Shadowing in Madripoor

Brief Title:

Nova, Night Thrasher, Dagger

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
12/30/2012 18:00

Docks, Lowtown, Madripoor

Having recently arrived in Madripoor, Members of the New Warriors and Dagger begin snooping about in the Docks of Madripoor.

Social or Plot:


Nova flies overhead through the Madripoor skies, a large duffel bag slung across his back. He drops down out of sight between a couple of buildings on the shore, and a few minutes later walks out more or less in disguise. Then he makes his way down the shore, eying boats and their docks as he goes.

Dwayne arrived in Madripoor a few days ago. He utilized a chartered aircraft to get here in his Civilian-guise and directed the rest of the Warriors to use New Warriors resources and vehicles to get to the island city-state. Dwayne is renting a large suite at the Sovereign Hotel. He is, however, not at the Hotel right now. Dwayne Taylor can not be found anywhere on the island. Night Thrasher, however, can be found. He's among the shadows within a small storage renting facility. He is hiding in the shadows because it is there that the group of people he has been following are likely not going to see him there.

Dressed in disguise so to speak, Dagger was wearing her second hand coat with the collar up and her cap rugged down to put her face in shadow as she huddled in the shadow of a storage container.

Nova hears a shout from some ally that he just passed. Nova halts, his head whipping around to orient towards the sound and he listens. Soon another cry sounds, which is all it takes for Nova to rush in that direction, soon disappearing out of sight.

The individuals that Night Thrasher is observing are standing near a small storage unit. There's half a dozen of them and they've backed a small moving van-esque vehicle to the door of the storage unit. The storage unit's door is one of those doors that have rollers and roll up to lay flat against the ceiling of the unit. One of the group is unlocking the door while the others are opening up the van. They are talking amongst themselves and Thrasher attempts to focus his helmet's audio receivers so that he can overhear them.

Looking toward the sound of definite trouble Dagger looks but surely...hey was that? well he'd be able to handle it right? Dagger crept with the silent grace of a dancer closer to the group of people, trying to get a better look and stay out of sight best she could. what was in that van??

The sounds from Nova's alley change slightly. They go from shouts and screams to gunfire, outright battle cries. All of this is far enough away from NT and his little op to not disturb the van and whatever mischief that group is up to so that it doesn't necessarily disturb them, unless they have extremely sensitive hearing. And of course this is Madripoor where such things are a lot more common than in say NYC.

The sounds of gunfire and screams are common place in Madripoor, so even if the people gathered at the storage unit and van hear it off in the distance, there is no reaction. Thrasher hears it because he has his helmet's audio sensors up to full bore. The screams mildly distract the Founder of the New Warriors, but he stays on target.

The door to the storage facility is opened and it is revealed that there are several small wooden crates arrayed inside the darkened unit. The half a dozen individuals go into the back of the van and start carrying out yet another wooden crate. It is small, but the six of them are being incredibly careful. The conversation that is being had is in a language that is other than English... though Thrasher seems to be following it... or at least recording it.

Dagger circles around quietly to the end of the row closest to the unit and waits to watch

Nova's little piece of the night's action seems to escalate even further. There's a small explosion, a grenade or a small rocket maybe, in the distance. This is a sound that makes many Madripoor residents grow wary. Mostly to make sure it's not coming their way and not because they care much. But there's no follow-on sounds, so they soon go back to their normal business.

The explosions are enough to garner the attention of the six individuals maneuvering the crate out of the van. They all turn their head in the perceived direction of the far off explosive sounds. Night Thrasher, too, turns his head and pushes himself up against the wall of the building he's next to. He grits his teeth and grimaces. Those sounds are too much to ignore and raises a hand to the side of his helmet. A channel to the Warrior's comm-link opens up and he whispers harshly into it, "My helmet's picking up some violent noises not far from the harbor; Any other Warriors in the vicinity?" Thrasher casts a glance over towards the moving van to keep an eye on the group he's shadowing.

Nova looks around the rubble and bodies (unconscious, of course and not dead - he's been at the hero game a lot longer than you might think). He touches a hand to his helmet and carefully replies, "Thrash? That you? Sorry, head's still ringing a little. It's me, Nova...I think those 'violent noises' were from me. I guess the local crooks are packing a lot more firepower than we're used to."

Night Thrasher continues to scowl and reaches into a satchel on his belt. He pulls out a small object and affixes it to a point on his forearm. He points that arm towards the van and there's a small 'poof' sound as compressed air and a small firing cap lob the miniscule object towards the van. There's a tiny ding as the object connects and sticks to the van. Thrasher raises a hand to his helmet and speaks, "Yeah, Madripoor's a little different than New York. I'm enroute if you need me?"

Nova launches into the air now. He seems slightly scorched but otherwise no worse for wear. "Negative, I think things are...well, they're pretty much done with now." He takes a moment to get his bearings and then flies off in the direction he stashed his duffel from before.

Unseen by Nova, a skinny thug on a rooftop watches his progress with a pair of binoculars, then reports on a small hand-held walkie-talkie. A few miles away another thug takes up the surveillance, together forming the low-tech equivalent to Night Thrasher's tracking device.

Thrasher humphs over the comm, "Yeah, sounds like it, Nova. As long as you're okay over there. Stashed some gear at a 'safe house'-" You can almost hear the air quotes around safe house. Thrasher continues, "-I'm going to finish watchin' these guys. I'll text you where I've got the team holed up. I think you'll like it."

Thrasher lowers his hand from his helmet and goes back to observing the group of individuals from the moving truck. At this point they put a little pep into their step and by the time Thrasher concludes his conversation with Nova, they've got the crate inside the storage unit and are getting ready to load themselves in the van. The engine turns over and idles briefly.

Nova chuckles. "A safe-house? Would that be anything like a Crashpad?" Nova's voice grows more businesslike. "Sounds great. I'll pick up my gear - if nobody's boosted it by now." Maybe not all business though. "Then I'll meet you guys over there."

Thrasher can't help but respond to what Nova says, "Yeah, I'm calling it a safe house cause it's too expensive for us to crash. Address is forthcoming. Night Thrasher; Out." At this point all six individuals have loaded themselves up in the van and the idling vehicle is put into drive. The van sputters, back-fires and then lurches forward. Thrasher raises a hand up to his helmet, taps the side of it and the Heads Up Display on the helmet's visor displays a map and a tracking signal of the device he attached to the van. A smile forms on his face as a small display of pride over his small success.

Nova drops down into the alley he first landed in, reclaiming his duffel from where he stashed it on a second floor window overhang, where most common thieves wouldn't be able to see it, much less get at it. Changing quickly into his street clothes, he also pulls his cellphone from his pants pocket, checking for new messages. Next he ruffles through the bag to produce a dog-eared Fodor's SE Asia (checked out from the Long Island Library). His eyebrows go up as he matches the text to an entry in the book. "Nice," he comments.

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