4646/Reunited by Violence

Reunited by Violence
Date of Scene:	08 January 2021
Location:	The Docks, NYC
Synopsis:	Peggy is on a recon mission for HYDRA and finds Constantine sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong. A messy fire fight ensues with HYDRA agents. Peg ends up getting sent somewhere strange, and John in HYDRA's hands.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Peggy Carter

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John Constantine has posed:
Shady international syndicates are not really John Constantine's style. Gangs, neither, for that point. Sure, a black magic mambo might crop up near a drug operation. The Belarusian Romanii would ensure diviners could read the cards before committing to a risky new venture.

But those were the fringes of where John worked, and duels on the fringes rarely attract the attention of the gang. Go after a Triad boss with a gun, it turns into a bloody block war. If their mystic's skull explodes during a magical duel-- well, that's a thing between wizards, isn't it?

But something in Peggy's demeanour had nudged John's mind along some different lines of thinking, and it's to the New York harbor that his thoughts lead him now.

His style of infiltration certainly leaves a lot to be desired. A purposeful walk, sometimes a brisk stride or two. Even once a jogging motion. But somehow it works for him, guards miraculously looking away at the most opportune moments. It doesn't take him long to get through a storage yard and into a loading warehouse where a mid-size cargo ship is being offloaded. A discarded white helmet's obtained; a clipboard taken from a wall.

In short order, Constantine's walking directly through the middle of the offloading operation while men mill and work and shout around him. It looks relatively legitimate at first glance; at least, as long as one doesn't look too closely at unoccupied men with automatic weapons barely hidden under their jackets.

Even if the average New Yorker doesn't know for whom the work is really being done, they're largely smart enough to avoid an obvious smuggling front when they see it, after all.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The last communication with May roused some old memories of Peggy's. She knew where other files were, notes about HYDRA and Paperclip, and that would probably give her a few more leads modern day. While she's not really supposed to go off on missions alone, tonight is really just fact finding -- Was this company related to HYDRA and what were they smuggling? So, she felt confident she could do some recon on her own. And it got her mind off hovering over scientists working on time travel a little too much.

She's dressed in all her SHIELD blacks, close fitting body armor that looks like leather which is molded to her frame. She's got an ICER in hand, another on her belt, and a more old fashioned weapon in case she needs it. She's crouched low in the shadows, just to the side of the docks, taking brief photos of every bit of shipmnet going through, the faces of the people... Pretty much everything. And then there's a face she didn't expect.

Constantine. Runnig straight through her smuggling scene. She snaps a photo of his face just to confirm and mentally curses beneath her breath. Does he know what he's getting into? Is he somehow a PART of this? She has no choice but to slink through the shadows and try to follow him, just to see what he's up to.

John Constantine has posed:
Someone stops John. From the distance it's hard to get a read on who it is, or why. Not one of the men openly carrying a gun, so it's no mere security. But he's wearing a collared shirt and slacks rather than the canvas and denim of the longshoremen.

There seems to be some discussion. Then argument. One of the guards is waved over. Another foreman joins. John's balance shifts, somehow both casually relaxed and yet impeccably assertive. Pointed question arise and all eyes turn to John.

He says something and it provokes guffaws from the group to the point their laughter can be heard even from Peggy's vantage point. A little more stilted conversation continues and then they break off to return to their duties, apparently satisfied John's doing something useful.

It doesn't take long for him to work his way back around into a more secure part of the yard where certain, select containers are being offloaded. Some are stamped with import marks from China-- Shanghai and Guangxi, to be precise. Notably they're already stamped and sealed with an inspector's mark, despite Customs being nowhere near on site.

Once he's got a moment of privacy John moves to one of the crates and rather casually crowbars open the top with a little effort. First one, then another, the sallow-faced Brit casually helping himself to the illicit containers with little regard for the evidence he's leaving behind.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The containers are marked with not just customs inspector's mark, but FDA labels. Inside? Is meat. So much meat. But they don't really look like cuts of cow or chicken, or anything that should be in an FDA inspected, packed meat thing. It's hard to tell what is a human cut up into pieces, but the fattiness of the tissue and the shapes would give a sharp mind some good hints.

In a second crate, this not marked by the FDA, there are hundreds of very carefully packed tiny blue vials. Vials of research that has been painstaking over the years, both magical and scientific, but all highly dangerous.

Peggy's now busy trying to get the information on the current batch of HYDRA shipments *and* trying to be certain her friend doesn't get himself killed in this place. So, she's hugged around, her ICER up and readied as he's talking to the crew, but it's somehow gone well enough that he gets in deeper -- which means she has to as well. She doesn't have as easy a time as he does, clinging to the side of the docks and basically moutain climbing her way over towards where he's operating without being scene, but she does make it.

"You are going to get yourself *killed* or *worse*." Peg hisses at him very quietly, from a shadow about three crates down of the one he's working on.

John Constantine has posed:
John looks to Peggy when she hisses at him. He leans back to regard her position, making a bit of a show of looking around for anyone else (and doing nothing to aid Peggy's covert approach, either).

"Killed? That seems a stretch," John remarks in a normal tone of voice. "I'm pretty sure no one here's actually payed well enough to do something as stupid as crack off a gun and bring the bobbies in. I'm pretty sure I'll manage."

Another sidestep and he gives Peggy's body-hugging outfit an appreciative once over. "Though of the two of us, I think you're certainly more of a tempting target than I am. They won't know if they're supposed to shoot you or tuck a couple quid in your garters."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"You'd be very wrong, then. Maybe your friends at the docks don't much care, but anyone else on this ship does and they've killed for less. You really think they're shipping kobe beef in those containers?" Peggy's voice is barely loud enough to be heard over the waves, but he's already cracked into the things. If someone is paying attention, they'd have HYDRA all over them within minutes no matter what.

So, carefully, shockingly svelte and quiet for a woman her age, Peggy swings up onto the edge of the dock nearest him. She's still keeping to the shadows, but snaps two more photos of what is in the crates before stealing one of the little blue vials and sliding it into a hidden pocket in her tac jacket. "Come on, let's get out of here before the bosses come calling. They'll have your face no matter what now, but better to fight them on your turf." Peggy is not flirting or teasing at all. In fact, he might have never seen her quite so deadly serious as she is in this moment. She's also seethingly angry, but handling it in a very British fashion.

John Constantine has posed:
"You go if you like, I'm not done sniffing around yet," John bids Peggy. "Now, if I had to guess, I'd say the only kind of pork in these phials is long pig," he remarks. "Dealt with a cannibal in Saskatchewan once, you never forget what it looks like."

John picks up one of the phials himself and squints at it, then pockets it as well.

Another crate is opened, seemingly at random, then another. "Guns, guns..." John reaches into one with a frown and lifts out a palm-sized yellow mascot. It's held out at Peggy and he squeezes the sides.

The Minion doll squeaks.

"What on Earth is this?" he demands, and twists the cheaply made doll apart to examine the interior. "Knockoff children's toys? There isn't even any cocaine in here. That's a letdown and a half."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The squeak might not be what put them over the edge, but the timing is suspicious. It's about two seconds after that the pounding of four sets of feet coming up the deck can be heard and the two in front have rather heavy rifles in hand. They're wearing sleek black armor which is WAY above the pay grade of some regular dock workers. The only thing that saves the pair's life is the fact that the foursome hasn't shot first. "Hands up, behind your head NOW." The one in the lead shouts, giving the two exactly one chance to get out of this alive.

As prisoners probably due for a long torture session, but alive.

Peggy is having none of it. She immediately fires off a shot across John's shoulder which proves, again, the world championship markswoman that she is, as it directly takes out the gun hand of the one in the lead. She's then snapping her gun to the side and shooting for the second one -- this time at his neck because she can't be so precise as she's dropping behind the cover of that crate that carries those precious blue vials.

"Get DOWN and AWAY. I'll cover you!" She snaps to John. Apparently, she plans to take on this foursome all by herself.

John Constantine has posed:
John yelps and dives for cover when bullets start flying. Either great reflexes or better instincts prevent him from getting so much as a graze, though it's a near enough thing as to part some fine blonde hairs on his head.

"Away /where/?" he calls back. "My plan was to walk out the way I came in, you're the one who bollocksed up my escape route!" he accuses Peggy.

The fire comes in more sporadically now as the guards shoot to keep the intruders heads down, not wanting to risk the merchandise in the crates. John props his forearms on his knees and rests the back of his head against the crate. When Peggy looks over again, he's smoking.

"You're the special agent, right?" he inquires. "Can't you just--" he makes a 'pew pew' motion with his index and middle finger. "Go on, off y' pop, I'll just wait until you've got the situation sorted," he reassures her.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I'm *working* on it, you sod." Peggy hisses to him, remaining carefully behind the crates even as they are laying down some suppressive fire to the two intruders. She shifts her hand off of her ICER for a moment and reaches down to a small thing on her hip. "Shut your eyes." She orders, then the flash bang is tossed out to the other side of the crates and goes off not even a second later. So much for doing this quietly, but the gunfire pretty much killed that idea already.

In the chaos, and hopefully having momentarily blinded her enemies, she comes around the OTHER side of the crates from where she dropped, switching the gun in her hands as she moves. This isn't going to be a night to take prisoners -- she doesn't have the back up for it. She puts two more rounds in those left standing and a final one in the first man she shot, considering he wasn't exactly down.

There's sounds of more footsteps on wood, but they are farther up the docks and running in to give back up. They might have about 30 seconds to make a proper escape here. "We've got to go, NOW. I can handle four. I can't handle a dozen on my own." She grabs at his wrist, trying to pull him down the way she came which is out of the line of other HYDRA guards and dockworkers. "You better be able to climb or swim."

John Constantine has posed:
"Can't handle a dozen?" John scoffs and gets to his feet. "Some secret agent you are!" he tells Peggy.

The thundering footsteps grow louder and he looks towards them, then at Peggy. "But now's not the time for professional criticisms," he agrees, and grabs Peggy's fingers while she hauls him into a run.

They get to the end of the access and are confronted by a high locked gate with barbed wire atop it. Security fencing to the left, murky water under the piers to the right, a gate behind and enemies en route.

"Okay, I take it back, bad escape plan, now is the time for professional rebukes. I have some notes on your decision making paradigms," he informs her. "For instance, escape routes: not great. Thoughts from the lady or shall we adjourn there?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Start climbing, lazy bones!" Peggy snaps to him, "The only bad escape plan is in a coffin." She does have a few things to help them, like a zip line on her hip, which she shoots up and over the fence. It at least gives them something a bit more stable to cling onto while they scale up the gate. Her combat boots are made for this sort of climbing, but his shoes might not be. So, she starts going first, making it in pretty good time before leaning a hand down to try and help him up the tall gate. The barbed wire might suck, but they were both in fairly covering clothing, so hopefully it's not too bad. Better than being shot.

As she's trying to get him up and over, the little SIG she carries is leveled back in the direction of their pursuers. She makes a few disciplined shots, at least taking down one of them in the front and his body takes out two others, slowing up their pursuit while she buys John time to get over the gate in his less than appropriate clothing.

John Constantine has posed:
"Do I look like a bleedin' chimpanzee?" John asks, rhetorically. He reaches a hand up towards Peggy and goes to get hoisted up just as her weight shifts towards the other side of the gate.

Behind him a shotgun booms once, twice; pellets buzz angrily through the air around them, deflecting off the chain links. The effort's less than a hundred percent effective at that range, and it doesn't take much zip out of the pellets. John grunts and falls backwards, clutching his shoulder. "Bloody /hell/, that smarts!" he announces, and scrambles towards an abandoned stack of pallets for what minimal protection they offer.

"Go! Go!" John shouts at Peggy, and waves her off. "Bugger off, there's no sense in both of us getting collared!"

The HYDRA goons advance smartly, the tactical unit shoving the hired goons aside to close in on John's position. Suppressing fire zeroes in on Peggy to drive her back from the fence, the well-trained fighters relying on their heavy body armor to shrug off Peggy's nine-millimeter handgun.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I don't leave anyone behind." Peggy growls out, though her own body armor is pretty good at taking the peppering of that fire. She drops down next to him, leaving zip line in place for HOPEFULLY later. She falls hard but catches herself with knees bent, dropping immediately behind a set of pallets as well. "Start working on getting that gate open. I've got one stick-on charge..." Somewhere on her utility belt. But she doesn't really have enough hands or time to grab it and keep the HYDRA agents off of them.

The first thing she pulls off her belt is another flash bang, the last one she has, but it'll buy them a few moments. She tosses it in the general direction of the approaching force and then switches out to the heavier ICER she's got. It won't put them permanently down, but it's better than her SIG at this range. She ducks back out from the pallets, firing a few more disciplined shots towards them.

John Constantine has posed:
John's eyes widen when Peggy runs back /into/ the gunfire to take a place in cover near him again. "Bloody hell, I knew I was a good shag but this is a whole new level," he remarks. He winces away from gunshots fragmenting the pallet near his face. "I'd have settled for a nice thank-you note." Before Peggy's response can be vocalized, he lifts his hands to shoulder level. "But-- this is nice, too," he offers.

A flashbang sails towards them; John kicks it away and it falls into the water twenty feet below, detonating with a loud THUMPF and a spray of saltwater.

"Right, I really didn't want to have to use this," John mutters, and reaches for a necklace hidden under his shirt. It's an astonishingly delicate crystal amulet that looks like a perfectly miniaturized door.

There's a lull in the gunshots; John scrambles towards Peggy, a hairsbredth ahead of a flurry of responsive fire. "I've a way out but you're gonna have to trust me," he says, panting with adrenaline.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I shagged you. Of course I trust you." Well, trusts enough. Sleeping next to someone is a big enough deal for Peggy, especially when they're barely keeping HYDRA killers off their back and she did not bring a big enough gun for this kind of firefight. She slightly stands for just a second, firing back at their enemies. This time she catches two bullets. One to the shoulder and one to her chest. She goes down. Hard.

Granted, the tac suit is enough to keep the bullets actually out of her flesh, but the wind's knocked out of her. "I'll take that...ride... any time now..." She coughing as she tries to get her own breath back. SHe's going to be sore in the morning, she's out of flash bangs, and the ICERs aren't doing enough to scare the goons that aren't even 20 feet away now. To climb back up the gate would probably be suicide.

"Lead on."

John Constantine has posed:
"God bless, if I had a nickel," John remarks. He checks Peggy's shoulder and arm for any holes, and finding none, abruptly leans in and kisses her firmly on the lips. "Best of luck, luv, and bring that pendant back to me when you can." A palm rests on her sternum, between her breasts.

"Also, don't go downstairs, and /don't/ let her give you any shite," he advises her. "Oh, and, I lied, it's really more of a one-person ticket."

And then, with Peggy slightly overbalanced, he holds eye contact and just straightens his arm to push her off the side of the dock!

The world goes a little topsy-turvy, strange lights and colors flash and whorl, and when Peggy lands with a *thump* it's on a heavily padded carpet, in a classically refined room, in a house that is the picture of mid-eighteenth century aristocratic decor. Gas lamps flare to life and there is a sudden and unmistakeable /presence/ in Peggy's proximity.

Peggy Carter has posed:
If Peggy wasn't slightly reeling from taking a slug to the chest, she'd probably have realized earlier he was going to be an overdramatic man about things. But they DID shoot her. And then he's kissing her, which is completely distracting in and of itself. And the words he says are a spill of slightly confusing things. "What- John... NO!" But it's too late.

He's pushed her, she's off balance, and she's suddenly tumbling back into the water. There's a moment of pure confusion on her face, a flicker of worry that maybe he has betrayed her, but then the world is shifting all around and her trust of him is proven to have been well placed. Even if he's been all martyr about it. She lands on her back, laying there for a few moments as she catches her breath.

"Bloody... fucking... stubborn... bastard.." She breathes out after a few moments, trying to swallow back the worst of her anger and pain at the thought he might have just sacrificed himself for her. HYDRA isn't kind, she knows that. He'll be lucky to survive with his mind in tact.

Then her dark eyes slowly turn up towards whatever that presence is. Brows arch, her head tilting a bit. She dares to breathe out a quiet, "Ah...hullo... John sent me."

John Constantine has posed:
The lights around Peggy burn darker and redder when she mentions John's name. Wherever he's sent her, she's clearly not going to earn any immediate points by mentioning him. The entire house creaks and groans with an incomprehensible dialect of ire and irritation.

Suffice that there might be an issue with establishing a dialogue in the near future.

In the real, John takes the time to light up a cigarette and get it going again. "Filthy bloody habit," he says to himself, and examines the lit cherry.

Back between his lips it goes, and John lifts his hands over his head during a lull in the fire. "Orright, I'm done! I surrender!" he shouts, and slowly gets to his feet. "My partner's dead, I'm out of ammo, and one of you mangy gits winged me," he remarks. Blood does indeed dribble down his leg in a thin stream. HYDRA closes in around John, weapons ready, and he grins at the armored figure closing in on him with ziptie handcuffs in hand.

"How's that line go? 'Take me to your leader'," he says, and offers his wrists to the goons.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Still aching, and it's only going to get worse as the bruises blossom, Peggy slowly sits up. She takes in all her surroundings, the strangely antique, lovely house. Gas lamps. That odd presence that she has now maybe pissed off. She rubs one hand across her sterum, the last place John touched her, and grasps at the pendent before it falls loose of her tac jacket and is lost in the house. Carefully, she slips it into her pocket and begins to stand.

"Hullo? I... truly did not mean to intrude. I'll be out of your way in a moment, soon as I figure out where I am." Hopefully not *when* she is. She can't handle more time traveling right now. She unfolds from the ground warily and pulls her phone out of her pocket, trying to see if she has signal and, if she does, just where she might be.

Back on the docks, the goons have, at least, stopped firing on him. They smirk, not really one for small talk, as three guns remain quite trained on him while another of their's comes around and starts patting him down, removing any weapons or things that might even LOOK like weapons. Wallet. Phone. Basically anything but his clothes. "Get a boat out there. It was Carter and I didn't hear a splash. I want her body - alive or dead." He orders several of the squad behind him with a tone that can only be called righteous anger. Whoever these people are, they HATE her. John is treated like an annoying fly or an undisciplined child, as they try to zip tie his wrists.