3140/It Came From the Deep: Fish & Ships

It Came From the Deep: Fish & Ships
Date of Scene:	28 August 2020
Location:	International Waters off the Coast of Newfoundland
Synopsis:	Spoiler and some sea monsters crash Cheetah's auction!
Cast of Characters:	Barbara-Ann Minerva, Landry Lugar, Slade Wilson, Stephanie Brown

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Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Ah, the Canadian island of Newfoundland! Like Milton, Delaware and Winthrop, Washington, the waters off Newfoundland are an often-overlooked Mecca of a crime and graft. Like this evening, for instance.

The "Iron Lady," a beautiful, nearly 400 ft yacht (with its own helicopter pad) glides gracefully over the dark Atlantic waves. Though the surroundings are black as pitch, the craft is garishly illuminated, and scores of well-heeled patrons are visible milling about the foredeck. Upbeat music is playing but is not oppressively loud. Here and there service-staff in crimson jackets carry trays of complimentary drinks. The clientele is a mix of ages, genders, and ethnicities and the overall atmosphere is congenial and light.

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar had been hired by an annonymous backer. It wasn't the first time he'd been hired by an 'Influencer' wishing to remain annonymous. He'd set up his gear, lights, sounds, decore all over, adding atmosphere to what looked to be a very posh party. Usually the tech geek would be decked out in jeans and a hoodie, but, tonight he instead wore a suit, midnight blue jacket and pants, with a silver dress shirt beneath it. He did still carry around his tablet, controling different aspects of the music and lights as he wandered about, keeping an eye on things first hand. He'd not met the host/ess yet, but was looking forward to seeing what was going on, hoping it was something exciting.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Among the many and varied that received an invitation to this particular event, Slade Wilson makes his way through the crowd, a glass of champagne in one hand as he politely greets a few of the other attendees that he's familiar with. He's not entirely sure there will be anything he's particularly interested in to bid on, but you don't get any chance if you don't show.

Besides, these sorts of affairs usually have a great spread.

None of that keeps his eye from making its' careful watch. He's hardly alone in being alert, even among the the other clientele (to say nothing of the fairly obvious muscle that's around to play security). Lots of shifty-eyed folks here, but so far none Slade has marked as potential trouble, at least of the serious variety.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
And that's when things get a little weird.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome!" The voice is stentorian and with the hint of a British accent. Many in the crowd -- old hands to this sort of affair -- turn their attention to the upper deck, which is joined to the foredeck by a wide, open staircase as the female speaker appears. None of them seem at all perturbed that their hostess is a humanoid cat -- a Cheetah, to be precise. Instead, they applaud.

"I trust you've enjoyed the evening's entertainments but it's time for the headline attraction!" More applause.

Somehow, Cheetah's green-eyed glare picks Landry out of the crowd. He may not have met her, but she clearly knows him. She gives Landry an overt nod. He was told what to do when he received that signal...nobody told him the messenger would be something other than human. It's time to dim the ambiance and cue the spotlight!

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar was moving through the crowd when the voice rang out. He brought up the tablet, but his eyes went wide when he saw who it was giving the cue. Still, he was a professional. The lights dimmed, the music softened, as the spotlight blinked on, the light sharp and flattering in it's warm glow. Her mic was prepped, and she was easily heard throughout the ship as she spoke. Landry himself kept an eye on her movements, making sure she stayed the concerted center of attention as she moved.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade turns his gaze towards the announcer when he speaks, canting his head curiously as Cheetah is introduced. He recognizes her of course, a villainess of her reputation is hard to mistake. A faint, wry expression touches his face, but he keeps his attention on her as the lights and sound bend to her whim. Main attraction? Somehow he doesn't imagine she's for sale, but still, a prestigious hostess for the event, and one that promises some interesting items for sale, at least.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Butch Gilzean was one of the Gotham underworld that was a subject of frequent surveillance by the Bats. An intercepted conversation by some of his men on an unsecured line had revealed his plans to travel to an offshore auction. But details beyond that were scarce. What would they be auctioning off? Arms? Drugs? Trafficked human labor? The conversation didn't say, and there was only one way to find out.

The helicopter that carried Butch had been tracked, and a good distance away a 'package' was dropped into the water by a black-winged aerial vehicle. An underwater sled and one purple and black clad Spoiler. Stephanie had made her way to the yacht undetected, anchoring the sled beneath the yacht and then climbing aboard.

The server who had helpfully donated her clothing to the cause was sleeping blissfully in an out of the way place as Stephanie made her way to the galley and picked up a tray of food. Checking her hair briefly, the blond girl followed one of the other servers out on deck in time to catch the announcement and the beginning of the event. Stephanie begins to mingle with the crowd now, offering the food up on the tray to those who show interest. A pin attached to her jacket takes video of the event.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
From her belt, Cheetah produces a smartphone-sized control pad. With some ostentation, she holds it aloft for all to see and presses a button on the display with her furry thumb. A cylindrical platform about the diameter of a man-hole cover noiselessly rises from the ship's deck between the crowd and the stairway leading to where Cheetah stands on the upper deck. It halts at about chest height.

Atop the platform sits an idol wrought from dark turquoise. It's about the size of a human skull and depicts a slouching, vaguely ichthyic, humanoid figure. It's ugly as heck, meaning it's probably very, very expensive. Security staff melt out of the surrounding darkness to stand near the pedestal. No sticky fingers! There is a collective murmur of appreciation from the onlookers.

"And here we have it! Our first item of the evening!" Cheetah hisses with delight. "Newly liberated from Atlantis," this elicits muted laughter from the crowd. "A rare specimen from undersea antiquity that's ready for your private collection!" Cheetah pauses for dramatic effect, "What am I bid?" The unseeing idol glistens within Landry's carefully choreographed lighting.

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar kept up the show, moving lights to shine on the dark turquoise, mixing and blending the colors to make it look mysterious and beautiful, even if the hunk of rock was carved like a slouching blob.

Seeing a tray of food go by, he plucked off a bite to eat from Stephanie's tray as she came close. "What even is that?... So ugly.... It has to be expensive to be displayed at something like this." He mused and then chuckled as he nommed the appetizers.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Interesting, but not really Slade's speed. Creepy fish-idols just seem like the kind of thing that invites trouble, from stories he's heard and read. He finishes off his champagne flute, setting the empty on one of the trays around the room arrayed for just such a purpose.

"It's Atlantean." Slade comments to Landry's question, despite it not being directly pointed at him. "Likely from a culture that was undersea before it sank, given the last I checked most Atlanteans looked a little more...humanoid."

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Clad in the white shirt and red jacket, her costume beneath, Stephanie makes her way slowly through the crowd, doing her best to blend into the background as far as the guests are concerned. The tray has a pair of square plates. One holds small, carefully pressed Thai fish cakes flavored with curry and kaffir lime, while the other has zucchini and creamy goat cheese pinwheels.

Stephanie moves around the outside of the crowd, taking a moment while attention is on the emerging artwork to slip one of the pinwheels into her mouth, her stomach grumbling as events had transpired quickly between the intercept and Butch's departure.

She continues forward, eyes scanning the crowd. Recognizing a few people, but not as many as she'd like. The furred form of Cheetah up above is one she does recognize though. "Cheetah hosting the event," she murmurs over her subvocal comms.

The plate is held towards Landry as he shows interest in it, the young blond woman keeping from meeting his eyes after a first glance to see if she recognizes him. Just one more server among many.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
A non-descript staff member standing near the foot of the staircase keeps track of the bids; That sort of work is beneath Cheetah. Within a short period, the bids are comfortably into the six-digits. The feline felon purrs happily and scans the crowd. She can see perfectly well even in the dark. Slade catches her wandering eye. Almost instantly, she recognizes him from a brief encounter at the Hellfire Club: Mr. Wilson! How interesting. She files this information away for another day. Landry's attentive presence is noted as well. Stephanie, however, is overlooked. As if Cheetah takes the time to get to know the hired help! Pfff!

Just then the yacht's forward progression starts to feel sluggish and the craft rocks gently. "---the devil..?" Cheetah mutters under her breath and turns toward the bow of the ship. Before she can discern an obvious problem one of the female patrons below lets out an ear-piercing scream!

Shambling out of the dank penumbra beyond Landry's well-crafted halo of light comes a lurching, green-skinned, squamous looking creature. It's humanoid in design and walking on two legs, but that's about as all it has in common with the other sea-goers. Behind him, still in shadow but also moving toward the light, are some friends of his all in various stages of clamoring over the ship's railing. There's a certain family resemblance. They're here for Stephanie's fish cakes, obviously. Who can resist kaffir lime?

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar raised a brow as Slade spoke up, "Yeah?... That would make it ancient then, cause Atlantis has been underwater since like, before forever, right?" He gave a nod of thanks to the serving girl. His own face would be unrecognizable from a wrap sheet, being the straight and narrow type, just a slightly goofy looking college kid.

He was helping keep tabs on the bidders, lights flashing briefly for each new bid, becoming brighter and brighter as the number became higher and higher. It was during one of these flashes that he spotted the first of the monsters, his brow furrowing. "Is this part of the show?... Sea monsters for the Atlantis stone thing?..." He mused, and brought up the lights, spinning them out to shine on each of the monsters as they approached the party. He glanced to Cheetah to see if she had any instructions on the matter. Carefully backing away, he put out his free arm to keep the serving girl behind him. "Probably not the best time for fish cakes..." He quipped lamely.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Well, now Slade is REALLY glad he didn't bid on the idol. He looks considerably more calm than most. More annoyed than anything, particularly at the panicking crowd swarming around him. Indeed, one of the security guards is among those fleeing. He didn't sign up for this crap! Slade grabs him by the collar, shifting him aside and reaching to yank the sidearm off his hip before shoving him away without so much as a by-your-leave.

And then he's smoothly bringing the high-caliber pistol up, flicking off the safety, and firing at the head of the nearest fish-monster. Cool as a cucumber as the first one drops after a double-tap. Then it's on to the next target.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Stephanie has a moment of concern, heart leaping into her throat at that sudden little shudder the boat gives as if it's propulsion was affected. Images of the sled coming loose and hitting the props are in her head.

But no. That's not it. No, it's much worse. Or is it better? Stephanie can't quite decide yet.

The movement by Landry, arm guiding the seeming-serving girl behind him leaves Stephanie leaning to see around him as the figures board the impressive yacht. "Are those Atlanteans boarding the ship?" she asks aloud so the words will be transmitted, but she knows her support is far out from the yacht to avoid being spotted.

Meanwhile, Butch's two associates move in front of him protectively. "What's up with this, boss, what should we do?" one asks the Gotham underboss. He groans back. "I hate having to leave weapons behind," he says, Butch backing away towards the far side of the ship from the attackers.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Landry's questioning look to Cheetah for guidance is of little utility: this rat is already looking to abandon ship. She speaks flatly into a mic hidden near her ear, "Grab the idol." Cheetah hits another button on her smartphone. This tub has a helipad for a reason. It's empty now, but salvation is en route and will arrive shortly.

As general pandemonium starts to break out below her, Cheetah starts padding backward -- moving toward the landing pad located further amidships.

Security personnel go into motion. Those closest to Cheetah appear to be the most competent. The idol is secured in short order. It disappears into a black velvet bag, which is promptly delivered to the top of the stairs. The two guards that delivered the idol to their mistress stay close to her side. Likely less to protect her than to ensure they don't get left behind. They've seen this movie before.

Perhaps following Wilson's lead, the outer echelon of guards starts firing on the intruders though with a precision far below what Slade is capable of. A few Lurkers are injured but the party's just getting started.

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar stated the obvious. "This is not good..." He was slow on the uptake, but, once he was there, he is at least competent. The lights flare up. These are deep sea creatures, hopefully the bright lights would mess them up. Lights and lasers poured onto the deck of the ship, focusing on the monsters as Landry used his tablet to target them. "We've gotta get outta here..." He said, still backing away, but knowing the ship was only so big.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Panic continues, and rightfully so, as the Fish-Monsters start cutting down and yes, in some cases taking a few bites out of whoever they can get their hands on.

"Starboard lifeboats are through that door and up the stairs" Slade comments between shots from the pistol to Landry. "But these things came from the water. Wouldn't want to take my chances." Two, three, and four fish-monsters fall to the precise headshots Slade lays down in rapid succession, only to be capped off with an annoyed growl when the ammo runs out.

Hope may be rekindled though, as the bulk of the monsters start to move up any available ladders or stairs, towards where Cheetah has carried off that idol.

Slade takes the momentary reprieve to move to a few of the crates and pries them open, ripping off lids with his bare hands in a clear demonstration of more-than-human strength. It might look like he's about to start looting, but really he's just looking for anything useful.

And sure enough, his good eye lights up as he gets open a rectangular box and spots what's inside.

A menacing grin cross his face as he lifts the ancient katana out of it's packing, almost reverently...and then with one swift, smooth strike unsheathes it and carves a fish-man in half. Messy...but very effective. It doesn't stop another two from rushing him, but they're both dropped with a single broad arc of the blade.

Still, there's no shortage of these things still crawling onto the boat, so Slade begins carving his own way up to the upper deck, blade in one hand and scabbard in the other.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
The lights from Landry hit the invading creatures. Stephanie was expecting tall dark and muscular. After all, the most she's seen of Atlanteans are Namor and Aquaman. Instead? More Creature from the Black Lagoon looking. "Ah, not Atlantean," she says.

As the lights go on bright, making it tough on everyone to see, Stephanie wheels away through the crowd, ducking low so no one will see as she pulls her mask and hood into place and shrugs out of the jacket and tears the dress shirt away. Superman, eat your heart out!

Spoiler darts for the stairs, a batarang pulled from her belt and thrown towards Cheetah's hand that holds the bag with the artifact in it. Though after that she has two armed and competent security guards to pull her attention.

There's a metal SHTICK! sound as Spoiler's telescoping bo staff pops open and she swings it at one man, cracking it over his wrist and knocking his gun away. The second guard already has his gun out and Spoiler dives behind some chairs set out up on the upper level of the deck, wood chips going flying as bullets chasing her slam into the seatbacks.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Do you know who else doesn't like sudden flashes of intense light? Cheetah. Super-acute vision can be a real pain sometimes.

Cheetah lets out an angry screech and tries to turn away from Landry's blast of light to no avail. As she does so, the villainess throws up her clawed hands -- still clutching the velvet bag with the ugly idol inside. The force (and surprise) of Steph's batarang smashing into the bag wrenches it out of Cheetah's grip. The bag, and idol, disappear over the side and into the inky blackness of the cold Atlantic.

The sheer volume of Cheetah's enraged snarl is /almost/ enough to bring activities to a dead halt. Certainly, her feelings about losing the idol are made crystal clear. Pity the poor sea monster who got a little too close. Claws honed to deal death to Amazonian demi-goddesses make short work of him. Messy...but very effective.

Feline eyes filled with fury scan the scene, "Who. Is. Responsible. For. THAT." These words are spat out rather than spoken. She follows the trail of her guards' bullets toward Spoiler's imperfect shelter.

A helicopter can be heard approaching the "Iron Lady" from somewhere out in the night sky. It's a good thing, too, these creatures just keep on coming. Most of Cheetah's security detail and many of the patrons have been overwhelmed.

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar gave a nod to Slade, "Yeah, life boats would be a no go. There's a helipad up top though! I bet that's where she's heading!" He pointed to the villianess. "Probably the safest spot right now." He turned to motion to the serving girl to follow him, but as he looked, she was gone.

People were running and screaming, though Landry kept his cool, ish, and was walking and working his lights as he made his way towards the stairs up. He was doing good, and started up a few steps, before one of the fish folk reached around the railing and grabbed his leg. "Not good..." He was pulled down, and dropped his tablet. Instead of reaching for it, he instead pointed his hand down, fist clenched, and a blast of angry red light poured forth. After a second on the fishman, the smell of fresh fried fish wafted through the air as the thing fell back. "Never eating seafood again..." He sc

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar scrambled to his feet, grabbed the tablet, and bolted up the stairs.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade Wilson is an engine of Fish-Man death as he carves a messy, bloody swath through a host of them, heedless of the splattering of fish-man ichor on his finely-tailored suit, and maintaining his footing despite the soon-slick floors. He flicks the mess off of the fine blade he's wielding and sheathes it, if only to pick up a submachinegun left from a fallen security goon, and this time a couple of spare clips that he tucks into his belt along the way. He easily wields the firearm one-handed, sending short bursts of fire into nearby monsters as he continues, finally making it to the top deck, in sight of the helicopter pad, and not far behind Cheetah.

It should be noted that while Slade is giving little care for anyone else (though he doesn't cut or gun down anyone that doesn't take hostile action towards him first), his actions are clearing something of a path for others to follow, if they dare.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Spoiler hears the snarl from Cheetah and the adrenaline that was already amped up from being shot at goes a notch higher. She knows she has little chance against the incredibly speedy supervillain who matches Wonder Woman blow for blow. And that's assuming that Slade Wilson who she is pretty sure she recognized in the crowd doesn't come to help out matters.

A quartet of shots is taken at the chairs, one hole appearing in a chair seat practically before Spoiler's eyes, but the bullet missing as it continues through the chair and whines past her. She grabs at a belt pouch and a handful of spheres are tossed out from behind the chairs. A cloud of obscuring smoke hisses out of them rapidly.

Spoiler hopes having to fight nearly blind will dissuade Cheetah from attacking her. She does a kick of her legs to get them under her feet and rise from where she's laying behind the chairs. A trio of electric batarangs are whipped through the cloud of smoke obscuring Spoiler and the armed security guard. She can't see if she hit him, but the zap of electricity and the man's voice giving a staccato cry as he's shocked signals her success.

"Batwing, boat's under assault by ocean creatures, going to need assistance," she says into her mike.

Butch and company? They aren't fighting, just pushing through the crowd, then taking advantage of the path that Slade clears, trying to get to the helipad and hope they can get off the boat there.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Through the smoke and the screams, a jet-black helicopter lands elegantly on the helipad -- quite a feat considering the melee onboard the ship. Clearly the pilot is more competent than most of the security men.

Cheetah positively seethes with icy rage. She can't see Spoiler clearly, but she caught the young hero's scent just before the smoke bombs erupted. That's as good as a photograph should the two women ever meet again. As it is, the helicopter's blades are enhancing the smokescreen's effect by spreading and billowing the smoke.

"Mr. Wilson," she gestures toward the aircraft. "Our chariot awaits." Slade is offered no explanation as to how Cheetah might know him, but logical inferences can be drawn. She strikes another key on that infernal smartphone and, yelling in Spoiler's general direction, "You have ten minutes to get to the hold and defuse the bomb that's going to blow this vessel to smithereens." That's a lie: Spoiler actually has seven minutes. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Luckily, the sea creatures have started to retreat, abandoning the ship to its traumatized passengers. Cheetah, and whatever elements of her crew that made it this far, start boarding the chopper.

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar had just made it to the landing when he heard the bit about the bomb. He froze in place. "A bomb?... When was that set up?... I thought I'd been over the whole ship..." He frowned, seeing all these people, and knowing any help coming would be too late.

He looked around, "Never a bomb disposal unit around when you need one..." He complained as he slid down the rail of the staircase he'd just climbed, and started towards the ships hold. He stopped by the supplies closet he'd tucked his work bag in, throwing it over his shoulder as he searched for his way down into the bowls of the ship.

Slade Wilson has posed:
One of the Cheetah's security guards, wounded and weaponless, reaches desperately towards Slade, being dragged off by one of the monsters. He doesn't get a helping hand, but he does get the last couple bullets from the submachinegun in Slade's hand. A small mercy compared to getting to experience being eaten alive or drowning in terror. The empty firearm is casually cast aside as he approaches the helipad, a swift side-kick sending a lingering fish monsters off the deck and back into the ocean.

Then he's ducking low and moving towards the Helicopter alongside Cheetah, speaking loudly enough for her sensitive ears to hear over the helicopter engine and whirling blades:

"Much obliged. I'm keeping the sword and I'll spare you my dry cleaning bill."

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Spoiler is able to see more as the prop wash from the helicopter starts to scatter her smokescreen. She hears the villain's yelled warning about the bomb. Spoiler whirls, seeing how man people remain on the ship, mostly innocent servers who are hiding from the monsters. Plus there's the girl she tranquilized to take her serving outfit. Too many people to evacuate, especially into an ocean with those creatures jumping back into the water.

Spoiler heads down the stairs on the other side of the deck at the same time as Landry descends those on his side. She yells defiantly towards the helicopter, "You are going to get a bad rating from this staff's temp agency I hope you realize!"

And then it's a race down to the ship's hold. She was able to pull up the layout of the yacht from the Batcomputer on approach, which helps her though there's one wrong turn and backtracking before she slides to a stop in the hold, eyes scanning for the bomb.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
"Consider it a party favor," Cheetah coo's to Wilson about the sword. Once she's within the relative safety of the aircraft the unseen pilot gets a harsh, "Let's go!" The helicopter gracefully leaves the rolling deck behind and soon disappears into the night sky leaving those below to their fate.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Within the hold, the bomb is quickly found, a tarp tossed over it just to make sure if anyone not in the know spotted it they wouldn't react to seeing it. It definitely looks like a bomb.

Spoiler moves to crouch beside it and examine it closely. "Find the power source... and the triggering wires will come from it... and... ugh binary compound if they mix..." the blond crimefighter says to herself, going over in her head what training she's had on dealing with bombs.

"Nothing to freeze the power source with and I don't have anything hot enough to flash melt it fast enough," she says to herself. Which is when Landry comes into the hold.

His trick blasting the attacking creature with that blast of light that seemed to come from himself and not the lights, was noticed. "Hey... you... can you help with this? We need to freeze or melt this battery," she says, motioning to it. "And we have... 5 minutes left." Actually two, but she doesn't know it was a 7 minute timer and not a 10."

Landry Lugar has posed:
Landry Lugar ran in and over, pack full of tools in tow. "Oh wow. Yeah, I mean... Probably. Who are you?" He followed her lead. He didn't really know anything about bombs, but, he was good with electric devices. He followed what she was saying, "Yeah... I mean, I can try."

He reached into his pack, not for a wrench or spanner, or anything else... It was instead a... Fruit by the foot?... Do they still make those? He took it, unrolled it, and started to eat it, inch by inch as he cleared his hand in his sleeve. He held his hand out, the light around it increasing in intensity as he built up the power. Once it was all gone, and the light was almost painful to look at, he released it all at once. White hot light washed over the battery, and after blinking away the after effects, there was nothing but a smallish piled of ashes. "Oh I don't feel so good... That took a lot... Gonna need a good dinner when I get home..." His stomach started growling in agreement.