered swears as he pulled out a pistol and aimed for the old man's head.

Namor's approach was not subtle, at all. He was quickly greeted with hails of gunfire and shouts of alarm in both English and Frecnh as the terrorisrs began to scatter. Meanwhile, the sounds of gunfire reached the briefing room. The captain slammed his fist on his desk and shouted,

"Dammit! Foget the rest of the briefing! Just go and kick their asses before they scuttle the whole damn thing!"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would nod over then thoughtfully, "Then we'll have to take them out quickly. Split them up room by room and jam comms. They'll be spread out and should be able to be isolated in groups. Important to secure the hostages, then the bridge and the engines." She goes through things methodically over while glancing at Cecily.

"I'll defer to you on where you feel your skillset is bes tapplied. We need to secure the hsotages and then ensure that they can't take the ship anywhere else or risk them scuttling it." The bridge and engineering was where most of the terrorists would be that weren't patrolling up on the deck or guarding hte hostages. She's musing over to hereslf while reviewing what data they have.

And then before she can come up with any sort of further thoughts and plans Namor goes in. And Natasha lets out a highly inappropriate word in a language that no one would recognize over as she sighs, "Deploy." Then she's leaping off the side of the coast guard boat, moving to pop out a set of gliders on her arms, andgoing ot launch her way towards it! Firing of a grapple several hundred meters along to use to hopefully yank her way up and over towards it all the faster!

T'Challa has posed:
With a small smile as it was nice to get back to basics he takes a step into the hallway as he hears the voices, and unscrews the bulb so it falls into darkness the couple now acting more as a distraction then anything at first. This allows T'Challa to come up to the edge as seeing out into darkness is very difficult as he looks at the four people inside. Thankfully he had been learning French, as his new studen was indeed French so he picked up most of the words as he saw them coming figuring it was only a matter of time as these guys had no gun discipline. Either they were just going to shoot these people on a whim, or on accident, but T'Challa knew what was going to happen before the old man stumbled. T'Challa quietly pulled the sword out of the cane, Crouching a bit he leaped forward towards the two men over the top of the fallen old man.

His goal was simple he would bring the blade up severing the hand with the gun, as he used his other had to grab the face of the man to stifle the scream that would follow. Then in one smoth motion bring the sword down, and around as it goes back up then straight forward in the lunge through the other mans throat.

T'Challa could not let the others know, and the man with the severed arm could be kept alive for questions if he acted quickly. He would look down at the old couple the blood from the severed arm on him as he smiles at them "Get to your room.. Now." in a voice thick with accent, but the calm of it leaves them no doubt that it was the best thing for them right now. Moving to search the other body for something to tie off arm, so he could keep the man alive he stops and looks at the man. "Calme!" he hisses at the man hopping he said it right as he is holding up with one arm as he spots a belt that would be perfect for what he needed.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Cecily quirks a brow, "...save the hostages... and... no concerns about lethal munitions... this works..." the fox says quietly, shaking her head. Then her ears pick up the sounds of gunfire. "Well, so much for the quiet attempt. Miss Romanoff," she nods to Nat and opens her weapons case. She grabs a half-dozen magazines and a PDW to sling over her shoulder, and hefts a G36 rifle to sling over the other shoulder. "Guns blazing it is, then," she grunts.

    "Try to find the bombs! I think you might be the only one among us with that skillset!" she growls, shouting to Natasha before she can dash off. Then Cecily is clambering for the roof of the Coast Guard Cutter. She can't fly! She needs to get to the side of the cruise ship and climb up the outside of it, armed to the teeth herself. "...water is... bad... for... guns... and.. fur..." she grumbles, hauling herself up to get on the deck as quickly as possible.

Namor has posed:
The bullets fly and Namor floats there in the air, levitating on the draft of the feathery wings. Yet, bits of lead and full metal jackets proceed to strike the flying Atlantean and strangely enough? Those bullets just ping off of him like they were striking titanium steel alloy. Sparks sound out into the night, illuminating Namor as he flies closer to the boat, tilting his head as wrath appears on his face.

"Imperius Rex."

He suddenly flies forward with speed, his fists clenched as he targets the gunmen who were on him. His strikes are merciless as railing tears effortlessly and his feet slide against the floor of the luxury cruiser.

Fists are thrown as a punch is delievered to the chest of one of the men, creating a new cavity as he flies off into the night of the ocean. Another is gripped by the neck as he lifts him up. "Surrender." the Emperor of the Seas commands.

Frederick Foswell has posed:
As Nat and Cecily get onto the ship they are immwith the sounds of gunfire, cries of anger, and yells in both French and English. Suddenly, they are greeted by an angry yell in German as a group of Byzantine agents arrive from behind a corner and begin opening fire on the two women, all while yelling deaths threats in French, German, and Dutch. As this is happening, one of the masked men suddenly breaks from the group and rushes towards a door and kicks it open before rushing in. Underneath the door is a series of letters that spells out, "Kids Cove"

Namor's sword cuts through the man's hand, cutting it off. As the second terrorist falls to a similar strike the old couple take one look at Namor, nod at him, and then dash off back to their room as fast as they could. The last remaining terrorist looks at you in surprise, before raising his one hand in surrender and motioning towards the belt.

The one man Namor punchs goes flying into the night, as dead as a doorknob. His companion only has time to look in surprise before being grabbed by the throat and lifted up in the air. He struggles for a bit, before going still and muttering a cry for mercy under his breath in French.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
And of course everyone is getting there well by the point that the chaos is going on. Natasha goes to fire off her grappler, moving to launch herself up and over onto the deck. As soon as she does, she's going to throw down a pair of smoke bombs. Her intent is to setup a position where everyone up on the deck.. Preusming that Namor and T'Challa haven't finished them all off of course and left anyone to spare..

IS to just give a shooting gallery over for Cecily to deal with. A quartet of smoke bombs, some flash bangs.. Hopefully all to setup a lovely group of targets for the kitsune.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It helps that Cecily is passingly familiar with the Black Widow's methods of fighting, and immediately shields eyes and flattens her ears when the party on the deck starts. She doesn't need to be disabled by those flashbangs! She can't get behind cover quite fast enough, though, the hail of fire seeing more than a handful of rounds slamming into her back. The thicker layer of underweave in her vest can't absorb the full brunt of it and several rounds get through. She grunts and slams her back into a wall, behind a big metal box of boogie boards.

    Blood trickles from her mouth already and smears the wall behind her as she curses, "...fucking hell... hot landing zone and I'm already trying to figure out where to forward my expenses for a new goddamn shirt..." There's a low growl as she lets the smoke and flashes do the work needed and sweeps around her cover, rifle stock at her shoulder.

    The IR optics on the rifle help her pierce the smoke and her fingertip feathers the trigger. Several series of three-shot bursts ring out, precision fire to send rifle rounds up the chest and into the head of as many rampaging gunmen as she can catch in the haze. "...thank you very much, Miss Romanoff..." she breathes out between bursts, seemingly unfazed by the scattered holes around her spine.

T'Challa has posed:
T'Challa grabs the belt wrapping it tightly around the arm as soon as the man is quiet again. He gives him the look with a grin as if he almost wanted the man to be foolish enough to try something as right now T'Challa was the only thing that was keeping him from bleeding out. After he wraps, and pulls the belt tight he makes the man hold on to it himself as he regrabs him to keep him close as he searches the other man for a radio. "How many? Who is your Leader? And What is your escape plan?" he asks getting the important stuff out of the way as he hides the other dead man in one of the cleaning closets incase others come down looking for them. Quickly he pats down the man looking for a Radio so if they keep comunicating he can hear their plans.

He looks at the French man, "If you tell me you don't speak english I would not like that." he makes a fist with his other hand infront of him squeezing it so hard she skin squeeks. He looked around as he heard the gun fire, but didn't know he was the only person on the ship so still worked as if he were alone. He had a hostage for information, he had to find a radio to intercept communication, and finally if he took out the leader he would remove their orginzation. If he did it right they wouldn't even know he was here, and sighed a bit as he stopped moving for a moment, and with the sword he cut off the soft cast so that he would have full movement again with his foot. It would hurt, but he had hopped he was healed enough, as he could not do what he had to with it.

After that he looked back at his hostage, "Well... either way your coming with me." and he continues his way to the Bridge. Worse case he might need something that could take a few bullets as he didn't have his suit. He could not show mercy to these men as theuy had made their choice he was just rushing them to the end of their stories.

Namor has posed:
Namor is brutal in his efficiency.

A man's hand is missing and a second terrorist falls immediately after. The old couple is wise to immediately /run for their fucking lives/. A man is launched straight into the abyssal darkness as his body becomes food for the sharkes, while the last man to attack him is held up by his neck. He stares at the man he strangles slowly to death, hearing his cry for mercy in the French tongue.

<Think better next time.>

Namor's French is impeccably good, as if he were a native of the country. He drops the man to his knees and he points at the man who surrenders. "Stay."

And Namor starts to walk. There were more hostages to be saved, after all.

Frederick Foswell has posed:
As Natasha's smoke bombs filled the air angered shouts in French filled the air as the gunmen began to fire wildly in every direction possible. Then Cecily opened fire. Immediatley cries of pain filled the air as the Gunmen fell one by one, eventually leaving the dock errily quiet. Suddenly, the door to the Kid's Zone flew open and the man from earily returned, rougly dragging a little boy by the arm. He suddenly lifted the boy up and pointed a gun to his head while shouting in French,

"Stay back! Or the kid gets it!"

The Frenchman looked at T'Challa, sighed bitterly, and said in heavily accented English," We are lead by Jean-Claude Dubois and we were expecting a helecopter to get us before we sank this tub. There are about 14 of us."

The radio you acquired was filled with mostly yelling, screaming, and ocassional gunshots. Yep, back-up has arrived. As you continue you hear the radio suddenly say," Get the Captain and take him to the Bridge!"

As Namor continued his walk he was met with surprsingly little resistance, at least until he got to one of the restaurants near the deck. Suddenly, the door flew open and one of the baddies came out dragging a formally-dressed waiter by the hair. The terrorists takes one look at you, turns the waiter around to act as a shield, and immediatley begins opening fire.

T'Challa has posed:
T'Challa stops for a moment he hears a noise behind him, as someone had snuck up on him using the same darkness trick he had just used. He doesn't even see her as a tall bald female in red armor with a spear in her hand appears out of the dark halway, She nods as she crosses her chest with her arm, and says "My King" in Xhosa. Needless to say this spooked even T'Challa a little bit as he was so focused on the plan he had not seen her. He wouldn't tell her that of course mearly nod to her, and not even ask if she was seen because of course she wasn't.

Okoye would not let her King get away to fight alone again. He had snuck away once, and was injured so that was on her as she was reminded by Shuri. She did not take failure well, and would not let him out of her sight, and had been shadowing him until the king acted. As T'Challa explains to her what is going on "We must get to the bridge, and free the captain maybe get control of the ship." he looks back, "There is going to be a helicopter. Do not let it take off." he says to her all in his native language of Xhosa as it was just faster that way.

T'Challa got a dirty look as he was seperating from her again, but it was an order from her king so there was little choice to be had as the two split. T'Challa to the bridge, and Okoye disapears back into the shadow to stealthfully wait for the helicopter to land. She would make sure whenever it did they would not lift off again.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The sound of gunfire ends with her last shot, and Cecily rises to her feet. As the smoke clears, she drops the empty magazine from her rifle to let it join the brass rolling around on the deck. And as the smoke clears, she sees the predicament before her. "...really...?" she asks softly, shaking her head. The fox sighs, taking a step back and dropping her rifle. Her hands go up and she takes a moment to take in everything before her. Not that there's much to take in. Bad guy. Gun. Kid. Poor trigger discipline. Her ears pin back and her tails flick, the vixen clearly agitated.

    She watches, waiting for the right moment, and then her hands move in a blur. Enhanced speed coupled with pure muscle memory, she pulls the handgun from her its place under her shoulder. Both hands grasp, clasp, and she takes aim. It's not /her/ life on the line. She can take a bullet. She already /had/ taken a few bullets. But this kid? Not today.

    All of it happens in a split second, the draw, the aim, and the finger on the trigger. The loud, sudden report of the .45 breaks the silence, her firm grip keeping the recoil from deviating her aim, and the moment she feels another round get chambered, she pulls again. But that first shot is the important one. The special one. The muzzle flare is blue-purple and bright, a line of flame crossing the distance between her and the gunman in an instant. The Foxfire round threads the needle between fingers, and through one. Into the gun's trigger well and searing through flesh and metal, making the gun inoperable as both bone and trigger are melted by the flame.

    The second bullet? Completely normal and mundane. Just a hard slug bound for the man's forehead. But the moment that second round is loosed, she's rushing forward, tails fanning out behind her. To pull the kid away and shelter him in her arms and tails away from the violence she'd wrought. "...special place in hell for people that use kids as human shields.." she growls under her breath.

    The burning tracer of Foxfire lingers in the air, lighting up the deck, like a neon beacon that will take several minutes to fade.