THE RIMBORIAN JOB [modplot]

[letsgolegion]

Who| Open to everyone in the plot (players can have 1 character participate)
What| A very snazzy heist
Where| The New Jersey Casino, on the crime planet Rimbor
When| After all the media shenanigans, before "Valor's Day."
Warnings/Notes| None! Just some good clean larcenous fun!


The theft of the artifact has been explained, the mission objectives have been given to all participants, the useful tech has been handed out, the facial holograms are on to obscure everyone's identities as Legionnaires, and everyone has been provided wardrobes by the Athramites to allow them all to dress to the nines. All participants are also linked together with Brainiac 5 and Kid Q, and with each other, via their telepathic earplugs, allowing them to synchronize their respective tasks.

Amidst the backdrop of flashing lights and holograms, the teams have a soundtrack of the casino's beeps, boops, holo-displays, and ringing noises, but if there was an actual soundtrack, for real, it probably would sound a little like...this.

Sometimes justice can't be bought or sold, but in this case, there's nothing stopping them from stealing it.

[ooc: Plot infopost/signups here.]

Comments

[agnominal]

The noise echoes in the garage, and the guards turn. The one who looks closest to the alarm goes down first, with a soft 'pop' as the rifle fires off.

Now they're on high-alert, searching for a sign of their intruder, shouting briefly to one another. Breathe. Reload.

The second shot catches one guard in the thigh and sends him sprawling, and any effort by his companion behind him to bolt ahead is hindered by the sudden and urgent need to not go flying over his collapsed form and face-first into the concrete. One more, sparing the flailing man but catching the third before he can enter the booth to hit the alarm.

Then Locus is on the move to take out the last, who'd just turned to see his last fellow fall...and was presenting his back. Foolish. He deserved what was coming to him.

[goddamngrenades]

"Southern Sector, clear." York paints himself against the wall and listens. Running, chatter, no ear into their coms- D, get on that-

Affirmative-

He can see some of the skirmish through the cars, or rather see the aftermath of an invisible Locus's effective takedowns. Five guards now stunned and the garage is secure. Right? Right.

Wrong, D pings him frantically leaving York to grumble under his breath as he adjusts positions. "We got more company coming in from the eastern elevators."

[agnominal]

"How many?"

Said while the last guard is twitching in his arms, being sleeper-held into submission before dropping limply to the ground. He'll need to ration his bullets, make each one count. It sounds as if they'll need them.

Eastern elevators. Locus shifts into a position to lean the rifle against the top of the car hood in front of him, aiming at the doors. Rate of fire would be slower than he'd like, but depending on the number...

"Locksmith."

[goddamngrenades]

"Five." Low over the comms as he peers down the row of cars. "You're a good enough shot to not hit me, right?"

Right. Just gonna trust a sniper type this much makes his shoulder twinge and his chest ache for opposing and equally visceral sentiments. But. Locus has his back, he's pretty sure, and he's feeling lucky enough not to worry as he...

Saunters out, gun tucked into the small of his back, doing his best to look confused and lost. Just long enough for Locus to crack off his shots. A little smirk and his eye simmers a bit and, hey, isn't he believable? Isn't he just so damn congenial? "I think I might've forgotten my keys with the Valet or something-"

[agnominal]

"Not on accidnet," he deadpans in return, eyes narrowing as the door pulls open. He knows better, knows he'll make the shots when needed.

And it appears York opted for misdirection, pulling the attention of the guards who should know better. And, for some reason, still aren't shooting him on sight. Let him charm them, then.

While he moves into their midst? Locus is lining up the shoot. Breathe. Focus.

Fire.

One guard buckles, clutching his knee. Aim. Breathe.

Fire.

[goddamngrenades]

Two down and no amount of charm power is gonna keep the other three from bringing their weapons up- York flicks what looks like a marble into his hand, dives out of the way of Locus' line of fire as he charges it, and throws. The crackling of energy goes off like a flashbang, stunning one and staggering the others long enough for him to roll and bring his pistol up to bear.

Stun pistols. Nonlethal means.

Doesn't stop him from going for a headshot on the stunned guard.

Three down.

[agnominal]

Staggering makes them move, makes movement harder to predict, but he's got this. He clips one in the shoulder with his next shot before--

"Advancing."

York has one more to deal with himself, then they need to see about securing the route back. In case someone has managed to find what they're after. He might go take a look again himself, just to be sure.

[goddamngrenades]

Four down and York rolls back up to his feet, bypassing the stun gun entirely to lunge at the last guard, tackling him with a shoulder charge he'd picked up from Locus during their sparring matches. Without his bulk and suit it's more calculated leverage than mowing down but it works. Guard down, knocked out, hall-

"We got chatter on the comms, someone's late for a check in. More incoming most likely."

[agnominal]

"If we leave them here, the alarm will go up regardless. It will make extraction far more difficult."

His head cocks towards the cars nearby, surveying their options, before turning back towards Locksmith. Some of these vehicles have rather...sizable trunks.

"How fitting is that codename of yours?"

[goddamngrenades]

"It suits my skills more than it does my power." He smirks, already holstering his stun gun and waltzing to the nearest trunk. A narrow squint gives him the basics while Delta looks up the model in particular, working with old fashioned analog tools to finesse it open. "How many do you think we'll need?"

[agnominal]

"Four guards at the southwest exit, one at the south exit, and the men here. If we mean for them to survive long enough to be found, no more than two to a trunk." Though the low oxygen content of the trunks would likely keep them out for longer...they are attempting to do this non-lethally, and this wouldn't be the first time he's shoved someone into a trunk for safekeeping.

There's a bitter bite of nostalgia there. What Siris would make of this. Locus pushes it aside, making his way back towards the southwest exit. Two at a time would be no issue with his newfound strength.

But time was still an issue to contend with.

[goddamngrenades]

"Got it." He calls over his shoulder as with a fluid flick of his wrist, the first trunk pops. He moves down the line (easier for them to be found) and leaves them their radios (also so they can be found). It's...neater than disposing of dead bodies. No blood, no gore, no weird twinge where guilt ought to be but isn't. He and D get the next few trunks open in short order and start hefting guards up and in, arranging them carefully in the trunks.

Two at a time. It takes, well. Awhile. since they're all pretty big and dense and York's out of his armor.

[agnominal]

Meanwhile, there is no easy way to carry four men at a time, no matter how light they are. But Locus is hoofing it regardless, and lies the first pair at York's feet to be dealt with before heading back for the last two.

They'll be coming around to check on them shortly. And his invisibility is on cooldown. Which means they don't have the luxury of taking this slow and careful. Luckily, Locksmith's name appears every bit as accurate as one would think.

"That should be the last. At least until they come looking for them." He huffs quietly. "This is not where I would have chosen to have them congregate."

[goddamngrenades]

"Move up to the main hall? I'll get these guys in and catch up with you." He says, levering in the next group of bodies. Two to a trunk and the lid goes down. It's happening in a timely fashion but his back is gonna be sore tomorrow, jesus. "Remind me to do the next mission in the suit."

He's missing that extra boost of power right now. It's not much, but it sure as hell makes lifting easier.

[agnominal]

"Noted."

Just a hint of dry humor in his voice before he moves back towards the elevator. Taking it up would be a little too obvious, but there should be a service ladder he can scale in relatively little time.

Have to keep to the shadows. That's the trade-off for bringing the suit.

[goddamngrenades]

Soon enough he's got all the unconscious guards set in their trunks, the trunks locked, and sensors dropped at each entrypoint to the garage. If anyone comes or goes? They'll know. Tapping Locus into the datastream is as easy as pie.

Climbing, now- there's a half second where he's in another elevator shaft, another lift entirely, red alert blaring-

It passes, he starts climbing up.