3001/Caught in Translation

Caught in Translation
Date of Scene:	20 August 2020
Location:	A Funeral parlor
Synopsis:	A funeral turns into a ball of chaos, with Cecily in the middle of Peggy and the Punisher's work.
Cast of Characters:	Frank Castle, Peggy Carter, Cecily Winters

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Frank Castle has posed:
The historic Woodlawn Cemetery located in the Bronx is one of a few notable areas in the city where class means nothing. The extravagantly wealthy brush shoulders with the hopelessly poor on common ground where all come to grieve the loss of a loved one. Some pains are old and scabbed over while others fresh and raw, but no matter the circumstance no one is denied entry to remember the dearly departed.

And yet...

In such sacred ground where all are welcome, the sight of a security detail is not unheard of, but it is uncommon. Broad shouldered men and women in crisp black suits wearing curling white ear pieces stand in a conspicuous circle around a specific plot in the middle of the cemetery. A small convoy of three SUVs with darkened windows are parked in a row along the winding path that cuts through the gravestones, and at a large monument a man and his family stand in solemn contemplation of the ground at their feet. They're all dressed well, the man in a suit, his wife and young daughter in simple, discreet dresses. Though they appear somber, the pain on their faces is an old, familiar companion. Whoever they grieve, it is not a new loss.

Though it goes unnoticed by the family, a new pair of SUVs appear on the path, moving slow and cautious through the rows of graves. The security team, trained and paid well to spot such things, marks the arrival of the newcomers with a burst of clipped callouts on their radios, but otherwise make no overt motions of concern.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Generational wealth is a strange thing. Greedy men with little care that their own power pass that power onto innocent children and those beyond, but it doesn't change where the wealth came from. Nor, sometimes, where those loyalties lie. The family standing in the graveyard has been in this country for decades, but the man in the ground wasn't. His son didn't start here. All the money and power in the world, born in the worst of circumstances. Still, Peggy wasn't going to kill innocents, especially in front of their children. She just didn't know if he was an innocent.

The old HYDRA records of pardoned scientists traced straight to this family. A single family, no cell or nest to clean out today. It means she's been doing a lot of tracking without action. Until she gets some sort of confirmation the man is working for her old enemies, she does nothing but watch. Tonight, that brings her to the cemetary. In her shadowed blacks, she's dropped a small bug in the midst of the family as they were walking to the grave. She's now tucked down in the overhang of a large old tree, listenng quietly to the chatter, mainly between the patriarch and the security detail. She's got one weapon in hand, but otherwise is nothing but a shadow waiting for a sign to move.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The cemetary is a great equalizer indeed. Death comes for all, in the end, no matter how fat your wallet is. Names great and small etched here and there. A splash of white can be seen amidst the dreary greys, three fluffy fox tails, waving slowly even as their owner is standing still. At the markers for deceased NYPD officers she stands, probably some she'd known personally. She's still dressed in her professional attire, a shoulder holster accompanying her vest and skirt. She breathes in and holds, the scent of the place silling her nose like bad precinct coffee, and she laughs.

    A shake of her head and she brushes a tear away from under her glasses before pulling a wreath of flowers from the bookbag she's carrying, half-kneeling to lay it down before her. The procession of security doesn't seem to get her notice. Not her job, not her place to judge the comings and goings. It's a somber place, after all, despite her outburst.

Frank Castle has posed:
The two SUVs continue their slow and careful stroll down the cemetery path, easily accountable as a desire not to accidentally take out any grave markers. Their path winds with the trail, easing along the semi-paved road until they come to a bend that puts them perpendicular to the one the family's personal convoy is parked on. There, they come to a gradual stop and idle, doors and windows sealed shut. Perhaps its the way no one exits either vehicle, perhaps its the way the cars seem to have been moving awfully close together and stopped in perfect synchronization as if in a planned move, or perhaps its simply the natural paranoia of a bodyguard, but one of the members of the security detail frowns at the new SUVs. The daughter and mother are still oblivious, but the father seems to react to the sudden tension radiating from those arrayed around him to protect him. He looks up, catches the eye of a woman nearby who nods to him with a frown and takes a step towards her charge as if to inform him of the situation.

She never makes it.

Like a spell broken, a shot rings out from the new SUVs, shattering the backseat window of the forward vehicle. The female bodyguard drops as a spray of blood splashes across the grass, and instantly the security detail is firing back as bullets fill the air. Automatic fire from both sides quickly turn the cemetery into a warzone as dirt, stone, and wood is kicked up from missed shots and ricocheting metal. The security detail quickly closes ranks as they attempt to escort the now panicking family back to the convoy, but their progress is slow as they're forced to take cover where they can.

The attackers meanwhile pour from their vehicles, armored and armed to the gills with automatic rifles and kevlar. Their faces are covered by black balaclavas and they move like a trained squad of soldiers, pursuing the retreating group and alternating fire to cover each other's reloads.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Well shite. Peggy's eyes go wide as, apparently, someone else is intent on her objective for the night. That doesn't make her research any more clear, not until she can get closer to the man who is always, entirely over protected. She tucks down a bit closer to the tree, staying well out of the way of the currently flying bullets. The coughing echo of guns in her earpiece is half deafening and she drags it out for just a moment, while the worst of the gunfire is going on. This wasn't the time to be evasdropping.

When there is a slight lull in the gunfire, she slips the ear piece into her other ear, it still mostly working, trying to desperately keep up with the bug she has on the target. All she needs is a word. A phrase. Some sign that the people protecting the man are reporting to a greater organization. And then she gets it. ~Tell HYDRA command... back up...~ It's bits and pieces, but it's enough for her. Still in the shadows, not a single shot having come from her angle, she jerks around the treet and takes two coughed, silenced shots in the direction of the fleeing man.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    As the first shot rings out, Cecily's ears perk straight up, a frown coming across her features. She looks around, though as the gunfire erupts in earnest, she doesn't have to spend too long looking for the direction it came from. She sighs out quietly, then growls, "...not even the dead can find rest... has nobody any respect these days?" she asks, gazing up at the sky, then back down at the grave. She exhales, carefully arranging the flowers, and then turns away. She hurries not away from the gunfire, but towards it, reaching into her bag and drawing out the MP7 she keeps stashed there. No silence, no fancy optics, just the folded stock and grip and a handful of mags.

    Lock. Load. Check. She presses her shoulder against one of the sturdier statues, beneath the arms of an angel, to assess the situation. Private security. Masked men. Lots of guns and collateral damage. And a family. Well. She isn't sure if this is a rival family matter, some gang violence, or someone just pissed someone else off. But she can't very well dive in just yet, and so far the security detail seems to be taking care of the young one. Armed though she is, there's little to be gained from picking the wrong side in this.

    For the brief moment, she uses her free hand, extracting her phone, and making sure to speed-dial NYPD dispatch so at least someone in blue knows what's going on.

Frank Castle has posed:
With gunfire concentrated entirely from a single direction, the family man's security detail focuses the majority of their mass to one side in an effort to block line of sight to their charge. It goes fairly well, with the hail of returning gunfire serving as an even better shield than their own bodies. The attackers are forced to take cover behind gravestones, trees, and their own SUVs as the security puts up a hell of a fight. Even more pour from the parked convoy and add their pistol fire to the mass, attempting to pin down and keep the newcomers occupied while they get the family back to the vehicles. It's a textbook strategy, and ultimately probably would have worked if it weren't for Peggy's intervention.

As she takes two shots at the retreating HYDRA associate, he grunts and twists before dropping to the ground. His detail is surprised for a moment -- they know their job well enough to recognize a new angle of attack when they see one. Immediately two men begin firing in Peggy's rough direction, clearly unsure as to the precise origin of the silenced shots but able to surmise at least the direction by the attack. In a moment, the man is back on his feet with the aid of a third bodyguard and it becomes clear that one of her shots hit him a little high and wide, just slightly off target for a heart kill. Still, he's losing a lot of blood down his side, and the group starts taking risks to try and get him back to safety.

A section of the detail breaks off and starts to rush him towards the parked SUVs, losing a man and a woman in the process. They leave behind the woman and child with a much smaller contingent of four bodyguards, still largely pinned down. The attackers sensing blood rush forward as well, their rifles giving them the edge over the bristling array of pistols wielded by the security. Yet they seem to moving at an odd angle of attack, their route undoubtedly plotted to cut the bodyguards off from the woman and child rather than to pursue the shot HYDRA associate.

Through the ring of gunfire, a roar rings out, mostly drowned out by the cacophony already in progress. From the treeline behind the attacker's SUVs, a man comes sprinting across the road with an M16 tucked tight to his chest, firing bursts at the backs of the attackers. One turns towards him, quick to react but not quick enough as the newest assailant ducks low and charges, slamming him with enough force into the truck to shake the whole frame, his back smashing through the passenger side window as the other man raises his rifle and reveals a white, spray-painted skull across black body armor and resumes firing.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy didn't survive this long by taking stupid chances and completely fighting against the numbers. She's used to being out numbered and out gunned, it feels like the entire first half of her career was spent in that state, but it means she has to fight smart. Anyone protecting the man falls into HYDRA category now, especially with what she heard over the comms. So, the moment they're looking in her direction, she sinks deeper into the shadows, still mostly blocked by the tree and using the sound of gunfire to try and triangulate where her new attackers are located.

She comes around the tree the opposite direction, lower than before, body mostly concealed by bush as she coughs off a few other disciplined shots in their directions before falling back. She's now trying to take down body guards as much as her main target.

But the last distraction with the biggest gun? That she didn't expect. She kills the comm in her ear as the roar of weapons practically deafens her again. No time to complain about it, she knows that it's probably bought her another shot. She whips around the tree one last time, in the direction of the fleeing, injured HYDRA associate. This time, she's going for a head shot. It means she might end up with a few bullets in her vest, but hopefully she's timed it well enough.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    If this isn't a clusterfuck, Cecily doesn't know the definition of the word. "--yes, no. Woodlawn cemetery. Looks like several dead and injured. Automatic weapons. ---yes there's civilians---" she's cut off as the rifleman in the woods tears his way down into the battle like some kind of god of war, gun blazing. "---paramedics and a cleanup crew. Yes, Winters. Yes. AGAIN. I need to go!" she growls at the phone. She must be on someone's list. A frequent caller, surely.

    She sighs, and stuffs her phone away, and swings herself around the statue she's been taking cover behind. Regardless of who's in the right here, there's at least one minor with a dwindling guard detail. She moves from stone to stone, intent on intercepting the gunmen moving for the smaller detachment and the child. Her own unsilenced weapon joins the symphony of gunfire, short bursts of armor-piercing rounds spit at the masked advance. Hopefully there's more than a few distractions to make her game of headstone leapfrog a successful one, but at the least she has a clear goal.

Frank Castle has posed:
The two competing groups were never going to last very long in a gunfight on largely open terrain, but with Peggy already in the mix and Cecily and the Punisher coming in as well, what started as controlled chaos breaks down even further.

What happens occurs all at once within the span of a mere handful of seconds, but it takes place in three different areas of the fight:

Peggy, still focused on bringing down the HYDRA agents and still shrouded in shadow and protected by her silenced weapon poses a significant threat to the effective protection of the security detail's charge. They can hardly pull bodies away from the line of muscle and brawn protecting the executive from the attackers which leaves them particularly exposed to her trained gunfire. They can barely even see her and as such are completely blindsided when she drops low and comes out the other side of the tree. Every shot hits a bodyguard, though only three are instantly fatal. One more is a debilitating injury that will eventually lead to a slow, bleeding death, and a fifth hobbles the arm of another man. Unfortunately for her, though they weren't expecting her switch in position, they were at least looking the right way this time. They can't hear her shots specifically or even see who it is taking them, but the muzzle flash is clear and distinct. Their return fire grows far more accurate, and when she twists out of cover the last time, she takes two shots in quick succession on her vest. Still, she might consider it worth the price when her target's head suddenly whips back and sprays blood across the chest of bodyguard behind him. He crumbles like a sack of potatoes in the arms of the men carrying him, but they don't stop. In an instant they bustle his lifeless body into the middle SUV and pile into the rest as two more drop to the attackers.

Those responsible for the sudden assault don't get off easy, though. While Peggy dismantles the HYDRA security detail, the other group is blindsided by first Frank and then Cecily. Automatic fire from two new and unexpected angles, both more accurate than anything their prey was throwing at them cuts them to ribbons. There's no cover to hide behind, no position to retreat to. Their vehicles have been claimed by the Punisher himself, and already four of their number have fallen with fresh bullet wounds in their backs. Three more drop from Cecily's fire while they turn to answer the threat coming up behind them, and another two go down when they split off to try and bumrush the bodyguards still protecting the girl and her mother. Spotting an opportunity, they cover what's left of the family as they sprint through the gravestones and dive into the last of the convoy SUVs still there, taking off in a squeal of tires just as Cecily and Frank tear through the last of the would-be attackers.

With a silent grimace, the blood-spattered, black-clad veteran slowly and cautiously peels himself from the cover of one of the attackers' SUVs, the barrel of his M16 pointed at the ground ahead of him while he peers through the trees for the two other shooters. "Come out! Who's there?" he barks at nobody in particular, eyes flicking back and forth around the cemetery.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The moment the confirmed HYDRA agent's head is an echo of red, Peggy's already planning retreat. That plan is doubled when she takes two shots to her torso, thanking all her stars for just how damn good modern day body armor is -- especially shield's issued set -- but she's probably going to be nursing a few bruised ribs, if not one cracked. Pain flashing in front of her eyes or not, she doesn't have the luxury of crying out or going down hard. She needs to keep herself concealed.

So, as smoothly as she possibly can, she's collapsing back in against the tree that was her original refuge. Stumbling a touch, particularly sharp eyes might be able to catch where she retreated, but she doesn't stay there long. She hears the voice calling for her to come out and that's just a sign to move faster.

Wind knocked from her, she's half breathless as she shifts deeper into the cemetary, trying to stay low in the shadows, retreating behind a heavy mausoleum where she pins herself, catching her breath and listening to see if she's being pursued. She moves deeper towards the edge of the cemetary a few seconds later, intent on getting out, unseen, as fast as possible.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Cecily seems satisfied that the minor was whisked away to safety, though she does take note of the vehicles' makes, models, and does her best to recall the license plates as the gunfire dwindles into nothing. She pulls a notepad out of her bag and takes down what she can recall and starts to trace her path back a few paces, picking up her brass, counting and plunking them into a plastic bag she carries. Then there's that barking shout, and she probably isn't hard to spot between some headstones, the white fluff of her foxtails giving her away in most situations.

    It's one of the reasons she contrasts the departing agent, the vixen usually rather transparent in her dealings. "Friend or foe?" she calls out, perhaps giving Peggy an easier time of making it out unseen as she tanks the aggro from the rifle-toting vet. While Cecily does have the presence of mind to reload, just in case, her MP7 is pointed the same way Frank's rifle is, angled towards the ground as she steps out into the open to show herself. Armed as she is, SMG in hands, pistol at her shoulder, she doesn't look particularly like a combatant. No kevlar, no bandolier. Just a fox woman dressed smartly, carrying a messenger bag with a second wreath of flowers half-hanging out of it.

Frank Castle has posed:
Immediately Frank's gaze snaps towards Cecily as she emerges, the barrel of his rifle swinging around to point at the ground halfway between them, ready to be brought to bear if necessary. He watches her for a moment, frozen near the side of the SUV and considers her question before grunting and stepping out around the hood of the car. "Not sure yet," he growls just loud enough to carry, his gaze very briefly flicking towards Peggy's previous hiding spot. There's no doubt in his mind there was a third shooter, but they haven't shown themselves yet. He moves quickly and smoothly towards the side of the nearest downed attacker and crouches at their side. With an unceremonious motion, he flips the man onto his back and feels his pulse before rifling through his things for identification. Eventually he grows frustrated and shifts the M16 around to tuck in at his side while he pulls a Beretta from a side holster and resumes his search.

He doesn't fully lower his guard, but Cecily is apparently put somewhat to the side as he begins to move from body to body, checking them quickly and efficiently while occasionally snapping off glances towards the fox-tailed woman and the last known position of Peggy. "What are you doing here? Why did you get involved?" he asks in a gruff growl as he casually puts a bullet in a dying man, moving on to the next in line.

Peggy Carter has posed:
No pursuit that Peggy can tell. The British agent breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as, deep onto the other side of the cemetary, her sore form jumps the fence and she disappears off into the Bronx. The HYDRA associate was dead which was what matters. She'd leave the clean up for those who had a better chance of surviving being a do-gooder.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Cecily's ears twitch, eyes narrowing as the gun is lifted a little towards her. She doesn't flinch or move, though. She's not here to fight, but she did get mixed up with it. Always does. "If there's something you're looking for, you should make it quick. Police and paramedics -should- be on their way..." she sighs, "...emphasis on should. Not that it will be on time for most of the people here.." she glances around. There's a wince as someone is put out of their misery, and Cecily slowly begins to move closer, lamenting the mud on her shoes more than anything.

    "I was visiting some old friends from the force," she answers the question, "...rather was hoping for some peace and quiet for my passed partners. Though I see that's not the case. And why did I get involved? Well, no matter what any of these people did or didn't do, I wasn't about to let harm come to a child..." she jerks her head towards where the family's SUV had sped off to. "...of course she'll be traumatized for life but at the least she'll have that life..." she adds, a cynical touch to her tone.

Frank Castle has posed:
Maybe some people might relax a bit to hear Cecily was a cop once upon a time, but Frank's not one of them. Honestly, you'd be hard-pressed to find something that /would/ cause the Punisher to relax his guard, especially after a firefight. He's so paranoid that when the fox-tailed woman starts to approach, he comes to an abrupt halt in his search despite the narrowing window of time available to him. Eyes snap back to her from wherever they were roaming before, and he waits half a second to assess her body language and intent. Eventually he must come to some positive conclusion, because he relaxes just enough to continue rifling through the belongings of the downed attackers as she explains her presence and purpose for intervening.

"She wasn't in direct danger," Frank tells her simply as he finally locates the object of his investigation, standing with a slightly cracked cell phone in hand which gets quickly deposited in a pocket as he turns to fully face Cecily, "She was their target. They were looking to grab her. Alive." His posture suggests he's more or less ruled her out as an immediate threat, but he notably keeps his sidearm drawn. Without another word he starts to walk towards Peggy's vacated firing position, doing his level best to keep Cecily to his side or front the whole way.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    If anything might put the man at some semblance of further ease, it's that Cecily removes the magazine from her gun and begins the process of ejecting the chambered round and folding the grip and stock so she can put it away in her bag. She stows it carefully and if not for her shoulder holster, she'd look like a civilian. A civilian with kitsune parts. She just shakes her head at the explanation, "...an abduction scenario is almost as bad as an homicide involving a minor."

    She casts a lopsided smile to Frank, leaning against a particularly chunky and tall headstone, "...not that you seem like you'd have let that happen. You know who they were after, then? You're as much a one-man army as I am down here, it would seem," she says quietly. "Regardless, I made the call, so I have to stay here. I haven't finished playing flower girl yet, anyway..." there's a soft exhale, her tails slowly brushing against the stone.

Frank Castle has posed:
Indeed, as Cecily begins to stow her MP7 Frank seems more willing to let her out of his sight for a moment as he reaches Peggy's last known location. Still, he keeps his own gun drawn and his hackles raised -- call it a side-effect of waging a one-man war on crime for years while the superhero community largely lumps you in the same pile as the scum you hunt. Frank isn't bitter, but he's not about to lower his guard so easily either. "She's not the only one they've gone after," Frank tells her by way of further explanation, "They're looking for leverage. Don't know why yet." He's already chattier than he intended to be, but then he also intended to be presiding over a field of bodies alone.

He crouches in the dirt and flicks around through the grass until he finds what he's looking for: Peggy's scattered casings and to his mild surprise, the faint and fading outline of someone taking a heavy fall. Almost as if they were hit and dropped to the ground in the process. No blood, though. So either armored or naturally resistant to gunfire. He grimaces: Supers make everything more complicated.

Speaking of, he stands and turns back to regard Cecily as she casts that smile at him. She's given the glowing response of a faint grunt as he finally holsters his pistol. After a pause to consider her, he opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by the distant sounds of a siren. A grimace curves his lips while he glances briefly off in the direction of the sound, then looks back to her. "Tell your cop friends not to get in my way," he growls, then turns and begins to run back into the trees.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Oh, lovely... nothing like more tangled webs. This city has more bullshit stewing than I can deal with some days..." Cecily sighs at the comment about leverage. She doesn't seem like she knew there was another shooter, though, and there's no outward signs of her being tense or worried about Frank's hunting around Peggy's last known position. She seems to sincerely have been in this place when all hell broke loose, as is her usual.

    "OH, of course, tell them you weren't even here, right?" she asks, stepping into the open area with all the bodies, starting to pick through the brass and gathering up Frank's spent 5.56 casings. Even if he doesn't look over his shoulder at her, she does the work, quick, efficient, and knowing just which ones to pluck from the ground. "The wounds won't match but enough masked men with guns roll through the morgue that investigations aren't always followed..." she sighs.

    "Look me up if you need another gun hand," she calls out as he starts to leave. "Winters. Private security." And then back to tampering with a crime scene.