Herding Bison

January 07, 2016:

After a SHIELD shipment is robbed, Natasha Romanoff tracks down the culprit and gets unexpected assistance.

Wildkat Bar - M-Town

A gentlemutant's club in MTown.


NPCs: Bison



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Billy Kitson was once one of the prides of Yancy Street. A college basketball phenom, he was guaranteed to go pro until during his last game as a college player, a spiteful opponent tripped Billy and broke his leg. He was told that his leg would never properly heal, and that he would have to drop out of the draft. It was girlfriend, Shamari Aseery, that introduced him to the way he could be healed - through a contract with the Egyptian God, Seth and was transformers into a powerful half-man, half-beast. Known as Bison, he became a mercenary for hire. In his latest heist, he hit a SHIELD transport carrying the explosive Inferno 42. Knowing he already had a contract to sell the stuff, he decided to celebrate.

This is why he's at the Wildkat Klub, a high class.. gentlemen's club that caters to mutants and superhumans, the more exotic, the better. With his large horns, furred skin and massive build, he fit right in as he's sitting in the VIP section, having ordered several bottles of expensive champagne and looking to hook up with the most beautiful women the club can provide.

With all the trouble that has plagued M-Town as of late, the JLA has taken on patrols of the area, which tonight is Captain Britain, lazily floating over the city as he glances down at the burg below and comes to rest at a building near the club to watch the people outside lazily.

Speaking of beautiful women.

'Bison' might have a contract to sell his explosives, but he's going to have to make good on it. That means he knows where the stuff is. Best way to find out? Keep as close to him as you can. And while there's other agents who could surveil Bison quite well, who could collect CCTV footage and even put a tracker on his car — even put a tracker on /him/ — there's not many who could get as close and stay as close as a certain little spider.

'Nina', therefore, who speaks very little English, is one of the ladies who can get very close indeed. She's not dressed like the average 'dancer' in the place: a skirt that's really only called such for a courtesy, since it's two rectangles of white silk that bypass her hips entirely but cover her front and back in gossamer, and enough necklaces — primarily thick and gold — to more or less cover her chest. More or less.

From outside, of course, she's not visible when she leans down to whisper in Bison's ear. From the outside, what's visible milling around outside are a few people working their way in and one or two who don't quite fit. There's a delivery driver who's been standing looking at his tablet, ostensibly, but is also keeping a close eye on the alley to the back of the building. There's a guy in a wool coat with the figure and haircut of an agent just… leaning against a lamp pole, apparently minding his business. There's also a delivery van idling out there, casual as anything. But they've all been doing their thing for about twenty minutes, which is longer than most people idle outside in winter in New York with no particular purpose.

Nina approaches and Bison sits up immediately, drawn to the exotic beauty that is approaching. And apparently he doesn't think he has to follow the no-touching rule as he slips his arm around her waist to try to pull her a little closer when she dances away from him. He frowns, but at her whisper, the man smirks. So she wants to go back to the VIP private section. He slaps down the cash, a nice advancement from his buyers, to cover the cost and rises to follow the sashaying 'ass'ets of the woman towards the back half of the club.

Here, there are more 'private' rooms for attention and parties for special clients, as Bison plops down on a plush couch and grins up at the red-headed beauty. "So ya wanna get slam-dunked by the Bison, baby? I can do that for ya." the Bronx accent is thick on the man, as he flips out a few bills to the waitress who brings back a bottle of the house champagne for service.

Captain Britain watches the street down below. He's never gone on a SHIELD mission before, but he's seen enough Bond films and all of the Avengers television series to know when something's out of place. For the moment, he's assuming it's a police stakeout, so he's only watching the street and the officers and not interfering with the milling subjects.

There's always the champagne room. There's always more than champagne in the champagne room, too. Nina saunters along, knowing that she doesn't need to do more to beckon Bison than walk from point A to point B. It's good they keep the lights dim in here: the couch is plush, maybe even something like velvet, but given where it is, it's probably best that no one runs a black light over it anytime soon.

Nina's lips, red as blood, curl into a pleased smile when the door closes. The private rooms open onto a curtained hall with an exit door on one end and the rest of the VIP section on the other. It's set up so that no one sees who you leave with unless you're not very careful. Nina's /very/ careful.

The thudding music in here is a muted version of what can be heard outside. All they really need, usually, is something with a strong beat. It's enough to set her hips moving, her ribcage shimmying, enough to set all those necklaces ringing against each other. She slinks toward him, moving gently to the beat, and reaches out to perch on his lap and curl her arms around his neck.

The 'Goodnight' lipstick was in the arsenal of the Red Room ever since a certain SSR agent made use of it. Its formulation has changed a little over the last few decades, though, to include a dose of the dendrotoxin formulated by Dr. Simmons. How well it's going to work on a huge beast-man empowered by an ancient Egyptian god, though, is hard to say.

Nina settles in and Bison grins widely. "Oh yeah, baby, you're ready.." And then she presses her lips to his and his eyes widen in surprise. The girls here aren't supposed to do that. And while the Sweet Dreams lipstick may have been a standard from the days of Agent Carter, it does take time to work. Especially when the subject is larger than the normal man. His arms that were starting to encircle Nina instead grab her about the waist, yanking her away to throw her against the far wall. "W-what did you do to me, y-you bitch!" he yells, groggy before he snorts in anger and stumbles backwards, falling into the alley beyond.

That's the cue for the other agents to close in. As Britain watches, they start to close in, that is until Bison grabs a large dumpster and flings it down the alley much like throwing a baseball. It tumbles and smashes along the alleyway, taking out one of the agents.

Bison stumbles further, but seems to be way more than normally powered as he glares at Nina. "I'll snap you neck like a twig!" he yells, starting to head back towards the very hole he created in the wall when he stumbled back, his fists balling into balls of rage. "And then I'll leave a mess they won't soon forget!" As he starts to come forward, there's a sudden blur of white and red as Britain slams into the man, driving him against the opposite wall as the Captain flips over, landing nearby. "I believe that's quite enough.." he starts to say, and then he gets his own eyeful of Nina and all of her 'charms'. And his cheeks flush bright red. "M'am, you might want to cover.." he starts to say, just as Bison slams into him, his horns goring into the Captain's sides.

Damn. She was /hoping/ juicing up the Sweet Dreams with dendrotoxin would work. And it probably has, it's just… going to take a little time. Nina was halfway expecting the reaction, though, and while she doesn't get out of his grip in time, she shifts midair like a cat and catches herself, pushing off the wall with hands and feet rather than being shattered against it.

She's fine, though she's looking really annoyed when he hurls that dumpster. She hadn't planned on losing anyone tonight; hopefully the guy just needs the infirmary. Really really badly.

What Nina — Natasha, we'll just admit it — doesn't expect is the sudden appearance of the Captain. Not that Captain. The other Captain. That actually takes her momentarily off guard, but just as he's starting to tell her to cover up, she's starting in on — "You don't know what you're — " SLAM. Hell.

It takes all of an instant to crouch and leap, reaching for the little gold discs that hold her skirt together. Clicking both of them off the tiny chain belt, she reaches out to slap them both against either side of Bison's chest. The electrical shock combined with the dendrotoxin might be enough to rock him, at least.

Bison's horns in on the Captain, lifting him off the ground. That's when Britain's vaunted shields kick back to life. The rather gernerous view that Natasha had offered caught him off guard, lowering his natural defenses. But now that the battle is joined by the woman, he looks even more confused as she's removing her blasted skirt. "I don't care if this is your fetish..!" he starts to yell back when she slides beneath the Captain to apply both of the disks.

It's Britain's shielding that keeps him from being completely fried when Bison gets shocked by the heavy gauge metal. The large man lets out a moan of pain, stepping backwards. He roars in pain, arms flailing as he grabs a hold of Britain and tries to pull him down further on his horns, anger and fear making for a powerful combonation to drive the dendrotoxin faster through his system.

Britain gets his own opening, however, as he raises both of his arms above his head, raising them up as he combines his hands into one large instrument of destruction and drives it down so hard into the top of Bison's head that it rattles through his whole system and shatters the concrete beneath his feet, creating a small indention.

The Bison stumbles back as the Captain pulls away, holding his side where the horn penetrated him. Bison lets out a snorting groan and then tumbles over onto his back, knocked unconscious by the combined efforts.

"Ugh. Finally."

Natasha puts her hands on her hips as she stares down at Bison. Waving the other agents over, she directs them to pick him up, ensure he's thoroughly sedated, and drag him into the armored car they brought.

That's their job. She's done the hard part. But now comes the other one. Striding over to Captain Britain — in five inch heels, no less, and not a wobble — she crouches to check the wound. Natasha lets out a faint hiss of irritation. There might even be some worry there.

"You're going to need some medical treatment," she says. "Can you stand? Probably best that you don't try. How does it feel?"

"It'll heal.." Britain offers, indeed, already the blood flow has stopped now that he's been pulled off the horn. Magical beings are odd like that. But really, how many guys get the attention of all five foot something plus five inch heels of half-naked Natasha Romanoff? Don't think on it too hard, it's probably a long list. "What the Dickens was that little row all about?" he asks her.

He's already put together that she's not one of the 'girls'. Too many tricks, talents, and the otehr Agents snapped to when she came out and watches them as they drag off Bison. "You NYPD?" he asks curiously. He won't ask where she's hiding her badge.

"Sure. And this is my uniform." Natasha smirks, but she quirks her head to observe the wound. Reaching out, she offers to help him get on his own two feet. If he accepts the hand, she'll brace his forearm and prove a surprisingly firm (ahem) anchor to lean on.

"Mr. Kitson just didn't want to take his medicine. But he'll be all right. We just need to have a quiet word with him about taking things that don't belong to him." Her eyes narrow faintly: "I know I've seen you somewhere. On TV, maybe. Aren't you in the Justice League?"

"Remind me to give the Bobbies back home the memo on the new uniforms in America." Britain responds with a smirk as he accepts the hand and gets pulled up. "Not used to seeing the 10th Precinct down here." he admits. "Seems it's usually X-Red." he shrugs his shoulders absently though as he releases the hand once he's back up fully to his feet. "Kitson, huh?" he makes a note of that mentally as he reaches down to close his hand over the wound to make sure it's good and settled.

Then when she asks about where she's seen him before, he gives a slight nod of his head. "Been accused of it." he offers simply, a slight smirk offered, since he can play the withhold information game just as well as she can. "I didn't realize you had it so well-handled. I'm sorry I interferred." he says with a sigh. "I'm Captain Britain."

Natasha just grins further at the… misunderstanding? Possibly an intentional one, but she's not going to correct him. A lot of her life depends on letting people make their own assumptions. She should be readjusting all her stuff for some level of modesty, but the most she does is make sure the couple of silk scarves covering her bottom half are still linked together. The gold discs are gone, but the couple of chain links keeping them together are still holding. Slightly askew, though.

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain. It's fine. You were doing what you thought was right. Not sure how strong you are; strong enough to fend off Bison. I don't suppose you could give us a hand in moving that dumpster?"

"Oh.. oh, right!" Natasha had Brian just a little.. distracted. Lifting off the ground so he doesn't have to walk, he floats over to the dumpster, heaving it upwards as the agent that was trapped underneath groans loudly in pain. He at least was trapped in the trash compartment of the dumpster and wasn't squashed flat by the metal dumpster. Britain moves it aside with a frown. "Going to need an ambulance for your friend here." he admits quietly.

It's part of the joy of being the Black Widow. It's part of the power of just asking. Just ask, and people will be glad to help. Of course, it's helpful to be curvaceous and athletic and red-haired and beautiful and dressed in silk and gold. She follows him to the side of the half-crushed agent, reaching down to give the fallen man's hand a squeeze. "We have specialists," she says. "Hodges. Bring the other van around. The last thing I want is to put him in with Bison. Particularly if he wakes up."

Hodges is clearly the sort to jump to whenever Natasha gives orders. He jumps to, reaching up to his ear as he jogs around the corner. Funny kind of cops, these.

"How's the League these days?" Natasha inquires, turning from the fallen agent to observe the operation of putting the unconscious Bison in restraints. Can't be too careful.

Who wouldn't want to follow her? "They're doing well enough." Britain offers as he remains in place. She missed when he misnamed the precinct and she's asking how the League is these days. Brian may be new to the shores of America, but he's well versed on the dealings of the League, especially when it comes to a certain government agency that broke off contact after an incident in Orleans, France.

He remains in place as a second van arrives for the agent, and pretty much proves Brian's thought process. "I don't think they're crying about missing the support yet." he adds as he folds his arms loosely over his chest. "And handling our business since the Sentinels arrived on our own doorstoop."

Missed it? Or let it go? Natasha doesn't seem to care too much whether or not Brian knows who she is. It's all about plausible deniability; besides, there's something to be said for seeing what he'll do.

As the other van pulls up, she strides over to it and opens the doors. Snagging a duffle bag from inside, she pulls out a pair of black tactical pants and tugs them on. The skirt is still hanging on either side of them just a little ridiculously. Turning her back, she pulls off the necklaces in a couple of big handfuls and tugs on a white T-shirt. Somehow, the combination does little to make her look less appealing. Maybe it's the shoes.

"How are you handling those?" she inquires. "You and yours." She's not naming any names at all. "I've gone up against something not dissimilar before. They're a real pain to handle. How are you all holding up?"

"I didn't think you people cared what happened to them. Washing your hands and all that?" Britain asks as he glances at his side and frowns. "I probably should get this looked at. Perhaps we can discuss it another time - when we're not coming down off of a fight against Horny McHorns?" he suggests. Not that he's asking Natasha out on a date or anything, just a chance to exchange information that might involve food and drink.

"What do you mean, 'you people'?" There's a light in Natasha's eyes that is very possibly amused. She dusts her hands off on her hips, then against one another. "Sure. I'd like that. Call it two days from now. Seven o'clock. You find a nice place and I'll meet you there." No mention of /how/ she's going to know where it is or anything. She's just going to meet him there.

Extending a hand, she adds: "It's been interesting meeting you. I look forward to doing it again."

Accepting the hand, Britain shrugs his shoulders. "You know. Disavow knowledge, all that stuff." He's probably seen one too many movies, though she outshines probably any of the Bond girls that have ever existed. Releasing her hand, he turns and lifts off into the sky. He gives one more glance towards the red head and her companions, shakes his head and continues on his way after saying. "I'll make sure it's not burgers and chips. Or bangers and mash." is all he promises before he heads on his way.

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