Log:Breach of Etiquette

2015/04/13 Alan Astra Ariya Breach Indira 1

Today the Yacht Club has been set up for a fundraising venue to raise funds to help rebuild Harrisburg. How those funds will actually be spent, who can tell. Many politicians and business lobbyists are hobnobbing with people and making an appearance to make themselves look good. Servers walk around carrying trays of champagne and fancy hors d'oeuvres. There's a few men in suits that stand out from the formal evening wear of the crowd as security for the event.

It's a dinner gala and so Dr. DeLucca has broken out the dinner jacket. Yes, he owns one. Yes, he looks good in it. His striking Mediterranean appearance combined with his athletic physique would make James Bond jealous. Of course, the fact that he has brought a striking and likewise fit woman with him draws daggers from both sexes. He has a genial smile on his face as he walks in and pauses to take Ariya's coat and present it to the coat check clerk. "I do not normally attend these." He offers apologetically to her. "But it is for charity.. despite the elbows chasing after one another."

A black car pulls up to the Yacht club and stops out front. The back door opens and Indira steps out of the car. The blue skinned woman with facial markings and white, flower-petal like hair is dressed in a longsleeved formal deep violet evening gown that comes off the shoulders. There's glowing cyan side panelling on the dress. She also wears a thin collar around her neck that looks like some fancy tech, but decorative as well. It was recommended that she should attend such functions as part of her position, but she doesn't know exactly what the fundraiser is for.

The visiting representative of an alien race, Astra, is wearing what she does all the time. Still, her dress is ornate enough to not be out of place in the assembly, although her stature certainly is. Someone must have invited her as a PR move (since so far as can be told, she doesn't really use money personally), or perhaps she just showed up and nobody had the guts to tell off a nine-foot knockout to go away.

Technically, Rick "Breach" Mason is security for the event. It's just that ol' Ricky boy is security for one specific subset of the soiree's attendees. Well, really, he's security for one specific person - Rick's just of the opinion that not protecting the ambassador's people would be a... breach of contract - but he's not going to let that keep from protecting any other people from the Krog'mar embassy.

Rick Mason, however, has access to a corporate expense account these days. As a result, Rick Mason is forced to make security look good in his formal evening wear and with his ramrod straight military posture. For the time being, however, Rick maintains as low a profile as he can by largely remaining in Indira's shadow. Or, more aptly, by replacing her shadow even as he escorts her from the car to the yacht club proper.

"Of course," Ariya accepts Alan's apology without apparent suspicion, "and there is not shame in seeking funds for the public good." While she is not aligned with such social circles, nor has ever given the impression of any interest in the same, she is perfectly capable of dressing appropriately. Her evening dress is far more fashionable than her normal well, yet remains simple and understated despite elegance. The very rare heels are kept to a sensible height.

"Thank you," she adds, in reference to the coat, to both the good doctor and the coat check.

Alan pauses long enough to regard the nine foot woman walking into the room. "I am never going to stop being amazed.." He muses out loud. "Nor should I if I am to remain a wise man.." Looking away from Astra, he smiles to Ariya and offers his arm. "At your endless patience for my foibles. Shall we find our table?"

Indira smiles and nods in greeting to people as she enters the yacht club, although she doesn't seem to really know anyone...yet. But some seem to know her by reputation. Because she has only just barely managed to pick up a glass of champagne from a passing server before a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair comes up to start talking to her. "Ambassador, I'm surprised you made time in your schedule for our little soiree."

"Oh? Why is that? I heard it was for a good cause," Indira replies.

"Oh, you know. What with the fact that you aliens were the ones that wrecked Harrisburg in the first place," the politician ignorantly responds.

Ariya did not miss the inordinantly tall woman, either. How could she? She makes a note, but does not stare, before taking the offered arm. Ariya gives Alan a pleasant smile and pats his hand. "Do not worry. I am rather accustomed, and my patience is quite infinite." On the other hand, perhaps it is only infinite to some, as the nearby comments to the extra-terrestrial draws a glance of concern.

Astra, of course, approaches at about this time. "I'm fairly sure not *all* aliens present did so. I've only just now heard of the place, after all." She happens to be standing - looming, really - right behind the aggravating politician.

Rick Mason lingers in Indira's shadow, such is the bodyguard's duty. He slowly raises a red eyebrow at the politician's response, though Rick chokes back the urge to clear his throat vehemently. This sounds like a job for The League of Ostensibly Female Alien Ambassadors!

Wait, is LOoFAA a horrible super team name?

Alan ever so casually steers himself to the maitre'd's post. "DeLucca, party of two." It's a statement but always the interrogative. Because, hey, he's only famous among doctors... there might be one here.. maybe? He smiles at the fellow. The maitre'd, meanwhile, is looking right past the olive skinned couple at the giantess, the alien, and the 'situation' developing. "Ahem." Okay, that didn't get the guy's attention. He stretches onto his toes and tries to read the seating chart upside down.

"I'm quite sure none of the aliens present were responsible," Indira agrees with Astra.

The politician turns to look to the woman who spoke to him, then looks up and up and up at Astra. And gulps. "Why, sure. 'course not all," he expresses his new-found beliefs in a southern drawl. "Oh, uh, I just saw someone I absolutely need to meet. If you'll excuse me," he says nervously as he scoots away.

Indira just smiles politely to the politician and bows her head as he leaves. Then turns to Mr. Mason and asks, "So tell me...do you know much about this Harrisburg's history?" The shadow is compromised!

Astra chuckles. "Why, you'd almost think he believed I might be threatening him with harm. Little did he know I would never do such a thing!" She doesn't want to rudely interrupt Indira, though.

Ariya makes constructive use of Alan's arm to steady him, while also speaking up to the Maitre'd. "Excuse me..." A pause. "Could you please direct us to our table, sir?"

The Maitre'd, who was busy juggling the guest list and some server interruptions, looks over to them. "Ah, yes, DeLucca party. Please, this way," he motions for them to follow and leads them to a table for two.

"Harrisburg, Virginia?" inquires Rick, inexplicably attempting to clarify the question. He glances over at Astra, brown eyes quickly scanning her up and down once... Or thrice. Shifting his gaze back to Indira, Rick shrugs helplessly and replies, "Not especially, no, ma'am."

Alan gives an aside glance to Ariya but waits until they are out of earshot of the maitre'd before speaking. "One would think that a charity gala would be less apt to become a war zone.. but then some seem to think we've invited the Enemy." With a capital E. "Ah well. On other topics, I am back from Richmond and I think I have convinced a few benefactors to donate to the children's wing at the hospital. It is always money these days.." The latter he pines with a degree of frustration.

"Oh? That is excellent news, yes?" Ariya glances up to Alan, brow arching in curiosity. As they walk to the table, her gaze moves upwards further at an unexpected sound. Upwards to note something unusual, yet she makes no immediate comment. "How great a donation do you expect?"

The two large bay windows burst open and two men in armor padded dark green and black flight suits with blasters, loot bags, and VFL-4 jetpacks burst through. Hidden in the rafts and spotted by only a few, a long stretching arm covered in snake scales slithers down and wraps itself around Indira before yanking her up. A deep voice announces from above, "Ladies, Gentleman, and Insects. We are here to generously accept your donations to our bank accounts. Now if you'd all take off your valuables, purses, and wallets, and put them in my associate's bags, we'll be on our way. Nobody try and be a hero, now!" announces a man-serpant with a wrestler's build, biker gloves, leather pants, and combat boots. Wrong city for no heroes.

Alan glances aside to Ariya and sighs a little. "This is not what I had in mind, I hope you realize. Which is to say that I had hoped for dinner, quite conversation, give money to those in need and... avoid these sorts of entanglements." He coughs lightly and raises a hand. "Ahh, can be have a definition of hero, please?"

Astra steps forward, a slight sheen covering her body if one looks closely. "Excuse me, but what if you do not have any valuables? I am afraid I cannot comply with your request." Her tone isn't threatening, but genuinely curious, as if she'd been asked to juggle without any balls, clubs, or chainsaws being nearby.

Boa Constrictor's mouth cracks open in some expression that's not quite indentifiable. "I'm sure rich, well educated people like you don't need a school lesson in heroics."

Rick Mason's attention is drawn away from Indira's safety by the eruption of glass as Jetpack 1 & Jetpack 2 burst through the bay windows on the other side of the room. He feels, rather vaguely, something is wrong behind him almost immediately and whirls around to find Indira being yanked up toward the rafters by Boa Constrictor. A long, suffering sigh escapes Rick as he listens to the demands.

"I'm going to need you to put the lady down," intones Rick. He is busily removing his watch and wallet in the process, staring directly up at Indira and Boa Constrictor as he speaks. "You can have my valuables just as soon as you return her."

Boa Constructor stands up on a rafter beam with his elongated arm reeling Indira up further. "The pretty lady is just insurance," he smirks down at Rick. For once, a snake-type person without sibilance! He looks satisfied at Rick's compliance. "Smart guy. The rest of you should follow his lead if you know what's good for you." A few others, the more scared citizens, start taking off their items as well.

"Son," intones Rick in a very stern voice, "I want you to take note."

Rick holds his wallet and watch in one hand as he very pointedly continues to ignore the Jetpack Twins. He keeps his attention focused upward on Indira and Boa Constrictor. With a tone that mixes both patience and mal-intent, Rick coldly states, "I ain't got not gun. I ain't got no knife."

Lifting his eyebrows in a meaningful expression of some sort, Rick intones, "So don't you start no fight. Just give me the woman and you can go about your merry business."

Indira tries to compel Boa Constrictor. "If you just do as h--hhuuhh!"

Boa Constrictor does what he does best and squeezes air out of the Ambassador, preventing her from giving Boa a verbal command. "Won't be no fight if everyone else hurries up and makes good like you. I promise to return your pretty date." Boa eyes the straining Indira. "Hmmm. But what's a pretty little snake woman like you doing with vipers like these?"

"And that's your final answer?" intones Rick. He finally takes his eyes off of Indira and Boa Constrictor, instead taking a moment to make a tactical assessment of his surroundings. Rick tightens his grip on his watch and wallet, brown eyes scanning around him as he makes a slow, purposeful pirouette on the ball of his left foot.

"This ain't 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire', buddy," Boa Constrictor's face remains in a reptilian half smirk, half scowl. More people are beginning to dump purses and wallets into the bags.

Ariya has only her clutch, though perhaps she feels that her heels hold value. She casually slips each off each foot, holding them in her other hand. Only then does she get in a line to approach those holding bags.

"..."

Rick's head twists so he can squint very hard up at Boa Constrictor. He just squints up at the snakeman for a few seconds before he rolls his shoulders. Let's be honest here, Rick is not the wisecracking hero type, even if he did just quote the old AC/DC standard, TNT, and that is why Rick isn't taking the easy bait he's just been provided.

A metallic clink-click follows that roll of Rick's shoulders. He promptly lobs a small, tactical black cylinder way up into the air toward the rafters. It will, hopefully, rebound off of the ceiling right toward Boa Constrictor's face before it explodes in a colossal flash of white light and a deafening boom.

The nimbus of light and its accompanying shockwave of sound rolls through the room, searing retinas and rattling stapes. For his part, Breach drops to a knee, one hand over an ear and the other over his eyes as the blast brings tears to his eyes. Rick really hopes Boa doesn't do something stupid like drop Indira.

Boa hisses and tries to turn his head away from the blinding light abd deafening sound. Opposite of dropping Indira, he draws his hostage closer for protection, using her as a human (alien!) shield and squeezing her.

Ariya looks away from the ricocheting flash-bang a moment before it detonates, sparing her eyes, if not ears, from the effect. As others cringe, stumble, or scream (though she cannot hear it), she moves up in the line. One near enough to the collectors, she makes her offering. Her heels are dropped in a decidedly horizontal fashion towards the pair of henchmen.

Perhaps neither expected more than Ariya's clutch. Perhaps both watch it fall. While they are so distracted, both catching the points of er heels to the forehead. With substantial velocity. One immediately crumples. The other, dazed, stumbles back to trip and fall through a table. He does not stand.

Ariya reclaims her clutch and moves nearer to Constrictor and, possibly more importantly, her "dropped" heels.

"Gorramit. That hurts just as much as ever," mutters Rick as he staggers back to his feet. Ears still ringing and spots still flashing and swimming about his vision, the Undead Soldier opens his suit coat to pull a very large revolver out of a concealed shoulder holster. Flipping off the safety, the gun starts to whine as something inside of it spools to life.

Lifting the revolver slowly, a red laser sweeps across the floor, several guests, the distant wall, and finally up toward Boa Constrictor. Rick grips the gun in both hands as he sets his feet, stabilizing his aim as he comments, "You are the weakest link."

An instant later, Rick pulls the trigger and a bolt of orange matter surges out across the space described by his revolver's laser "sight".

Boa doesn't see the beam coming. He's still rubbing at his eyes with his free hand as orange energy crashes into his scaley torso and knocks him from the rafters. Both he and his hostage come crashing down to the ground with an unpleasant thud.

Boa blinks two sets of eyelids as he starts to see again. He sits up slowly, gets a foot under him, and stands up. He looks over to see his backup is out cold and sucks in some air, creating a hissing sound. "New plan. You're going to let me go, or the snake lady here gets it!" Indira's natural neurochemical biology is altering Boa Constrictor's perceptions of her. "Now put down your weapon!" Boa stands for now, holding Indira in front of him as a shield.

Boa starts to edge towards the exit, trying to keep Indira between himself and Rick. Indira's squirming attempts get her no where with escaping.

"Son. I am giving you precisely one chance to surrender peacefully," intones Rick, voice full of stern warning. The Undead Soldier flicks the safety on his Particle Revolver again, the gun's keening whine drawing down as it stops spooling internally. Rick spins the gun around his finger once before neatly depositing it in his shoulder holster again.

Boa seems confident that having a hostage will keep him safe. "You don't think I won't crush her, tough guy?" he says as his eyeslits narrow. "You stop eyeing me, and I'll let your date go once I'm free and clear." He backpedals quickly out the doors and shoves his shoulder into the crash bar as he runs outside.

"I'm quite sure you will, if I give you half a chance," replies Rick. He stands with his arms and legs akimbo, brown eyes steadily watching Boa Constrictor as he drags Indira out the fire door. Time starts to dilate in Rick's mind as he counts beats of his heart, eyes locked on something behind Boa and Indira alike.

Rick Mason's hand comes up and under his suit coat to wrench something off of his... Are those suspenders? It looks like suspenders under there. Once again there is a metallic *CLINK* as the black metal spoon to another grenade sails away from Rick's hand to skitter across the tile floor.

The all-too-familiar sight of a tactical black cylinder sails out the closing doorway and, hopefully, just past Boa's head in the instants before it explodes into a cloud of frigid, figure-swallowing fog.

And into the fog does Boa drag Indira.

Seconds pass before the fog finishes evaporating, leaving behind two glistening ice sculptures enveloping almost the entirety of both the Ambassador and the Constrictor's bodies. Boa's position being the lead into the fog, he ends up with an icy cowl that leaves only his face and chest exposed. Indira fares slightly better, having a diamond-like dusting of icy crystals on her petal-like hair, though everything below her bustline is enveloped in a dense layer of glittering ice.

Ariya begins to move for the door, now that the large, frightening snake villain has departed. A notion likely shared by many other guests. When the bodyguard hurls another grenade, her haste lessens and she takes the moment to redirect and seek the condition and whereabouts of her escort for the evening.

Rick waits only a beat or three before he bursts into motion again. The Undead Soldier sprints toward the door, crashing headlong into the bar so that the heavy metal swings outward. Inexplicably, Rick trails along, hanging onto the bar until it slams into the wall to which it's anchored. He pulls his legs up and kick-flips off of it and out into the air to sail toward his employer and her frostbitten "date".

Boa strains and writhes with a mighty flexing of his serpentine muscles.

Slippery as a snake, Boa Constrictor's body stretches and shrinks as he coils from his icy prison, withdrawing into it before bursting out in a spray of shattered ice! Indira remains trapped in shimmering ice, but at least as he freed himself, Boa let go of her.

Ariya accompanies the good doctor and possible former benefactors to the door. With the withdaw of Boa, they can ensure Indira's safety while Rick ensures that Boa is pursued or otherwise occupied.

Rick lands nimbly and keeps running until he stops alongside Indira's frozen form. His hand flies under his suit coat again, wrenching another grenade - how many of those things does he have under there anyhow?! - from his suspenders. The spoon silently ricochets off of his highly polished dress shoe this time as Rick's swinging hand wings the grenade at Boa's face.

It promptly explodes in a dense cloud of black smoke that starts illuminating in flashes and crackles of lightning as it tries to engulf Boa in electricity.

Boa Constrictor growls and his jaws open wide as his forked tongue slithers out. Electricity arcs around in also forked paths over his scales. When the pain subsides, he bares his fangs. "I'll get you for that! And for messing up my score!" His upper body winds about in an impossible 180, and then he leaps back and away as his lower half twists to straighten with the rest of his body. He straightens his body out as he goes into a dive into the waters of the harbor.

Indira shivers in her new icey garments. "V-v-very well done, Buh-Breach," she chatters. She tries to break free, but she's not strong enough to break out.

"Thank you, ma'am," intones Rick as he watches Boa disappear into the water. He turns back to Indira and considers her situation carefully for a few moments before he inquires, "Do you have any aversions to brief, intense heat, ma'am?"

Indira tries to shake her head, and pieces of frost fall from her petalled hair. "Not anymore than others, I think."

"Then hold still, ma'am, I'll have you free in a few moments," replies Rick. He crouches down and pulls out a pair of grenades from somewhere underneath his suit coat. Rick remains crouched as he carefully wires the grenades on either side of Indira, creating a handy-dandy flash defroster out of a pair of plasma grenades.

Indira can do nothing but hold still, but her eyes drift to the charges. She closes her eyes tightly and winces in preparation. And then when Rick steps back and the charges go off, there's a , followed by a  and the sound of ice cracking, breaking, and scattering along the wooden dock outside the yacht club. Indira looks shakened from the explosions, and only a little worse for wear. But the combination of ice and fire has killed the LED panels of her dress, which is also a little singed and steaming as the moisture from the rapidly melted ice evaporates from the heat.

Rick doesn't step back very far at all, just enough to stay clear of the plasma streamers. The purple ribbons of energized gas streak mostly upward and outward away from Indira, but there's only so much one can do to prevent damage in a scenario such as this. Stepping in again, Breach sweeps his suit coat off and wraps it around Indira's steaming figure in one fluid motion.

"Time to go, ma'am?" inquires Rick as he protectively wraps an arm around Indira. His suspenders are still in place, holding more than half of their usual payload as well as a carefully tailored holster for his particle revolver. Rick glances around at the swarming masses of attendees trying to escape the failed ballroom blitz, just in case.

Indira looks around as people stream and hit up the poor, overworked valet service demanding their keys and their cars immediately. Some just run and keep going. "Yes, Breach. But first, is everyone alright?"

"As far as I can tell, ma'am, everyone is safe and sound" replies Rick, "The Jetpack Boys got laid out by someone in there. I didn't see who."

"Is this city always so," Indira's thick accent struggles with a word to translate. "Excitable?" She looks over the crowd again and seems satisfied that most people are just scared rather than injured. "Since they're all safe...yes. I think it is time to go."

"More or less," replies Rick. Accompanying his assessment is a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. Rick gently directs Indira toward the VIP pick-up/drop-off area with one arm curled about her shoulders. His other arm is lifted so that he can speak into his shirt's cuff, requesting a, "Stage Three," whatever that is.

Indira lets herself get ushered by Rick as they head away from the Yacht Club on the pier and towards the street. There's a row of cars waiting along the curb of the street with several people rushing to theirs. It's a little easier to find the sleek black hovercar that they used because is has a pair of flags on the front to mark it as a consulate car.

The driver is standing outside along the passenger side front door, staring in confusion at the outpouring of civilians. Sirens are starting to approach somewhere in the distance. As he sees his employer being escorted in Rick's care, he quickly moves to open the rear door of the car for them.

Indira asks with a sort of breathlessness as they rush as much as she can in a dress. "What is a Stage Three?"

"Exfiltration from the party," replies Rick. He doesn't rush Indira too much, largely so that she has time to recover from her ordeal, as he half-jogs toward the car. Once they finally reach it, Rick nods to the driver and helps to guide the Ambassador into the passenger seat.

Indira ducks her head and scoots over to her seat, letting out an exhausted sigh as she gets settled with Rick and the Driver's helps. "Ex...filtration," she repeats as the brow markings on her face come together slightly. She repeats it as if trying to learn it and get practice pronouncing it.

The Driver, Mr. Orlan Diaz, hurries back to the driver's side and gets into the car to start up the engine. "What happened in there?" He looks back to make sure everyone's secured as he fastens his seatbelt.

Rick climbs into the limo and closes the door behind himself. He secures himself in a seat without using a belt, being as he's very busy disentangling himself from his combat harness.

"Snakeman and a couple of armored jetpack troopers attacked," explains Rick to Mr. Diaz. Rick takes a moment or two to ensure all of his grenades are accounted for before he reaches over to collect his coat from Indira, quietly adding, "They took the Ambassador hostage. I was forced to take action to recover her," in the process.

Diaz checks his sideview mirror and starts to pull out as soon as Rick is secured. He keeps glancing in the rearview mirror from time to time as Rick talks. "This city, man. I'm telling you. It just keeps getting worse, eh?"

Indira leans forward to aid in the removal of the jacket, then leans back with a sigh as she comes down from the excitement. "Breach was very impressive," she manages a smile for Diaz as he glances again at her in the rearview. She looks to Rick and tries to maintain her poise as she recovers her breath. "I think I see how that having security accompany me is important. I was thinking it was not necessary for this event. But Ms. Wyndell insisted." In fact, it was her personal assistant that informed Rick and Bad Company that their services would be needed for the event. She shifts in her seat to look back towards the yacht club disappearing in the distance as they turn a corner. "Well. Now I think it is safe to relax," she murmurs.