14264/A Lost April in February

A Lost April in February
Date of Scene:	26 February 2023
Location:	Industrial District, New York City
Synopsis:	April gets kidnapped by some street thugs looking for an easy payday--and have no idea how cheap Channel 6 actually is. Cecily earns her keep as a security expert on retainer and performs an almost routine rescue operation!
Cast of Characters:	April O'Neil, Cecily Winters

---

April O'Neil has posed:
It's never a good day when someone hatches a brazen daylight kidnapping scheme. There's always the risk of something going wrong. Of a bodyguard interrupting, of a firefight breaking out, or the target fighting back

Except today. A white panel van screeches to a halt on a Brooklyn street, and a young woman in a canary yellow jacket and blue jeans is suddenly grabbed by figures in non-descript grey jumpsuits and balaclavas, and the vehicle roars off before any citizens can react, before there are a score of people fumbling for their phones, trying to catch pictures of the van, or calling the police to report this dramatic scene.

Which makes it all the more surreal when the interior of the van is eerily calm. April O'Neil is practically sighing, wrists offered up for the inevitable zip-ties, her eyes rolling as hands roam in her pockets, "Yeah yeah, listen, can you at least plug my phone in when we get... wherever? My battery's like... stupid low. I know I know, okay? Channel Six's news room is so old it has hot water radiators for heat. We don't /have/ USB wall jacks. Which uhh... who're you guys kidnapping me for? Not like, you know, who's your boss, but who's supposed to be paying a ransom or whatever?"

The kidnappers share nervous glances, aside from the driver who's busy veering through traffic, cutting corners and running red lights and far more focused on 'Not dying' than the whole kidnapping angle of this job he's the wheelman for.

April sighs and mutters, "Listen, okay, I'm not going to fight back or whatever. But if you guys keep me a couple days, no pizza all right? Get like... sandwiches. Soup. I'd kill for a reuben that's not built for shock value."

All in all, while the kidnappers proceed through their kidnapping plan, it's a little more... off balance. They weren't expecting dismissive resignation.

When Channel Six receives the ransom video, it's difficult to pick out any details, a warehouse, about as generic as can be aside from the skyline through the window in the background, which could, with enough enhancement it could be used to pinpoint the warehouse's location in a run down section of Hell's Kitchen. There's a faded logo for a long defunct kitchen supply company that could also provide a hint.

The kidnapping video itself is the typical electronically altered voice about wanting five hundred thousand or this up and coming reporter will be doomed. April's eyes widen at this... not in fear though. Even with a piece of fabric tied over her mouth as a gag, it's pretty clear the rocking and jolting in the old wooden chair she's tied to isn't panic or an escape attempt.

Sometimes you just have to laugh at the idea your employer can afford to pay that kind of ransom. Or would bother to. She wouldn't still use a wired mic for the Channel Six reports. Her podcast setup is fancier.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's always a good afternoon when FedEx arrives with a padded envelope containing a... VHS tape? Seriously? She quirks a brow at the courier, her hands easily able to feel the item in her hand. She gives it a little shake, can hear the spools rattle. The other hand is holding a cup of tea, the steam rising up in front of her face. Delicious afternoon tea. Then she sees the return address. Channel 6 news. "...right..." she sighs, shoulders slumping with resignation.

    "Thank you," she gives a forced smile to the courier who gives a little two-fingered salute and jogs back to the box truck. The fox's tails flick with agitation and she rides the creaky cage elevator back up to her warehouse loft. She's clad in comfortable home attire--for her anyway. Some sleeping shorts and a tank top. It's a work-from-home day, paperwork and studying security briefs. Most people don't see her like this. Close friends and lovers and the occasional package handler see her outside of her work clothes. Lucky guy.

    She plunks the package down on the pile of paperwork and goes to rummage for the old CRT with built-in VCR for times just like this. It's a compact thing that's barely as wide as the tape itself. She plugs it in, rips open the envelope, and plunks the tape in. Then she plunks her fluffy butt down on a chair to watch. She sips her tea, her other hand under her chin. "...really? Five hundred thousand?" she almost chokes on her tea and laughs. "They... really don't know who they kidnapped, did they..."

    She pauses the video, taking in little details, watching everything again and again. Then she flicks the TV off and tosses the remote on the table. "Right. Close quarters. Non-lethal..." she takes her notes and goes to get dressed. Ten minutes later, she's rolling up a block away from the warehouse in a boring grey sedan that's at least five years old. What steps out is a grumpy-looking woman in a sharp, black skirt-vest combination with that sleeves-rolled white blouse. She's got a shoulder holster with a handgun in it, an SMG slung over her shoulder, and a shotgun in both hands. Ammunition pouches are spread across a belt and some of her shoulder harness and she just... starts walking.

    The district isn't populated enough, with how old the warehouses are and disused they are, so a fox woman that's a walking armory here isn't the same as if she were strutting through Times Square. Sneaky? No need. These guys are idiots. Sniper rifle? Impossible, unfortunately, given the tightly packed nature of the industrial zone.

April O'Neil has posed:
By the time Cecily is closing in on April's position, the reporter's more than ready for a rescue. For one thing, she's more than ready in that she's already worked out her own escape plan, and it's just a lack of a bobby pin preventing her from going on a MacGyver-worthy improvised weapon crafting spree. Or at least that's what she tells herself as she heaves out a sigh, wrists flexing, knees bending in what little range of motion she can get.

Still, April's getting more and more nervous, eyes darting at sounds... was that a piece of sheet metal flexing from expanding in the sunlight? Or someone prying a loose panel open to descend upon her captors in a flurry of ninja-trained violence? Is some random hero going to break in? ...Is Harley going to crash an ice cream truck through that rolling garage door? Suddenly, April realizes she should probably have some sort of... kidnapping rescuer schedule so people don't trip over one another when this happens.

She sighs and bites her lower lip, eyes rolling, closing... trying to tune out the criminals who have been arguing for some time over by that garage door about how they keep getting the runaround about the ransom. There's some worrying talk about just getting rid of April and running for it, but... well, that's what April's backup plan is for. She's been keeping track of her kidnappers, five in total including the driver, she can see three of them having their argument.

And it won't take long for Cecily to mark the two outside, one standing by the paired garage door and heavy steel fire door next to it, just screaming 'Totally guarding some shady shit', with another patrolling around the exterior of the warehouse to complete the image of bad shit going down.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Despite her grumpiness, the stone-cold fox is still a professional. There's still a civilian's well-being at stake, and it's still a job she's contractually obligated to fulfill. And it's also a hell of a lot better than playing bodyguard for some leering old oil baron that has his own private army of security guards. So a 'date' like this is far, far more pleasant than many of her alternatives. She really needs to take her name off of some of those lists but she's still beholden to one or two under contract for a couple more years.

    The man on patrol is observed for a few minutes, watching his general route and finding a blind corner to wait behind. There's no words, no warning, and he's met with the tactical stock of the pump shotgun right when he makes it around. A hard smash of butt-pad on chin and a smash in the face when he hits the ground for good measure. If there's any consciousness left in him by then, he gets a nice view as Cecily steps over him before she kneels and does the routine task of zip-tieing and disarming.

    She trades slings, shifting the shotgun over for her PDW. The fox checks the magazine as she makes her way back towards the one guarding the door, tails swishing rapidly. The compact MP7 is suppressed and she's got the grip down, holding it in both hands, angled towards the ground. She makes no efforts to hide herself, though, and even gives a brief whistle to the man if he's distracted--before emptying a half-dozen rounds in a line up his chest. Less-than-lethal rounds but enough to both hurt like hell and knock the wind out of him. A line of blunt-headed hard rubber bullets up one's sternum is not a pleasant experience!

    A good swift kick to the side of his head and it's lights out, if she didn't outright break his neck. That's an issue for the paramedics to remedy. She spends a moment collecting the spent brass and doing the zip-ties before she barges in through the steel door. "One would think people like this would stop doing things in a city literally full of heroes, mutants, an scientists..." she mumbles to herself.

April O'Neil has posed:
April's shifting, squirming, because that conversation's going along and she really figures it might be time to get serious about this kidnapping. Maybe, just maybe, being dismissive and treating it like a big joke was some kind of _mistake_?

And so April's fidgeting, squirming, trying to work at her wrist watch's band... it's one of those metal linked tank-tread style ones, and while it might not be a bobby pin, there's a pin securing it to the watch body.

And then she hears something... a couple of somethings. Her guards don't because they're busy having their literal hissy fit, hissing whispers back and forth like she's not going to realize they're talking about what to do with her.

But April heard the sound of a suppressed weapon... and a body hitting the ground through a gap in the sheet metal wall... a gap she's been bitterly angry at as it lets a draft in. "Hey! Heyyyy! Bozos! I need a break here! I mean, you can't expect me to sit in this chair for days! Nature's gotta _nature_, you get me?!"

She calls out, drawing all that attention her way, one of them beginning to stalk over and leaving the other two looking her way. Probably about to say something worthy of getting their asses kicked.

April's just hoping she heard that sound through the wall right and it's about to happen or this is going to get all kinds of awkward.

Signal watch! She should get a signal watch instead of a normal watch. That's going on the Christmas list.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Sharp ears perk up at the sound of a shouting voice. Either the captive is in an even more awkward spot than initially, or she knows help is coming. Either outcome is good for Cecily, though, as she eases the metal door open through all of the shouting. It gives the fox enough time to slip in and properly assess the situation. The nummber of guards, their weapons, the state of the hostage. All very, very important things. Channel 6 isn't going to pay her for a corpse, after all. And as flippant as Cecily can be about some things, she'd not about to let a dead hostage be on her conscience.

    So when she spots the trio all staring at April, one getting closer, she assesses her options. Two thirds of her magazine left. Two unused weapons, and three enemies. Good odds. She lifts the PDW up, sights in, and sprays a quick burst at April's closest dance partner. The trio of shots slam into his calf and kneecap from the side, sending him down. Two more bursts, one to the thigh and another to the arm to make it difficult, if not impossible to fight back. The final five in the mag run up his spine--or chest, with the last one of them tagging him upside the head.

    The hissing spit of suppressed rounds and jingling of spent cartridges finishes filling the room, punctuated by the empty magazine hitting the floor. "Sorry, dears, but the ransom money isn't coming," she quips, barrel smoking as those violet eyes glow faintly, tails fanning out behind her and making her look twice as big as she actually is. Hey when you're 5'7", you take what you can get.

April O'Neil has posed:
April braces herself as one captor closes in, legs tensing... she's totally going to try and kick him, or launch herself at him if she's wrong about this plan. She's sure hoping she was right though and... oh god, then she finds out she was right!

The door opens, the gun makes its suppressed coughs, the bullets make their _totally_ unsettling cracking noise as they impact her nearest captor's leg and ruin his dreams of retiring from low level crime to a career as a pro athlete. Or whatever his life plan was.

Especially when he KEEPS GETTING SHOT. Oh god! Oh, that's gotta hurt. She can tell that's gotta hurt because he starts to scream and then gets dialed back to 'pained wheezing'.

He might be lucky though. Because he goes down like a sack of potatoes without seeing what happened.

The other two turn, look...

"SHE'S GOT A TAIL! IT'S A MONSTEEEEER!!!"

"NO WAY DUDE! THAT'S LIKE... A BUNCH OF TAILS! SHE'S A WITCH! LIKE THAT FISHNET GAL IN THE JUSTICE LEAGUE!! RUN FOR IT!!"

And the two remaining hapless criminals are doing their best to run for the exit... does this bring them closer to Cecily? Yes. Yes it does. Are they less than swift because they keep shoving each other as a real life display of that lesson about how you don't have to outrun a bear, only your friend? Yes.

Is this criminal friendship going to end after the police pick them up because of this discord in their criminal enterprise?

Probably.

For her part April just sighs and grimaces in a very 'This is why I didn't bother to fight back' expression and works her wrists in her bindings, just getting circulation moving as best she can so she's not whining with pins and needles when her rescuer unties her.

"Heyyy... can you let them go? They're just... dumb. Shooting them isn't going to help that. It's permanent."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Cecily isn't even reloading. She's letting the PDW drop to hang from her sling and pulls the shotgun up. "A witch?" she asks, ears perking and brow lifting, "That's a new one." And fires. The sound in the broad, bare room is loud and echoes widely. Even the fox's ears go flat to mitigate the noise, earplugs or no. Then she racks the pump and fires a second time. Instead of a blood-splattered mess, though, the pair of idiots end up with bruised and cracked ribs, or a slightly-dented sternum as the beanbags knock them flat on their asses.

    Barrel of the long gun smoking, she racks again and holds the barrel down towards the ground, "Sorry, I prefer to not leave loose ends. The police can handle them." She steps closer to April, tsking quietly at the potato sacks that were once men. "...a cracked rib and a broken hip are better than a bodybag, anyway, wouldn't you agree Miss O'Neil?" she offers a very small smile. Then she's behind the captive's chair, a little 'snikt' of a knife coming to cut her bindings.

    "Friends of yours?" she then asks, moving to pick up her fallen brass and the two shotgun casings. "Random thugs who are just fans or maybe Maggia prospects?" she offers some hypotheses.

April O'Neil has posed:
April lets out a shout as that shotgun comes up and unloads with resounding booms, toppling back... and discovers the chair she's tied to is actually pretty sturdy. It doesn't explode, it doesn't even come apart at a joint. It just leaves her splayed on her back and heaving out a sigh, looking very much like _she_ got whomped with a beanbag.

She twists and turns to help with the unbinding and levers herself up with a deep breath, fingers rubbing at her wrists, body swaying a little as legs tingle with the rush of blood and she nearly drapes against Cecily for a minute, "Oh, no, just... crooks. I guess they thought a reporter was easier to grab than doing a bank job." She points at her bright yellow jacket, "I guess I was easy to spot."

April sighs and gingerly steps around the sprawled and unconscious or groaning thugs, "Uhhh... see you never, boys! You got lucky!"

She practically hangs off Cecily, "I don't suppose you have a car, do you? I could use a ride. My place has /got/ to be annoyingly far from here. Like, across the bridge annoying."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    When she's done collecing brass, Cecily also makes sure to bind the three guys so they can't squirm away. If they wake up any time soon. She packs up her things and supports April without complaint, tails waving slowly. "So not even a big name behind them... I suppose it's because you're famous, Miss O'Neil," she says politely. "A pretty face on television with a rather iconic, trademark look," she gestures to the yellow jacket. "Certainly more lucrative than a random person off the street. Or so they thought," she rolls her eyes.

    Then she tilts her head at the surprisingly slightly-shorter woman, "Mmm? Of course, I've got a car about a block from here. I can give you a ride home, and we can even grab you some lunch. I'm not sure how long you've been stuck in there but you must be hungry? I'll call this in to the PD while the car warms up, and we can let your employer know that you're safe."

    She takes all of this very seriously, leading April out of the warehouse and back to her car, shifting to her handgun just in case some other stragglers were out grabbing pizza or something.