ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
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Post by Natasha Romanoff on May 31, 2014 0:01:04 GMT -5
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Hell's Kitchen had a unique geo-economic advantage it in effect, made crime syndicates more apt to use the area as a major transit ground for their operations and as a base for coordinating their cells in other regions. For one thing Hell's Kitchen facilitated the traffickers in moving illicit cargo rather easily from drugs and women to weapons and other black market goodies. Hell's Kitchen had adequate public infrastructure and storage services for Logistics, providing a strong pull for crime syndicates to pursue their activities here; even gambling houses were untouched in here. And so here she was, her lithe form sheathed in her usual black formfitting uniform which made her harder to spot in the darkness dangling precariously over the window of a building. Her vibrant red hair tucked neatly into a black belaclava that was folded into a cap at the moment, though a few wisps of stubborn red tendrils escaped the cap and danced on drafts of wind from the high altitude she was at.
Ten stories high in the dead of night hanging suspended along a building in Hells Kitchen with simply a repelling cord tethered to her slender waist. The idea of falling to her death never entering her mind, it shouldn't because if it did she would second guess herself and in her line of work one couldn't afford to second guess it was quite literally 'Do or Die'. And on this night it was breaking into a second generation crime lord's building known for buying, selling or trading contraband items. Hanging on the north side of the building as casual and unafraid as a child on a backyard swing Natasha dangled. It was a precarious and vulnerable position she was in at the moment dangling like she did until she got on the ledge and entered the building. Securing a foothold on a window awning Natasha lowered herself onto her stomach of the steel awning above the eighth floor. On her belly she spun and slowly crawled to the edge her head hanging down as she peeked into the window.
Silently counting off the seconds until her little diversion, Natasha waited.
~Five... ~ she counted in her head quietly as she lowered herself onto the sill of the seventh floor window and went to work.
~Four...~ using a glass cutter she etched a circle big enough for her slender form to punch through.
~Three...~ Natasha readied herself to gain entrance, her blue-green eyes locking onto the window she was about to enter.
~Two...~ she needed to time it just right with his diversion and held the edge to maintain her balance as she undid her tether.
~One.~ Natasha released her hold on the rope and window seeming to hang there for a second then...
Fire erupted from a trash bin; orange and blue tongues of flames licking hungrily. The heat waves rolled through the outer part of the building but Natasha was long gone. She had entered through the window on her count of 'One' just as the fire hit, she entered the room; had leapt headfirst through the hole she had made, tucking into a roll and fluidly moved to her feet in a defensive stance. Natasha took cover by the time her second little surprise hit and took out the power. She could hear the panic and chaos throughout the building as backup generators blinked on allowing dim lighting in selected sections of the building only and leaving others to scurry clumsily in the darkness.
Moving just by a door keeping her form hidden in the confines of shadow Natasha stiffened and stilled as the door opened over her, covering her form as she flattened herself to the wall. Kafelnikov 's men poured out onto the darkened hallway believing they were under attack, all the while it was just a bunch of well placed fires around the building perimeter. Not knowing how long her diversion would keep the men occupied Natasha hurried to the objective.
Her building level was tomb silent now appearing to have emptied of all of Kafelnikov 's men as they poured down the stairs to check out the explosions. Moving down the hallway Natasha's hypersensitive hearing sought out the sound of floor squeaks, boot sounds but heard nothing but the distant crackle of flames, raised voices far away many floors below. Taking off into a short sprint Natasha headed for Kafelnikov 's office. No guards she moved to the door and listened...no sounds for the inside. Within seconds the door was picked and unlocked.
Empty of people the place was a combination office, apartment and arsenal. to the left running the length of the wall was a rack displayed with pride of guns, rifles, machineguns and shot guns. Shelves above the rack had boxes of grenades, flashbangs and a wide array of pistols. ~Someone was obviously overcompensating.~ she thought with a smirk as she moved further into the room. The opposite wall to the guns was home to a monstrous waterbed covered with silk sheets. "Oh God." Natasha rolled her eyes with disgust at the eyesore at this point she wasn't sure whether to be appalled for the garish fashion sense or grossed out, cause it actually looks used.
In the room of 'eclectic styling' there was also a massive kidney shaped desk behind which loomed an oversized throne like leather chair. This was just too much for Natasha she honest to God didn't know what the hell this room was supposed to be other than Kafelnikov seemed to live in here, when he *was* here. A large TV screen rose like an alter to the right and behind the desk angled toward the bed. Behind the leather chair an oversized oil portrait of Kafelnikov took up most of the wall. "You have Got to be kidding me...He's even got this huge oil painting of himself here." came her commentary. It was surprising there was all this room for all this stuff considering the petty crimelord's ego, Natasha thought to herself as she looked about.
She had acquired the knowledge of the safe's whereabouts from her Russian 'friends' the other day. Unwittingly giving her the information as they drank themselves into a drunken stupor with Natasha feigning drunkenness herself though she was in actuality barely buzzed that night before last. Moving the massively horrendous oil painting Natasha set it down with a grimace as the Kafelinkov's oil painted face was right by hers. That close and personal to the portrait did nothing but make her want to wrinkle her nose and look away from the disturbing smile. Setting the painting aside she started to work on cracking the safe.
**************************************************** ATTIRE: THIEF vs SPYSONG: Devil Went Down To Georgia by Charlie Daniels Band WORDS: 1,098 NOTES: Do NOT click on the song link if you don't like country cause like yeah, its about as country as one can get... lol! |
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ANTI-HERO
Da name is Gambit. Remember it mon ami!
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Post by Remy LeBeau on Jun 24, 2014 12:44:38 GMT -5
Hell's Kitchen, New York City.
To say that Hell's Kitchen was one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the entire city was like saying that the Marianas Trench was deep. Sure, every major city had their rough patches, but they were nothing when compared to Hell's Kitchen. As far as Remy could remember, there was always something sinister brewing around every single narrow alley way of this district. Whether it was the Irish Mob, the Owl's gang, the Kingpin of Crime, or even the Hand, the citizens of Hell's Kitchen didn't know the meaning of the words "peace" and "serenity". Ask the average New York on the street and they will tell you the same thing: you'd have to be freaking crazy to wander into Hell's Kitchen at night. Even with men like Daredevil and Iron Fist patrolling the streets, you'd have to have a death wish to be roaming those dangerous streets.
Unfortunately for the average New York, Remy Lebeau liked danger.
With everything that had been happening lately, Remy needed to clear his head, get away from all of this craziness and find time to be himself.
Which was why he was currently dressed in a tight black and purple lined skin tight suit, black sunglasses adorning his face, and burying himself deep in the shadows. Hugging closely to the wall, red eyes peered slowly out to watch as heavily set man with a thick grey beard and M-16 in hand strolled down the hall, whistling some old Russian folk song. Once the man was further along down the hall, Remy darted swiftly out of his corner cover and down the opposing hall.
The safe house had belonged to one Dmitri Kafelnikov, the head of Kafelnikovh crime family. What interested Remy in Mr. Kafelnikovh's business were whatever precious valuables his thugs were protecting.
Even if Remy didn't particularly need these items, he still wanted to get his hands on them. After all what kind of thief would he be if he didn't?
The operation had been simple enough: a quick kinetically charged window cut, a takedown or two, and a few moments of sneaking around had brought Remy, according to the HUD display on his sunglasses, close to the main man's office. All he had to do was find a way inside, grab whatever little secrets Kafelnikov was hiding, and get the hell out. Overall: a cake job.
Or it would have been if it weren't for the explosions.
Remy quickly took to the shadows once more as a stampede of people thundered past him, no doubt investigating the source of the sound. What the hell was going on here? The Cajun thought as he waited until the final thug had past him. Aside from the fact that these men had to be either partly blind or incredibly stupid not to notice him, the other thing on Remy's mind was the aforementioned explosion. Explosions were usually his calling card, but he didn't see the need to use one for this job. Where would the fun be if everyone was out of the building after all? The sound was particularly close, coming from the outside. Perhaps in an alleyway of some sort? Remy quickly turned to face the direction of the main room, only to find a little surprise waiting for him.
Someone was already in the room, searching through it.
So another thief had struck? If so, the game had just gotten more interesting.
Remy approached the door, only to find that it had been picked. No doubt this person was good. Pulling the sunglasses off his face, Remy slowly slipped into the room, moving ever so quietly as to not alert his new found friend of his arrival.
Once he was inside the office, his red and black eyes widened at the sight before him. The new arrival was a rather sexy young redhead woman in a tight black catsuit. Remy held back the urge to let out an impressed whistle as he took in every little curve and feature on her petite form. Of course, Remy could only really see her from her backside, but he was more interested in getting a good look at her pretty face.
"Bonjour mon cherre." Remy said finally, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, a cocky grin etched on his rugged, handsome face. "I see you an' I are after da same thing non?"
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ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
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Post by Natasha Romanoff on Jul 17, 2014 1:23:18 GMT -5
It was all about feel.
Natasha's hands pressed against the safe door just beside the dial. Smiling at the old school combination lock. Her fingers moved to glide across the cool smooth surface with one hand as the other grasped the dial, then leaning in she listened for the sounds of the clicks. Lock manipulation requires a certain level of acumen that other methods of safecracking do not. And while there were brute force style attacks where a thief would use scopes and drills, Natasha preferred to use the 'high road' of safe cracking. Among many safecrackers, lock manipulation is considered to be "taking the high road as it represents safecracking at its most pure form. Call her a purist but Natasha always liked the pure subtle approach over brute force, though she wasn't above using a bit of C4 if she needed to, but there was just something satisfying about using the lock against itself to discover the combination. Not to mention this method was the most ideal because it required few tools (none for her really) and is, by far, the most discreet way to crack a safe.
It does, however, require tremendous patience and feel. So here she was, against the safe, turning the dial and listening for the sounds of satisfying clicks. There was an art or rather a process to manipulating a lock into revealing its combination:
- Determine contact points
- Discover the number of wheels
- Graph the results. (Though with Natasha the graphing was all done in her head.)
So first order of business, find the contact points on the lock. Safes generally have a drive cam that has a notch in it like the wheels in the wheel pack. But this notch is sloped which allows the lever and fence to pass through when it comes around. When the nose of the lever makes contact with this slope a small click sounds which is what Natasha was listening for. By listening for the clicks, Natasha would be able to learn which numbers on the dial face correspond to the left and right side of that sloped notch. Once she discovered the contact space everything else fell into place.
The dial was a simple one-hundred-number dial system with the contact area between 10 and 20 so each time to rest, Natasha would park the wheels around 60 which was the opposite of the 10 and 20. Each time she turned the dial slowly to the right, the drive cam would re-engaged to begin spinning the wheels from that position. Now every time the dial passed 60, she would hear the drive pin click as each wheel in the wheel pack is picked up one at a time. From there Natasha would count each click until there were no more, indicating how many wheels are in the pack there were: three clicks equaled three wheels, eight clicks, eight wheels. But once the tabs connect together at that one particular point of the rotations it makes a gap. The nose of the lock drops onto the cam and allows the retraction of the bolt thereby opening the safe.
She was almost there, listening with heightened anticipation and excitement for the climax of that final soft click; hear the sound of success and..."Bonjour mon cherre." a voice emanated from behind her. "I see you an' I are after da same thing non?"He had caught her at a rather vulnerable and momentarily embarrassed time at the titillating point of success or would have been had he not spoken and caused her to turn past the final number and hear that satisfying click that would have sent her into the edge. Instead it was like that feeling of near climax only to be abruptly stopped.
Frustratingly annoying, though she schooled her irritation before showing face.
Natasha straightened then and slowly turned to face a roguish looking man. Oh he had every bit of allure and swagger danger and completion always did all wrapped in a handsomely roguish frame; but let it not be said that Natasha Romanoff never rose to the challenge. Her lips creased into a roguish smile of her own, as she then stopped her ministrations upon the safe to momentarily regard the man in an equally appraising way."Well that entirely depends on what exactly it is you are after...Cher." she replied in an almost dangerously sultry and yet playful manner as she regarded the man with one arched brow.
NOTES: Sorry for delay. I will be posting much quicker now that I am not sick and caught up.  |
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ANTI-HERO
Da name is Gambit. Remember it mon ami!
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Post by Remy LeBeau on Aug 6, 2014 14:56:04 GMT -5
No sooner had he spoken, the sexy young woman turned to face him. Remy didn't even need to stare into her majestic green irises to realize whose lock picking session he just interrupted.
Those green eyes belonged to one Natasha Romanov, the dangerous Russian spy and Avenger known as the Black Widow.
It made some sense when he really thought about it. Here he was infiltrating a safe house belonging to a Russian gangster who probably had enough valuables stored here to cover the New York City debt. And wherever the Russian mob's operations were, the chances of the Black Widow being involved were extraordinarily high. From what Gambit could recall however, the Black Widow was an incredibly prominent member of the Avengers as of late. Given the grave circumstances affecting the city as this time, he thought she would most likely be with her fellow Avengers trying to conjure up a solution as opposed to sneaking around a mob safe house.
Then again, that's exactly what he himself was doing at that very moment.
"Well that entirely depends on what exactly it is you are after...Cher." The redheaded vixen replied in a sultry tone as her posture stiffened ever so slightly.
That slight tone only caused Remy's grin to intensify even more as he uncrossed his arms and began to stroll ever so slowly towards the Black Widow.
"Da famous Black Widow eh?" Remy started, his eyes focused on every little curve of her perfect body. He admired the way that catsuit clung to her form, displaying her dazzling features for him. "What's a big shot Avenger like you doin' hangin' 'round dis ol' dump?"
Remy stopped once he was literally five inches away from Natasha, eyes locking through rose tinted lens directly into her own eyes. Remy was no idiot. The Black Widow was one of the most deadliest assassins in the entire world with a nasty reputation to boot. He knew that at any given moment, she could have him on the floor in some sort of crazy Brazilian JIu Jitsu lock before he had the chance to charge a card. He had to keep his guard up in case she tried anything of the sort.
But Remy LeBeau was not in the mood to take on the Black Widow one on one. Why waste precious time fighting when you could work together to take down an even bigger target.
"To answer your question Cher, I'm after whatever lil goodies dat our mutual friend has lyin' around in dat safe o' his." He said gesturing to the safe door, still not quite open from her attempt to open it. "How bout we split da goods 50/50 an' call it a night before our friends come back in non?"
His grin intensified as he lowered his glasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing his red eyes to her. "I'm not in da mood to pick fights wit an Avenger."
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ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
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Post by Natasha Romanoff on Oct 5, 2014 22:19:00 GMT -5
Natasha watched the taller man with a neutral reserve as his charming grin intensified just as he uncrossed his arms and strolled over to her; ever so slowly. There was an almost suave grace about him and a confident swagger she figured had most women melting just at the sheer sight of the roguish man. Operative word was most women, Natasha wasn't like most but she could appreciate the subtle nuances all the same. Even his accent she figured. Thick, Cajun, distinctive Louisiana drawl and if she had to guess, New Orleans. Natasha thought as the man spoke as if knowing her, or of her. Funny, now her alternate self seemed to get around quite a bit. Unlike herself, her alter version seemed to be known by everyone from the Hand to Norman Osborne, the strange Sea King and now this rogue.
"Da famous Black Widow eh?" the man started as Natasha simply offered him an enigmatic smile yet remained silent, content to listen and watch the man in order to get a better read.
His eyes she noticed seemed to focus on her body, either analyzing or appraising every curve, not that she minded nor was she phased by it. She was also not above playing out that angle either as she shifted her stance to a more seeming relaxed repose. "What's a big shot Avenger like you doin' hangin' 'round dis ol' dump?"
Remy stopped once he was literally five inches away from her, eyes locking directly into her own."What can I say?" she said with an alluring smile. "I'm not exactly a 'Vanilla' kind of girl."
His closeness proximity didn't seem to bother her, she was prepared in case things went south; she always was. It went with the territory of people always trying to kill you and as much as she appreciated the eye candy before her, she wasn't the type to lose composure though. She keep up. But then of course he did the unthinkable...he wanted to split the deal.
"How bout we split da goods 50/50 an' call it a night before our friends come back in non?"
His grin intensified as he lowered his glasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing his red eyes to her. "I'm not in da mood to pick fights wit an Avenger."
"Then let's not fight." she replied in a casual yet almost alluring tone as she took a step closer.
Delicate fingers rose slowly so as not to seem aggressive but rather more casual as Natasha attempted to slide the glasses from the man's face, fold it neatly and slip it into an open pocket of his if not the 'V' of his shirt. Though if he stopped her advance she would halt her movements entirely but if permitted she would take that extra step closer to put the shades away.
"I prefer to look a man in the eyes when striking a deal." she said as she met his eyes unflinchingly. "But really, since I did most of the work I think it only fair I get a bigger cut...let's say 70 / 30? I get first cut." she haggled.
Truthfully there was only one item in that safe Natasha was interested in; a rumoured relic of alien make, potentially Chitauri if her sources were correct. The rest of the money and trinkets she could care less about but she wasn't about to disclose that tid bit. Better he think she was in it for the 'loot' then what was really at stake.
"With what Kafelnikov 's got in there, even at 30, you're walking away a rather rich man. So, do we have a deal?"
NOTES: Not a very long post I am sorry  but I hope I gave you enough to work with. Also PM me if any edits need to be made.
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but I hope I gave you enough to work with. Also PM me if any edits need to be made.
