Snowsuit Ninja Meets Spaghetti Girl

January 30, 2018:

The two most cheerful superheroes on the grid meet and chat over unconscious ninjas.

A Jersey City Dock

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\ None.]


Fade In…

Honestly, there isn't much left of the problem when anyone else arrives. Ms. Marvel probably wouldn't have even heard about the barge had it not been for Bruno, who had been planning to pick up some university surplus chemistry equipment only to discover that almost all of it had been picked up by some suspicious guys who didn't look much like scientists. Evidently they'd been given pictures and drawings and specifications of what they were supposed to pick up. Bruno and Kamala had assumed that someone was trying to set up the mother of all meth labs, but when Ms. Marvel slipped on board the barge they'd delivered to, she found that the truth was a lot weirder and more unexpected.
So while Kamala knows nothing about the ninjas on this barge, she knows there are ninjas on this barge. Or were ninjas on this barge.
The fight is almost over by this time. Most of the guards and such who were here have been tied up and/or knocked senseless, and Kamala is dragging the last of them into a secure room on board. There's a pile of weapons outside the door. Frisking them was no errand for the squeamish.
It's only now, as she's cranking the door closed with embiggened hands, that she considers she REALLY should have called for backup on this one.

*

And backup is there, in a manner of speaking. Danny Rand stands by the big pile of weapons, dressed in black snow pants and a puffy jacket in green and yellow. He's got a balaclava on - one that looks like something that a downhill skiier would wear on a cold day rather than a robber. It's not exactly a good look, but at least the billionaire isn't flashing his face all over town.
"Um. Hi. Good…good job?"

*

Ms. Marvel turns around, startled. The thing is, she really can't say anything about a puffy jacket and a ski mask making a costume when she's wearing a burkini and a domino mask. Usefully, however, nobody really knows Kamala from any other brown girl, which gives her that handy anonymity.
She looks at Danny in surprise, her posture momentarily defensive before she relaxes just a little. "Thanks?" she says. "Um. Were you watching? Who ARE you?" Because floofy hair or not, Iron Fist is not yet super well known. Nor is he currently dressed in an open-to-the-navel leotard with pointy yellow collars.

*

No, in fact, he hasn't dressed himself like a member of 90s Cirque du Soleil. Thankfully. And no one on the street has heard the name 'Iron Fist' except for the few times he's blabbed about himself. There's no street reputation for Puffy Jacket Ninja, but there is a reputation for Danny Rand. Hence the getup.
"I uh, I think we were after these guys for the same reason?" His voice is a little muffled behind the balaclava. He peers past her into the barge, then back again. "Smuggling…pharmecutical stuff out to…M…" he snaps. "Some country that starts with an M. I can't remember…" he snaps a gloved finger. "Oh well! Doesn't matter. They've been stopped I take it?"

*

"I don't know, honestly," Kamala says… honestly. "I knew they were collecting the sort of stuff that, when you put it all together, the Feds start looking at you sideways. It's still down in the hold." She raps on the deck proudly. Without bending, either, because her arm stretches to do it.
It hits her then: lack of costume but still trying to hide his face? Maybe he's a new hero! She perks up a little and extends a hand: "I'm Ms. Marvel." Some call her the hero of Jersey City. She doesn't. "What are you called? And how did you find out about these guys?"

*

"Malaysia!" Danny blurts out just as she asks him his name. "Wait, no, that's not my name. That's the name of the…" inhale. Short cough. Fluff from balaclava.
Just then, he catches sight of some movement out of the corner of his eye. The glint of a weapon from one of the guys that Kamala missed on her trip through the barge. He moves quickly, reaching out to snatch the guy's wrist. He twists the arm, then kicks upward sharply to hit a pressure point somewhere in the vicinity of his armpit. That has the effect of loosening the guy's grip on the machete he was holding, which drops and sticks into the dock. In a quick, sharp flurry of movements, the guy is dropped and crumples to the ground. He leans over, grabs the handle of the machete and flicks it into the harbour.
"Sorry. Oh hey, yeah! I've read about you. Spaghetti girl!" He holds two hands together and then stretches it out like he's pulling taffy. Then, "Oh. Um. I guess you can call me the Immortal Iron Fist?"

*

Ms. Marvel starts when Danny… blurts… but she's pretty sure he's not trying to say his name is Malaysia. Then the penny drops, and she confirms: "I think I saw something about that in the papers inside. How did you find out about these guys, though?" She's persistent in answering the questions.
Slightly less so, though, when Balaclavaman whirls around and just totally ninjas a dude she missed. She even gasps and takes a step back, actually getting reflexively smaller for an instant so as to be less of a target.
"Well, you know what you're doing, for sure," she admits when he disarms and disables his opponent. Reaching out to drag the senseless ninja into the room where she's locked up the other senseless ninja, she extends her other hand to shake Iron Fist's. (Really? The Immortal Iron Fist?)
"That's awesome! Nice to meet you. You've heard of me?" She can't help but be a little pleased as she shoves the bad guy into the room of groaning men, locking the door behind him. "Yeah, I'm lucky I hit on Ms. Marvel as a name, or I probably WOULD have called myself Spaghetti Girl. Or… The Chameleon." She spreads her hands slowly in front of her at that last one, grinning as she does it.
"So. Anyway. We should probably call the police or someone to pick these guys up and check over the paperwork they have. See if we can figure out who exactly wanted this stuff."

*

"I uh, I have a friend who is doing some research. Y'know. Finding targets." Which is actually true, but Danny somehow makes it sound like he's evading something.
He's really, really, pretty bad at this secret identity thing.
He shakes her hand and smiles through the mask. "Yeah, in the papers. I mean, you kinda do stuff that catches attention, though. Like…" he fails at words again and just kind of gestures in a way that's meant to communicate making things bigger. "Anyway, cool! Yeah, cops." He looks towards the room full of guys. "I think it's a shell corporation in Malaysia masquerading as a research facility. But it's actually to make bootleg prescription drugs and also street drugs. I mean, that was my theory. I came here to find proof. And hoo boy. Ninjas? Sad I missed that. I've mostly been fighting thugs. I haven't had a good throw-down with an actual ninja in awhile."

*

This dork is going to get himself killed.
Okay, he definitely knows his way around fighting ninjas, but he's STILL going to get himself killed.
"O…kay," Ms. Marvel says, clearly as dubious as three-day-old shrimp. "I'm going to guess: you're just starting out on the whole… hero thing?" She waves a hand in front of her face, indicating the balaclava. "I mean, that's cool! So am I. And I was even more just starting not too long ago. But you're working with other people? That's super handy."

*

"Yes. Well, no. Well…" Danny lifts up the edge of the mask to scratch at his cheek. "I've been fighting a long time, but I haven't been back in New York very long." A beat, "I gotta say, guns suck. Got shot once already. Gotta find me some body armor. But it's hard to move in, you know?"
He tugs down the mask and accidentally pulls it down too far so it reveals the bottom half of his face. He tries to adjust it and it momentarily shows the top. Oops. He finally gets it settled after a moment.
"Right. Cops? I think there might actually be a payphone over that way." He thumbs back behind him.

*

"Getting shot is the SUPER worst," Kamala agrees. "Also? Ski masks are super uncomfortable unless you're actually in the snow, and the ones with wool in itch like crazy."
She watches him, boggling a little when he starts struggling with his mask. Her head tilts slightly to one side, staring at him like she's discovered a weird new kind of squirrel. He looks really familiar, but she can't quite place him.
"A payphone? Really? You may have found the last one in the city; do you not have a cell phone?" Though come to think of it, that sounds super traceable. "Tell you what: go ahead and call 911. Say you have an anonymous tip that some smugglers have been apprehended on Pier 39. I'm going to check something real quick; I'll be right back, okay?"

*

"Yeah, uh, I was going to do that before but apparently the cops can follow your phone? And that seems like a bad move when you don't want to be found and made to testify and stuff." And when your name is Rand, doubly so. "I don't even take it with me when I go out. Plus it kept falling out of my pocket when I was fighting, so." He shrugs. "Also a bad move cause apparently your phone is like your wallet now? Weird, huh?"
He looks a little hesitant, but seeing as Kamala basically did what he came here to do, he shrugs. "OK. I'll go see if I can find the phone." A pause. "You…wait, no, never mind. I was going to ask for a quarter, but then I remembered you can do 9-1-1 without…anyway." He snap, claps, then turns to trot back up the edge of the dock.

*

"Oh yeah—pockets are really rough when it comes to hero costumes. That's why so many people have pouches. Or better yet, get yourself bracers." Kamala raises her own left fist. Around her wrist are several metal bangles all joined together. "If you get a small enough phone, you can get a bracer made with a nice cushioned pocket for it. If you're really feeling your Wheaties, you can get one with a phone charger."
As Danny trots back up to the dock, Kamala heads back into the ship's cabin. She opens up that secret compartment in her own bracer (she wasn't kidding) and pulls out her phone to take pictures of the documents she found. Making sure that her hands are gloved before she touches anything, she tries to figure out from what she sees where the rest of the equipment on board came from and who was paying for all this.

*

"Yeah, um, I kind of hit too hard with my wrists for that to work." That would just lead to Danny with shattered bits of phone in a compartment attached to his wrist. But then he's off to make a stilted report to the operator while trying not to sound like a kid making a crank call.
The equipment boxes bear the stamp of Orora Medical Supplies Inc., with a Manhattan address. Kamala won't get very long to poke around though, because balaclava guy appears around the corner, a bit breathless. "Time to go, Ms. Marvelous. The cops were already in the neighbourhood when I called! I uh, thanks for taking out those guys, but I can't be here when they get here. Bye!" And then he's off, moving swiftly and with far more control and skill one would ever give him after talking to him for more than thirty seconds.

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