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.~{:--------------:}~.
TWO WEEKS AGO:
"It's been a long and arduous road, but with the revelance of the 'Gods' and other entities last year and this, it is time for us to make our move while their eyes are on the sky." Says the faceless man.
He walks with another; both of them clad in the same garb, both red sashes about their slender waists, weaponry not hung upon them and yet, the way they carry themselves reek of authority. As they pass by other lesser members of the Hand, the lessers stop to regard the two with bowed heads and fists over their hearts, a quiet sign of respect before they return to their duty.
"Who would have thought," The second spoke immediately after, "..that the assassination of the President would work in our favor."
"Even if we did not have a hand it in it was done perfectly." The first commented idly.
They take a turn down a dark corridor, which leads to a massive stone walled room. The crate was carefully being loaded upon rolling slats; a crate big enough to house a large golden chest. Idly, the first thought that it could house the Ark of the Covenant, and how the words 'FRAGILE' seem to fade at the center point in which it too, was painted red.
"Come. We must meet him soon. Let's not tarry any longer. The operative is already in place in New York. Once the shipment arrives upon Americas shores, she will begin the first act."
"And -He- did not think it was too soon for her to return?"
"Not at all." Says the second. "She was found, eager."
NOW:
The large cargo ship took it's time sailing into port. The Hand had many operatives, though there were black figures vigoriously working to tie the tug boat off and ready the equipment and material, others were upon the ship working, while those upon the ground kept watch to marvel what comes to the shores of New York. It was almost uniform, a quiet buzz of activity; from a group of the Hand clearing the decks to make way as if Royalty was abound, to Elektra and four others standing at the end of the ramp upon the dock that was soon erected to receieve.
Another group begin to create a pile of bodies; bodies of the shiphands that littered the yard and refused to leave, those who were paid off suspiciously called in that day, and the others who fought for an honest pay laid down upon mingled blood of their constituents.
The docks have become second nature to Nightwing as he works the late shift. Among the silent whirl of cranes and moving trucks, he's a dark figure amongst the cargo containers as he makes his way along the mismatched stacks and approaches towards the offloading ship. He heard that there was a possible weapon of mass destruction that was being smuggled into the city, and he had planned to intercept it - though he's not made it upon the scene as of yet.
Danny's got business on the docks with some particular gang members who have a warehouse not far away, and he has business with the Hand, very personal business, so he keeps tabs on any rumors that might involve possible places they might be within the city. Whether it was one or the other that brought him to the docks at this very moment is hard to say, but he definitely came looking for something. Dressed in dark clothing, a hoodie on under his coat with the hood pulled up, he moves along the outskirts, noting the bodies, and the group at the end of the ramp.
Much like the others, Daredevil slinks in via the shadows like a wraith. He reaches out with his senses, trying to get a full view of the field. Abruptly he stops. That fragrance. The heartbeat. He'd recognize it anywhere. For a moment he is stalled out, but he tries to regain his composure quickly and focuses on the mission at hand.
Robbie had been drawn to this area by the Spirit of Vengeance within him that was the Ghost Rider. Riding in on his motorcycle to a short distance away before he started his sneaking about. It was difficult to not just -run in and be Ghost Rider-. But he knew something far more sinister was at work. So he needed to watch….and be patient.
The arrival of the ship by itself is not enough to raise suspicions, but when people is bribed to leave some calls are made. Some investigation done. And someone is willing to pay Deathstroke to see what is going on and why the Hand sends a whole ship to New York.
Slade has heard nothing of a weapon of mass destruction. But someone is willing to pay his fees he assumes it is something important that has scared one of the main crime bosses of the city. So he came prepared for war. Two uzis, two large revolvers, a dozen grenades and, of course, his signature sword. Armored head to toes he is far more stealthy anyone has the right to be with fifty pounds of metal on him. But guess what? Deathstroke knows ninjitsu too.
The dockyards hum with activity, full of mysterious complexities in sight, scent, sound. Patter in multiple languages turn his head. Like so much of the world, New York's ports attract everyone and every kind of merchandise. The good, the bad. The latter business attracts T'Challa, for reasons unto himself. He prowls along the forgettable tangle of crates and gear blocking direct view from the cargo ship, littered in a copper tang of blood assaulting him for the last quarter-mile. Maybe not so much, but it's there, a mark of death he follows to the source. The dark overcoat gives away nigh nothing. The mask in place makes him hard to identify, other than a shadow, but his path parallels another in place; Robbie.
It was clear from the vantage point of all (not Matt's, he's blind, you see), that there was a buzz of activity. But it was strange. While there were noises around them, the rushing of the waters that clash against the gathered boats, the croaking of the wood far off where no one stands, an idle bird who refuses to sleep and quite possibly a chitter-pitter of a rat, the Hand made no sound. They walked on air, those ninja's did, save for a few huffing breaths which catches the eye of Elektra and soon they silenced them.
Better to hold your breath and die than to make noise around that one.
Fingers lift and tug down her mask as the loud clang hits the docks, dust flying upon both sides as her hand lifts, finger out to twirl within the air. Her lips purse ever so slightly as she whirrs out a whistle that seems far too unnatural and far too musical to come from a mouth that was human.
Those upon either side of her rush up the ramp as she remains at the bottom, backing away and facing towards the docks, her hand lowering to tug away at the cloth that resided upon her neck, which was soon tugged up and over her nose for concealment.
Did she know that someone was there?
Vital signs give no clue.
50 pounds of armor tends to draw recognition, especially when it's an armor that's been seen and faced before. Nightwing's sure by now that Slade's recognized that he's here. Drawing in his breath, he was getting ready to move in, before Elektra's otherworldly whistle cuts through the air. This causes Nightwing's head to lift in the direction of the call, just as the Hand starts to launch about. "Crap." he whispers to himself before reaching for his escrama sticks. It was about to be a long night.
Danny continues to make his way closer. It's the fact that he, Robbie, and T'Challa seem to have all chosen the same relative obscure path to walk through the crates and gear lining the dock that he notices Robbie first, and mainly because he is a familiar face. He angles his approach toward the Ghost Rider to eventually fall into step nearby. There's enough of his face visible when he gets closer that Robbie would be able to tell who he was with little trouble.
Although not as sharp as Daredevil or Black Panther's, Deathstoke also has enhanced senses. He can see in the dark pretty well, for instance. And hear others - vigilantes, or spies, or killers, moving around. Some of the ninjas, too. Perhaps not all - they are good.
Robin.
He recognizes Nightwing by the way he moves. Business pending with that boy. A dead son in those business. And he needs to make a concerted effort to push old anger and rage away. Business, just business.
A whirl? They know. Slade smiles behind his mask. Someone dies tonight. His blade makes no sounds as it slides out of the scabbard at his back.
Daredevil approaches from behind Elektra, now sure that it is her, even as her henchmen bolt away from her. "…you should not have come back…" he says quietly, knowing full well that she can hear him. But he does not trust her. That much is for certain. Which is probably why his hand is around his still holstered billy club.
Robbie starts to keep moving…only for Danny to come into his line of sight. Poor Danny almost got clocked to next year if he didn't notice that it -was- Danny at all. He takes a small sigh and gives Danny a 'don't look at me like that' kind of look. He turns his head to the sounds of Slade's heavy armor, small as they may be and Robbie knows it's gonna be one of those days….
One shrill whistle, and some people go for their weapons. Others play in the industrial jungle-gym. Let Danny take the low road while T'Challa prefers the high. Breaking into a sprint this close would be foolish, but he can manage a standing jump or a low spring with terrible ease. Crates and detritus left by dead workers continue to form a screen against his approach, breaking up his path leaping from place to place. Caution dictates no burst into action, shadowing Robbie and Danny in parallel. Too bad if any ninja wanders their way; a shadow waits to cause mayhem in the background. His fingers flex in their mesh gloves, loosening but not unsheathing the gloves.
|ROLL| Nightwing +rolls 1d5 for: 2
|ROLL| Matt Murdock +rolls 1d5 for: 4
|ROLL| TChalla +rolls 1d5 for: 3
|ROLL| Robbie +rolls 1d5 for: 1
|ROLL| Slade Wilson +rolls 1d5 for: 3
|ROLL| Danny +rolls 1d5 for: 4
"You've gotten better." Elektra did not hear him come from behind, her eyes were upon the docks as a whole, watching within the throes of the darkness as the other Hand members worked. One by one, they all seemingly lift their heads as if they sensed something unseen, and one by one, those ninja began to filter off, their own blades glinting within the overhead lights that the area provided. She shouldn't have come back, no. But she did. And she was here. Trust, at least -that- was a certain thing, for once the few doth disperse? Elektra whips around, her hand struck out as row of shuriken flies towards Matt!
GAME ON!
It was like a scene from a movie, the ninja began to form a line of defense upon the dock. Two ninja square off in Nightwings direction whilst the rest (3) separate towards TChalla. Robbie, the poor man looks like small potatoes, for the one that angles towards him seems cocky. There was a smile beneath his mask and he does not dare conceal his movements as he would against the previous two.
As for Deathstroke, the heavy armor meant something. The three largest of the Hand, yet light footed, began to strike out in his direction, bodies crouched low, one with a kusarigama and the other two with ninja swords angled backwards (Kusar swung) as they make for the hasty approach.
Danny?
One ninja finds him most familiar and fitting. His own whistle low, signaling three others as they bound for the Iron Fist.
As for Daredevil and Elektra? She was already running up the platform. "Defend the ship!" She cries out.. as four ninjas descend towards the Devil of Hells Kitchen.
Yes, there is business unfinished between Nightwing and Deathstroke - the costume may have changed, the Boy Wonder may have grown, but the death of Grant and the treason of another still rings true within the young man's memory. But memories are better dealt with in another time and place. As the two figures arrive on the shipping container, Dick straightens up. "You just missed the Christmas rush on ninjas. But hey, there's plenty of us here." he offers.
A wing-ding is flicked out from his wrist heading towards the ninja on his left while Dick leaps and fires a grapple line to grab a hold of a crane and swing high into the air, knowing that the ninja are going to follow him. When then do, he twists in mid-air, breaking into a backflip as he throws out two more wing-dings, the small devices fwipping through the air as he lands on a nearby container. "Take it you've got more pressing business than me tonight, Slade."
And so it begins. Danny immediately begins to move as soon as the four start making their way in his direction. He quickly assesses the initial opponent who will reach him first, and then the three behind him. Rather than waiting for all four to arrive together, he aims to neutralize the first target before the other three can join him. Moving with a surprising quickness, he rushes to meet the man head on. What follows is a flurry of strikes and counterstrikes as they square off against one another. He has only moments, but he manages to shove his attacker back into his three approaching friends enough to interrupt their progress for a hair's breadth of time.
Deathstroke does not respond Nightwing. Doubly so because he used his real name - that alone deserves a few broken bones. But those old business need to wait.
"<Only three? I am offended,>" he tells in perfect Japanese to the ninjas rushing him. Deathstroke jumps forward, fast as a tiger and far more deadly. His broadsword sweeps to the men, aimed for their mid-section. If they are fast they might be able to avoid being cut in half. Armor won't help them, parrying won't help them, as the vibranium edge will cut steel as if it was paper.
Daredevil grits his teeth and smacks the pavement with the edge of his billy club. In his mind, the area lights up with the echoes of the sounds all around them. Woop! Here come those shuriken. Matt back handsprings to narrowly avoid Elektra's attack and is nearly sliced and diced. No time for rest though, and he smacks the pavement again. The Hand Ninjas who stalk down on him may not make a sound, but they cannot shield themselves from sound hitting them! The Man Without Fear stalks up to the first ninja and slams a strike
towards the throat of the closest enemy.
Robbie looks up as the ninjas start their attack. How come -he- gets the really cocky looking guy? Is it because he's Latin American? In all seriousness, he looks right at the one that moves towards him, shaking his head a little. "Wow…I'm insulted." he gets into a fighting stance for the sole purpose of at least -looking- good when he knocks this punk out. A bladed chain falls from his wrist and it catches on Hellfire, and he leaps into the air with as pin, hoping to cleave the jerk ninja in front of him in two.
Abstract contours to that mask allow no sense of expression, really. Whether the man beneath grimaces or smiles at the oncoming Hand ninjas is a secret known only to a goddess. The Black Panther dips his chin only for a moment for solemn acknowledgment of the odds and his role. The Wakandan king is executioner, as much as judge. Three on one odds surely look ugly. He crouches slightly on the box as they close, pivoting slightly in response to them, showing all the calm or misplaced fear they might expect from a costumed hero. No light really flickers when he flicks his wrists, the vibranium claws unsheathed. He'll wait for the first to close for melee distance before breaking into action, poised to intercept any sword in the most unconventional of ways. How many men kick at the arm, rather than the blade? A springing kick does the trick to open up space as he rotates mid-air, lashing out his heel. Hands come into play rapidly with finessed blocks and slashes to rip through steel. Pity them when they try to stab the suit. It won't go well.
This was childsplay to the Hand, following Dick. Whilst he leaps, the other follows while one keeps to low ground. A tight rope was landed upon that leads up towards another section, the ninja dropping down onto a high row of cannisters, drawing out his own row of Shuriken to launch towards Nightwing whilst he was in mid-sentence. Naturally, the name was taken to heart that the man had spoken, but the Hand would be wise to know; Deathstroke probably wouldn't give a rats ass who knew his John Hancock.
There was a quiet -oof- upon the ground. In the darkness, a ninja was hit with a wing-ding.
And now for Danny; it would be a welcome treat to capture him, most of the Hand knows to take this one alive, broken and beaten, probably near death. And the first one aimed to do just that. He didn't waste time; greed was the modus opperandi of the day as he begins to cross fists with the Iron Fist, their movements a clear flurry, even if Danny catches his jaw and right against the solar plexus. He hunches forward, raising up into a shove that pushes him back against the three. Two catch, and yet they all fall like bowling balls, scrambling to catch their footing.
And yes. Deathstroke only got three. He probably would have had five if he rolled right; but this was all sword play for now, the three rounding off Deathstroke in a perfect triad; their blades extended and already swinging. One tries to cut the arm of the assassin, but his blade chips and breaks apart. Another goes low to the side, same result. You would think that they would get the hint by now?
Nope. For the swipe at the midsection does away with one, and it was a nasty cut too. Entrails fall to the ground in a splatter, right before the body lands against the ground with a thud.
Daredevil was an expert. He was a Master. One ninja was already close and upon him but his swift move catches him right upon the throat, hushing whatever sound that was made and causing him to fall back onto the plank, and into the water with the splash. The other three descend, their movements a flurry, can the Devil keep up?
Be insulted, the cocky one was quite possibly the best fighter. He didn't shy away from the flames that Robbie produced, he nearly welcomed them! If for the fact that he didn't disintegrate right then and there! The ninja dodges with a quick turn, attempting to catch the chains with his sword, the o'too'typical wrap around and tug, but his blade shatters and..
..so did the ninja's resolve.
TChalla was no slouch, for as the first ninja leaps into the air, sword extended and set to aim, the kick to the arm blows him back and off kilter as his chest is cat scratched and wounds exposed. Blood splatters to the ground, but the others keep coming. It was a full on brawl!
Of course it's child's play. We have ninjas and super ninjas all over the place. The shuriken catches Dick across the side and he lands harder on the container than he wanted. Oof. Alright, head in the game. Deathstroke's not yammering - and on the serious level - that usually means it's pretty damned serious if the motormouth isn't going on about how he's not well trained or revenge or this or that or the other.
Concentrating on the second ninja after the first went down with the wing-ding, Nightwing's escrima sticks swing around, striking against blade and covered pipe as the two square off, the ninja managing to strike a few blows before Dick's stick hits home and he sends an elecrtical shock into the Hand's body. "Ninja. Ugh." he mutters, looking around for where the others are.
With all four of them stumbling backward, Danny has a second in which to plan his attack, and he moves swiftly before they regain their footing, using the fact that they haven't spread out to continue to grab one and push him into the other two. When another comes at him, he dodges and grabs her, using her momentum and turning her back on her companions. It is a strange fight in which he uses more of their own movement and force against one antoher than he actually inflicts any damage, himself. He moves quickly, dodging and weaving. He's vaguely aware of the others fighting around him. He can see the Devil up ahead, and is aware of Robbie nearby. He doesn't recognize any of the others, but they all seem to be fighting the Hand, so he keeps on going.
The continued fighting draws them closer and closer to the edge of the dock. Finally, Danny grabs two of them and pulls, dropping into a crouch and a roll as both lose their footing and splash into the water below. With two left, he flips one onto his back and kicks him back down when he attempts to kip up. The last, she is faster than the others, lighter on her feet, and the two duke it out for a while, Danny taking more than a couple of hits from her before she too finds herself in the water with a splash.
In fact Deathstroke is quite pleased by two of the ninjas being able to avoid his sword. Not many humans can do that. It shows they are not amateurs.
If there were twenty of them it would be a challenge.
Unfortunately they are only two, and surrounding him is of little use because he is too quick. He rushes one of the ninjas, driving his armored knee on his chest. Ribs snap, and the man is send flying six yards, slamming hard against the concrete floor. Unconscious, perhaps dead. The second ninja goes to stab Slade's back, but the mercenary reverses the grip of his sword and stabs backwards, running the ninja through.
Then he runs for the ship. To see what was this oh-so-important cargo.
Daredevil slides, almost through slow motion in his mind, into combat. It relaxes him, fighting does. At the worst moments of his life, his mentor showed him how to add control into his life and in his training he found a serenity unlike anything else in life.
The next ninja's knee explodes as Daredevil strikes down hard, tearing the ACL as the knee points the wrong way. Up comes a kick to knock back the next ninja, while the third gets his leg swept. But any success is fleeting. Elektra is getting away!
Robbie gives the resolve-less ninja a devilish grin as he suddenly roars and his skin burns off his face, fading to the wind like embers, layer by layer until only a skull bathed in Hellfire remains as the Ghost Rider emerges with a demonic roar that takes over Robbie's. All to scare the shit out of the guy. With a powerful tug, he attempts to pull the chain-wrapped Ninja towards him after leaving him to burn for a minute….
Then?
Punches him right in the mouth with the force necessary to punch through a brick wall. leaving him down on the ground. The Rider growls then, looking around as if to see if any of the others need help.
Vibranium claws mince thin foil, even if that happens to be folded steel with a propensity for brittleness. The Black Panther intercepts a slice on his forearm, deflecting a stab meant for his torso up, and punching into the opening with the other fist. His styles blend from offensive to defensive in a seamless ribbon. Kneeing his second opponent keeps the Hand ninjas stumbling back, and he prepares a throw to knock the first bleeding man over his hip when that unfortunate charge ends badly for those involved. The distance traveled tells anyone in question he's not exactly normal, as do the cacophony of broken bones.
He turns to coordinate another assault, the weaving of shadows and steel throwing sparks into the oily night. He hurls the unwanted agents back at the side of the ship or the water below. Danny's opened a lovely alternative for him rather than ripping wounds open, and everyone knows cats do not appreciate being doused. It likely goes for gashed, bruised, and pummeled men.
ON THE BOAT:
Elektra cut through the throngs of the Hand as they begin to mill about the ship, packing up whatever they could into satches that were easy enough for them to flee with in the cover of night. There was a slide to the stairs upon the railing, a hop up and a land upon the ground as she stalks her way quickly through the corridors, to the lone room of where the precious cargo was held, her katana immediately drawn outright.
"Open it!" She hollars, and with hesitation, the two guarding ninjas comply to her demands. This was not going to be pretty.
OUTSIDE:
The ninja's were taken down by the band of unlikely heroes one by one. Some carrying grudges all the way to the grave, one falling from his highest perch due to Nightwings machinations, another falling dead from the blow of Deathstroke. Hell, all of his ninjas were dead. Like, so dead.
When it came to Robbie, he was -almost- attacked once more, until he flamed out and punched his combatant hard enough to cave in his skull. Wisely, the hidden ninja retreated, but not after one let out a *eep* in surprise. No ones going to touch that one with a fifty foot pole.
Danny was fly; his moves were fluid like water, almost in a method of tai chi as the force of the ninjas movements were redirected unto themselves. It was like a dance. They push, Danny pushes back further, and made it look completely effortless. One by one, they tumble, including the attackers of the King of Wakanda, but his moves were precise. Brutal. Quick and effecient; even more so than with whom he fought. They took a tumble into the water as well and were glad that they only had gotten away with a little cat-scratch fever.
The Devil of Hells Kitchen was brutal in his strikes, one hit hard enough to fall into the water. The loud, resounding crack of a knee and a scream of a ninja sends him to the ground in a heap, knowing his fate to be killed later for his failure. (And brought back to life for much of the same.)
ON THE BOAT:
Elektra emerges from the dark room bloodied, her cloak pulled taut to wipe the blade clean of blood as the other two guards arrive with bags upon their back.
"Inform the Masters that we do this the hard way."
The men nod, and as soon as she turns her back to take the long way out? They're gone.
The one Nightwing is fighting doesn't die. At leats he hopes not. As the Hand falls, Dick sends out a grapple line to try to capture him to keep him from hitting the pavement. He has his own personal don't kill code, and it's on full display in that moment. While the Hand may off himself, it won't be by Dick's hand. Unfortunately, that gives Elektra time to get away, and it's a pretty safe bet that the Hand grunts won't be sharing information. "Dammit. We're doing this the hard way."
Deathstroke goes quiet again once he is on the ship. He is not getting paid for the bodycount tonight. And there are too many unknowns in the area. Since the ninjas are more interested in fleeing than fighting now, he just sneaks, observes and departs without more hassle (or stabbing).
With his opponents in the drink, Danny looks around to check the status of the others around him. Seeing that everyone else has likewise dispatched theirs, he goes about fishing one of the ninjas who was climbing up a ladder out of the water up and out and daring him to try anything. "We're going to have a little chat," he informs him.
"I think she's already gone," Daredevil says quietly as he flings a final ninja off of the deck and into the water. He turns to face Nightwing. "I don't know what she's up to, but I know it's not good." At Danny's voice, Daredevil turns his head. He hadn't realized his friend was here with all of the commotion. "Hey…Long time…"
Ghost Rider growls as the ninjas seem to flee, the ones that are still kicking anyway. Regardless, the Rider moves on over to Danny and Daredevil, eyes narrowed in recognition as the hellfire douses itself, and skin and muscle regrow on Robbie's face. Layer by layer, then hair forms….then it's back to good ole Robbie Reyes. "Good to see ya." he notes to Daredevil. He gives Danny a little pat on the shoulder. Gently.
"So. We going on the ship, or not?" comes the question from Nightwing as he looks down at the other assembled heroes. His hand holds his injured side, he'll have to tend to that later.
Three ninja dispatched with and T'Challa advances into the midst, dark spirit come to haunt the remaining folk. He dodges any collateral of the fight, a flaming chain or a flying body, closing for the deck of the ship. With a run, he soon reaches topside, sweeping the aisles and open spaces in case of anyone there. Few of those remain, other than the dregs in ghostly measure. He stalks on anyways, gesturing behind him. "She has left." Pity for them all. "That way." An imperious movement of his hand points down the particular route in question.