Marauders #4: El Diablo D'entro

[Seer]

“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.” - Charles Dickens.

<< The Marauders had pursued their purpose voraciously over the last six months. One thread led to another and before long, they had found themselves as warriors against mutant slavery and bondage. They'd toppled different versions of The Arena in Eastern Europe. They'd destroyed crime cartels in South America who couldn't resist trying to add some mutant firepower to their arsenals. But they had also had fun. For every success they had, they celebrated. They'd spent weeks in Paris, luxurious breaks in their schedule in Belize, each of them taking the time to get to know each other and themselves better than they did. And it was working. While they may have come together out of circumstance, Maxine Dupont's team of rag tag mutants was proving to be a problem to the mutant terrorist conglomerate at large. >>

<< Everywhere they went, be it for business or pleasure, they found themselves in a situation to help the helpless. And it had helped each of them as people. No longer were they living without purpose. They traveled the globe, looking for a problem, fixing said problem, and celebrating their wins. They were The Marauders. But it hadn't been all diamonds and champagne. They had gotten close to people and lost them. They had failed in some of their attempts to help. They had seen the dark and ugly underbelly of a world that few knew. But never the less, they persisted. Tonight, they were docked in Ecuador, tying up a mission that was six weeks in the making. For the first time in weeks, they had no next destination in mind. It was as pure of a night off that they could get. >>

<< They decided to take the next few days for themselves, before working their connections to find yet another mission. The Marauders hadn't had much of a break in six months, and they were itching to get a little time for themselves. Soon, their peace would be interrupted, as a new job loomed on the horizon. But for now, they each got some time for themselves. >>

<< And though they might not believe it, the world doesn't just revolve around our Marauders. All around, people are waking up, going to sleep, and living their lives. In Colima, Mexico for instance or even New York City, the sun begins to rise on another day as it's residents go about their days, each with their own specific purposes and motivations. And while the fates of The Marauders and these residents would soon collide, for now, they were separate entities. As the sun and the moon move in different directions in each of our scenes here and now, so we watch!>>

 

[Wallflower]

The Marauder - Ecuador

< A lot of people might have crumbled under the revelation that they were a clone. That they weren't a natural born human with parents and a soul and a purpose, but Jun didn't give a shit. She couldn't control any of that. What she could control, was what she did with her life moving forward and she had decided to live her life with as much fucking gusto as she could possibly muster. She threw herself into experiences, wanting to create real and actual memories of herself, to try and dull and erase the ones that had been implanted in her. She had base jumped off a building in Argentina. She had seduced and killed a crime lord in Prague who was trying to sell mutant children into sex slavery. She had gone to museums, she had sex when and how she wanted, on her terms. But the one thing that Jun had discovered in her new life that truly saved her - was music. She loved everything about it. Singing, dancing, creating. And when Maxine had gifted her an old acoustic guitar in London, she spent much of her free time teaching herself how to play. >

"That girl thinks she's the queen of the neighborhood.."

< From inside her room on The Marauder, she mindlessly plucked through several chord progressions while music played in the background as she sang. Ecuador had been rewarding, but a particularly rough situation. They had arrived to investigate several deaths in the area that seemed both politically motivated and also committed by mutants. Jun had spent a good chunk of her life finding mutants to bring into The Arena, and that experience made her very good at figuring out how others did it. In fact, she had been instrumental in much of her work. Work that Jun took very seriously. While she did not like to dwell on her origins or her past, there was something that called her to make up for her past transgressions despite the fact that she had been programmed from "birth" to do those things. More often than not, it was Jun's experience and insight that led them to be successful, though she didn't take it as a manner of pride. Simon and Max were her family. Each of them played their parts, and she was no more important than them. They were successful because they moved as a team. Because they covered their bases and because they had a deep seeded need to help those like them. >

"Love you like a sister always...soul sister, rebel girl...."

< She allowed herself to get lost into the music for a moment as she let the joint she had smoked a few moments ago fill her body with it's effects as she played. Jun loved a good guitar solo as much as she loved a good joint, so she was feeling incredibly good, incredibly happy at the prospect of a few days off. She wanted to go to Belize. She had heard good things about the beaches and food, and when she had googled garnache, she couldn't help but want to cross it off her bucket list. Part of her felt bad for feeling so good about things, despite everything she had seen and encountered since joining The Marauders. She could handle the work. Simon still struggled. For as good as he was, it felt like his heart was too big for this. Every mission he took personally, and it didn't seem like he was able to ride the successes like she and Max did. Even Maxine seemed preoccupied. She was doing good work, but she was also still on a desperate search for Alek, The American Red Knight. She had never met him, but everywhere they went, Maxine searched for traces of him, and let herself down every time there were no leads. >

< Jun had never anticipated being the "center" of a team as she'd always only ever looked out for herself, but she was hoping a few days off might do her team a bit of good. She sat down her guitar for a moment as she sparked up another joint, leaning back into the pink silk sheets of her bed as she took a deep puff exhaling as she sang. >

"Rebel girl, rebel girl, you are the queen of my world!"

 

[Domino]

The Marauder - Ecuador

"Your laughter is light, your caress deep, your cold kisses love the harm they do.."

:: Maxine needed to get laid, but it was only the part of the reason she found herself locked in her quarters on The Marauder reaching queer french poetry. In her teenage years, when she had been a gothic scene girl, she had fallen in love with poetry. She didn't have many books in her cell at Meridian Industries, but her father was a proud man. One who prided himself on good education and pedigree. So she found the gayest, most controversial poet she could find and fell in love with her. And whenever she needed a bit of a break for her brain, she found herself reaching for her well worn copy of L'Etre Double by Renee Vivien and getting lost in the pages. ::

"Long river reeds, their embrace. Enlaces, chokes, strangles savagely. Deep in the waves, an agony. Extinguished in a night drift."

:: She smirked as she sat up on her bed, laying over the covers in a pair of black jeans and a white ribbed tank. ::

[to herself]

"God, I'd love to get extinguished right about now..."

:: Domino wasn't complaining. What she had accomplished in the last six months with her team had been overwhelmingly good. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had purpose. She was spending her days liberating people from the kind of slavery that she herself had endured for many years. It was healing. She found herself at times to be almost a completely different person than she had ever been. She was making room in her life for friends, and for family. But it had come at a cost. Max wasn't used to leading. She was used to looking out for herself. For doing what she wanted when she wanted, and while she was having a great time watching Jun find herself and seeing Simon grow up a bit, she found herself wanting more. What? She didn't know, but it was an alarming feeling. How could she be on the right path, of doing all the good things she never did before, and still feel so...empty? She felt like she was tempting the gods by not being happy, but Maxine Dupont had always been the definition of an emo girl, so she was trying to not be so hard on herself. ::

:: Setting the book down on her nightstanding, she leaned back on the bad, gazing out her window at the dark seas of the Pacific as they washed against the walls of the boat. So much had happened since she stole The Marauder from Hellfire control. Haleigh and Ava had taken control of Hellfire America, just as she anticipated. Cameron King was serving as Haleigh's White King. What she hadn't anticipated was all the mischief the new white queen and her husband had decided to get into. The White Court was going through Hellfire with a machete, carving out all the deepest and darkest parts of the two hundred year organization. It was thrilling to see. Haleigh understood the power that Hellfire had, but she and Cameron were making it clear that they would not allow it to exist as it had been under the hand of Diana. She hadn't thought of Diana in months and she liked it that way. The only people she thought of across the pond were of Ava and Alek...and sometimes, when her poetry sessions got a bit too steamy, she thought of the Silver Swan. Maxine pressed a button on the phone on her nightstand. ::

"Jimmy, can you bring me a martini cart? I'm feeling peckish..."

:: Her soft french accent breathed into the phone as she rose from her bed, peeling off her tank top and slinking out of her jeans with a grace it was not often shown that Maxine possessed. Every lead she had for Alek had turned into a dead end. She had let both Ava and Alek down, but now she wasn't only coming up empty to Ava, but The Black Queen of Hellfire America. And Maxine had a very complicated relationship with Hellfire's black queens. She kept Ava posted, but after while, she hated having to update the woman with no leads, so she had ghosted her a bit. Both for her and Ava's sanity, though she found that Ava was not found much in Hellfire these days. ::

:: Heading into her bathroom, she turned on the shower to it's greatest heat and gazed over her deceptively feminine body. Max had always had a complicated relationship with her body and gender, especially after what her father had done to her, but when she looked at herself, naked and stripped down of all the leather and eyeliner that made her Maxine Dupont, she still liked what she saw. In her work life, she felt like a man, like the boss, like the king. But in her personal life, she was a woman. One with deep passion and a well of emotion. She fucked like a man but she loved like a woman, and that had always been a problem for her. Gender discomfort aside, she got into the shower, the water running down and in between her breasts, feeling possibly a bit innappropriately good. The job in Ecuador had been straightforward and good. Jun and Simon were becoming so good at what they did. She had been training them non stop, and she was sure that Simon had gained a good twenty pounds of muscle. And she was finding that she really did love them. She couldn't imagine what her life would look like without them anymore. That feeling made her nervous, but the heat and steam of the water filling her senses let her ignore that for a moment. ::

:: A few moments later she turned the faucet off and grabbed a start white towel, wrapping it only around her waist as she stepped out of the shower as a knock could be heard at the door. Sauntering over, she opening the door, the staff member unsurprised by the appearance of her breasts as he set up the martini cart and gave her a smile and a nod. On the sea and on her ship, they were all part of her team. They were a merry group of pirates. They were marauders ::

Marauder: "I've been told to inform you that we have an incoming arrival from Hellfire London. Thirty minutes out. We're prepping the helopad now."

Maxine cocked an interested brow. She had maintained a relationship with Hellfire London for a number of reasons, and it was not unusual for the club to keep her abreast (get it?) of intel within the inner circle. But an in person visit was unusual. ::

"Who is it?"

Marauder: "The Black King, Sir. Archer Fairchild..."

[sighing deeply]

"Of course...thanks, Jimbo."

Her comrade nodded as he left the room and Maxine began to prepare herself a very strong martini, silently cursing herself that it couldn't have been Juliette making a visit, or at least somebody with as legendary of an ass, but she was slowly getting used to working closely with Archer. He had shown himself to be quite a useful ally, despite the reputation he had as a blustering coke fueled ponce. She poured the shaker into an icy glass as she dropped two garlic stuffed olives into her glass, before taking a long drink.

"So much for a vacation..."

 

[Longshot]

The Marauder - Ecuador

"268...."

[grunting]

"269..."

Simon grunted as he executed another perfect sit up from the floor of his quarters on The Marauder. Fitness had become part of his life over the last six months and he found it to be a far more productive way of dealing with his emotion than anything else had tried, so he leaned in. It was hard for him to sit still these days, so whenever he had a free moment, whenever his thoughts began to creep up on him, he found a pole to lift himself up on, or a set of stairs to run, rope to pull, a weight to lift. And he had never looked better. He just wished he felt that way inside. It wasn't all bad. Together, The Marauders had saved countless lives, they had faced some of the darkest things the world had to offer, and they had liberated people from it.

More than that, it was the first time in his life that ever felt like he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. But he hadn't come from the same places as the other marauders. The last few years of his life had been spent seeing and experiencing the underbelly of a world that wanted people like him dead, simply for existing. He as far away from his life as a Connecticut wasp as he could get, and while he was thankful, because he finally had some of the answers he was looking for, the cost of seeking those answers out had taken a toll on him.

"300..."

He sprawled out on the rug below him, tucking his hands behind his head as he exhaled deeply, taking a few moments to relax as he looked up at the ceiling, lost a bit in thought. Every mission took a piece of him. Every minute in the field, when he was face to face with the eyes of children who had seen more horror in their short lives than he ever would, it killed a part of him. Even when they won, even when he was able to place these kids, these teenagers, these lost adults and got them the chance at a safe life, it felt hollow. Because he knew that they would never truly be safe. Max had tried to get him to think differently, to accept the wins as they came, and to not allow him to fall into the constant spiral of despair he often found himself in, but it was hard for him. And he wasn't sure he wanted to let that part of him die. His heart was his strength, despite how big he had gotten his biceps, but it was a constant dance to keep it.

Simon sprung up from the floor and stretched his arms as he looked over to his bed to find his dog, Lucky sprawled out on her back, her ears cocked in a curious manner. He gave her a warm smile before walking over to her and giving her a number of belly rubs and kisses. He had rescued her in Prague after watching her hang around an abandon building the team had been casing for three days. she was a mutt, but she was a very, very good girl. And she had become the unofficial mascot of the team. Despite having each other, long stretches on the ship could get lonely, and Lucky had more often than not been one of his main sources of joy.

"You're my sweet girl! Muah!"

He kissed her on the nose as he moved his way over towards his desk, a number of Hellfire documents scattered among them. Simon had tried to quit being the Red Bishop after South Africa, but Maxine had convinced him not to. While they all had their own resources, the name Hellfire held weight. It allowed them to get into places a bit easier, or get into places at all. And it seemed like things were changing. Hellfire America was cleaning house. Intel reports showed that the new White Queen and King were carving a large part of the nasty bits of their Inner Circle out of the equation. It seemed like they were moving towards the same goals that Daniel Reed, his Red King had for Hellfire, and it gave Simon hope that someday soon, London would follow suit, and that both the courts could work together to protect mutants and promote mutantdom as a whole. So he stayed. That, and he felt like he owed it to Daniel. When they first met, he could never tell if the red king was manipulating him, but he had proven himself and his words during their time in Madripoor and beyond. And Maxine was right - they were too good of allies to ignore.

Sighing to himself, he picked up his phone to see a message from Daniel. Something was amiss in the Tokyo branch and Archer himself was on his way to meet the team. He cocked an interested eyebrow. This had to be big if they were sending an actual reagent to the ship. He knew Jun and Max would be upset, but Simon himself was rather relieved to not have a few days alone with his thoughts. Throwing his phone back on the desk, he made his own way to his shower, and prepared himself for The Black King's arrival.

"Let's hope this is something good..."

 

[Jackal]

Manzanillo, Colima, Mexico - La Sirena Resort

The sun was setting in the town of Manzanillo as the residents and tourists returned home from their jobs and excursions and began to prepare themselves for the evening. Down the road, a bit into the jungle, things were just starting to liven up for the La Sirena Resort. It was a very exclusive and luxurious beach resort that had opened earlier in the year and was driving not just the local economy, but supporting the entire state of Colima. It brought jobs and money to the town, and it seemed to be one of the only places not firmly under the control of one of the cartels, which was a rarity in a place like this. It was beautiful and it attracted a crowd of rich tourists and affluent locals, though one of those locals was not there by choice or desire to spend a beautiful evening.

Hassan Mostafa stood on one of the wood bridges that separated the main pool lounge from the outdoor bar as he adjusted a name tag that read 'Carlos' that was pinned to his white linen, button up shirt. Tourists had a hard enough time speaking Spanish, he didn't want to further confuse them by being an arab in Mexico. It was confusing enough for the locals, who had taken to calling him "Hassito". As the sun began to set and people began leaving the pool for their rooms, Hassan was winding down his own shift as an activities associate, a job he both hated and enjoyed. Spending his days entertaining white people with banana boat rides and water aerobics were a far cry from his old life, but he didn't have much of a life anymore. Not after the death of his wife and the abduction of his daughter.

They had been foolish to move there and think that they would be safe. Colima was the state with the highest murder rate per capita in Mexico, as well as the highest crime rate, because it's ports were constantly contested areas for the cartels. They had simply fallen in love with the trees, with the architecture, and with the people. Despite it's bad reputation, it was one of the smallest states in Mexico, but it had one of the highest standards of living. The people here seemed happy, and always willing to lend a helping hand. Hassan just got to a place where nobody could actually help him. Missing people in Manzanillo were a dime a dozen. The police were in the pocket of the cartels. In most cases, the missing were dead by the time a report could be filed, but that was something Hassan didn't let himself think of anymore. Because when he thought of that, he reached for the bottle.

He gripped a coin (a sobriety chip - three months) in his hand tightly, fingering it and flipping it over and over in his hand as he watched the empty main bar by the pool lounge. They had just ended the busy season, and he was having a hard time. Without being overwhelmed by tourists and guests of the resort, Hassan had time to think. And that never went well for him. He watched the bartender as if she were a performer, his eyes meeting every hand movement she made as she flipped bottles and gathered glasses and did the dance of filling several shot glasses for a larger party that had overtaken the grotto. They were the worst kind of tourists - Overly tan, overly blonde Americans who could speak as much spanish as a deaf mute. His past life crept in on him as he began to analyze just how easy it would be able to kill each of them and get out unseen.

Two at the end of the table kept excusing themselves to the bathroom, likely doing bump after bump of cocaine. They could be taken out with little to no fuss and stored in the staff closets for a good two hours before next cleaning service was scheduled to take place. The fat man and his wife at the head of the table were clearly swingers as indicated by their pineapple decorated attire. Dahlia would have taken care of them, plying them with alcohol and the promise of a threesome before strangling them both on their bed. All that was left was the two teenagers who couldn't have been less happy to be in one of the most expensive resorts in all of Mexico. Hassan had usually spared children, but if he was being honest, sometimes they created complications that unfortunately had to be dealt with. He gripped his sobriety chip even tighter as he wondered what the men who had taken his daughter might have done to her. It had been six month's since he'd seen Sal's face. Watched her beautiful brown eyes light up as he came home from work. Felt the warmth of her cheek on his chest as he read her a bedtime story. Felt alive at her laughter.

Hassan made his way closer to the bar, the bartender giving him a curious look. Both fortunately and unfortunately for him, it was hard for Hassan to get a drink in this town, as his drunken antics and subsequent downfall was well documented in the city of Manzanillo. Losing his wife was one thing, but when his daughter went missing, Hassan gave up on life. There wasn't a man he wouldn't fight, a shot he wouldn't take, a death he wasn't running head first towards. The only thing that had saved him had been Elena. When he lost his job at The Estrada Distillery, when he had nothing, she stepped in. She revealed herself as a mutant like him, and used her power to dry him out. To help him get his head straight. He was maintaining his sobriety because he wanted to live long enough to find his daughter, but he was also doing it for Elena. She had given him too much when she didn't need to, and there was a part of him that wanted her to be proud.

But that tequila looked so good sitting there in a shot glass with salt on the rim. Surely one shot wouldn't hurt. He had seen so much in his life, far worse things than what happened to him. He had fought the world bare fisted, he had to be stronger than a bit of alcohol. Maybe just one shot. Just one shot and he could calm down, he could release the ever present tension in his shoulders, he could relax. He found himself taking a seat at the bar, sliding the chip back into his pocket.

"I'll...un vaso de agua, por favor..."

He held on to all the resolve he had left.

 

[Lynceus]

Blackwell’s Island, NY — The Blind Tiger

The lights were low and the cabaret feeling of the place was strong tonight. The live band was playing a Postmodern Jukebox style cover of Nothing Else Matters, and Owen didn’t hate it, even though it was as far from Metallica as he thought music could get. The girl could sing, the pianist was on point, and the guy playing the sax was no slouch either. Owen polished a wine glass, his eyes sweeping across the bar to check on his patrons. He had originally taken this job just to make ends meet, down on his luck after getting fired from yet another place in Manhattan. Hellfire hired anyone, no questions asked, and Owen was initially just happy to be making cash again every night. He’d had no idea what he’d gotten himself into, but it had turned into a windfall.

As lucrative as it had been to become a contract informant while working the bar at Hellfire Manhattan, once that place burned to the ground, the new White Queen had rehired him at the newly renovated Hellfire compound at an exorbitant pay rate —plus tips! Owen still felt like a man of limited means, but he’d finally stopped stressing about covering the bills every month. He started to let himself spend money on things, like new boots long before holes were worn into the soles of his old pair. He could get used to this quickly. He could get used to getting new ink without having to scrounge for months to afford it. He hung the sparkling clean wine glass on the overhead rack, and then pulled his vape pen from his pocket and took a long drag. When he exhaled, the air was filled with vapor and a distinct blueberry smell. Owen heard his name being called in a deep voice, one he recognize, the sound of which always gave him goosebumps.

“AJ! It’s good to see you man. How was your hunting trip?”

Owen said with a smile as he turned to look at the hulking form of the White Knight. The big, burly (sexy) man sat down at the bar, saying something about part of him wishing he were still hunting. Owen resisted the urge to say that AJ could hunt him if he wanted. Instead he muddled an orange slice and a smoked maraschino cherry in a lowball, preparing the Old Fashioned for Savage just the way he liked it. He gave the man a sympathetic look as he laid down a black square napkin embossed with a tiger and then delivered the drink.

“I take it you heard about the Queen’s marriage.”

He said gently, as AJ swirled the liquid around the single circular ice sphere and then took a draw from his glass. The big man growled in reply and put a big manilla envelope on the bar top, telling Owen that he had a job for him. Owen took the envelope and peeked inside. There was a stack of cash, more money than Owen had ever seen in one place before. There were also big printed pictures of a pretty woman with the White King, and some pages of typed information too. AJ explained the ‘job’, which apparently boiled down to going to Colima, Mexico and finding out just how into the White King this woman was. Enough to fly all the way up to New York City to have lunch with him, Owen was about to say sarcastically, but AJ had a serious sexy brooding thing going on. Owen leaned in, locking eyes with AJ across the bar.

“AJ, how into the King do you want this woman to be?”

AJ: “Enough to end the honeymoon phase, if not his marriage.”

Owen knew AJ was telling the truth, and gave a conspiratorial smile.

 

[Savage]

Blackwell’s Island, NY — The Blind Tiger

The restaurant reminded him of his youth, a time which was much simpler though no less dangerous. He found himself relaxed by the earthy tones of wood, leather, and brass fixtures. The place was dimly lit with low wattage Edison bulbs, which AJ was amused to hear were back ‘in style’. He made his way to the bar tonight, with more purpose than just a drink or a bite to eat. It had been a couple days since the King and Queen had returned from their world tour, and AJ himself had come back from his full moon ritual.

As happy as he’d been to find the Queen was back, he was less enthused to hear of her elopement. It wasn’t all bad, though. The very day of their return to the city, the King was seen taking lunch with another woman. From the pictures, it appeared to be more than a business outing. Savage had been quite pleased to ask for printouts from the security team, and to forward them to his new friend Griffin. They had spent a good deal of time together the day Cameron King had not died, after Haleigh had left AJ at Clandestine. It had been fortuitous to strike up a friendship with the man running Haleigh’s intelligence network.

Savage had become well connected in the last several months. Without Haleigh there to occupy his time, he’d dutifully stood watch over the Hellfire compound, and become more comfortable working with the White Bishop, Adriana. She still made his hackles rise occasionally, but she was part of Haleigh’s pack here and she was competent in many ways. She had been very helpful in this particular instance, though she had cautioned him against doing something drastic. He had assured her this was not drastic at all, just a fact-finding mission.

”Owen.”

He called, sliding onto a leather wrapped barstool. The bartender turned and without even asking, began to make AJ his usual drink. Owen Merrick was the perfect man for this task. He could make a person tell the truth, something Savage himself had initially been disconcerted to discover. By now, though, Savage didn’t even fight it. When Owen asked about his hunt, he answered honestly.

“The wild in me wishes I were still hunting, or at least still killing.”

Savage couldn’t explain it, but he always felt so much better after telling this man the truth. It gave him a distinct sense of relief. Owen set his drink down in front of him, and AJ received it gratefully. When asked if he’d heard about the Queen’s marriage, he grumbled a yes, and laid the package on the bar top. The envelope held pictures of the woman, and a printout of the research Griffin had sent over. The intel was helpful, but AJ was looking for information of a different nature. He filled Owen in on the task, knowing the man would accept the job just by the way he’d looked at the money in the envelope. Owen asked him just how into the King Savage wanted the Mexican woman to be, and Savage forthrightly answered. Owen have him a smile like a co-conspirator.

Owen: “AJ, I must admit, I thought you too virtuous to even want to put the Queen’s marriage asunder.”

AJ grunted at that as he took another sip.

”I did not pursue her while he was in his coma, but now that he has risen, the competition can begin in earnest. If he cannot withstand a little rivalry, he does not deserve her. And if this woman from his past can lead him astray, his marriage means even less to him than it does to me.”

Owen: “I guess you have a point there, my man. I’ll leave as soon as I can, gotta get my shifts covered first.”

AJ nodded.

”That’s taken care of already. Adriana says one of the cocktail waitresses wants a promotion and volunteered to cover you, it’s already been approved. Owen, I am counting on your discretion in this matter.”

 

[Lynceus]

Blackwell’s Island, NY — The Blind Tiger

The thing about being a bartender was that you were mostly a background character in everyone else’s story. This was not without it’s advantages, though. Owen was practically invisible, and thus able to observe other people quite closely without being noticed himself. He was able to see through façades, through the lies that people told even to themselves, to see them for what they really were. Beyond that, too, people told their bartender a great number of personal things, and people told Owen in particular even more than usual.

This man in front of him, for example, was so visually out of place. He stuck out in the scene, the only one not dressed up in a suit or other finery. AJ never cared to be pretty or showy, he was utterly comfortable with himself. He was rugged and rough around the edges, a wild thing prowling through a civilized world, unapologetic in his undomesticated ways. Yet, even a feral creature could have virtues. The White Knight was loyal to his Queen, and possessed of some internal code of honor that Owen was still trying to figure out. Savage had confessed months ago that he had it bad for the White Queen, but he respected her too much to rush her. He was apparently playing a long game, the rules of which only he seemed privy to. Owen admitted that he thought AJ too virtuous to destabilize the Queen’s marriage.

AJ’s response was enlightening, and Owen found himself amused by the Knight’s sense of gamesmanship. On some level, he was rooting for Savage, even though he’d happily try to comfort the man if he lost. Although if Savage won, Owen could console the King, and Actually he thought his chances might be better there, so either way was good. Haleigh was hotter than hellfire, but Owen didn’t think he had a snowball’s chance in hell with the girl who clearly had her pick of the litter, and anyway despite the strength of her presence, Owen was more in the mood for the men of Hellfire lately. He’d be a fool to turn down a threesome with her, but she wasn’t asking. However, he found he was pleased that the new White Queen was recruiting more males, because he wanted more to look at than that overblown Red Knight, Alek.

Owen told AJ that he’d just need to get his shifts covered. Apparently the Queen’s court had already coordinated the coverage necessary for this little excursion, so Owen didn’t have to do anything. That was an interesting detail, but Owen just nodded and shrugged like it was nothing of consequence. AJ wanted to clarify that he was counting on Owen’s discretion in the matter. Owen finished polishing another glass and hung it up before slinging his polishing cloth over his shoulder and leaning on his elbows over the bartop towards AJ. The Knight smelled like cedar and woodsmoke, and his wild eyes were something to get lost in. Owen barely retained his wit.

“Of course AJ, haven’t you been counting on my discretion all along?”

AJ: “Yes, I suppose so. I am already in your debt, then. If there is ever anything you need, let me know.”

“Oh don’t make a boy a promise you can’t keep. Would you like another drink?”

Owen replied, but AJ was shaking his head, and saying he had other business to attend to. Owen shrugged and bid him goodbye, as he fished his phone out of his pocket. Mexico was a long way to go, but he knew of someone else who owed him a favor, and could give him a ride. He texted her the basic details, and waited to see what she’d say. It only took a minute or two for her to ask when he wanted her to pick him up. The cocktail waitress that AJ mentioned sauntered up to relieve Owen of duty. The text he sent back to Amelia said ‘ASAP’.

 

[Sparrow]

La Sirena Resort, Colima, Mexico

"I'm going right to the terrace bar. Have someone take my bag to my room and unpack it."

Front Desk Agent: "Yes, Miss Estrada."

Elena wanted to sulk. And she couldn't do that with her father hanging around. So she'd stopped at La Sirena upon her return to Mexico - they always kept a suite open for her. And she'd called ahead to have some new clothes delivered, since she hadn't taken much with her to New York. She might have gone to her suite and had a soak in the bath, let herself process what had happened in Manhattan away from prying eyes, but there was someone here she needed to see. And it couldn't wait.

Her high heels clicked on the tiles as she made her way outside and to the bar. Her white dress was form fitting and moved in a graceful silhouette as she walked. She saw Hassan's hulking form perched on a stool at the bar, recognizable even from the back. She pulled her mobile from her clutch, and tossed it onto the bar top. Her voice was crisp.

"Need to borrow a phone, amigazo? Perhaps there's a call you should make."

 

[Phoenix]

Manhattan, NY — East 34th Street Heliport

Today was a lovely day off, even though she was technically ‘on call’. Many of her days went like this, where she needed to be ready to report within the hour, but could otherwise do whatever she pleased. At the moment she was tending to some routine maintenance on her main mode of land transportation. She referenced the manual before torquing the oil drain bolt back down to spec, and filled the sump diligently with fresh lubricant. Then she stood the bike up straight, leaning it a bit towards her so she could check the level to make sure it was good.

Yes, within limits. She let the bike rock back onto its kickstand. Then she moved around it and sat on the hangar floor with a jar of chain grease, and proceeded to ensure each link was holding up and that none of the sprocket teeth were damaged. Her playlist shuffled between Lindsey Stirling, Apocalyptica, and Vitamin String Quartet. She was considering where she might go for dinner when her phone chimed. She pulled off her nitrile gloves, glancing at her riding gear. It would only take a second to shed the greasy overalls and suit up to ride up to Clandestine. Her under armor base layers made it a cinch to change from this outfit to that one, and to swap again to a flight suit when she got to work. Amelia unlocked her phone to see it wasn’t a text from work at all, but her friend Owen Merrick. She still vividly remembered the night she met him.

Manhattan, NY — Pig N’ Whistle, Late 2013

It had been a long day at work, in her brand new civilian job that Specter had graciously offered her after she left the Marine Corps. All she wanted to do was enjoy her Gin Gimlet in peace and unwind a bit before going back to that crappy apartment in Hell’s Kitchen that she’d leased without knowing anything about the layout of the city other than it was close to work and relatively cheap.

“Can’t a girl enjoy a drink in this town without having to beat you bloody bastards off with a STICK?!”

She exclaimed to the guy who just refused to take the gentle dismissal she’d tried to give him already. Her faded English accent came out a bit strong when she got worked up. The guy and his friends just laughed, calling her cute when she was angry. They were drunk, and Amelia was not in the mood to get in a bar brawl with a couple of punks tonight. She slammed the rest of her drink. It was a challenge to look tough with a martini glass in hand, but she slapped a twenty down for the handsome redhead behind the bar and told him to keep the change, sliding out of her barstool and turning her back on the boys trying to hit on her.

She inhaled the crisp autumn air as she stepped out to the curb, looking for a cab. This time of night there wasn’t much going on, in fact the streets were quite deserted, but Amelia wasn’t worried. She was in the heart of the city, a cab would cruise by soon, and if not? A short walk to the subway wouldn’t hurt. The knuckleheads from the bar spilled out onto the sidewalk behind her. She immediately started walking away, but she didn’t get three steps before somebody grabbed her arm, and then it was ON. These guys were bigger and stronger, but Amelia was no damsel in distress, and she had a secret weapon. She blasted one guy with a hurricane force gust that threw him into a light pole and knocked him clean out. She drew all the oxygen out of the lungs of the man who grabbed her, and watched him gasp for air as he let go, sinking to his knees and wheezing. The third guy had run off. The bartender was standing on the stoop of the Pig N Whistle, his mouth hanging open.

Owen: “Oh, you GO girl. You don’t even need my help.”

Amelia laughed at that, and they exchanged their names, before that third jerk came back with a police officer in tow. The bastard had the nerve to lie about what happened. Owen stepped in to back Amelia’s claim of self defense. Amelia let the one guy breathe again so she wouldn’t be facing a murder charge. They all had to give statements and the policeman called in reinforcements and asked for IDs, it turned into a huge ordeal. In the end, the reward Owen got for sticking his neck out was an arrest for a warrant he apparently had for not making a court appearance or paying a fine for fare evasion on the subway or some petty thing.

Amelia had bailed him out of jail that very night, and they’d been the unlikeliest of friends ever since. So when he texted her ask for a ‘ride to Mexico’, Amelia smiled. One of the perks of having become Clandestine’s chief pilot was having the liberty to take any of fleet aircraft for personal use. And it had been a long while since she’d had an overnight trip. Most of her work consisted of ferrying the C-suite execs around the city by helicopter, just small day hops really. She’d enjoy taking the jet for a long haul down to Mexico. She texted him back, asking when he wanted to be picked up. From what he’d already texted her, she gathered he was at work, the new Hellfire place on Blackwell’s. She could take her own helo to lift him from there to where the jet was kept at Teterboro.

She cleaned up her mess and then slipped out of the coveralls, taking the spiraling staircase from the hangar floor to her loft apartment that was built above it. She took a quick shower and threw on a flowy blue top, some dark jeans and ankle boots. Then she picked out some earrings that were made with the tips of peacock feathers, did a little mascara and whatnot, and went back downstairs to push the hangar door open and pull the helicopter out. It was on a wooden platform on wheels, and being a small, four seater bird, she was easily able to tow it out of the hangar. Maybe she cheated a little bit by giving herself some boost with the wind. Nobody would ever know.

She marked herself as ‘assigned’ on the online flight schedule, along with another pilot she knew was trying to build more fixed wing time. In the backseat of the chopper, she tossed a pre-packed suitcase that would last her a couple days, and she grabbed the beat up old gym bag that Owen left at her place with his toiletries and a couple changes of clothes for the days he was too tired after work to take the subway all the way back to his place in Hell’s Kitchen. She did a quick preflight check on her helo, then closed her hangar door. And before she fired up her engine, she called the other pilot to meet her at Teterboro. It was easy to get from her spot on the East side of Manhattan to Blackwell’s Island just east of her. And since the JFK class bravo airspace didn’t start until 1100 feet here, she didn’t have to talk to anybody, but it was plenty safe to fly over there at 500 feet above the surface. When she landed on the open lawn in front of the new Hellfire Mansion, Owen was out there waiting, holding his fedora in his hand. He was familiar with the way the helo beat the air into submission.

 

[Lynceus]

Blackwell’s Island, NY — The Blind Tiger

Owen cashed out everything he could and passed off his open tabs to the new girl. He wished her luck and got the hell out of there before anybody changed their mind. He went to the back room where the lockers were and opened his up. He tugged on the loose end of his bow tie. It was a nice paisley pattern that brought out the green in his eyes, but it was just for work. He hung it on the hook with all the other ties and grabbed the clothes he’d worn in to work, navy chino shorts, a plain v-neck and his light zip-up hoodie. He rolled them up together and tucked them under his arm to carry out.

He’d wear his work clothes too, the black button up, the graphite houndstooth vest, the vintage slacks, the suspenders, it could all work in various ways to make some good outfits on the fly. He’d have to find some convenience store in Mexico to buy socks and underwear, and maybe a festive shirt, but with the cash in the envelope he wasn’t worried about it. He did want to change his shoes before he left. The non-slip sneakers were good for working but looked fairly hideous and plain. He swapped them for his high-tops and grabbed his fedora hat before closing up his locker. On the way out the door he stopped by the bar to grab a bottle of gin he knew Amelia liked, and he didn’t have to wait long out in the courtyard for her to show up in her helicopter.

These people blew his mind sometimes with the way they just casually spent gobs of money. She’d told him once that it only cost a few hundred thou, like it really wasn’t insanely expensive to own. Owen had wanted to tell her that for that kind of money he could BUY the apartment in Hell’s Kitchen instead of subleasing it from her, but he didn’t want her to take him on like some kind of charity case. Instead of making it weird, he’d just told her he was glad they were friends and he could pretend to live the high life once in a while. It was bad enough they both knew his whole shoebox apartment could fit in her living room at the hangar loft she owned now.

He ducked under the spinning blades as she popped the door open for him to take the other front seat. It still intimidated him a bit, how comfortable she was with him sitting within reach of the controls. But she was cool hand Luke over there, with her confidence in her ability to recover anything he could potentially destabilize. She gave him a head nod as he tossed his clothes in the backseat, catching sight of his well-used bag that she’d thoughtfully brought from her place. He watched himself smile and mouthe ‘thanks’ at her from the reflection in her raybans. He strapped himself in and pulled the Bose headset from its hook so they could talk while she lifted off so smoothly he didn’t even get that sinking feeling that used to make him queasy. He pulled the boom mic down and bent it to his mouth.

”Amelia, are you sure this is okay? I feel like it’s a big ask, I mean you could just drop me at La Guardia and I could figure out—”

Amelia: ”How to get just as far as Mexico City by commercial airline, and then it’s another 450 miles to Colima. Owen, you went to JAIL for me, the least I can do is take you to Mexico.”

“That was like ten YEARS ago, and I didn’t even spend the night because you bailed me out right away. It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it.”

He said, because after he’d spontaneously asked her, he kind of thought that maybe it was crazy to ask a pilot friend to just fly him to Mexico on her boss’ jet. He wanted to be sure she wasn’t going to risk anything for him. But then, he was doing this at the request of a man who essentially worked for the same woman that Amelia did? Maybe it was okay, but it still seemed outlandish to him after he thought about it. It was complex, and he didn’t want her to end up smoked for it. She waved him off and asked if he had his passport on him or if he needed to stop for it.

“Oh damn, girl, you think I’m the kinda guy who just carries around his passport? Joke’s on YOU honey, I don’t even HAVE one.”

He said, and suddenly he realized how crazy this mission-on-a-whim thing really was. She didn’t even blink when she told him they had him covered, and at his gobsmacked look she explained that she flew spies around for a living and they were adept at bending the rules. There was something about the way she was treating this, like it was just another Wednesday, that gave him the flash of confidence to just let go and throw himself into the adventure he’d unwittingly accepted. He held up the bottle of gin he’d smuggled out for her.

”Brought you some Broker’s.”

He said, and then she took her hand off the throttle-stick-thingy to tap the little bowler hat cap on the top of the bottle. Owen thought that maybe this was going to be the way he died, but also that it was kind of a bitchin’ way to go and it was certainly cooler than muddling fruit for the richie rich types all night. They didn’t fall out of the sky like a rock either, so he told himself to chill.

 

[Avalanche]

London to Ecuador

As always, it was good to be King. In fact, it was so much easier these days. When Hellfire America crumbled like a day old cookie, Haleigh Davidoff wasted no time in grabbing her boy toy and murdering people she thought didn't need to live. Many of these people had been in the way of his business for quite some time. Every collective she destroyed, every initiative her and her new husband (?) took out, benefitted him greatly. Sub Zero was now not only a global crime syndicate, but THE global crime syndicate, and since he never, not once, dealt in flesh, he was safe for the time being. Despite the deaths of Bretta and Alistair, things had been calm on the court for quite some time. The Inner Circle had agreed to lay loy for the time being, and Daniel Reed had made good on his promises. Their consituents were hopeful and inspired by Hellfire, and for the first time in a long time, they were not being reactive, trying to compete with what the american courts were doing. They were finally taking the time to breath and build their empires. Things were so good he was even sure he had caught Brienne, his beautiful queen, actually smiling. It was after she had just done a bump of coke off a Brazillian footballer's dick. But it was a smile.

Things were opening up. They may have always been the secondary branch, but this war in America had given them an imeasurable amount of power. Other branches were following THEIR lead, assuming that America was having a rebellion like they had. It was trickling down across the world, and their courts were being asked for guidance and advice as to how to navigate things. In short, they were richer than they'd ever been and Archer Fairchild wasted no time in spending that money. He was now controlling the drug trades of most of Eastern Europe as well as parts of Tokyo, a place that no caucasian man dared to entread on. But it was the very alliance he had built with Tokyo that was causing him to call on the discreet help of Maxine and her Marauders.

In his private, retro-fitted Airbus H225, Archer sat in the expansive and rennovated cabin, doing a key of coke from his necklace before taking a sip of his martini, watching the view below him. The beauty of the turquoise waters of Ecuador. At first, he didn't think much of Maxine's rag tag team of mutants fighting for the greater good. But they had made a name for themselves in the last six months, and Archer had found a lot of success in picking up the above board parts of the organizations they dismantled and absorbed them into his own empire. It was a hell of a lot better than an Indeed posting.

Soon, the helo pad touched down on top of the boat as Archer was greeted by the boat staff, who all fancied themselves pirates. Archer stepped out of the helicopter, adjusted his hair, smoothed his dinner jacket and gave word he was ready to be received.

"Captain Jack Sparrow reporting for bloody duty. Gather the troops..."

 

[Jackal]

La Sirena Resort

Elena: "Need to borrow a phone, amigazo? Perhaps there's a call you should make."

:: He felt her before he could see her. Elena had always had a strong presence, even for a telepath. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen and she always moved as if she were being photographed or in a movie, and he was relieved to her voice in his ear. Since getting sober, she'd always been around. She wasn't much of a traveller these days. When he found out she was going to New York, he was immediately on edge. He had a sponsor, but the shit storm that his life had become, and the reasons behind his drinking, weren't things he could be truly honest about with a flatscan. He took a sip of his water, before handing her back her phone. ::

"I got it handled, Lena. For now...but damn, it's good to have you back...sadiqa."

:: He knew better than to lie to her, but he also didn't want to talk about his sobriety right now. He just wanted to feel like a normal person that could sit at a bar and not want to empty it. So much of sobriety was spent talking about how much you used to drink, and that just made Hassan...want to drink. He pulled out a chair for her and gestured for her to sit. ::

"That was a quick trip to New York. Did you find the man you wanted to strangle and actually get to strangle him? I could use a happy ending today."

:: He paused for a moment as he watched her picturesque face and full lips pout slightly before glancing down at the cocktail napkins, fingering them with her hands for a moment. He sighed. ::

"I'm sorry. Pinche cabron..."

:: Hassan placed a hand over hers. ::

"Do you want to talk about it?"

 

[Wallflower]

The Marauder - Coast of Ecuador

< Jun was just about to go for a nice glaze and order herself up a bottle of wine shen she got the notification that her presence was requested in the main sitting room for official business. >

"Ughhh...."

< It had been only about four hours of freedom before duty called yet again, but that duty often involved freeing people from slavery, so Jun couldn't make too much of a fuss. She would however make a fuss about the prospect of putting on pants, so she decided not to. She pulled on a white ribbed tank top and tugged against it in the mirror, smoothing herself over, and pulling her neon purple panties up and around her hip, to a more presentable way. She ran her fingers through her semi wet hair, and finished with a bit of pink lip gloss as she headed out of her quarters, down several sets of stairs and into the lounge area, where thankfully there was wine being served, which was curious, but she didn't question it. Grabbing a full bottle of Chardonnay, she uncorked the top of the bottle and took a swig from it, before jumping down on one of the plush loungers. She may have been a bit of a rebel, but she was a punctual one. Often the first one to the party or the meeting. >

[female voice] "I see our little wallflower is living up to her new codename..."

< Jun smirked as she caught the gaze of Maxine from the doorway. She gave a light chuckle and shrugged. >

"Eh. I signed up to help people. Nowhere in my contract did it say I had to wear pants."

[pausing]

"Come to think of it. I don't even have a contract. I don't even get paid...which really is starting to sound the start of the very conditions we are fighting against!"

< She took another swig before setting the bottle down on the table, and leaning back in. >

"But you'd tell me if we were meeting someone important right? Like I'm not going to be meeting the president in my laundry day panties am I?"

 

[Domino]

The Marauder - Coast of Ecuador

"I see our little wallflower is living up to her new codename..."

:: Maxine watched Jun with an overt smile on her face. Watching Jun find herself had been one of the more rewarding things about running this team. It would have been so easy for her to fall into despair, over everything she was a part of in Madripoor, of learning her true origin. But she didn't. She really leaned in. There was no experience she didn't want a taste of, no food she didn't want to try and risk she didn't want to take, and the only downside was waiting for Jun to get as good at guitar as she thought she was. It was a beautiful way to live, and Maxine was not her keeper. After everything she had gone through, Jun deserved to be herself in whatever way made her happy. And sometimes that meant meetings in her underwear. ::

Jun: "Eh. I signed up to help people. Nowhere in my contract did it say I had to wear pants."

:: She smirked as she sauntered her way into the room herself and poured herself a scotch, sitting down across from Jun, crossing her, ankle over knee and took a sip. ::

"Considering who our new client is, I'd say he's going to love the fact that you don't."

Jun: "Come to think of it. I don't even have a contract. I don't even get paid...which really is starting to sound like the start of the very conditions we are fighting against!"

:: Maxine laughed. ::

[sarcastically]

"I'll consider revisiting your compensation packages at the end of the quarter. For now, you got all that Madripoor money burning a hole in your pocket. I'd say you're just fine, Juney."

:: Domino had made sure that when they cleared out The Arena, it's former "competitors" were paid in spades with the money Tullamore made off of them. Jun didn't want to accept it at first, but she came around. If she wanted a new life, it was going to take money, and now she had it. ::

Jun: "But you'd tell me if we were meeting someone important right? Like I'm not going to be meeting the president in my laundry day panties am I?"

"Not exactly, and god don't let him hear you calling him the president. He's insufferable enough. It's Archer Fairchild, The Black King of Hellfire London. Seemed important. He's not one to make house calls. I was able to get a hold of Daniel and he said it's all above board."

 

[Longshot]

The Marauder - Outside Ecuador

"Jesus Christ, Jun. You're not wearing any pants."

Jun: "Mom said I didn't have to."

Simon watched as Jun stuck her tongue out at him and took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He rolled his eyes and smiled despite not wanting to. Jun was always pushing the line of decency, and normally he found it very funny. But he had just been debriefed on what they were potentially about to face and it had taken the wind out of his sails a bit. He made his way into the lounge and took a seat on one of the couches.

"Once again it looks like the discipline of our dear, sweet girl rests in the hands of daddy."

Jun: "You couldn't handle it, pig."

She was nothing if not entertaining. He grabbed a bottle of water from the coffee table and took a long swig. He wasn't much of a drinker this days, or rather, he liked to make drinking an occassion rather than a purpose, like it had been when he was back in New York after his 'breakup' with Ava. Back when his life was in shambles. From within his pocket he pulled out his phone, checking and responding to Hellfire messages, before shoving it back in his jeans.

"So is Archer just building up anticipation? Or did he get lost on the way down here."

Archer: "It's fine to just say you missed me, Pratt. I'd miss me..."

And so The Black King sauntered into the living room, decked out to the nines as he always was and promptly headed straight over to the bar and grabbed a martini that was already prepared to him before. Working for Hellfire, Simon had only just recently gotten used to Archer and his antics. Not too long ago, they had lived somewhat similar lives. Simon had lived off his parent's bank account, and used that money to buy any and everything he could get his hands on - clothes, booze, drugs, women. It felt like a lifetime ago. Still, despite The Red King's desire to change things in Hellfire, Archer represented some of it's older ideals, and it always kind of put Simon on edge.

[sarcastically]

"With every fiber of my being, your excellency. Now get on with it."

 

[Avalanche]

The Marauder - Outside of Ecuador

"It's fine to just say you missed me, Pratt. I'd miss me..."

The Black made his arrival into one of the many living rooms of The Marauder. It was an impressive size ship, capable of travel both above and below water. Fully fitted for combat, and decorated to the nines. It was one of the more valuable assets Maxine had stolen from The Americans.

Simon: "With every fiber of my being, your excellency. Now get on with it."

The other seemed to be Simon Pratt. When he had shown up in London six months ago, he had been a nervous, sarcastic doe in the woods. Reed had put him through his paces, and he was pulling his weight while working abroad. Overall, The Inner Circle didn't have a problem with The Marauders as a team, in fact, having a member of their inner circle as a part of the organization was actually a dashing PR move on Reed's part. Anytime they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar, they could always promote the good work they were doing helping to save indentured mutants across the world. However, they had all agreed that if they got a little too big for their britches or started interferring with Hellfire business, they would not hesitate to take them out.

Archer had alerted the waitstaff that he did not like to be dry and as such would need a martini on standby, wherever he should happen to go. These people may have been part of The Marauders crew, but it was good to assert a little authority every now and then. Grabbing his martini in his left hand, he took a sip. They were never cold enough. Tapping his finger to the outer rim of the ground, he froze the drink to as cold as it could possibly be and still maintain it's drinkability. Taking another sip, pleased with it's taste, he turned to face the group.

"This is quite the operation you have here, Maxy. I'm surprised the americans haven't tried to take it back from you."

Maxine: "I doubt they knew it even existed. One of the older assets, but she's a beauty and i've made sure she's stayed more than operational. And the americans have bigger things to deal with these days than a pesky little boat."

"That they do."

Haleigh Davidoff he knew well. Or rather knew of her, and not for being the daughter of Diana. Clandestine had often been a thorn in his side as she was trying to make waves in the global criminal underworld. He'd taken out her agents, she'd taken out his. He was relieved to find that she had left his industry alone as she and her boytoy had turned into Bonnie and Clyde. Ava Cassadine he knew only by name. Her father had a lot of dealings in the underworld, even in his death, there were still people working to protect the interests he had when he was alive. He wanted to meet with her, pick her brain, and boff her stupid.

"But I'm here to tell you about another court. The Tokyo Court..."

Maxine: "They've opened their gates?"

Archer nodded, taking another long drink of his incredibly cold martini.

"That they have. Going through a bit of a rebellion themselves. These newcomers seem to be more willing to let us into their mysterious dealings."

[smirking]

He glanced at Maxine.

"We truly were trendsetters. Rebellion is all the rage now..let's hope they remember - we did it first."

He set his drink down on the coffee table as he paced the room as he spoke, gesturing with his hands, his thick british accent filling the space with a deep boom. In more professional settings, Archer did his best to mimic the Queen's English, but in mixed company like this, he had no problem being the true cockney bastard that he was.

"I digress. The Tokyo Black Court was recently taken over by Aito Sekemoto. Yes that Aito Sekemoto."

Archer looked and gestured at Simon to cue him for the slides as an image of Aito flashed on the plasma screens that surrounded the room. The Black King continued to pace.

"Son of Hiro Sekemeto, one of the five big yakuza families. Aito and Hiro were the opposite of close, and we previously believed Hiro to have murdered his son years ago. I didn't believe that, because, well..I'm smarter than most...but for many years Aito operated as a phantom. A ghost. A shogun."

The Black King had always been a bit of a japanophile. He loved the culture, he loved the energy of Tokyo and it's neon landscape. And he had wanted to break into the business over there for years. A few years after Aito's "death", Archer began to hear rumblings of a certain man cutting his way through different yakuza families. Space met opportunity and before long he found Aito, and they began a beautiful business partnership. Aito was not in anyway ready to join the ranks of a team or organization, especially not coming up like he did, but he was a steady contractor, provided valuable intel and it was beautiful luck that Aito's true goal had been to kill his father, and reclaim his family (and his seat at Hellfire).

"Flashforward a few years, Aito sought revenge on his father, and claimed Kingship of The Black Court in Tokyo. All was well in the kingdom. Aito liked to lead by example. Never comfortable just sitting on a throne. He liked to get his hands dirty. That's all well and good, but a king in the field is always a dangerous thing, and as luck wouldn't have it, it appears he has yet to return from a recent mission to Colima..."

He picked his drink back up.

"It's been months. Aito is an important figure in the current Inner Circle. If they admit outright he is missing, their black court loses respect. And it will not take long there for somebody to try and claim his seat. And they are too new of an inner circle to truly trust each other. That's why his Queen reached out to me."

Images began to fill the plasma screens of Mexico and the state of Colima, as well as surveillance photos of the last known locations and pings from Aito in the general area.

"He had gone to Colima upon invitation from an organization that nobody, not even his queen knew about. But we have every reason to believe that whoever invited Aito there is responsible for either his capture...or his death..."

 

[Longshot]

The Marauder - Outside Ecuador

"He was last seen in or around the city of Manzanillo in Colima, which presents it's own host of issues."

His role in Hellfire and his role in The Marauders was usually reconnaissance, and he enjoyed it. By nature of his powers, he was able to easily see the probability of intel he had received. When he looked at a photograph or a document, there was a part of him that felt as if he could internally start to piece together a story about what had happened, or what was likely to have transpired. As such, he was usually the one that formally delivered the missions, and Archer had requested as much from him, always testing the members of The Inner Circle to see what they were made of. And he would not waste an opportunity to humiliate Daniel Reed if given one. So Simon clicked into Hellfire mode as he stood from his seat.

"It's a main port city in Colima, and most of it is firmly in the pocket of the cartels. It handles much of the pacific cargo for Mexico City, and as such, it makes finding a missing person like a needle in a haystack..."

Simon gestured with his hands as he spoke, pointing to different areas and points of interest on the screens as he continued.

"That being said, Hellfire has assets there. I was able to quickly touch base with some red court informants. Turns out a lot of people have been disappearing in Manzanillo over the last six months. Mutant people. It could be unrelated, but it appears that we could be dealing with another trafficking ring. Specifically one trading in mutants. For as beautiful as the area is, it is also the perfect place to round up a bunch of mutants with little to no backlash or recourse."

He handed the team their iPads complete with the intel he had acquired in a very short period of time and had been given to them by Archer himself.

"Our mission right now is a missing persons case. Primary objective is to find Aito Sekemoto. Secondarily, we need to investigate. See if the disappearances in the area are related, and if they are...do what we do best..."

 

[Sparrow]

La Sirena Resort

Elena trusted Hassan, but she wasn't stupid. And while seeing him sitting in a bar wasn't cause for Defcon 1 level alarm, she wasn't going to wait for there to be a problem before she took steps to fix it. After all, she had been out of town and anything could have happened in her absence. She tossed her phone to the bar and subtly asked if he needed to speak to his sponsor. He handed the phone back to her.

Hassan: "I got it handled, Lena. For now...but damn, it's good to have you back...sadiqa."

He was drinking water, but she'd seen enough addicts to know that it was a thin line between handling a problem and giving in to it. And being that she had extra insight into his state of mind - she could see that he was having a tough time right this minute.

She slipped into the chair he pulled out for her, and the bartender automatically set in front of her a glass of sparking water and a tumbler of her father's tequila, neat. The tequila reminder her of her lunch with Cameron, and she pushed it away.

"It's good to be back. Nueva York is so dirty these days. Ugh."

She made a sound of disgust and took a sip of the water.

"I picked up a nice souvenir though."

Hassan: "That was a quick trip to New York. Did you find the man you wanted to strangle and actually get to strangle him? I could use a happy ending today."

For someone who was not a telepath, he read her reaction incredibly quickly.

Hassan: "I'm sorry. Pinche cabron..."

"You can say that again."

Hassan put his hand over hers, and that made her smile.

Hassan: "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know why I suddenly thought he wouldn't be an ass after fifteen years. He's not sorry, about any of it, but he says he wants to make sure his little escapade doesn't happen again. But he's too busy to do that himself so he wanted ME to do it for him. Fuck that. Pendejo."

She drummed the fingers of her free hand on the bar top.

"He may still be a problem, but for now, it's wait and see."

She exhaled sharply, then turned and looked at him directly.

"And now, for your problems."

 

[Jackal]

La Sirena Resort

Elena: "I don't know why I suddenly thought he wouldn't be an ass after fifteen years. He's not sorry, about any of it, but he says he wants to make sure his little escapade doesn't happen again. but he's too busy to do that himself so he wanted ME to do it for him. Fuck that. Pendejo."

It was interesting to see Elena talk about this mystery man. For as long as he knew her, she'd had her encounters, but she never really connected with anyone in a romantic way for long. He'd always assumed she'd been hurt really bad in the past, and from what she was saying now, it was clear she had. He hated that somebody could hurt her like that. She was one of the best people he'd ever met. She deserved the world. Sometimes he wished he might be the one to give it to her, but he knew that was a fool's errand. She'd only really known him as a wayward drunk who could barely hold a job. He was beneath her. And he couldn't ever entertain the idea of love again until he found his daughter. Until he found Salena.

Elena: "He may still be a problem, but for now, it's wait and see."

"You've never seemed like the kind of woman to wait for a problem. I'd say go back there and kick his ass, but I'd miss you too much."

She sighed heavily before she turned her beautiful hazel eyes at him, and he knew he was in trouble.

Elena: "And now, for your problems."

He returned a heavy sigh. He hated talking about his problems. Because they were always the same. When Sal first disappeared, he had exhausted every contact he had from his days as a criminal overlord and contract killer. Spent his days analyzing footage, mapping out possibilities, following ghost leads and dead end streets. It was why he turned to the bottle. Because he had no answers. Still, after all this time he had no answers. And now, he had no new stories to tell. Elena had heard them all. How could she still want to listen to him. How could she still possibly care about his problems?

"Same shit, different day. Tourist season is slowing down...less time and things to distract myself with. Taught a kid's surfing class today..one of the kids, this little girl...damn she looked so much like Sal. Sounded like her too..."

Hassan took another sip of his glass of water before gesturing to the bartender.

"I'll have another...make it a double.."

He gave Elena a somber smirk.

"Anyway...hearing that little girl's voice today..reminded me, I almost forgot what my daughter sounds like. That everyday she's gone I lose another part of her...real sad shit..."

silently her turned his gaze away from hers, lost in thought.

"So yeah...after my shift I found myself looking a little too long at the bar."

He snapped back into reality as he looked at her again, gripping his hand over hers and giving it a squeeze.

"But I'm sober. And that's something."

The bartender returned with another water, this time in a high glass which caused Hassan to smirk a bit. It was the little things.

"You heard this story enough. You staying at the hotel for a few days? I can't imagine Senor Estrada was happy about your little last minute trip..."