8888/You Have a Debt

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You Have a Debt
Date of Scene: 01 December 2021
Location: Buenos Aires, Argentina
Synopsis: A squad of Avengers and one Titan fought Nazi vampires in Argentina. Further mission details redacted on orders of Power Girl and for the livelihood of Scott Lang.
Cast of Characters: Scott Lang, Heather Danielson, Felicia Hardy, Karen Starr, Steve Rogers




Scott Lang has posed:
     There was no aerial insertion this time, flying Quinjets into the heart of a busy city frowned upon except under immediate emergencies for some reason. Don't worry Scott had told everyone, he took care of getting transport from the airport where they had landed. So it was that Captain America, Ant-Man, Power Girl, and Black Cat sat in the back of a rickety van that was at least 40 years old and smelled every bit of it with the stench of cigarettes, booze, and less pleasant odors barely masked with a hint of Febreeze. The front of the van's dashboard was covered in trinkets and at least 30 pounds of beads seemed to dangle from the rear-view mirror while a non-plussed Argentinian driver navigated the narrow and busy streets.

     Scott all things considered seemed fine with this. But then he has a helmet with advanced rebreathing tech which is noticeably up. He seemed excited though for other reasons. "So look, I KNOW the last two were dead ends but I did some digging when I got home and I think I've figured out a new lead, I talked to this girl at the library and, I'm telling you, we busted this wide open! I mean if this had been the yetis we'd already be on our way...but I mean even if this IS a false lead it was still the Nazferatu so, I figured we were kinda compelled on this one, you know?" Scott says. The driver barrels through a redlight with a blare of his horn and 20 more respond in kind, but Scott doesn't seem to notice. He'd paid a professional, surely the man knew what he was doing as they closed in on the museum with hours of daylight still to go. Even Scott knew the very basic rule of vampire hunting, don't go at dark.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Clad in a fully covering traditional dress of the local Argentinian people, Heather finishes her last pose for the fundraiser at the museum. She smiles happily as she steps off to one side and removes the bright red hat from her head.

    She picks up a bottle of water as she sets the hat down, and then uses the now freed hand to grab a donut. Yes, she needs CALORIES. And she brought Krispy Kremes for the occasion... sharing them with the other attendees.

    Of course, the shoot is finished, and she gobbles down her donut before wiping off her hand and reaching for her phone to check her messages. Mostly, checking in with the Titans to see if there are any issues in the area since she's like the only Titan in Argentina at the moment.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    A single large silver spike dangles between Felicia's fingers, she has her mask on, but lord help Scott it doesn't do a thing to mask smells. It's so thin it barely hides her identity. She knows it doesn't, but damn if it doesn't look great. She plays with the spike, the same one she kept from a warewolf hunter that she happened to run into some time ago in Gotham, but she figures it helped with the creatures of the night once, maybe it will help again. Every little bit of edge matters in a fight. She refuses to come unprepared.

    Black Cat spins the spike once more on the back of her thumb, like one might a pen, catches it, looks towards the driver, and spies him looking and decides to put the spike away. Hunched over in the back of the van, the thief doesn't exactly feel comfortable, as there are beads of sweat on her face, and dotting the exposed neckline. "I'm not sure if this is better than the snowmen..." She says, looking at Scott's infuriating helmet.

    "Who's this girl?" Felicia asks, trying to busy her mind on something other than the South American heat.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Dear God, Karen's been in a mood since they got here.

    Sure, the idea of Nazi Vampires was so absolutely, positively ridiculous that she's been irate about that since she heard it... But Scott's handling of their "transport" has put her in an even worse mood, none the least of which is due to the fact that she's sitting on her duff in the cargo area of a van older than most of the people riding in it, which travels at a brisk Slow even though the engine itself is making enough noise to be outlawed in several states.

    Her eye has developed a small twitch, and she has her arms curled under her chest, as is the thing you do when you're simmering in your own fury. "I swear to fuck if that belt slips one more time, I am going to throw this van to its destination."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve has been a lot of weird places and done a lot of weird things. This may be the weirdest so far. Blasting through Buenos Aires at top speed in a stinky, uncomfortable van. Not a great trip.

"Scott," Steve says as he leans against one of the walls, shield in front of him. "Next time, let me handle the transportation. Because this is the worst ride I've ever been in, and I crashed into the ocean and was frozen for decades."

Scott Lang has posed:
     "You all need to relax. You were EXCITED about this Cap. Fighting Nazis who escaped the war. UNDEAD Nazis? That's like, the most guilt-free baddie you can get, even robots these days you have to wonder if they're like Vision or something. We get down into the museum archives, find these guys, kick their butts, we're home before midnight. And Pedro..."

     "Paulo" the driver emotionlessly corrects without taking his eyes off the road as he momentarily puts the van on two wheels taking a tight turn that slides the whole group. Seatbelts in this thing? None.

     "Pablo will drop us off right at the front door. And yea no worries Felicia, The Titans told me they've got someone in Argentina who can help, I just need to text her the...oh shoot," Scott babbles as he stops talking for a blessed moment and pulls out his phone, furiously typing.

     It's as the van pulls up to the museum, its exhaust backfiring that Heather's phone suddenly lights up with a text from an unknown. "Avengers coming. Nazi Vampires at Museum. Be ready." As the super powered model watches the four Avengers pile out of the van and Scott locks eyes on her before she's barely had time to read it, "Hey you must be Clockout! Welcome to the team! And snacks too!" Scott not even breaking stride for the front door of the museum as he steals one of Heather's donuts, certainly not giving her time to ask questions before he's past her and moving into the lobby, his helmet back down in the fresh air and to allow for easier donut nibbling.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    As Scott breezes past her, Heather chews her bite. She literally -just- read the text, and is in a whole local dress. I mean nobody local is a blue eyed blonde... okay, maybe a few. But she does tend to stand out.

    And that is when she spots Captain America. To him, she offers a smile and a hand, "Hi, Heather. Or Knockout of the Titans. Who's he?" she asks, jerking a thumb towards Scott as he moves along.

    "I mean, I'm ready and happy to help out however I can." she adds as she reaches to unfasten the dress behind her neck. She has her blue skintight costume under it. Never know these days, right?

    But then she turns to glance at Felicia. "Oh wow. You should totally join my agency. Can you help me?" she asks, turning her back to Felicia where the zipper one can never reach on their own back resides.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve grits his teeth as the driver throws them around. Yes, he is thrilled to be able to do what he does best once again. Cap loves punching Nazis. This ride, not so much. When the van stops, he piles out, stopping by the driver's window. In ... pretty good spanish, he just says "<Thank you, Paulo.>"

He slings his shield over his back, turning in time to see Scott steal a donut. He groans, moving to catch up. He shakes Heather's hand, his grip the perfect, confident firmness without the power squeeze of ego. His handshake says he knows who he is, is confident but not a blowhard.

"I'm Steve, and that would be Ant-Man. This is all his idea, I'm just here to make sure he doesn't get arrested or killed." A pause. "And to hit some Nazi vampires."

He jogs a little to catch up to Scott. "Are we just barging in, or are we going to, you know, plan this out?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia tries to dap Steve for his sick burn in regards to their means of ingress into this scenario. This ride is god awful. Seriously, Thor wouldn't accept this. Why should they? Because Scott's cheap?

    The thief keeps her mouth shut otherwise, feeling worried by Karen's mood though, as Scott certainly seems to push all of Karen's buttons. Like an expert playing Simon. It's uncanny his ability to upset her. Felicia wants to put a finger to his mouth and tell him to simply shush, but that's no way for an Avenger to act.

    Out of the van, she steps around to the driver side and produces some, now sweaty, cash. It may be American currency, but it spends still, and she puts it into Paulo's hands. "Grassy Ass." She says. Way wrong. Way white.

    Moving around to stand next to Steve and Karen and watching Scott start to walk in, "Knockout, cool name. I'm Black Cat, and, um, I don't see why I couldn't help, but, lets talk business afterwards? Si?"

Karen Starr has posed:
    The departure from the van would've been absolutely fine, were it not for the passenger in the rear. Karen idly reaches forward, and tugs at the handle to pop open the back of the vehicle, before it just pops off in her hand.

    The rest of the group has already disembarked, and they all get to hear the noise of her kicking out of the back of the van, the door clattering to a skidding stop on the street before the impressive, blonde form of none other than Power Girl steps free of the back, extending to her full height of six-three.

    Without a word, Power Girl steps up to the drivers' side window- which, of course, is not capable of rolling up, despite that Paulo is likely trying to do so now. She brings one arm up, and pops open a small compartment in her gauntlet, sliding from it a rather impressive number of bills. Sure, they're not Argentinian pesos, but several thousand dollars- if not more, it's hard to count them before she's dropped them into his lap- probably isn't anything to complain about around here.

    Stepping up to Scott, it almost seems like he'll be the next target of her rage, but instead, she just points to the front of the museum, and stomps after him, not saying a single word.

Scott Lang has posed:
     It was a sad state of affairs that Ant-Man and Captain America weren't the two most garishly dressed Americans in the musuem, a 60 year old couple wearing Hawaiian shirts taking photos nobody in their family wanted to see having them beat out by just a smidge. Scott plucks a brochure from a stand and keeps walking backwards now as he glances over the museum map while the rest of the team funnels inside. "Step ahead of you Cap. I may have forgotten to call the Titans but I did remember to call the museum, the director is supposed to let us down in the archives where these things are. There's only two ways down, the stairs and the elevator and they locked down the elevator already...I mean provided the vampires haven't built secret tunnels at any point in the last 80 years...BUT they should be sleeping! So we just head down, find em and...you know, do the, do the thing," Scott pulling out what appears, no IS a box of toothpicks and pulling one free, which suddenly grows several times its own size into a proper stake in his hand. He makes a stabbing motion with it but the look on his donut-smeared face is suddenly less enthused as he realizes what he's actually planning to do. Was this murder?

     His thoughts on the matter are broken though as a dumpy looking dark-skinned man with glasses and wearing a tan suit rushes up to them with a heavy accent. "Scott Lang! Mr. Rogers! Yes is good to see you! Is very good! The stairs are this way, you have...AHHH you did, you have delivered Sir! I am such a fan! I cannot believe she agreed to this!" babbles the museum director, his phone already coming out. If Scott had looked worried before now he looks downright scared as his usual trademark smile takes a bit of shakiness.

     "Ah, right. So umm, Power Girl? PG? So, the director of the museum wasn't TOTALLY into letting us rummage down in the archives hunting vampires but it turned out he's a big fan of you and your...work. So when I told him he could get a few selfies with you...Steve we should get downstairs. C'mon everyone, PG you catch up when you're done!" Scott doing his best to flee into the vampire-filled depths. Where it was safer.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "Should this sort of thing be discussed openly with the public present?" asks Heather as she works to remove that dress. Once she gets one arm out, it's obvious she's wearing her costume underneath.

    But to Felicia, she shrugs and smiles, "Sure. Thanks, sadly, the name wasn't my choice. But I like it now."

    And before long... as in right when Scott meets the dumpy guy, she has the dress in her hand, and lays it on a nearby shelf.

    "So, we're here to kill them?" she asks in a softer voice. It's obvious she's not really into killing anyone. I mean vampires could be people too, right?

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve looks slightly impressed when Scott pulls a toothpick out and it turns into a stake. This falls away when the truth comes out. He looks between the museum director, Scott and Karen a few times. Oh God. Oh no.

Cap goes full facepalm. He looks like he almost swears. Well, he looks like he's thinking about swearing.

He looks like he's about to give Scott a good lecture when the Ant-Man flees. This time, Cap does swear. "Dammit." Then he follows, drawing his shield. Whether it's for vampires or for Scott, well, only Steve knows.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    "You're leaving her up here and taking... us..." Felicia asks, stopping in mid stride and frowning. "Are you..." She stops mid gripe and faces Karen. "He's a buffoon." Then turning to Cap and lifting her hands in a 'serious?' gesture before she looks to the director. "No. This is dumb, how about you get selfies after? Does that work for you?" Black Cat is beside herself. Not ignoring Heather, she would never, but the audacity of this plan is befuddling the thief.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Karen already doesn't look like she's in a good mood- hell, she looks like she's never even heard of a good mood before. When they stop- for any reason, but especially because a doughy, middle-aged museum manager has been promised a number of selfies- Karen seems to pause in her movements. Her right arm flexes in position, the bicep bulging just slightly as the steely cords of perhaps the strongest muscles in the universe struggle against themselves for a moment. When she speaks, there is deadly calm.

    "It's okay. Go. Scott, I am going to hurt you later, in a fundamental way that doesn't go away with time. The wounds that I inflict upon you will never heal."

    Turning, Power Girl addresses the manager, and nods a couple of times. "Yeah, let's... Get on with it. You have your own camera, right? Great. Juuuuuust greeeeeeeat." The others depart down into the depths, and as they do, the manager begins taking his selfies, Karen doing her best to be polite, and smile, and remember all of the things Kal has told her about not breaking the arms of the people she's sworn to protect.

    "I subscribe to eh-" the man seems to struggle with words for a moment. "To eh- Only Fans." The echo of Power Girl's "Fucking WHAT?!" follows the other heroes down into the depths of the museum.

Scott Lang has posed:
     "The public is fine! Everyone, everything is under control! Nothing to see here!" Scott calls out loudly, only making more people look and mumble to themselves wondering what has gone wrong before Scott vanishes down the stairs with what is clearly an unheroic whimper at Power Girl's parting words. Clearly that took care of everything, his helmet snapping back up into battle ready position. The lowest archives is what they wanted, three stories down underground. The stairs are narrow and far from modern looking, the museum built into what had been a mansion or palace back in the 1800's when building codes were far looser. The steps are uneven, some loose, and the deeper they go the darker it gets like diving into the ocean. Scott's hurried pace slows on the final landing, one flickering bulb illuminating a metal door.

     "Great. Love it," he mutters as he steps up to the door and motions Cap to take the other side with a tilt of his head. He holds one hand up as Black Cat and Knockout presumably follow motioning them to stop. His fingers into a countdown now and for the moment he almost looks like he knows what he's doing as he slams the door open with his shoulder and pivots in, an arm raised with blaster charged, Cap on his right no doubt with shield up in heroic posture.

     What greets them is, a dusty museum archive mostly. Racks and racks of forgotten and less valuble artifacts, mostly boxed up. Cobwebs cling in the corners of the stony room and only a few lights flicker through the space. One in particular flickering towards the back end of the large space, accompanied by...was that a laugh track?

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "We're not killing anyone today, are we?" asks Heather in what can only be called a 'whisper-shout' towards Cap, and then Felicia. She glances back up the stairs, shaking her head at PG's predicament. I mean usually she's the one stuck with PR stuff like that.

    Nice change of pace. But then Scott does his best impression of a SWAT team entrance, and she sighs.... following after. She doesn't have weapons... or a shield. She just has her.

    Once inside, she asks, "Are we looking for the Lost Ark or something?" softly.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia descends the steps with minimal effort. Cat. Claws. Zip line. She's not really afraid of falling, or landing, or tumbling. She's also got some nifty low light talents and augmentations to her costume. So, she's casually behind Scott and Steve as they make their way down. Not because she's not willing to take charge, but because she's starting to truly understand Karen's resentment of all things Ant-Man. He could ask for her help going down first, taking point. Anything like that, but nooo.

    "I ... I don't know, but if Cap's here and we're fighting Nazi's, irregardless of their status as undead demons or whatnot, I think we stop them any means... Right?" Felicia asks, Steve, but stops as Scott's hand goes up.

    A gloved hand lifts up to slap against her forehead and she shakes her head, white hair cascading down her arm as she frowns and seems stunned into disbelief...

Steve Rogers has posed:
Cap just shakes his head most of the way down the stairs. This whole endeavor, from lizard people until now, has been exasperating. Still, Scott is an Avenger, and as the Guy In Charge, he has to support his teammates, even when things are weird.

Maybe especially when they're weird.

At the door, Cap sets up with his shield and lets Scott take the lead. "I'm not sure if vampires count as people anymore. From what Blade's told me, there's nothing but hunger, no matter what pretty words come out," he answers Knockout. "These ones are apparently also Nazis, which, well. Just punch them until they stop moving, and we'll figure it out."

The door is busted open, and Steve follows Scott in, shield ready, prepared to throw down against. ... Nothing. He frowns. Something feels off.

"Stay wary. Something isn't right."

Scott Lang has posed:
     Scott was still holding that ridiculous toothpick in one hand, the wood stake a good three feet long cocked at his shoulder ready to go. "I mean, it's NOT killing if they're undead but...I don't know. Can you knock a vampire out and arrest them?" even Lang beginning to question the matter despite it being his idea. His eyes flit around the dark room and a tilt of his chin turns on lights on his helmet which illuminate the room ahead of him fairly well. There was more noise from the furthest corner of the room but nothing that sounded dangerous. Certainly nothing as dangerous as Power Girl had sounded before. He looks back to the other three and shrugs pointing that direction before he starts to creep down the nearest aisle of dusty boxes and files headed that way, his stealth looking about as professional as someone who has watched a couple Mission Impossible movies.

     It turns out it hardly matters for at the end of the aisle is...a living room. A few sofas are set up that look to be older than the van they'd come in, a few rugs scattered on the cold stony ground. Facing them was an old tube style TV, its picture grainy and soft-focused showing some old sitcom from the 60's. Other bits of mismatched furniture were spread around the space, none of it new looking, some looking to have been taken from the museum collections themselves. And watching all of this? Seven old men dressed in threadbare military uniforms. If it weren't for the fact the uniforms had Swastikas attached it would be almost endearing.

     One of the elderly Nazis looks up from the TV and waves at them with a liver-spotted hand. "Ahh, come in, come in, you're here about the phones ja? They told us you might be coming. Come on, watch some shows. It's a good one," he calls to them cheerfully.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Sighing, Heather doesn't respond. She doesn't explain that anything that can think, can be alive, and can be killed. She isn't a hero to kill anyone. She is there to help save people...

    But that having been said, she reaches a hand out and murmurs to Scott, "Better give me one of those stakepicks." And.. she thought nothing down her might make her uncomfortable, or at least not more than she already was...

    And then they run into the Naziratics... (Geriatric Nazis for those at home)... and she lifts her brows... and just kinda waits. She expects these Nazis to sing a different tune when they see Mister Stars and Stripes, the good Captain may be on their OH SHIT lists. She hopes so at least.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve follows through the dusty basement, creeping along as only a guy dressed in the american flag can. When they hit the living room, Cap squints hard. When he sees swastikas, his shield arm draws back.

Then he notices the men are as old as he is. Literally. He hesitates.

"What the f--rijoles?"

Nice save, Cap. His arm drops as he looks between the aged fascists and Scott. "These are the vampires? Alledgedly?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    "They're kinda..." Felicia begins, and then squints before socking Steve on the back of the arm, and she puts on her war face. Not that he could see it in the low light, but dang it. These guys were -Are- Nazis. And as such, she's going to do the sensible thing and take away their fun. At least.

    "No. Fun time's over gramps." Felicia reports as she steps around the couch and unplugs the tv from the wall. "You got some 'splanin' t'do Lucy." What? She watched Nick -at- Nite as a kid.

Scott Lang has posed:
     A chorus of grumpy old man sounds accompany the TV dying out, dimming what little light the space had, only a few hanging bulbs and mismatched lamps to cover the windowless dungeon of a basement. "What, what's the problem here?! Yes we're Nazis! We got turned into vampires, when was it now? '83?"

     "No no, it was 87," rasps out another.

     "Right 93'. Did you know when you get turned into a vampire you don't get your years back? In our 30's during the war. Friedrich there was 41 when it ended. So we went from being a bunch of old Nazis living in a basement to a bunch of old Nazi vampires living in a basement. At least before we could go out during the day. Bah!"

     Oh this might be worse than he thought. Scott silently hands Heather his own toothpick rather than making her another, a feeling something this dumb wasn't going to require much stabbing. "OK, OK you're OLD Nazi vampires. But the phones what do you know about..."

     "Yeah yeah, the phone thing. That was the whole deal, we get immortality and in return we guard the phone cables go under his building. And if we stop you know what they say they'll do? They've got these talking birds that..."

     "Nope. No stop talking. I don't even want to hear what the next one is. We're not doing it," Scott cutting them off before he winds up deeper down this rabbit hole. This was supposed to be the SIMPLE op. Nazi vampires, go in, slay the evil. Easy. He grips the top portion of his nose and squints his eyes shut.

     "Turn the TV back on, Matlock is on soon!" comes a defiant German cry.

     Scott almost sounds about to cry. "Any ideas?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve just sighs. A big, heavy thing. They're vampire nazis, but they were geriatric when they were turned. "You know what," he says, looking at Scott. "I'm calling SHIELD. I'm too old for this."

Let Fury handle it. Cap really doesn't want to anymore. He was envisioning vampire versions of Johann Schmidtt, not this depressing display right here.

They are right, though. Matlock does come on soon.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    Felicia actually grunts out a growl and even with the minimal light she primes a specific finger for the dusty old farts. "Fuck this." She growls at the whole situation and in a fit of rage she turns and shoves her booted foot through the glass of the TV. "And fuck you!" She sighs heavily and clenches her fists so hard she might draw blood if she were to pause and think about it. Instead she's marching past the couch and storming back towards the library and the stairs back up to the museum.

Karen Starr has posed:
    There is a soft thudding that comes from the stairwell back up, the telltale sign of bootfalls hitting each step as someone approaches from the upper floors. There is little time to flee, as quite soon Power Girl emerges from the stairwell, hands clenched into fists. Her face is a somehow renewed, intensified visage of unchecked fury.

    "I broke his hand, Scott." she says, at first. Well aware that there is likely going to be an inquiry following, Karen continues: "He said he subscribes to my OnlyFans, which doesn't exist by the way, told me that they're much larger in person, and then gave one a /squeeze,/ Scott. That's what has happened to /me/ to/day./ On /your/ mission."

    She storms past, looks down a moment, and her eyes begin to glow a paler blue than normal. "Phone cables. Underground. I'm going to cut them."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "Seriously, I could be having dinner right now.." mutters Heather. What a way to meet Captain America... of course she is worried that this is going to reflect negatively on her...

    "I think Power Girl is the lucky one. She at least gets some PR out of this." she mutters before turning to walk out the door she came in.

    Aaaaand then she hears PG's commentary and rolls her eyes, "Okay. So I take all of that back. This has been a total fustercluck for everyone."

Scott Lang has posed:
     "Yeah, yeah I guess we can still bring them in. I mean they've gotta be guilty of something still right?" Scott seems to implore the heavens. Alas it sounded a lot more like Hell was coming to see him instead as the Black Cat leaves angry and Power Girl arrives angry. Scott doesn't use any Pym particles but he still seems to shrink when she speaks to him. "P-PG I didn't, I mean it was our best way in you know I..." his words faltering. But not out of fear of Power Girl. Rather it was one of the vampires on the couch who was reaching down behind it...and pulling up a tied up, gagged Argentinian woman, her neck studded with bitemarks. The elderly vampire stretches his jaw wide, fangs protruding while one of the others casually remarks, "Pass the drink down when you're done with it. Nothing to do but drink now till we get another TV."

     "Whoa! WHOA WHOA WHOA! No! No we are not, put the lady down!" Scott calls out, an arm raised as the blaster attached starts to glow. The seven old vampires look at each other and then back up at the three remaining heroes, and then all together stand up, dropping the tied up woman on the ground. Old they might be, but they stood rather straight, no shakiness in their movements.

     "Well, it was about empty anyway. We could use some fresh ones," says one of the vamps, all their fangs now starting to extend.

     Uhh. Cat! Clockout! Ladies?! We could use you back down here! Hello?!" Scott hollers, taking a few steps back not yet willing to fire. He casts glances sideways at Cap and PG. "We got this right? They're old, how tough can they..." and then the lights go out and the very shadows seem to be plowing into him.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Turning back, Heather narrows her eyes, "Okay, so they -are- still vampires. Old doesn't mean weak... they... well shit."

    She starts walking with purpose in her stride, angry now about the young woman those guys are draining of her life. "You turd nuggets are about to get your asses -kicked-..." she mutters before the lights go out and she just... stops. She doesn't have nightvision. She doesn't even have a flashl... her phone! She whips it out and activates the flashlight function... only to reveal one of the vampires almost in her face.

    She doesn't exactly squeak. I mean she's a superhero. Superheroes don't squeak, right? But she -does- kick a foot out and upward... a reflex being to go for where a guy never wants to get kicked. Ten tons of force coming up there on the vampire. Do vamps have nards? Wolfman does if you listen to the 80's movies... Monster Squad in specific. But Vampires? We will soon see.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Stupid, Steve. Just dumb as hell. He let his guard down. Assumed, if not the best, then at least harmlessness. Then the victim comes out. Then they stand. Steve's jaw sets as his posture shifts visibly from exasperated everyman to Captain America.

"You get nothing but your eternal rest."

The lights go out, and the vampires are fast, but Cap is, well, Cap. He skips a step back and hurls his shield. It bounces from a wall, throwing sparks, only to rebound into another. Somehow it pegs one of the Nazferatu in the back of the neck with a terrible crack and the vampire slumps. Steve follows the sound to retreive his weapon and, at the same time drive a stake through the thing's back into where it's heart should be.

Why yes, Cap has the Blindfighting Feat.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    She was prepared to walk out, even leaving the Nazi's on the couch in the dark, knowing they're vampires, and knowing that they are stronger than normal people. Black Cat knew better, but Captain America letting his guard down, was more influential than she realized. "Damnit." She snarls.

    Turning back around as she was going to let Karen absolutely tear Scott a new... one.

    Tighter space than the office where they fought the lizard people, and much MUCH darker. Felicia does have the dark vision. I HAVE DARK VISION. The young woman is rushing back into the room in order to help. Claws extended on one hand, silver spike held ready in one hand. She dives for one, swiping at the threat for a start.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Karen takes a moment nearer to the center of the room, next to the destroyed television. She kneels down next to it, before she hears activity behind her, the vampires standing up just as she picks out the phone lines. "Oh, please," she begins, straightening up herself. "Please tell me that a bunch of morally repugnant near-century-old leeches are about to fight us? That'd brighten my day."

    The lights go out, and there is the sound of a hand thudding against something in Karen's direction, along with some dull cracking. It is followed by the sound of a Vampire Nazi exclaiming in German about pain. In the jet black, there is a flash of red, and the vampire stops making noise.

Scott Lang has posed:
     One vampire cracks the ceiling with their skull. It turns out you can knock a vampire out, and turn them into a falsetto in the process as the poor bloodsucker lands back at Heather's feet. Cap of course doesn't break a sweat, the vampires are perhaps stronger and faster than him, but they haven't truly fought since the war. Felicia's falls with a gasp of pain and crumbles to dust as the werewolf slaying spike becomes a vampire one instead. As for Scott, the poor man is actually facing two who find themselves clawing at...the ground? The pair stop in confusion, not seeing the miniaturized Ant-Man who suddenly dropkicks the side of one of their heads into the other, whallopping their skulls together like a Three Stooges routine.

     It left only one remaining who hisses in the darkness. This wasn't how they were supposed to end. It backed up among the sofa and its foot struck something that cried out softly. The woman. With an evil grin it reaches down and grabs hold of her ropes before flinging the hapless 'drink' at Power Girl. If it could take power from HER, he'd be unstoppable, and with a hostage in the way there was no way she could strike back. The vampire lunged forward, its body half shadow, jaw extended like a snake's as it ducked under the thrown victim. Sure vampires preferred the neck but they could bite anywhere. Supernatural fangs met superdense flesh. It was biting her on the chest and gods help everyone the teeth pierced, barely. It was enough, just enough for a drop or two. For a split second the elderly vampire is smiling...and then enough solar energy was pouring into it that it could power the entire city with that couple drops. The other four heroes watch as the vampire begins to glow, awkwardly latched onto PG's mammary while she holds the hostage, its flesh getting brighter and brighter until the room is stark white and they have to look away or go blind...and then it explodes. Messily. On PG's white suit. The room goes back to pitch blackness and all is silent for a long moment before one can hear Scott's voice call out, "Welp. Time to hit the ole dusty trail..."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The fight with the undead is, as most fights are, nasty, brutish and short. Everyone pitches in and they make short work of them.

Cap hides behind his shield from the exploding vampire. Rapidly ashing bits slide down the vibranium, and in the fresh dark, he frowns.

Scott can feel it. He can feel the pointing finger too. "Never again, Scott. You want to lead any missions, you have to get them vetted. By me."

Then he's gone, clomping up the stairs, muttering to himself.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
    "Son of a-" Felicia stops herself from cussing as she's already done enough of that in front of Captain America and Power-Girl. She has to work on her image. For reals. But she turns around and is spitting, coughing and retching as she tries to get the ash and gore from her mouth, and tries to dust it off her face and chest. "I hate vampires." She bemoans to no one, and with a haste, she's following Steve back up top side. "Come on Knockout, Ant-Man's got some thinking to do."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    For a long moment, Heather just stared at the vampire she kicked. Then she heard the scuffle and turned the light towards Power Girl just in time to get an eyeful of naughty stupidity.

    "Oh man, that sucks." she says, making a Dad joke out of kneejerk reflex. That said, she turns on her heel and leaves Scott to deal with the cleanup. "Wow. I mean just wow... I thought the Titans had some weird missions but... Geriatric Nazi Vampires trying to... with Power Girl... I mean... yeesh. This normal for you Avengers? I thought things were a bit more... you know... well normal." she asks Cap as she struts off.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Things are going great. She hears a vampire, she lasers a vampire. The beams coming from her eyes essentially amount to the directly applied might of the sun itself, and though she's only releasing it for fractions of a second at a time, she's not holding that heat and light back at all. It's effortless, the way her gaze just vaporizes the vampires in the darkness.

    She hears the girl before she sees her, holding out her arms and catching the erstwhile snack just as the last remaining vampire latches onto her breast. The man starts to glow, illuminating herself and everyone else, for a moment... Before he vaporizes thanks to the concentrated solar radiation that infuses every cell of her body.

    "This.

    Didn't.

    Happen."