17319/Brighton Beach Bounty

Brighton Beach Bounty
Date of Scene:	02 March 2024
Location:	Brighton Beach
Synopsis:	There is still a little left in the bottle, but the chance encounter ended without a drop spilled.
Cast of Characters:	Aldrif Odinsdottir, Helmut Zemo

---

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela is running down the beach but doesn't look too happy doing it. It's almost night time and it's raining for one, for the other she's dressed for battle and carrying a sword, possibly to intimidate the people she's running after. The two men don't seem like they're anything out of the ordinary but they seem to be running as fast as they can to get away from this super aggressive, annoying woman, and toward a vehicle. They're not going to have time to get away so they toss something at her which causes her to smirk even more. She leaps up and flies over the grenade but it explodes in a surprising way and cascades electricity into the air, distracting her, "Argh!!" she lets out. The two men chuckle like jerks and start getting into their Honda.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
The man stood alone on the boardwalk, facing the roaring surf. His body framed by a long coat with a high collar, a dense and inescapably black wool. Without a restaurant in sight, a crystal goblet of white wine rested comfortably in hand, the pads of his glove obscured hands gripping the rim just so; the neck of the bottle in the other.

With the blast of the grenade, he lifted his glass to his lips and drank. He set the bottle on the nearby seat, watching the play unfold before him on the sand from his raised vantage. Their chuckle drew a dimming of his eyelids, he'd already spotted the Asgardian in pursuit and judged her his favorite in the conflict. He lifted a small device from his coat pocket, pointing it at the Honda like a remote control, and disabled the vehicle's ignition system.

Then he sipped again, and waited.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela falls to the beach and drops her sword, but looks kinda pissed off by the electric grenad. The stupid Honda churns a bit but doesn't start and the two men yell at each other. After only a few seconds, Angela has lifted off the beach and soared to the side door of the car, yanking it off like string cheese.

"Give up!" she yells, "Your best is not good enough. It's over!" she continues loudly. The man nearest to Angela tries again to run but she grabs him and his pal, yanking them both out of the car by the collar. She takes the car's bumper and fashions it into a massive cuff around them, "I think that will hold you Midgardians. Don't make it worse," she threatens. She brushes the wet sand off of herself.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
Obscured from view by their optical camo polymer suits, the Barons flanking henchmen emerge into view, insect like masks of many luminescent red orbs looking to him interrogatively. Helmut kept his eyes trained on the Asgardian woman and her work, raising a hand to ward off the concerns of the henchmen who turned and walked off in unison, fading back into obscurity once more.

Then he was over the railing with the bottle back in hand, that put him into the sand without much bend of the knee and walking slowly toward the car and its assailant. Never spilling a drop.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela bends over and looks inside the car, possibly searching for something, and then straightens up again with a frown. She doesn't concern herself with any henchmen or evil humans except those she's captured, who aren't going anywhere at the moment. She puts a hand on her hip and eyes this Zemo character who saunters over to the car she's in front of, "Hail, I think you have gone in the wrong direction," she advises him carefully. She glances down the beach possibly because she forgot to pick up her sword in her haste.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
"Today is an Anniversary..." admitted Helmut, his voice was calm and generously husky. He seemed at ease with her warning and stopped moving forward once she had warned him. "...of the moment I begin going in the wrong direction." his smile emerged faintly, but handsome despite the cruel look in his eye. He raised his glass to her in salute and drank.

"To your victory, Pani Odinsdottir." he said, using the formal word for Mrs. in Czech.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
"They are of no matter," Angela mutters as she yanks the trunk off the back of the car, and she nods as she's obviously found what she's looking for. She takes a stereotypical black briefcase out of the trunk and looks back over at Zemo, finding him still standing there.

Angela contemplates his language a moment and reponds in his own language, "I only go by Angela now. Anything else is a waste of breath," she explains, then steps out from behind the car, "Who are you? How do you know me?" she asks pointedly.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
"Men more brilliant than myself have catalogued detailed information on all the exceptional beings that we..." he waved his glass around to indicate the Earth, "...have met thus far."

"I have merely expended the effort to read them." he noted. "My name is Gregori, or Ilya." he sipped, "Perhaps Vladimir. You pick something you like and I will be satisfied merely with your attention, Angela."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela nudges the two men and tells them, "Don't move, Midgardians," she says and bends over to retrieve her sword out of the sand. She cleans it off as she says, "A Midgardian who can read. Very impressive," she mutters sarcastically.

"Very well, I am at least free of distraction," Angela says as she looks at Zemo more carefully, "What do you want of my attention?" she asks simply. She hooks her sword back on her belt and hangs it at her side.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
"It would seem I am the distraction." he said, waiving his glass generally at the two unfortunate souls trapped in a mangled bumper. "You appear to be working." he lowered the bottle to the sand and removed the remote from his pocket, tapping a button vaguely at the car to quietly start it, the lights inside coming on, the radio gently playing whatever it left off on. He stashed the device after making a show of his prior support of her effort. "What did these men do to earn your ire, Angela?"

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela nods to what he says, "I was working---" she begins and then narrows her eyes at the car as it revs up and starts up. She looks back at him less annoyedly as he clues her in to what's really going on, "They are a means to find a bounty," she explains and then smirks a bit, "And I do not really need your help. If you were trying to earn a favor or my services, then there are other channels," she explains and then shakes her head, "Or perhaps someone sent you to pry into my business," she says, still seemingly confused about this human who speaks to her like he does.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
The Baron leaned down to grasp the neck of the Chateau Lafite resting in the sand and offered it toward her, "I was here on my own and hour before you and your bounty arrived. No one sent me to watch you, but I have watched you. You may be vulnerable to electricity but my current weapon of choice is French Wine?" he glanced into the middle distance for a moment and then down to the bottle offered, his handsome smile returning only faintly. "It really is very good, you wont regret it."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela hrmmfs and snatches the bottle from him, undoing the cork with a pop, "You hear a great deal," she mutters before taking a swig of it. She replaces the cork and gives it back over to Zemo. She frowns as she wipes her mouth, having realized that he had been watching the men distract her with electricity, "Only a distraction. These Midgardians never stood a chance in reality," she explains.

"You are being elusive," Angela smirks, "I got what I was asked for. And no, you can't look at it."

Helmut Zemo has posed:
Helmut Zemo shrugged easily, as if nothing ventured was nothing gained. He glanced toward the two men, then back to her. "Are they worth the same dead or alive?" he wondered, glancing back to the men to see if they would react poorly, but he was already on his way again, swinging the bottle gently by his side. The anniversary date he'd chosen for the observance the Zemo family slaughter had concluded with a chance meeting of an Angelic woman, a twenty five thousand dollar bottle of wine, and a mangled Honda.

In the distance, red luminous orbs on visors would emerge from mimetic optical camouflage as the Baron returned to the perimeter of their protection, and moved as men in crisp black suits of form fitting armor, to rejoin his flank and usher him on to the day and its offerings.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela glances at the men who are incapacitated, "I think they might be wanted for questioning," she explains and then looks back at Zemo as if not really anticipating him stepping in to kill them or attack her, because that would be foolish. "And I will deliver them. And this," she indicates the briefcase.

"I am sure you are wondering why a silly task like this is befitting of one like me but I'm not going to get into it until I know more," Angela explains, "I think our chat is done. Excuse me," she adds. She pokes the men, "Start walking," she tells them and walks off.