9002/Middleton Madness

Middleton Madness
Date of Scene:	08 December 2021
Location:	Middleton NY
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Elvis Odell, Clint Barton

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Elvis Odell has posed:
    You know when some dude's street name is "The Narc", you can probably assume he's full of shit no matter the line he tells. Yet Billy "The Narc" Thompson had used his capacity for spewing bull shit to low level government functionaries to get himself off the hook plenty of times, the guy always knew just what sort of vague nonsense would get attention it seems. He'd dodged a drug charge from the NYPD with a whole thing about flipping on coke dealers, only to get popped for an illegal machinegun and then spin a whole thing about terrorism to the Feds. Most recently he'd tried to get SHIELD to turn him loose after he got picked up with a key of coke, which included a story about alien mutant invaders which was enough to at least get SHIELD in the room with him.

    Of course when he was released to show his "proof", He broke a rookie SHIELD agent's jaw and made off with their car. The APB did predictably make, well everyone kind of look like jackasses if we're being honest here. Everyone wanted to catch the guy, nobody was actually very clear what he was capable of (beyond spewing nonsense). Unfortunately for "The Narc", a routine check by the local 5-0 had located the pilfered car in a hotel parking lot. A hotel parking lot in Middleton of all places.

    Even Elvis gets days off, or at least she's supposed to. Unfortunately for Elvis, she was in the neighborhood when the call went out. So casually she brings her Porsche to a stop behind a row of dumpsters and slips out to eyeball the hotel for a moment, before popping the trunk to snag her trademark navy blue "FBI" windbreaker and a shotgun. "No sir, the excitement never stops."A box of shells is dumped into a jacket pocket and casually she takes off for the Hotel office.

Clint Barton has posed:
Sometimes even 'low level' bad guys and bullshitters can be dangerous. Never underestimate anyone, because everyone holds an innate talent for surprise, no matter where they come from or what they do for a living. Case and point, getting the hell out of SHIELD via creative and violent means....damn their inability to turn a blind eye to potential threats.

Because 90 percent of them are bullshit.

So SHIELD sent Hawkeye to get the bullshit artist before he got too far away or worse - got protection and made it more interesting to get to him. So he was on an adjacent rooftop, tactical gear worn and bow in hand, quiver full of arrows both mundane and radical on his back, with a sword there as well. "Alright...should be simple." he mutters under his breath, then he sees the FBI agent strolling for the hotel.

"Great."

He fires his arrow, a line starched to it, and when it finds the mark? He uses his bow to help him zip line across.

Elvis Odell has posed:
    The Rooftop is thankfully devoid of any security measures, hell the stairway access doesn't even have a lock. There are no video cameras, no hint that anyone ever expected a top down infiltration was possible. Which is stupid in an age of flying men, but whatever right? Inside the hotel is nice enough, if a little dated. Very early two thousand 'beige on beige' sort of affair, the hallways are eerily silent however. Broken up only by the squeaking wheel of a house keeping cart and the poor old woman pushing it between rooms.

    Elvis is, well at the end of the hallway opposite stairway access in quite the hurry. Sliding through the door into the hallway, and pausing to brake the door behind her with a trailing foot. She may dress like just about every other Fed of course, but she's hardly armed like just another suit. In her gloved hands is a entry length Benelli in matte nickel, which is of course pretty rare. The big pearl handled Colt .44 and a string of speedloaders at her right hip though, yeah might be a fairly big tip off as to exactly who she really is.

Clint Barton has posed:
As Clint ziplines across the buildings, his eyes lower to the strange-looking Fed now that he's gotten a chance to get a good look at her. His eyebrow raises, and a steady gaze falls upon the 'Dead Fed'....including the unique weaponry...matches reports. "Command, have sighting on the potential Meta. Code 0-8-4, Should consider dangerous. Codenamed, Dead Fed sighted." Clint reports, before his feet land on the roof of the building and he rolls to his feet.

He notices the complete lack of security. Guards or technological or otherwise.

"Amateurs."

Clint's words ring out into the silence as he approaches the door to the lower stairways, checking for a lock with a barely gloved hand, which results in him cracking the door open with barely a sound. Bow steady in his hand and his shooting hand ready to draw as many arrows as he needs to plug them into his enemies. He moves with a soft step, intending not to alert anyone to his presence, but then again...

He's a helluva quickdraw.

"Alright Narc....where are ya."

Elvis Odell has posed:
    Our favorite fed draws up short, pausing just to the side of hotel room #423. There she takes a knee, letting that scattergun hang from it's sleeve as she tugs those leather gloves taut. Normally she'd spend a minute or so just listening, but you know sometimes things just don't work out.

    It starts distant, first one siren followed by another and soon another. A full code three response, which terminates in squealing tires outside as the local PD decides to join the party. That's predictably more than enough to get a wanted Felon's attention, and it's exactly at this precise moment when things spin out of control.

ncomfortably tall and thin, the Narc stumbles into the wall opposite. Black hoody and Blue jeans, every felon's favorite uniform right? In any case there's a duffel bag in one hand and a god damned gold Desert Eagle in the other. It's Clint he sees first, starting to raise that pistol as Elvis announces herself.

    "Federal Agent, drop that shit!"Eloquent as any federal employee has ever been, of course.

Clint Barton has posed:
Hawkeye keeps moving and slows into a steady pause. He puts his hand to a wall and he feels the vibrations of people en route. By the sound of it...just the one. Target acquired, or so Clint believes. Though what he doesn't quite suspect to happen is the sounds of sirens coming one after the other. Squeeling tires, the sounds of local PD getting out of their cars...this is a raid.

That complicates things. He'll have to get out soon unless he wants to risk being questioned by police. He'd get out of it, for sure, by flashing a SHIELD badge and they'll think he's homeland. Jurisdiction is a real bitch, but more than effectively handy when it's necessary.

Then Narc stumbles int othe wall opposite, black hoody and blue jeans, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible...except for the gold Desert Eagle that he holds in his hand like he was straight from a James Bond film and he happened to be the shittiest villain in the entire series.

"Really?"

Clint draws an arrow, just a basic one, and he knocks it into the string and fires it towards the Narc's gun-barrel, hopefully plugging it enough that the gun may explode if it's attempted to be fired, with another arrow already knocked in Clint's bow.

"You feeling lucky?"

He hears the Federal agent that was Elvis Odell call out to the goon to drop the weapon, and it would appear that the Narc is between a rock and a hard place.

Elvis Odell has posed:
    That arrow hits home alright, it's enough to get him to drop the pistol already. In his defense there is kind of a lot going on, he eyes Clint for a moment and then Elvis. A moment of hesitation before he lifts his off hand and everything turns white for a moment, ceiling tiles fall and lights flicker. Whisps of flame and a rush of grey smoke billowing in the hall, some sort of explosive energy projection?"Get fucked you fucking dink!"

    Elvis unfortunately takes a direct blast, and well it was enough to force her damn near through the wall and snap the stock on that Shotgun. Hot enough to burn that windbreaker, her suit jacket and blouse away to reveal pearl white bone beneath. Enough to kill a regular agent of course, and plenty enough to get Elvis mighty unhappy. Letting her "living disguise" drop completely as as she sweeps away some of the dust and drywall before dragging herself slowly back into the hallway and upright.

Clint Barton has posed:
The arrow strikes and Clint is ready, willing, and able to fire one more at the Narc if he doesn't put that bag down and lower his weapon. Though the pistol drops to the ground, Clint doesn't take his eyes off of his mark. He's at full draw, though he watches the offhand lift and whisps of flame start to lift from the man's hand, though a rush of grey smoke comes billowing down the hall and Clint exclaims with a 'shit, shit, shit!' before he's ducking into a side room to avoid the area effect of the energy explosion.

He lands over a table and he rolls to his feet.

"Ow...."

He notices Elvis getting damn near planted through a wall and reveal pearl-white bone underneath instead of skin. Disintegrated the flesh there? Damn, that guy can hit hard. But Clint doesn't take time to notice anything further, charging through the wall and with a twist, loosing that arrow aimed for the man's head. It's not an actual piercer arrow.

But it -is- the mother of all tazer arrows. If it hits the guy in the head, multiple voltages will run from his head to his feet, effectively shutting down the man's neural system and causing all to fade to black.

That's assuming he doesn't miss anyway.

Elvis Odell has posed:
    FBI skeletons, which are animate? Yeah they can be pretty damned distracting, and when a skeletal Elvis climbs her way onto her feet once again it's more than enough all by itself to keep the poor guy's attention. Makes the shot comically easy this close, which doesn't mean it's not absolutely satisfying when it lands -directly- between the poor guy's eyes and immediately drops him like a sack of potatoes.

    Elvis wavers a moment, giving her head a shake until those two pinpricks of white alight in those empty eye sockets. Suit slowly reforming thread by thread, as she skins that smoke wagon. "Your collar if you want?"Comes the strained, guttural death rattle of something well beyond the mortal coil. Hell she even produces a pair of heavy hinged cuffs from her belt, before offering them towards Clint. "Your file on this perp say he had any powers, because the one I read said he was strictly unpowered."

Clint Barton has posed:
*THUD*

Narc's body drops like a heavy sack of potatoes, and it's easy for him to be cuffed. Clint taps him with his food to make sure he's down and he doesn't suddenly have absorption capabilities. That would suck beyond belief. Once Clint is certain the job is done, he turns his attention to Elvis, a brow raised.

"..,No offense, but are you a zombie or something? Don't see a lot of skeletons in my line if work." Clint tells her with a bit of humor in his tone. He accepts the cuffs and kneels down to secure the target. "Had no intel on him having powers. Check the duffle bag." Clint tells the agent, before he lifts the man up and sets him on a bench where he lays for a moment, even as SHIELD SUVs are pulling up for detention.