2013.04.05 - Mobbus Interruptus

It's a chilly, windy evening at the New York harbor. Gusts rolling off of the Atlantic whip at the collection of short, dark hair of the gathering of business men and mobsters huddled around a small collection of expensive black sedans, twelve souls in all. Whitecap waves break across the piers while a few gulls continue to circle and call out in search of a last meal to end the day with.
The men had only arrived a few minutes ago, the cars still with headlights on and engines running. Voices are kept low, yet another conspiracy in the making. Dark briefcases can be found at either side of the negotiation, and only a fool would assume they aren't all armed. It's shady business in every sense of the word, probably completely off of any official records. Someone should really alert the authorities on this one.
Or step in and attempt to handle it themselves.
Not the most 'touristy' of locales, to be sure. The harbour where the commuter ferries dock is far south of here, and the ferries that take one to Liberty State Park or Ellis Island have since closed for the evening. (So much for 'never sleeping'!) The various wharves, then, in mostly silence stands, the water the only witness to dealings.
Okay, perhaps not the only witness, then. There's a indigo, fuzzy elf that has been walking the harbour, from one touristy end to the other, and as the night falls, and the shadows grow, he begins to play as only he can.
*bamf*
Kurt disappears and reappears in the next dark patch.. and again, he disappears, only to reappear again, mostly hidden, in the next shadowed area. His game only slows, however, as glowing yellow eyes pick up the activity of black vehicles ahead, hilighted by their headlights.
Kurt disappears once again, only to reappear closer, but now, there is the deliberate hiding within the shadows to see if he can't keep watch over this group, picking out one, two.. perhaps weakness in the gathering.
One group has that clear mobster vibe about them. The other is more difficult to place. Foreign, clearly. It's possible they could have originated from India. Regardless, none of them are aware that they're being observed from the shadows.
"--Like you asked. Kept 'em fresh, all different," one of the mobsters says.
The apparent spokesperson from the visiting crew slowly nods once, not showing any emotion one way or the other. One hand lifts upward and makes a quick motion, prompting another to step closer with case in hand. "And payment, as agreed upon. Ten per container."
Back to the lead mobster, snapping his fingers once as one of his own lackeys steps forward with another case, this one with a matte aluminum body. If things stay their course the transaction will take place without a hitch and everyone will go their own way, one more underground deal carried through.
Kurt watches, glowing yellow eyes narrowing. ...ten per container.. 
Looking back by the cars where the hired guns would be standing (after all, no one invites the bodyguards to the main meeting!), the elf considers. It's not a second that passes, however, when he makes his decision. 
*BAMF*
There is a dark blue.. demon that lands in the middle of the gathering, those yellow eyes glowing, his pointed teeth gleaming in the dimming light, his spade tail swinging in warning. Accompanying him is what is probably the stench of hell. "Danke, gentlemen," and in the next heartbeat...
He's gone, leaving behind the scent of brimstone.
And so is that matte aluminumed case.
Mind, Kurt isn't far. He can't go far.. but he can hide, and that is what he does.. hanging upon the side of one of the containers, in the shadowed side, he's watching what will probably be a tumultous affair.
Safe to say that none of the guys there were expecting this. There's enough time to see the creature that appears out of nowhere. There's enough time to see him disappear with one of the cases. There isn't enough time to have weapons out and readied at the blue teleporter in time to stop him. As can be expected, it quickly turns into a positive mess between the two sides.
"The hell was that?!"
You tricked us!"
"You think we set this up?!"
The lead mobster isn't about to have any of this. He darts forward and rips the other briefcase out of the other man's hands, planning on getting paid for his efforts. He still came through on his end of the deal, after all!
The other guys aren't so pleased with this arrangement. Between the two sides there's an unleashing of suppressed weaponry as everyone goes for cover, though while some shots are exchanged between either side there's also those trying to find the creature ultimately responsible for all of this. Someone stole their samples!
"Come back here, ya teleportin' bastard!"
Shots ringing out, and none of them are at him. Always good! Kurt grins at his luck; he hadn't expected that his entrance would cause one side to suspect the other, but now? How could this not be used? Of course, this'll be tricky.
Come back here, ya teleportin' bastard! rings through the night sky, and Kurt mumbles, "Heathen.. bet he's a Protestant." The Catholics have proper fear of demons!
Kurt sets the case atop the top of the crates, all safe and sound before he takes stock of where everyone is moving before...
*bamf*
Kurt appears right by the man making the grab for the other, earlier unseen bit of money and takes hold of his lapel before he murmurs darkly, "Say auf wiederseheh to the nice people."
*BAMF*
Out.. and over the water a good distance out, the elf keeps hold of the briefcase, but kicks off his passenger to fall into the choppy water, and disappears into that cloud of sulfurous 'smoke'. "Hope you can swim.."
Reappearing in the middle of a group of armed, trigger-happy goons is typically not a good idea. Sticking around long enough to say something only gives the others more time to adjust their sights.
"There he is!"
It would seem that these guys can be troubled to stop shooting at one another for a moment, instead trying to fire upon the teleporter in question. Naturally, some of those shots go right through the dark cloud of sulfur.
"Did you see it -that- time?! Shoot -him,- idiots!"
Just like that everyone has a specific target to look out for, the group minus the one cautiously spreading out and searching with weapon sights and flashlights. These guys aren't your average thug-sort, after all. They can tell when they're being set up by a third party.
Thug minus one.
Well, Kurt's gotten an education in the form of what sort of people these are. The bullets whiz; always keep moving is the elf's mantra, and he believes in it fully. Thankfully, he's not (yet) hit.. but it's not going to be a sure thing in the future unless he takes more care.
Kurt's landed back in the shelter of the darkness of the crates, moving silently along the wall of it, eat your heart out, Spiderman!. Because the above average thugs are relying upon their lights, he can track them reasonably easily.
Kurt climbs to the top of his crate again, and bides his time, even if he's only got seconds. He crouches there, his tail swishing back and forth before he makes a leap to the next crate.. and the next.. but before a bead can be gained, he teleports out.. and on top of one of the 'flashlight' thugs. Landing on him heavily, he digs his feet into the man's shoulders and throws him.. hard, flipping over before he looks around and makes ready to teleport the hell out again. He'll have to find another 'King's X' before long!
"Hey, over here!"
"He went this way!
With the ever-present distraction, with the men scattered out and so focused upon their surroundings, someone else uses the opportunity for their own gains. Even as the dark hued mutant lays waste to one of them, another goes down from a single bullet fired out of a silenced .45, dropping him with little more than a polite -thwip!-
It doesn't stop with just the one. There's a mobster among the group that's turning on everyone. Those here from India, those that had been part of the same family, everyone is a valid target. Maybe there's an inside man in this group..? It's impossible to tell without getting any closer!
Between the two working in the shadows both teams are starting to thin out pretty quickly.
Kurt leaps into the air, and the moment he is airborne, he's gone in a *bamf* of sulfur, only to reappear on a crate. He takes it quickly, leaping and flipping, landing again. He's noticing that there is a lessening of targets.. the lights are dropping, and he's not about to truly believe that it is a boon to him.
No honour among thieves, after all.
Kurt lands in front of another, and throws a punch that would rival Wolverine's, only the elf doesn't have the claws. He does have the surprise, however, and it's not just one punch.. it's several, though how they land is something only a few can truly comprehend..
A strike, a push, a teleport to land atop, and full weight comes down, pushing the thug to the ground. Once there, a good kick to the head, and voila.. downed thug.
One of the cooler looking guns is taken.. along the way as a token of his esteem later.
Yellow eyes catch the movement of someone who doesn't truly look as if he's hunting him. Kurt had made himself a little obvious, even if the thug went down almost silently, and the Indigo Bamfer is on the move, landing upon the top of one of those crates, perching on the edge, his tail swaying, yellow eyes glowing in the night.
"You missed me.." he singsongs softly, his teeth gleaming.
"It's not you I'm after," the lone figure softly replies before his suppressed pistol snaps back up and drops another guy from across the docks. A quick look around his immediate surroundings, then he looks back over your way with a wry looking grin. "Your timing is fantastic. Though you've served your purpose."
The elongated pistol snaps upward, swiftly drawing a bead upon you--
--when -another- man simply appears out of the shadows, one hand latched over the assassin's mouth while the other drives a positively wicked looking blade clean through his throat, bleeding him out where he stands. Over his shoulder there's a broad, tooth-filled grin as formerly dark eyes momentarily flash yellow within the nighttime gloom.
"He's right on that count, you -did- serve a purpose. This one's been hiding from me for far too long."
The twitching body is released, falling to the concrete with a wet gurgle as his limbs reflexively shudder.
The other man jabs the blade square into his gut then rips open his shirt, revealing a wire. His voice shifts to perfectly copy the downed assassin, quietly transmitting "Area secure, send the team in."
The wires get ripped away from the mic then thrown aside, Mystique shifting into a completely different form and gender in the amount of time it takes her to stand. In the man's place is little punk anarchist Jacqueline Gauge, complete with the usual assortment of leather, spikes, and fishnet. "Bloody govahment spooks wanted ta crash tha partay. Can't trust no one these days."
Kurt is ready to strike even as the pistol rises, his tail starting to whip around to grab the gun. It meets-- empty air, however, and he spins around as he allows the momentum to carry him, ready to take out the man behind him that just..
Not a man!
Those eyes.. as they flash, his own eyes widen before his jaw clamps. "He was.." Government?
Now, as Mother starts that transformation around, Kurt dutifully averts his eyes, though it's useful for another purpose.. to check to see if there are any others moving, as evidenced by the flashlights.
All seems awfully.. dark. Still.
As far as he knows, Kurt is still in possession of both valises; the matte and the leather.. and a cool looking gun. "Danke, mother," he says quietly. "I guess I should go." With his goods! "Before they come?"
The blade comes free of the man's stomach with a wet, metallic report, dripping fluid that looks more black than crimson in the dim light. "Don't be absured, Nightcrawlah. I called them in so that we could share them."
Her other hand claims the killer's dropped pistol, quickly dropping its magazine to check how many rounds are left before re-inserting it. "We have approximately twenty seconds before his team arrives. Find your place quickly, and show these men no mercy. They are not your friends."
Just like that, Mystique is gone once again. At least you can guess where you got your shadow tactics from.
Sure enough, it's about fifteen seconds before the scruffing of shoes can be heard as another group of four sweep into the area. "Gerald, where are you at?"
Kurt's looking away also serves to not let him get the visuals of that gushy noise. His jaw is set, and he turns back around at her words, his eyes widening in surprise. "Share them?" The pistol that he is now in possession of is placed to his hip, though he doesn't have a holster for it. Putting the safety on and praying it works is better than nothing at the moment. (He could clear the chamber and such, but..)
Twenty seconds..
"Zwanzig secunden.."
Kurt teleports up to where he'd left the briefcases, both the matte and the leather, counting in his head, though he does breathe some of them.. funf.. sechs.. sieben.. acht..
Looking out and over to where sounds creep, Kurt whispers, ...dreizehn.. vierzehn..
Why isn't he gone again?
One of the team sighs out loud, "Split up. He's around here somewhere. Careful where you step."
Four spooks against two mutants that specialize in stealth. It isn't a fight at all. It's a quick and quiet massacre. Mystique doesn't screw around, though she does enjoy the hunt enough to lead them on just a little bit further.
Not half a minute passes before the next falls to her blade, a woman with straight blonde hair reduced to another cooling, bleeding corpse. The metamorph could have had them all by now, but where would the fun be in that? Oh no. She wants to share this hunt with you. Half of these government mooks are yours to claim.
What kind of mother would she be if she did all of the work for you?
Kurt needs to test things.. he needs to know. Always the inquisitive child, going where he really shouldn't. But, again.. what sort of mother would you be if you didn't allow a little.. education along the way?
The spooks simply don't have a chance. Easy as that. But that has to be balanced with a need not to have everyone and their mother called in.
Kurt appears before one of them from the aether, the soft *bamf* as the doorway to one of the many nether-worlds closes. He's dropped to a crouch, his tail rising, and his fangs are showing. "I hope you can swim," his whispers. In a leap, he tackles the man, his hands and feet grasping and getting a hold before the pair are gone in the blink of an eye. Next minute, Kurt finds himself in very much the same spot as before.. and he lets go. He, too, starts falling, but he catches himself in that teleport and lands easily by the cars that are parked by the harbor's side before he goes hunting for the last.
"Got some big fish around here," one of the remaining guys says to no one in particular. "Heard that splash all the way over here."
Two left. Two -remaining- left. Mystique might be waiting for you to take the lead. Maybe she's just toying with them that much further.
Or... It could be that she's completely ignored all three of the souls remaining and has instead decided to go after those two briefcases you had so thoughtfully removed from the playing field for her. You were certainly predictable on that front. She even knows where to look. Mother's intuition, or some such.
"Jesus, Gerald..!" Mook #3 gasps, quickly checking the downed man's pulse then drawing his own gun. "Jenson, Fox, he's down!"
Nightcrawler's been left with the proverbial check.
Kurt is by the cars, and he blends easily in with the shadows. He does catch the sound of alarm being raised, and he knows that he's only got a couple of seconds left before all hell is going to break loose. After all.. radio traffic goes much quicker than a teleporting elf.
Kurt knows where 'Gerald' went down, and immediately, he's there.. and lands in front of the agent, whipping his tail up to grab the gun, and teleports behind him, taking the gun with him. The moment the spook is disarmed, Kurt grabs hold of him, and once again, the elf is taking a trip to the harbour.. and *splash* .. in he goes.
Kurt's arrival is once again set to his crates, and he is still in possession of the gun. The top is the best vantage point- but..
The briefcases...?
..Are gone. As is Mystique. She could have taken one of the cars but that would have been too obvious. Her son would have found her in no time. It would have been foolish, sloppy.
She's not even Jacqueline Gauge any longer. In a flash she's assumed some other persona, disappearing back into the darkened city with her prizes.
The last of the mooks is not having the best of evenings. The shadows are playing tricks on his eyes. His team is dead or missing. No one's responding to the radio. "Ah jeezus..ah shit..." he mutters to himself like it's some holy mantra, his eyes having gone wide as he jabs his gun toward anything that looks even remotely suspicious within the night sky.
... Mother.
Kurt looks behind him, at the last man, and he exhales, his shoulders slumping. He's lost the desire to fight; the fear coming from the lone mook palpable. Before.. he'd fed on the anger, and he'd been justified in getting rid of them. Something.. bad was happening, and it had to be interrupted, if not stopped.
Now?
Kurt teleports a fair distance from the battleground, and wraps his coat around him, taking note of the bullet hole in the side.. I'll have to get that patched..
First order of business? Get a good distance. Second? Try and find the unfindable. Locate she who (probably) wishes to remain hidden.. and if he does find her?
...
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