6298/Hostage Negotiation Team A

Hostage Negotiation Team A
Date of Scene:	22 May 2021
Location:	Generic Supermarket in Queens
Synopsis:	An Inhuman and an Asgardian walk into a hostage-taking. Not all the hostage-takers survive. Blackagar raises the roof. Sif leaves in a rainbow of flavours. Friendship is magical!
Cast of Characters:	Sif, Blackagar Boltagon

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Sif has posed:
The robbery went very wrong. It started off right. They didn't rob a bank. That's a sucker's game in the modern age. Even main branches have very little cash available for the time frame of a robbery, and the security around them is such that it's almost guaranteed that the police will be on the scene even before the tiny amounts of cash are put into bags.

No, the smart criminal robs grocery stores just before the armoured cars come. They're cash-rich, security-poor, and filled to the brim with hostages you can use to keep the crowd under control. And the cops just aren't keyed up to come to the rescue of your local Safeway.

But even the best-laid plans can go to Hell in an instant when you accidentally choose the one day that cops are doing a training exercise in the very next block. And this is what's happened to the robbers. Before they could get much of anything there was massive police presence and they weren't in a getaway chase any longer.

No, they were in a hostage situation. A situation they used to good effect, gunmen in an outward pointing ring, surrounded by customers, rendering them hard to snipe and harder to storm.

But in the middle of the hostages is one Lady Sif of Asgard, and maybe at least one other meta, ready to save the day.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar had entered into the grocery store essentially on a whim. It was the middle of nowhere but as part of his exploration of human cultures and occurances he had followed a few others in. The repository of food had fascinated him and he had been examining all the various types of 'noodles' that the people of the planet held. How many different pastas did one culture really need?!

The chaos that had broken out within the store with the robbery had certainly pulled his attention, however he had calmly kept his hands behind his back and watched events unfolding. It was afterall simply another opportunity to examine the species and how they dealt with things. Then the police came, then standoff began, the hostage crisis unfolding.

There was certainly a fine line between watching how the humans handled themselves and allowing potential death to befall them. The first was necessary, the latter was not. Thus Blackagar has stood measuring but consideration growing on his features as he lingers amongst the crowd, only now starting to take stock of the others present with blue eyes falling on each to determine potential capability.

Sif has posed:
Lady Sif of Asgard, dressed in her resplendent "Genetically Gifted Soccer Mom Trophy Wife" outfit (everybody should have one such!), is in the grocery store for far more prosaic reasons than "observing humanity".

She's here for bananas.

A friend of hers offered to make banana bread, but needed someone to fetch bananas. A bit of wheedling with her brother and she was Bifrosted to a nearby grocery store ready (indeed eager!) to help her friend by purchasing bananas. Then, like Blackagar, she became fascinated by some of the selection. Are there really that many different kind of apples? And why? Why would anybody want apples that aren't Freya's?

Shrugging she finally selected her bunch and headed to the checkout, only to get caught up in the exploding situation. And like Blackagar she held off on intervention, though unlike him mostly out of a concern of injuring innocents. Someone observing the crowd for potential, however, would easily spot her physique (almost entirely unconcealed by her atire, so tight it is).

Oh, and the wicked looking stiletto dagger hanging rakishly from a belt slung over her hip. A wicked-long, slender blade whose hilt and sheathe are bejewelled in ways that ... don't look like they belong here in middle class shopping.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar exmaines the crowd before eyes fall on Lady Sif, more over upon the form mentioned and specifcally the weapon she carries. There is a long look given towards her and a tilt of his head in question. A weapon such as that certain does not fit what he has seen on most of the normal civilian population. With a small smile, he offers her a nod and then a tilt of his head.

"Hey, asshole!" a voice rings out directed towards Blackagar. One of the gunmen apparently having taken notice of him still standing and not cowering away like the others. "You think we're fucking playing around? Get on your knees or I put you on your knees!"

Blue eyes turn towards the gunman with a curious expression and then Blackagar motions to his throat, and then his mouth and shakes his head with the expression of helplessness, perhaps trying to convey his inability to speak.

Sif has posed:
The strange one standing to the side and observing. He doesn't belong with the miscreants, but nor does he belong among the sheep. He bears further watching. The rest... There are some who would take foolish chances if presented them, getting others killed. And there are some who might, if presented leadership, form a good peasant levy: hardy, strong, and willing to take small risks.

Then the gunman approaches the observing one and it becomes clear that the observer is not able to communicate. This could get ugly. Unless...

Sif's movement behind the gunman is almost ghostlike. Silent. Swift. Decisive. Before the people LOOKING ON fully register her presence, she's behind him, dagger in hand, pressed into the man's throat just where the veins are closest the surface. A hand made of steel covers his mouth as an arm made of steel pulls him close to her so she can whisper in his ear. The blade penetrates skin, not just a small amount, but deep enough to be felt and clear enough a threat: a small push kills him.

"I would recommend that you immediately hand your weapon to the gentleman you address now if you wish to survive this day, mortal," she hisses into the man's ear. "And silently, or I will leave you alive long enough to witness the deaths of all your fellows before I come back for you."

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar simply holds out his hand, the one who levelled a gun at him giving it over without reluctance in the face of impedning death. Looking down at the weapon, the black haired man takes it in both his hands and bends it over itself, folding it in two and then places it on the ground.

He nods towards the woman then, looking around and spotting a pair of others that's backs are turned. He points to Sif then, and then to the one closest to her. Then he points to his own chest and the other one. Holding up three fingers, he then drops it to two, then to one, then he moves.

Blackagar covers the ground in a flash, the movements impossibly quick for a normal human as he almost appears behind the gunman, placing his hand on the weapon and once more bending it over in his grasp while the others strikes quickly at the man's throat to cut off sound. There is almost a pitying look in Blackagar's eyes as he gently lays the now unconsciouss robber down on the ground as softly as he can.

Sif has posed:
The folding gun causes an eyebrow to be raised. He did indeed bear watching. As Blackagar counted down, she pulled back the blade, letting blood run down in a gush from the (non life threatening) wound in the robber's throat, calmly whipping the knife 180° and striking the guy in the temple with the haft.

When the count reaches one, she's laid the concussed robber on the floor and, in a smooth move, leaps to her target in a single bound, like a panther in flight, a finger jab to the base of the skull laying him out flat from the concussive wave of more force than the human body was meant to contain. Her fingernails penetrate in the process. It seems even without a knife she's prone to lethal potentiality.

That's three down of eight, and thus far silent.

Silent, that is, until one of the ones Sif had identified as a foolish chance-taker tries to pull out a gun. Head filled with fantasies of a "good man with a gun" his trigger caught on his badly-fitted holster causing the gun to flop to the ground. And go off. Five gun barrels now point at him. One barks. The man's head is now filled with lead and cavitation.

Silence doesn't appear to be an option any longer as the rest scan and start picking out the fact that three of their number are already down.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Before Blackagar recognizes that another is attempting to be a hero, that man has foolish gotten himself shot. The Inhuman looks at the corpse as it falls to the ground, pondering the mortality of the individual before he looks up. It is very difficult to not associate him with a threat. He is kneeling over the body of one of their comrades and he does not have the expression of someone who is fearful.

The first shot strikes him in the chest. Well, it should but it ends up simply falling to the ground after striking him with others following suit. Condensed electrons shroud his body at skin level giving the allusion of being bullet proof as the rounds strike and land.

Around him however, he can hear the screams of the people. Terrified as the gunfire, unknowing the situation. But for the moment Blackagar seems content, for if their focus is on him it is not on the civilians so he calmsly folds his hands behind his back to allow the gunmen to continue their barrage on him, the false assumption being that they will continue doing so until he falls.

Sif has posed:
Sif takes the opportunity that Blackagar provides as a distraction to move to a clear line of sight on the one who killed the wannabe, that one too frantically firing at the Inhuman with increasing panic to notice her maneouvre. Suddenly his head sprouts, too fast for human eyes to follow, a jeweled dagger's haft, thrown with such force that it penetrated with ease the thickest part of his skull and still buried to the hilt. The point of the dagger makes its bloody arrival out the other side, covered by hair.

Then, to split the fire, unaware yet how much punishment Blackagar can take, she lets loose a chilling, ullulating battle cry as she leaps toward the nearest of the four remaining, backhanding him hard enough to rotate his head 270 degrees.

That's three remaining standing, three unconscious, two dead.

And if that look on Sif's face is anything to go by she's ready to reduce that to three unconscious, none standing...

"You think you can kill the innocent in the presence of Lady Sif and live!?" she fumes as she prepares for the next assault.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Sif's springing assault pulls the attention of the shooters as well, the yelling and the calling of attention to her. One of the men continues to fire at Blackagar but it's more of a panicked attempt to keep him at bay, for the Inhuman has started walking towards him calmly. Hands still behind his back, he approaches to the gunman until the nearly crazed man in panic stumbles backwards and in doing so grabs a woman. Quickly he jams the gun against her head and takes the possessed eyed look of someone making the devil's bargain.

"Let me go or I'll kill the bitch!" he screams.

Blackagar's expression doesn't change, it remains utterly impassive however his hand does rise and a concussive blast radiates outwards from it, striking both the gunman and the woman with force to knock them both into the ground and unconsciouss. A better alternative than a dead body.

Turning he slowly surveys the progress that Sif is making with the remaining two, once more in that observant demeanor.

Sif has posed:
What other two?

Sif isn't the kind of 'warrior' who takes out one opponent and then waits. Especially when the remaining opponents are shooting wildly at her. Bullets hit her, slicing her clothing with wanton disregard for personal integrity ... and then stop. Like Blackagar they wind up on the floor. Unlike Blackagar they've clearly hit a physical barrier as the hydrostatic shock ripples visibly across her skin and attendant covering cloth.

But there's no blood. Just an annoyed look like someone might get from a too-strong poke.

And this triggers the final move of the fight. The two running steps forward at incredible (to humans) speed. The sideways leap that sends her flying through the air like a log trap launching horizontally. The sneaker-clad feet colliding one, two, three times in rapid succession sending the nearest gunman flying into a display of canned goods that collapse on top of him adding insult to her injury.

And the fist that penetrates skin just beneath the final gunman's ribs, sinking deep within from the raw impact, tearing flesh giving way to her fist until she winds up standing, fist INSIDE the final assailant, eyes cold, body tight as she looks around for another threat while the gunman twitches in agony at the end of her arm.

Somewhere in all that is where the panic starts and people scream and run in all directions, acting like shrapnel in a bomb burst.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Hands return to behind his back as Blackagar looks at the destruction that is left in the wake of the gunmen's attempt at robbery. Bullet casings everywhere, screaming, fleeing civilians attempting to trample over one another to get out of the area and the bullhorn of screaming police outside demanding to know what's going on. There he stands calmly while the ocean crashes around him.

His blue eyes take in Sif, eyebrow lofting slowly in unspoken question and not a small amount of judgment based on his expression. However, still unable (or unwilling) to speak, the dark haired man offers a slight bow of what could be gratitude towards the woman before he inclines his head with a tilt towards the back, beginning to make his own way there. Apparently there may be a desire to blend in with the rest of the people fleeing so as not to get caught up being asked questions he has no intent to answer.

Sif has posed:
Warrior practicality. Sif pulls the dagger out of the gunman's head, using her foot to hold the head down while she yanks it out, then cleans it on his clothing. This she sheathes, after which she takes a few hasty steps to catch up with Blackagar.

"You have mighty strength," she says as she catches up. "I would seek congress with you."

She probably didn't mean that in the modern sense of 'congress'.

"Lady Sif of Asgard," she says unnecessarily, as she'd already introduced herself to the gunmen before she'd killed three of them. "At your service."

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar continues to mill with the crowd in the attempt to blend in to disappear, however as Sif comes to follow him he turns and looks to the woman. A small nod is given and then he reaches to his hip and produces a slate board about the size of a half of sheet of paper and he begins to scrawl on it with a piece of chalk.

'I believe in the strength of restraint. I am Blackagar. It is a pleasure to meet you.' The words are shown to Sif as he finds a comfortable spot where it seems others and the authorities will not pay much attention. It is then he turns and looks more fully at Sif.

'I have heard of Asgardians.'

Sif has posed:
"It is hard to avoid hearing about those who conquered the Nine Realms and sealed off the Tenth," Sif says with a laugh as she reads that. "We've been inactive for a while, but legends remain of our exploits, distorted as some have become." She looks at Blackagar again. "And I am always pleased to meet a fellow warrior of conscience. Your protection of innocents of Midgard serves you well."

She extends a hand for clasping while resting her other fist over her chest in salute.

"Thank you for your assistance."

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
The man looks at the hand extended by Sif, before he accepts it in his own and mirrors the clasping motion along with the fist over chest salute. Blackagar may not know the significance but it is reasonable to respond in kind. When he releases, it is to once more write his response.

'It is unfortunate one perished, but he made his choices. I am not one to be found here. So I must depart before the authorities find me'.

The man looks around, then upwards and ponders, lifting a finger to point towards the ceiling then expressing a questioning glance towards Sif.

Sif has posed:
"I have my own way to exuent," Sif says calmly, "though it is forbidden for me to take mortals without previous clearance. Make your exit as you see fit. I will be gone before the local authorities arrive."

~Heimdall, get ready to pick me up.~ ~What trouble have you gotten into this time.~ ~None. But I don't wish to waste time with authorities asking impertinent questions.~ ~Stand clear.~

Sif steps away from Blackagar and... vanishes in a puff of rainbow lite-brite.

Friendship is magical!

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar blinks at the rainbow of colors that remains behind after Lady Sif's disappearance. There is a few moments of consideration, a familiarity that he cannot place his finger on, but then the noise of impending authority figures strikes him and he makes his own depature as well, utilizing the ceiling and the hole he creates in it for his exit.