capeandcowllogs | Mother Russia how are you sleeping

WHO: Team Russia and NPCs
WHERE: The abandoned ‘Night Tunnel’ nightclub in St. Petersburg, Russia
WHEN: Late at night
WARNINGS: Violence
SUMMARY: The Major went through a lot of trouble to lead some heroes on a wild-goose chase to another country. Tonight that chase comes to an end.
FORMAT: Whatever works

Once some of the City’s heroes decided to follow up on the Russian connection in person, they would have quickly found a lot to work with. It wasn’t hard to discover that local law enforcement was concerned about information they’d received regarding an ImPort criminal pursuing nuclear material in St. Petersburg, and that the underworld was abuzz with discussion over ‘the fat German’ that everyone seemed to have heard about but not seen. Whether they were looking for him or looking to work with him, all sources could agree on one thing- the best place to find a lead was the old ‘Night Tunnel’ nightclub.

The ‘Night Tunnel’ had been shut down by the authorities over two years ago due to fire safety violations, sanitation issues, its owners being linked to organized crime, and generally being a dump. Its gaudy neon exterior had begun to fade, but had been rejuvenated somewhat through the addition of bright, obscene graffiti. The street outside was empty and silent- among the many failings of the ‘Night Tunnel’ had been its location in one of the more secluded parts of town. Lights could be faintly seen through shattered windows, hinting that the club was now hosting an entirely different kind of party.

Within, tiny pinpoint camera lenses dotted the peeling walls, and on another continent, in another City, the Major watched their footage expectantly, flickering on his many screens. So much planning, so much expense, all just for the sake of arranging a prelude to the main event! Those incompetent assassins, that carefully-constructed trail, disseminating all those rumours, turning this ugly Russian building into a deathtrap... it would all be worth it, he was sure, when the true stroke fell. This trap had three sets of sharp teeth, and the Major watched his screens carefully to see who would be caught in them. Yet in a way, it didn’t really matter. This entire charade had served its purpose the moment Russia and assassins became fixed in the minds of his enemies.

No matter what happened here tonight, it was already too late.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tables and chairs had been set up on the dusty, littered dance floor of the ‘Night Tunnel’ and the bar had been re-opened for the use of the men waiting inside. There were over a dozen of them, dressed in black, impressively tattooed, their guns at their sides or on the tables in front of them. Some of them were standing, roving about the nightclub’s upper level and looking out the windows for trouble approaching, but most of them were sitting, smoking, drinking, playing cards. They were hard men, old hands at this kind of life, men who didn’t flinch. Few of them were happy with their job or their employer.

[What sort of fuckup plan is this, anyway? Just wait around for trouble to show up?] One of the men, bald, scarred, threw his cards on the table in disgust. The man across from him, older and grizzled, didn’t change his expression.

[It’s a simple job for good money. Don’t bitch and don’t make so much noise.] He poured himself another drink.

[Vasily, I am telling you, everyone who works for this man dies or gets jailed. I looked him up, I asked around. It’s like a fucking curse.] He looked around nervously. [Besides, I don’t like killing people for someone I have never met, especially not a fucking Nazi. You know my family-]

[Shut up. We’ve all heard about your family and the War. That was a long time ago. It has nothing to do with business. Stay quiet and focus on your job. We wait for someone to come, take care of them, then go get paid. It’s that simple.]

They bickered quietly amongst themselves as the smoke from their cigarettes curled in the air above them and more drinks went down. They were nervous but not alert, on edge without being watchful. Despite the sentries occasionally peeking out the windows, there was any number of ways to slip into the club and get the drop on them.

Edited 2011-02-27 14:12 (UTC)

Once it became clear that his hired guns were not going to handle his would-be pursuers, the Major shrugged his shoulders, pushed a button, and then switched his screens to external views of the nightclub. A signal travelled all the way from the City to St. Petersburg in an instant, and blocks of Semtex concealed within the walls of the Night Tunnel near its key structural supports came to life with a completely unnecessary but still enjoyable beeping noise. The beeping continued as red digital numbers appeared on them and began counting down. The Major sat back in his chair and smiled, waiting to see the explosion. In twenty seconds, the Night Tunnel was going to be collapsing in on itself, burying whoever was still inside in flaming rubble. He was sure it was going to look great.

Edited 2011-02-27 14:15 (UTC)

American vigilantes were about to demolish a building. The Major had been found. There had been a shooting at an abandoned nightclub. More Import criminals were at large in St. Petersburg. Superheroes were in Russia to spy for the Americans. The CIA was carrying out an operation. Nuclear materials were about to leave the country. There was a fire. There was an explosion.

All this and more reached the local police almost simultaneously through anonymous phone calls, messages from informants, panicked radio transmissions from patrol cars, and more. As they struggled to make sense of it all, it became clear that there was only one thing all the tips agreed on: whatever was happening, it was happening at the Night Tunnel.

Less than five minutes after the bombs had been dealt with, half a dozen police cars rolled up with their sirens blaring and lights flashing and officers jumped out with weapons drawn, confused, nervous, and looking to arrest whoever seemed suspicious.

Edited 2011-02-27 14:17 (UTC)

The militsia were a force in desperate need of wide-ranging reform. There was too much corruption, and too many officers. At least, that was the case in her Russia, the Russia she n longer belonged to. So she winced at the sirens. They might be after justice, but they might be after something else. Natasha was glad she'd brought a coat, it was getting cold.

She stayed silent, listening to what the police might do, the orders they might have.

Mother Russia how are you sleeping

First Trap: The Goons

Second Trap: The Bombs

Third Trap: The Police

no subject