17831/Trouble at Gotham's Dock Ward

Trouble at Gotham's Dock Ward
Date of Scene:	02 May 2024
Location:	Tricorner Docks
Synopsis:	Arsenal gets in over his head and is bailed out by the most unlikely ally: Aquaman! Er, no, it's not Aquaman, it's Namor!
Cast of Characters:	Roy Harper, Namor

---

Roy Harper has posed:
Late morning is not a time one would typically see Arsenal out and about. Often, he is just getting to bed about now. But one of Arsenal's informants gave him a tip about some weapons coming in on a ship. Could Arsenal have turned that information over to GCPD? Sure, but who's to say there weren't a number of dirty cops in on this operation. So there he is, sitting on a warehouse roof near the Forestal, the ship with the suspected weapon shipment.

After nearly two hours of sitting there, Arsenal is about to give up and go home for some serious rack time. But then three guys come out of the ship wheeling crates on dollies down a walkway. A van is waiting on the dock. The van is white with a small diamond symbol on one of the rear doors. That was the sign Arsenal's informant said to look for.

He tugs a small communicator out of one of his belt pouches and speaks into it. He's going to let the Outsiders know what's going down. The only problem is, the device malfunctions. Frowning, he fidgets with it for several moments to no avail. And now he's running out of time because those guys are loading the crates into the van. "Well fuck," he murmurs to himself as he stands up and pulls a smoke grenade from his belt. He tosses it down on the docks and it erupts in a thick, white blanket of billowing smoke all around the van. As it starts to clear, there's Arsenal standing there, bow out, waiting to clean up these chumps.

The problem is, they aren't chumps. They are well-trained agents and have already pulled out automatic rifles under the cover of the smoke. Before Arsenal can even get out a signature sarcastic quip the hail of bullets starts.

"Shit!"

Lightning reflexes allow the masked vigilante to roll away behind some crates as round after round of ammunition fills the air. "Great job, asshole," Arsenal says to himself. "How ya gonna get out of this one?"

Namor has posed:
Oh, he might have some help.

As Arsenal dodges gunfire and tries not to die, the people still inside the ship feel the entire thing _shake_. But it's on the water, so why is there an earthquake? Because it's not an earthquake, it's the entire ship _rising out of the water_, slowly lifted up with the keel lifted a few feet above the surface of the dock itself. Then the ship _tilts_, and shudders, and more people come out of the ship, but this time they tumble out, as the ship tilts 45 degrees and then starts to rectify itself.

What the Hell is going on.

Roy Harper has posed:
As the vessel mysteriously rises up into the air, the three agents on the dock who are shooting at the crates that Arsenal ducked behind stop shooting. "What the hell is going on?" one of them asks. Another one frowns and replies, "Y'got me. Maybe Aquaman is behind it. Let's get out of here." All three of them pile into the van, then the vehicle peels out and starts to speed away.

All the shooting stopped so Arsenal figures he probably did something really heroic to scare the guys off. He stands up and is already tugging an EMP arrow out of his quiver when he notices the ship. He yells after the departing van, "Hey! That wasn't me! I didn't...I didn't do that." Then, with a sigh, he fires the EMP arrow at the fleeing vehicle. It sinks into one of the rear doors and activates, frying all electronics in the van, effectively causing it completely die.

He starts to trot after the now-stalled van. "Maybe it /is/ Aquaman."

Namor has posed:
Arsenal stops the van, and then _the entire ship_ gets shifted and moved, and slowly (but nor particularly carefully) placed right in front of the van, so even if it did work, they aren't going _anywhere_. (This is a precarious position to leave a ship, as it might be too heavy for the dock to support).

At the question of it being Aquaman, there's a derisive snort from above, as a figure flies out, his movements erratic like those of a hummingbird, and then drops to the dock, bare feet landing hard on the wood. He's tall, with slick black hair and a pair of gold and green swimming trunks that stick to his skin. His skin is a healthy shade and he sports a pair of tiny, but powerful feathery wings on his ankles.

"You are not as fortunate as to be meeting _him_."

Nope. It's the other Atlantean royal. The pissy one.

Roy Harper has posed:
Looking up in the sky, Arsenal sees the less-than-fully-dressed aquatic hero. His gaze lingers for just the briefest moment but then he looks away quickly. No time for that sort of thing.

"Do you, uh, need like, I dunno, a bathrobe or something?" Arsenal asks as he trots up to the now-stopped van.

He tugs open the driver side door and yanks the driver out harshly. "You wanna sit down on the ground like a good boy or do I need to beat you to within an inch of your life?" But Arsenal's bravado is unnecessary because the three agents in the vehicle realize they are so far out of their league. I mean, there's a literal ship blocking their way and some dude in a speedo put it there.

Namor has posed:
"No," Namor says. "It would be against royal decree to needlessly cover my magnificent form." Is he kidding? He might be kidding but it's so hard to tell. Oh boy.

Namor walks towards the van and then uses one hand to tip it, so the other guys shake out when he rattles it, and Arsenal doesn't have to yank them out like he did the driver.

"Which one of you smokes Lucky Strike Methols?" Namor looks at the criminals, raising a sharp, black eyebrow.

Roy Harper has posed:
All three of the van's previous occupants are all sitting on the ground now, leaning up against the vehicle. They are completely cowed. One of them tugs a pack of the aforementioned cigarettes out of his pocket and offers it to Namor. "Want one?" he inquires. In the distance sirens can be heard. Police and fire units are speeding toward the scene.

Arsenal walks over to Namor, his gaze not really aimed at the nearly naked hero. There must be something interesting on the ground or something.

"So, um, you're not Aquaman, huh?" Arsenal inquires.

"Wait, yer not Aquaman?" one of the thugs blurts out, surprised.

"Shut the hell up!" Arsenal barks at him. The man shuts his mouth but not before he murmurs under his breath, "I just thought it was Aquaman."

Namor has posed:
Namor frowns at the smoker. He reaches over and takes the pack of cigarettes, and then shakes them all out. Then he crushes them in his hand and grabs the guy by the jaw, forcing him to open it, so he can cram the tobacco into the man's mouth. "Now chew." He doesn't look away until the man starts to, and then turns to Arsenal. "No. I am Namor, King of Atlantis. Aquaman is... a prince." Big difference. A whole crown of difference, plus a magic trident.

"This one flicked a cigarette butt into the ocean." And apparently, Namor was just annoyed enough today to take it _very_ personally.

Roy Harper has posed:
Arsenal watches Namor force the man to eat his cigarettes with an amused grin. He doesn't like smoking either, and he loves seeing thugs get bullied. That second part probably means he needs to talk to someone...professional.

"Okay, okay, cool, cool," Arsenal says as he tries to collect his thoughts in this confusing matter. "I'm, uh, Arsenal." He shrugs. "Not my real name, you know how it goes."

The emergency vehicles arrive and the area is soon swarming with first responders who are doing things like arresting bad guys and trying to figure out what the heck they are going to do about a ship just sitting there on its side on the docks. That seems like something more likely to happen in Metropolis.

Namor has posed:
"I do. I find the average heroes' need to keep their identities secret rather craven. Be who you are. Be who you are loudly. It is the only way to be true." Namor looks bored now that the man has swallowed a shitton of tobacco and the first respnders are here.

"I will assume you have contacts in the Justice League or Avengers so that you can have this ship moved," Namor says, his ankle wings beginning to buzz as he rises into the air. "Or do you need me to move it back?" His brow raises imperiously. It is not unlikely he will consider having to put the ship back in the water a favor that he will then be _owed_.

Roy Harper has posed:
Chuckling as he mounts his bow on his back once again, Arsenal begins to walk away from the chaos. He jerks a thumb towards the police as he departs. "I guess it's really up to them, your Highness." That title, normally an honorific, seems to be said more with sarcasm. "Ain't my problem anymore."

Before he ducks out of sight, he peers back one last time. Swimmers in speedos. God bless America. He chuckles again, this time under his breath, as disappears into the shadows.

Namor has posed:
Namor watches Arsenal disappear, and then decides it isn't his problem anymore, either. He shoots out towards the water, and then disappears under it.