Avenging

by DB Sommer

It's a fusion of Ranma 12 and Marvel's Avengers. Chapter 1 lays the groundwork for what's to come and deals with several of the heroes origins. It is a bit dry and serious compared to the rest of the story. Chapter 2 is more like the rest of the story if you want to skip to it. Book 1 is complete and Book 2 is the sequel.

84. Book 2 Chap 9: Theft x and x Fight

Avenging

Book 2: Chapter 9

Theft X and X Brawl

As always you can contact me at

tsommer

My works are stored at

, A03, and mediaminer for older stuff.

As always, I do not own the rights to the numerous characters or series within.

Last Chapter: Mousse brought Ranma and Ukyou, in plainclothes, to help him and Elektra steal his tribe's lost reliquary. Despite being irked, Elektra agreed to the change in plans. The group attacked and defeated the super villain Blue Talon in order to secure another invitation to the auction. Both they and the Phantom Troupe flew to New York to engage in some thievery. And on we go…

Xxxxxxx

Ukyou mentally tagged the stretch limousine they rode in as the 'Elektramobile'. It was long, ridiculously so, and undoubtably like everything else on this venture, expensive. There was a huge amount of room even with four people in it, especially considering Ranma's size was nearly that of two people. The seats were made of some substance she'd never seen car seats made out of, but it was plush and comfortable. The ride was smoother than a train in Tokyo. There was even a refrigerator with drinks in it. Who needed to drink so much on a car trip you need a fridge? She wanted to tweak the assassin's nose about being pretentious for renting the opulent vehicle for traipsing about town, but since Ukyou enjoyed the comfort immensely, she kept her mouth shut.

While she and her friends rode in the back, Elektra sat across from them, directly behind the driver, fiddling with a small carry-on bag she had brought with her from the plane.

As they drove through the city streets gazing out tinted windows, the assassin spoke in the tone of one taking charge. "We use our alternate names from here on out. Also we can't be seen entering the auction together. People will wonder if there is an alliance between Dran and Shadow-Stalker if we do, and I want no unnecessary attention paid to us. We'll drop Jessie and Blue Talon off a couple of blocks away. You know the address. Can you find your way there on your own?"

They nodded. Rather than give further instructions, Elektra did the unexpected and removed her top.

"What are you doing?" Ukyou snapped as she was confronted by a pair of breasts constrained in an athletic bra.

And to her annoyance the assassin was indeed, 'tittyrific'.

"Changing into my costume. I'm going to be Jackdaw, and you'll need to address me as such." She shimmied out of her bottoms as well.

Ukyou snapped, "Isn't changing in a car inapp—."

And then the bra came off.

"Now what do you think you're doing?!" Ukyou shouted as she thrust her hand in front of her boyfriend's eyes.

"That isn't doing any good," Mousse pointed out to her.

It took Ukyou a moment to understand he was referring to his blindness. "Well… well it makes me feel better." And left her hand where it was. Ranma was definitely looking, and he wasn't being as appropriate as she felt he should be. He wasn't drooling in lust, thankfully, but he wasn't embarrassed at the sight of that chest. Stupid males and their stupid interest in breasts that were way too big.

Elektra said, "The outfit is skin tight. Bra and panty lines would show, so no underwear."

And with that she slowly, almost sensually, removed her panties. It was almost like she was putting on a show as far as Ukyou was concerned. And why the hell wasn't Ranma averting his eyes from that? He was acting like someone casually stripping naked in front of virtual strangers was normal behavior.

Finally Elektra started putting the outfit from her bag on, sliding it over her legs as sensually as she had removed everything else. "As you'll be able to tell, I have padding in the crotch and in the right places for my chest. I'm trying to be mysterious-sexy, not scandalous."

It took an inappropriately long time, but finally the assassin was covered. And it appeared that she had been telling the truth as the outfit was indeed molded to her body like a second skin. It covered everything below her neck, even if it was about one molecule thick.

As 'Jackdaw' placed a feathered wig on her head, Ukyou spoke to Ranma in a voice dripping with disappointment, "I'm surprised you weren't handing her hundred-yen notes during the stripper act."

He decided to not inform her he had done exactly that when his father had dragged him to a strip club, where he became pretty blasé about the concept of stripping. It just wasn't his thing. Instead of relating that story, which would elicit more questions, he went with, "It's no big deal. I'm pretty familiar with the naked female body." He couldn't help lacing that with a hint of boasting.

Ukyou's frown turned into concentration, then a realization and shock. "Is that because you're living with-."

Ranma coughed loudly and pointed at their now avian plumaged cohort.

"Right. Sorry."

Elektra completed her outfit by putting on the mask. She didn't need it to hide her surprise, since her training meant never showing emotions you didn't intend to. Captain Japan's casual explanation was sort of shocking. Had she misjudged him? Was he really a seductive Casanova instead of a boastful but sexually inexperienced young man? She'd been convinced she largely had him figured out-.

Wait a minute. The way he had phrased the explanation had been peculiar. And now that she thought about it… yes, that made perfect sense, and she did allow herself a slight smile. Thanks goodness she knew that little facet of his life. Familiarity with 'the naked female body' indeed. It was quite obvious what that actually meant when you turned into one with a touch of cold water.

A pity they weren't alone. She would have tweaked him by spilling some of the bottled water stored in the limousine's refrigerator, then teased him about being familiar with female bodies. After all, Elektra knew how that dual gender identity of his worked, and she could have playfully berated him for thinking that statement would have fooled her.

She pushed the fantasy from her mind, but it gave her delight to envision it. Could envision it. Before she left the Hand, she'd never experienced such amusing daydreams. Because when your entire existence consisted of nothing but living nightmare, such thinking was alien. Even if she failed to entice him into a relationship, Elektra would always love the man before her for showing her the path to freedom from a hell she couldn't find her way out of.

But she preferred they become a couple and bang their brains out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The auction was being held in an office building owned by one Wilson Fisk; better known amongst the illicit circles he traveled in as the Kingpin of Crime. He was an extremely large man, as in 450 pounds of human being. While most believed that prodigious mass was fat, it was in truth solid muscle. So much that he had survived low caliber rounds put into his body- and killed the person that put them into him at the same time. He was a bit of an oddity in that regard.

Light gleamed off his bald cranium, but few noticed the lack of hair since his eyes commanded attention. They were among the most predatory anyone had seen. Some men who thought they were strong broke under his gaze alone. When one lead the way he did, having a presence was a must.

As was having a lot of money and men with guns.

For this occasion he wore one of his more distinguished suits, and due to the nature of this particular venture, had his concealed weaponry on his person. Laser in his cane. Gas in a lapel pin. All four of his cufflinks were explosive in nature. There was bulletproofing through the outfit, just in case someone tried to use a larger caliber gun on him, though it was unlikely despite the number of people in the room who had personally gunned down others in the course of their lives.

Kingpin surveyed the enormous gathering of individuals before him. A true crème de le crème of the underworld- and some lowlifes who had enough money to be potentially useful. Most were adorned in their most expensive, if normal, outfits. It was a showcase of the best tailors in the city and beyond. The flashiest of jewelry from the far corners of the earth. The airs of the elite. Even if one had no intention of buying anything at the auction, simply being invited meant you had some influence, and you always showed off what you had before your rivals.

A gathering such as this, with so much of the underworld attending, bolstered Kingpin's prestige. Powerful people showed up when more powerful people beckoned. Certainly he would make a great deal of money, what he wasn't selling personally he was getting a 10% commission upon, but there were some things money simply could not buy. This function would gain him that elusive currency.

The office building was ideal for the auction since there was both a main hall to hold it in and a massive space where everyone could mill about while awaiting it to be held. This was truly his domain, not just in owning the building, but also every one of the staff within. Perhaps someday he would own the invitees in one way or another, but for today they remained guests one and all, and it was his responsibility the guests were treated with the highest of honors. Everything had to go smoothly, for in the same way that this auction could increase his prestige, so it would be undermined should anything go wrong. Blood would be spilled should such occur, but that would not bring back the intangibles he would lose.

Perhaps that was why he was more on edge than usual. The stakes in this venture were much greater than his norm. There was a difference between a troublemaker like Spider Man fouling up a million-dollar drug shipment, or the New Warriors disrupting a gang war engineered to lower property values so he could sweep in and purchase key elements in the area, and Kingpin being personally humiliated on his home turf in front of his contemporaries who were eager to tear him down socially almost as much as they would physically.

That was why he went to the extra lengths to ensure all went according to plan. Twice the number of guards, an expensive vastly updated security system, and more than the usual amount of hired super villain muscle in case some costumed idiot tried to be a hero. There were so many of those, especially in New York. Spider Man would head that list. Meddlesome do-gooder was such an antiquated term, yet it described the arachnid perfectly.

That was why Kingpin had hired some of the best freelance super villain talent around to bolster the normal entourage of costumed criminals that were on retainer. Currently he had at his side two that were more loyal and reliable than most.

The more noticeable was the ten-foot tall, super strong Man Monster. He had the face of deformed gorilla, matched with a gaze that indicted his low IQ. He didn't even wear a proper super villain costume, but a simple sleeveless purple shirt and pants. But while he was dumb, he was also easily directed, obedient, and not so stupid he thought he should be in charge of anything. The man was one of the best examples of hirable muscle in New York.

The other was a newer addition: Disruptor. He was of normal dimensions, and wore an actual villain outfit. It hid every inch of his body; even the mask covered his entire head. He went so far as to have tinted goggles over the eyes so none could tell their color, while his voice was clearly disguised by a modulator. That was for a good reason, rather than a vain attempt at cultivating an aura of mystery.

Walter Raleigh was a well-known public figure who, had he achieved his goal of becoming Mayor, could have been manipulated into working toward Kingpin's goals. Unfortunately, a dead hooker turning up at his estate ruined his chances of that. So he had essentially abandoned his real identity and became the super villain known as Disruptor, thanks to the versatile weapon he used. He seemed to enjoy wielding actual power in his own hand rather than manipulating others into doing his dirty work. There were times when he said the loss of his former aspirations was 'almost a blessing'.

On Kingpin's part, he enjoyed doing both, though the latter was by far the more useful manner of accomplishing goals.

There were other super villains stationed in key positions throughout the building where their talents would be maximized, but these were the two most reliable and thus serving as his right and left hands tonight. Hopefully they would not be called upon.

Observing was all well and good, it was time to circulate amongst the crowd even as they circulated around one another. While most wore normal attire that would allow them to blend in at any upper crust party, there were a few more flashy individuals decorated in colorful garb. Most were emissaries of those he invited who could not attend, but acknowledged their existence amongst their peers by having minions show in their stead. Some were bodyguards announcing their rank to the world. Some were simply esoteric and felt a need to adorn themselves in such a fashion. The underworld was perhaps the most varied collage of humanity the world had to offer.

Then Kingpin's eyes fell upon an individual who drew his immediate attention. Truly powerful men had that effect even on him. He was 'very European' in dress and posture, mostly because he was. Italian, specifically. Dark hair, white at the temples, a monocle in one eye, and an aura that radiated, 'Gaze upon something; odds are I control it.'

And when Count Luchino Nefaria attended your function, you talked to him personally, even if you were the Kingpin of Crime.

"Greetings, Count." He spoke as an equal, because while there were equals, no one was his superior. Or more specifically no one Kingpin would acknowledge as such. "I don't recall inviting a member of the Magnificent Ten to this auction. Not because I intended to slight you, but because I was under the impression something as mundane as this was beneath you."

Count Nefaria waved a dismissive hand. "I am here as the Maggia's representative."

That clarified matters. Each member of the Ten usually acted as an individual, since each had a sphere of influence which had nothing to do with the other members of the organization. By making an official declaration as such, Kingpin didn't have to worry about crossing Nefaria in some way and getting on the bad side of the other members of that most prestigious organizations. Individually each was powerful enough, but on those occasions when they combined forces?

The landscape shifted. Always.

Not that he had any intention of getting on Nefaria's bad side even if he was attending on his own. He was the most powerful member of the centuries old criminal organization which had its hooks in everything. True, they were more 'old school' than so many other groups, such as Hydra or A.I.M and their flashy machinations. But that meant they dealt in far more street level crime which was more pervasive than, say, dealing with tech that could melt the icecaps or shut down electronics in a major city. When one said, 'the Maggia are everywhere' there was a great deal of truth in that. Their power and his rank in that organization were why he was a member of the Magnificent Ten.

Kingpin waited as Nefaria brought a cigarette to his lips. No holder, though. A bit of a surprise. He was the type what would use one for appearance's sake. Old organizations had old rules and habits.

After letting out a puff of smoke, Nefaria spoke in a distinguished voice, one that had personally ordered the deaths of hundreds, "I have a piece of advice to give. As you know, Don Fortunato has aggravated members of the families so there is tension present that will have to be dealt with. Some might see this internal disagreement as an opportunity to expand their influence in certain ventures and areas previously unavailable. This would be unwise as, once the matter is resolved in the only way it can be, it would be seen as an act of poor manners and reprimands would follow."

"An interesting concern." And Kingpin left it at that. While he had no interest in aggravating Nefaria, especially today when he stood to gain so much, neither was he so weak-willed he'd bow and scrape before the demand. Besides, only the meekest of mice would fail to exploit a vulnerability in a rival. Kingpin would be circumspect, and only take a minimal amount since a large grab would lead to a confrontation that would not only be bad for business, but doubtful he would win. After all, to go to war with the Maggia would put him in the same position Fortunato was in now, and then the rabble that surrounded him would go after *his* territory. Jackels were always on the lookout to bring a wounded lion down and dine on the remains.

As for Nefaria and his observations regarding Fortunato, Kingpin had enough informants in that branch of the Maggia to know Fortunato had reached out to someone powerful and pledged allegiance to them, though his informants didn't know exactly who it was. That connection was most likely why he had caused problems for the rest of the Maggia in the first place, since on the surface it seemed suicidal. Fortunato was convinced this insurrection would aid him, and thus prolong a battle between the branches. The longer it lasted, the more the Maggia and their rivals would wear themselves down, and the better off Kingpin would be.

Others might operate on his soil, but he would always be the true King of New York.

On Nefaria's part, he knew how the game was played and that the admission from Kingpin was the best he could hope for. Formalities had been met, and from this point on no one could claim ignorance of their actions and the potential outcomes from them. He bid Fisk good day and went on his way.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John Bozeman, the head of Kingpin's security forces, was one of the best in the business. He used to be legitimate, supervising security at a number of increasingly large Vegas casinos and rising to the top of each. Then Kingpin came along and offered him four times what he made to become his head of security. That, and a lot of rather illicit perks that Bozeman liked to indulge in. Clearly Kingpin had done his research.

It was both easier and more complicated at his new job. It was easier in that security could be run much tighter for one man's organization than a bustling casino that had thousands of people constantly moving about like a gigantic ant farm. It allowed him to focus on fewer things and keep them tight.

The more complicated was hardly anyone tried to rob a casino and those that attempted it tended to be stupid. Only the very smart hired the very powerful or talented when it came to messing with Kingpin. Sometimes it felt like every crime lord tried to slip some poison or a bomb into the place as a sort of hazing ritual for being important in the underworld. And don't get started on Spider Man. No matter what Bozeman did, that wall crawling freak simply belted and webbed his way through everything (including Bozeman's jaw at one point.), and would either talk or punch it out personally with Kingpin. Surprisingly his boss never reprimanded Bozeman for his failure at preventing those intrusions, stating, "It's what that meddler does." It was like the pair had some perverse adversarial relationship or something.

This was different. It had been emphasized this was one of Kingpin's more important events, and if things were fouled up, incompetence wouldn't be tolerated. Naturally, that meant something essential was already on the verge of being messed up.

That idiot caterer, Carmicheal was now officially on the shit list. He was supposed to be at the function twenty minutes ago. Bozeman had been at enough parties to know prep work needed to start on time. The food was going to be late, and it would reflect poorly on Kingpin if he didn't provide the victuals that were expected at something like this.

Finally Bozeman received a call from the guards at the back dock: Carmicheal had arrived with his staff. The guard recognized the man and allowed him to pass into the garage, but Bozeman wouldn't let him have access to the building's interior until he verified everything personally- and chewed the guy's ass out. This was an important night and Carmicheal had made it difficult when it didn't have to be. There were a hundred other caterers who'd eagerly sell their first born for a contract as big as Kingpin's. If Kingpin dealt in more biblical terms rather than hard currency.

He went down with two burly guards attached to his sides. Upon arriving he noted the catering staff was already starting to unload the racks of food to be brought into the building proper. At least he was playing catch up.

Bozeman walked up to Carmichael and the hackles raised on the back of his neck. Something was off. He definitely recognized the guy, and he looked very mellow. Perhaps that was it. Carmichael was one of the loudest, most obnoxious people he knew and this was the inverse of normal behavior. Maybe he had a therapist who prescribed him something, or perhaps he'd discovered the glories of marijuana on his own. That had saved Bozeman tons of money, self-medicating rather than being strung along for years by a head shrinker, being charged his mortal soul every hour. Not today of course. It was clear-headedness all the way until the next day just to make sure everything had gone well. Business always came first, or he wouldn't be in the position he was now.

Two of the caterers walked up to Carmichael's side, an attractive woman and… dear god. The other caterer was close to seven feet high and built like that new super villain Kingpin had hired. This was not kosher.

"Who are these guys?" Bozeman placed his hand on the phone in his pocket to trigger an alert. All he had to do was bring it out and hit the right button on the screen.

The big man engulfed the entire lower portion of Bozeman's head and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. One of the other nearby caterers lunged forward and struck the security head's pair of guards in their necks simultaneously. Both went down clutching at their throats, unable to utter a noise.

The attacker looked to the others. "I told you I could kill barehanded just fine."

"They're still moving," one of them said whimsically.

That angered the man, who then finished off both guards before they could suffocate.

During the entire time this was going on, Carmichael just stood there, like two men having their windpipes broken was as normal as setting up the dessert tray. The other, normal caterers were in a similar state. Bozeman knew the guy with the hand around his head could crush it without thinking about it, when someone had that sort of power in his limbs you just knew. That didn't stop Bozeman from grabbing at that arm and trying to make the giant let go. Sometimes you couldn't shut off survival instincts no matter how useless they were.

The girl brought out what looked like a giant needle. She lined the eye of it up with hers, and the lined it up with his. She spun it in a circle and slowly… his mind… his… mind… relaxed. Yes, that was the right word for it. The purest form of relaxation he had ever experienced. No drug had ever given him this sense of tranquility. Every issue in the world no longer existed, and it was good. Now he was ready to do whatever she asked.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Needle finished hypnotizing him with her abilities. "He's ours."

Blockbuster put him down, while the rest of the entranced staff went about their jobs. Carmichael, who had been catering for Kingpin for the last ten years, had been the font of information they'd hoped for. He confirmed what the Phantom Troupe knew regarding the crime lord, and added to what they didn't, including that the head of security, Bozeman, would personally check him in. Gaining the head of security's mind was crucial to their plans.

"Tell us all the security measures put into place tonight," Needle ordered.

Bozeman did.

As he dispensed the information, Binary Bug began suiting up in green armor that really wasn't that bug-like, save for the pack on back which looked like a folded set of wings on a beetle. "I'll commandeer the security center. John, you will personally escort me to it. If anyone asks about me, tell them I'm one of the new super villain talent Kingpin hired."

"Yeah, sure."

"Send him back down to me so I can keep reinforcing that hypnotic state," Needle reminded him. Her abilities didn't last that long, so she would maintain a presence around Carmichael and the catering staff to make sure they didn't snap out of it and cause a disturbance, since most people who realized they had been under mind control were disturbed by it and caused one. They needed the caterers to do their usual job so Kingpin didn't get suspicious as to why there was no food, or it was substandard. Business as usual on the outside, while they inserted themselves into the underbelly of the Fisk's operation and robbed him blind.

Binary Bug finished suiting up. "I'll send you three to the vault." He looked at Blockbuster, Copycat, and Vakume. "Once I've taken care of the men and seized control of cameras and what communications I can." He turned to Death Dealer and Shatterfist. "I'll figure out where to position you guys between the party and the vault so you can intercept anyone before they get to Blockbuster."

"Sounds like I'll be bored," Blockbuster said in irritation.

"If all goes according to plan, you will be."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

'Jackdaw' made a point of greeting a couple of figures whom she had contact with as Shadow Stalker's consiglieri, further cementing the authenticity of her identity in case someone was suspicious of her. Also she couldn't simply start casing the joint: that would arouse suspicion. So with her beefy bodyguard in tow, she moved about doing the same thing most others were, blending in as best as she could dressed as she was.

There was some time to kill, so she went to make contact with the other pair involved in the operation. She saw Mousse and Ukyou doing as she suggested and talking closely with each other, dissuading passersby from interrupting the conversation since it wouldn't be appreciated. A slight hand signal alerted Ukyou to meet up in private, then Elektra went toward the ladies' room to 'freshen up'. She entered and gave the place a quick once over, confirming it was empty. The privacy would make things safer. She looked at herself in the mirror and adjusted her outfit.

Ukyou appeared a minute later and stood next to Elektra, primping hair that was perfectly fine. Quietly she said, "Everything's okay on my end. I'm a little disappointed no one's tried to hit on me."

"This is not a pick-up bar," Elektra said tersely. "Everyone invited to this auction is here on business and decorum must be maintained. It would reflect poorly if one should be reprimanded by Kingpin at this function. These aren't the street thugs your boyfriend is used to dealing with. This is the upper crust of the criminal underworld, and they have their own way of conducting themselves. These types are more akin to the way the corporate world handles themselves, though their hostile takeovers tend to entail more firearms and less lawyers. Not always though. They'll take things through legal means if the opportunities present themselves. It's how Kingpin acquired this building."

"Oh," Ukyou said, a bit humbled.

Elektra softened a bit. "Since we have a moment to ourselves, and I didn't want to say this in front of Mousse since it would probably bother him, I wanted to let you know Shampoo would have approved of your relationship. You make each other happy. That's what she wanted for him."

Now Ukyou was completely sobered. "Thanks."

Sensing an opportunity, Elektra injected a little intimate subject matter of her own. There was clearly some personal connection between Ukyou and Captain Japan. She had knowledge of his life he didn't want casual bystanders to know. It wasn't a romantic connection since there was no tension from Mousse when they interacted- he was the jealous type, even if it was only an 'ex' being near his girlfriend. "From what you said in the car, Beefcake lives with a girlfriend?"

Ukyou snorted. "Not exactly. It's way more complicated than that. He-." And then she caught herself. "I shouldn't talk about it."

"Of course," Elektra said smoothly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's obvious from that lame disguise he showed up in he's being secretive."

"And was doing the exact opposite. Like everyone doesn't stare at you when you look stupid. I have no idea what he was thinking. I loved you calling that nasty thing a pornstache." They giggled like two young women engaged in gossip.

Then someone else entered the restroom, and the pair stopped giggling and again used the mirror to adjust their appearance. Elektra exited first.

It was time to go back to business.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Binary Bug finished reviewing the surveillance systems in the building's central security room. Bozeman had gotten him through the door and relaxed the four personnel inside the room. Once Binary Bug was confident of the situation, he then executed the quartet. The last one was fast enough to draw his gun, though it went flying before he could fire it. Electrocution had that effect on people.

They weren't supposed to be relieved for the rest of the night, which meant he had the room to himself from here on out. He sent Bozeman back to Needle for hypnotic reinforcement and watched the security screens, one set of eyes that required three. A pity Copycat couldn't be spared. His vision would have enabled him to do all three jobs effortlessly, but the role he did was far more important and required his one of his other unique abilities, so it fell to Binary Bug to do the best that he could.

The layout of the building was the same as the blueprints the Troupe had obtained when prepping for the theft. He noted where security personnel were stationed and what paths lay to the vault. Happily he noted no one was actually stationed at the vault itself, perhaps because there were already tons of cameras on it, and Kingpin didn't want anyone tempted by being too close to the merchandise. Criminals weren't always good at keeping their hands off money that wasn't theirs. Case in point: the Phantom Troupe.

What they needed was a clear path for the trio to secure and raid the vault. Bozeman was one of the people who had access to unlock it, so that issue was covered. There were two halls that led to the vault proper. The guards could be pulled by their pawn, then Shatterfist and Death Dealer could be assigned to replace them. While it was unlikely, there was always a chance some guest might get curious and want to see how secure the vault was. It would be best if the unwanted were intercepted before they got too close. Vakume and Copycat would work faster if they weren't distracted by the sounds of battle nearby, and there was a time table that had to be followed.

Binary Bug laid out the plan to the others. The next stage to their operation had begun.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elektra kept her bodyguard close as she circulated through the room, looking for a particular individual. Her trained eye had confirmed what she suspected all along: the security in the place was tight. Cameras everywhere and guards paying attention to everything around them. About the only thing she had going for her and the others was the sheer number of people attending the auction. Unless she did something to call attention to herself, she blended in fairly well. While not everyone had a colorful costume, there were plenty that did. She recognized a handful of them. It was mostly hired muscle for prominent figures. When you had enough cash to keep a super villain on retainer, you showed them off when the opportunity presented itself. When you were a super villain, you tried to make everyone see you. It wasn't all the different from peacocks strutting their plumage for attention, she supposed.

Since skulking about corridors wasn't likely to work, she needed to implement the plan she had come up with early on. Back in her days with the Hand, she had traveled to New York with Matsuo, since this was one of his areas of operation and the city one of the prime concentrations of the Hand's resources. As Matsuo's right 'hand', she had been given access to their hidden assets in the New York area. His agents had infiltrated many key organizations, including Kingpin's own. While the various members held a wide array of positions in his operations, it was security that she was focused on tonight. That was the point of contact she needed to establish.

Much could have happened in the months since her last trip to New York with the Hand. Either of the men successfully inserted could have been ferreted out and killed, been arrested, or even died in the line of duty for Kingpin. Perhaps they were located at a different operation tonight. They could be on site, but assigned an area she had no access to and thus she'd never see them. A hundred issues could circumvent her plan, and she wasn't relying on some random event giving her an opportunity to slip away with the reliquary.

She could really use an earthquake right now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kingpin continued walking through his domain and felt uneasy. There was no reason for it. On the contrary, everything was going according to plan, and regardless of what most would contend nearly everything did. Disruptions were an exception, not the rule. If super heroes constantly foiled your schemes, you wouldn't make a dime instead of buying multiple buildings across the city and holding auctions with tens of millions of dollars at stake. But decades as the most powerful crime lord in New York made him listen to the unease rather than dismiss it as so many other powerful people would. Instincts had kept him alive where listening to reason would have gotten him killed.

He activated his earpiece which put him in contact with the head of his security. "Bozeman, is everything all right?"

"Yes, sir."

That terse answer was typical of the man. "I don't want a repeat of the Farfarello incident."

"I doubt we'll have problems with swamp gas, sir," was the response.

The Farfarello incident had been when the assassin of the same name had slipped past Fisk's security and attempted to do what he did best upon encountering Kingpin: assassinate. On a lesser person his blade would have been successful, but Kingpin's thick mounds of muscle had prevented the blade from penetrating a vital organ. Not that the stab wound had been pleasant (and was yet another scar added to the collection), but it afforded him the opportunity to snap the assailant's neck before he tried for a less protected target, like an eye. That was also why he needed a new head of security in the form of Bozeman, since he had also snapped the previous head of security's neck for a shoddy job.

Kingpin was fully aware spies like Chameleon or Mystique could disguise themselves and impersonate any of his staff, especially someone as important as Bozeman. That was why he had instructed his chief of security to give that non-sensical response to the question as a form of identity verification. Any spy would have assured him in some reasonable manner to what sounded like a real concern.

That should have relaxed Kingpin, yet the disquiet remained. To a nearby aide he said, "We're starting the auction early. Have two lots brought up for sale immediately, then inform everyone it's about to begin. The lots should be ready by the time we get everyone seated." Again no questions, just obedience.

And still that unease.

Xxxxxxxx

"Blockbuster, incoming. " Binary Bug said into the Phantom Troupe's personal communicators.

"What is it?" he asked, tensing up.

"Kingpin's starting the auction early. He wants some of the merchandise brought up now, so he's sending people to bring it out from the vault."

"So I kill them?" he asked.

"No. If the items pull a no show, he's going to know something's up and send a war party down on our heads. We'll have to let them walk off with what they grab. It's only two lots. There'll still be plenty for us to steal."

The team signed off on the idea. Vakume stopped putting items in the dimensional access point in her stomach, while Copycat ceased making perfect -if temporary- replicas of everything they stole, and exited the vault, locking it behind them.

Binary Bug continued monitoring. "They're coming from the direction of the freight elevators. All of you go to the T-junction at the other end of the hall and go left. If they get nearer I can direct you further away from them." He continued monitoring the situation. A minor setback that would eat into their profits, but things like that happened.

They were still within operational parameters. The theft was delayed, the bottom line affected a bit, but the important thing was it would continue.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elektra concealed her joy at spotting one of her targets. Joseph Ackerman was on duty and observing the main room from the fringes of the crowd, alone. That meant she and 'CJ' could approach without being overheard.

The man in question noticed her draw near. When she was next to him he asked, "Can I help you?"

"How is Matsuo doing?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know any Matsuo." To his credit he titled his head in what would have been the same confusion as someone who was told they knew someone they'd never met.

"You didn't run into him at that compound in upper New York when you were training?"

Again what appeared to be legitimate bewilderment. Not a trace of panic or evasiveness. "You have me mistaken for someone else."

Elektra shrugged. "I'll ask Fisk about him subcontracting members of his security force from the Hand."

Finally he whispered in a voice so low it wouldn't be heard more than five feet away, "What do you want?"

"Privacy for a conversation."

More loudly he said, "This way, Ma'am." And ushered her through a nearby door that led to the interior of the building.

As they walked Elektra warned, "Don't get any ideas. You can't take either of us, and even if you could, one my associates would inform Fisk of your true loyalties. You know his great love of traitors and ninjas alike." He considered the Hand nothing but rivals and not only refused to finance them through assassination contracts, but tried killing them whenever they crossed paths.

Such prejudice from the fat man, she thought with a touch of sarcasm.

As they walked Joseph asked, "What do you want?"

"Lead us to the vault."

He shook his head. "I can't open it so I can't get you in, and there's tons of security all around. You can't steal anything. Give it up."

"Nonsense. We can handle a little vault door, and we're already secure since we're in the presence of a security guard like you."

"They'll wonder why I left my position with guests in tow."

"You're a class A ninja of the Hand specializing in infiltration. You can improvise. Now lead the way."

His face fell in hopelessness as he led them down a hall and further toward the interior of the building.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

'Blue Talon' and 'Jessie' kept close together, making up the kind of conversations they thought an assassin and an accountant working for an evil overlord would have. It ended up being mostly about killing people and tax write offs.

Remarkably, they were far closer to the mark than they would have guessed. Murder was big business in the circles they currently resided.

An announcement informed everyone the auction was about to begin and the guests should enter the main hall where it was to be held. The pair looked at each other, shrugged, then followed everyone else inside.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were nearing the vault when it finally happened. Elektra knew the moment Joesph decided he would have to attack from the change in his breathing. He was decent at masking his intent, but not on her level.

He spun around, the collapsible baton he had subtly taken from the interior of his weapon harness under his coat in hand as he aimed at the woman directly behind him. She caught the wrist and arrested the force of the blow, hitting him with a palm thrust to the jaw which knocked him out.

"Now what do we do?" Ranma asked as he looked at the unconscious body.

Elektra kept the baton and patted him down for other weapons. She opted to leave the gun where it was. Noise was the last thing she wanted to make, and Captain Japan would not approve of her making holes in their foes. "Judging by the building's design and the direction he was taking us, I think I know where the vault is. You take his body and hide him in one of those rooms we passed down the previous hall. They should be empty, and if they aren't…?"

"Empty them out." He hefted Joseph's body over his shoulder like it was weightless. A weightless one hundred and seventy pounds.

"I'll locate the vault, assess the situation, and rendezvous with you here." She set off. In her heart, she suspected it mattered little. Unless the people at the video controls were asleep, they would have witnessed her disabling the guard and security teams would bear down on her position within minutes.

Oh well. She'd prepared for the worst from the beginning. Now it was about to happen.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Binary Bug's idle speculation as to what the guard was doing with the costumed woman and her bodyguard became razor sharp tension as he saw the guard go down from the woman's blow.

He was on the Troupe's communicators in a flash. "I've got news. It looks like a guard who was playing tour guide for a couple of guests got taken out by them. They're separating. Death Dealer. Shatterfist. I'm sending you to deal with each one you're closest to. I'll keep the rest of you updated."

He gave them directions and watched the path they took through the various video monitors. The first truly unexpected hiccup in their plans occurred, and he wondered if that meant there was another one coming.

If so, it was no reason to panic. They could adapt. They were the best at what they did.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Kingpin's brow creased in consternation. There was no reason for it. Items were being sold off at a good clip for a decent amount of money, within a half million of his projections regarding the amount of merchandise sold. On occasion the wide range of personalities that made up the underworld could be prickly and rub each other wrong, but not once had he been forced to inform hotheads to watch their tempers, reminding them they were on neutral ground protected by Kingpin.

On the surface everything was perfectly fine, but the unease he had felt earlier had not been departed. On the contrary, it was growing. He contacted Bozeman again. "Is everything all right?"

"So far so good," came the response.

Kingpin cut communications and let Bozeman get back to his job without distractions. Why wouldn't the agitation go away?

It was time to do something else to ease his discomfort. To Man Monster he ordered, "Go the vault and station yourself there. The only people allowed down there are the ones bringing the merchandise here. I'll let you know when I send for more. Disruptor, check the security center and guard it. If there is anything that looks the least bit suspicious, inform me immediately."

Both men set off. Once Man Monster was in position, Kingpin would send for the next lot to be brought up.

This entire venture was something he had been looking forward to. Now he just wanted this night over with.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Elektra was beginning to wonder if the guards at the cameras were asleep when someone finally approached from the corridor in front of her. The curious thing was it wasn't a guard, but rather a man in a catering outfit.

Who she could tell by movement alone was no caterer. Every step was perfection of body control. His breathing flawlessly measured as if about to fight, and those eyes. Hers had been like that back in the day. No, on second thought they weren't. She killed because it meant nothing to her. This pale-faced man had the eyes of someone who had delivering death etched in his smiling soul. There had been plenty of those in the Hand. She started to bring her baton up….

…which is the only reason she survived as an object seemed to appear in his hand. He threw it so fast his hand was a blur even to one such as her. It was all reflexes as she shifted the baton in front of her throat to block the object, which embedded itself in the side of the weapon. Her eyes identified the hurled form as a playing card that resembled a 9 of hearts from a standard 52 card deck. Clearly it wasn't.

One name shot to the top of the list when it came to deadly playing cards: Death Dealer of the Phantom Troupe. She had researched him, as well as the rest of the Troupe, for the Scimitar hit. Much like the swordsman, she had concluded if she was ever to kill Death Dealer, it behooved her to do it from the shadows since she was uncertain she'd survive a direct confrontation.

With that option off the table, she was about to find out firsthand if her assessment was on point.

Elektra lacked her sai, which were the weapons she was best with. It appeared Death Dealer didn't have his trademark tri blades with him, most likely for the same reason: they were too big to hide on an infiltration mission. That was a push.

She discovered he wasn't weaponless, despite throwing his card. His hand slipped to his belt where he revealed a concealed push knife. Small but deadly, especially in his hands. She had no blade of her own, which gave him a lethal advantage.

Except that wasn't quite true. A plan formed in her mind. A risky one a fighter of his caliber might recognize, then use against her, but against the likes of Death Dealer she had to take a chance.

She unleashed a snarl and made a show of pulling the card out of the baton and throwing it into a wall to her right, where it stuck in the paneling.

Perhaps he felt the gesture would provide an opening as the card had barely embedded itself before he was upon her. His speed was at least equal to hers, and she found her face nearly slashed open with his first swing. In evading the stroke, Elektra fell victim to a hand thrust into her kidney, which hurt *a lot*. Had it not been for the Hand increasing her pain threshold so she could ignore such damage and still move with one hundred percent effectiveness, she would have died from the second thrust aimed at her throat.

Perhaps it was her unlikely evasion that left him open enough to land a punch to his stabbing arm. But again his speed factored in the struggle as he pulled back enough for the blow to not fracture the limb, only bruising it. Death Dealer showed his own pain threshold was impressive as the next blade thrust was still as fast as the others. Once again she evaded only to be struck by the weaponless hand.

And so the foes exchanged life and death strike after strike.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Binary Bug watched the monitors in concern as everything seemed to be coming apart at once. Two unknown variables were now on the table. Death Dealer had already engaged the woman while Shatterfist was about to meet his. The more unanticipated events that occurred, the more likely it was the mission would end in disaster.

The Troupe member had been so focused on tracking all four individuals he failed to notice the really large man who had been at Kingpin's side was making a beeline to the vault. By the time Binary Bug noticed it was almost too late. He had no idea who the guy was, and thus no idea of his strength level. Blockbuster was among the strongest in their chosen field, but there were a few more powerful villains out there. Some of those operated on the East Coast, and Kingpin could afford to hire them if he felt like it. This could be one of those chosen few.

"Blockbuster. Really big superpowered talent almost on top of you. Looks like a bruiser. Try and bluff him first." It probably wouldn't work, but even if Blockbuster won the fight, Bug would probably have to call the operation off. Too many variables had entered the equation and everything was on the verge of going off the rails where they'd be at a fatal disadvantage. If only they had more time for Copycat and Vakume to do their jobs. Every minute meant more money for the Troupe, and they were running out of them.

Xxxxxx

Man Monster rounded the corner and saw the big man standing with his arms crossed next to the vault door, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

"Who are you?" Man Monster asked.

Casually he said, "I'm the new guy Kingpin hired to watch the vault door."

Man Monster shook his head. "Nah, he just sent me to guard the vault door since no one was guarding it."

The man shrugged, and actually looked pleased at the bluff failing. "You got me. The name's Blockbuster."

"I'm Man Monster." He cracked his knuckles.

"With a mug like that, I'm not surprised."

Man Monster just shook his head. "I don't get upset with a guy insulting me when I already decided to kill him. Seems kind of hypocritical, y'know?"

"Fair enough," Blockbuster agreed.

The moment they were within arm's reach, they simultaneously threw the hardest punches they could.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once again Binary Bug was so focused on the fights breaking out he failed to notice the masked figure with the high-tech handgun make his way toward the security center, pause outside the doors, then open them. The sound shook Binary Bug out of his reverie and he focused on the here and now. Like every member of the Phantom Troupe, he was a seasoned and dangerous killer. Since all of his comrades were accounted for, he didn't bother identifying the target before firing an electrical blast.

But the thief wasn't the only one prepared for the worst. Disruptor figured something was seriously wrong if Kingpin was this on edge. Ready for trouble, he darted out of the way of the electrical charge from the armored figure's hand. And since in that instant he'd been able to identify the type of opponent he was facing, he flipped the dial on his disruptor to its proper setting.

A second blast narrowly missed his hooded head, but it did and he fired in return. The azure beam closed the distance between weapon and target, striking Binary Bug in the chest. While the impact was minimal, the energy wavelength of the weapon was perfect for frying every system in the armor. The intruder went down, unmoving.

They didn't call him Disruptor for nothing.

With his foe helpless, Disruptor rose languidly to his feet. Moments like this were why he now counted the dashed dreams of becoming a powerful politician a blessing. Ordering people killed was nothing compared to the catharsis of dispatching them with your own two hands. Over a dozen dead already and the thrill was just as intense as the first time.

He slowly took aim with his gun, uncertain if his foe was awake in the armor. He really wanted him aware of what was to come. Perhaps he should shout at the figure and see if he was conscious.

As Disruptor considered what to do, the weapon in his hand exploded.

Binary Bug felt the wave of mental energy he'd unleashed spike his own brain. While he relied primarily on the armor to get things done, he also possessed the mental ability to override electronic systems, including those on advanced weaponry, like Disruptor's disruptor. The problem was he had to ease into it, and if he forced it out without proper build-up, he received a severe mental backlash. In this case he had no choice since his armor was down and it was kill or be killed.

This time the mental spike piercing his brain was more than he could take, subconjunctival hemorrhaging occurred in both eyes and he passed out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ranma had just finished ditching the unconscious guard into one of the many empty offices in the building. He had passed up the first two because he was looking for 'that perfect hiding spot' before understanding they were all basically the same and it made no difference which one the body was left in. There was the same chance of someone stumbling on it in here as any of the others. Why couldn't the place have a dumb waiter, and he could have tucked it out of sight there? Horror movies always had nooks and crannies like that, though said body always seemed to pop out the instant someone was next to it…

His thoughts were arrested when a sizeable guy in a caterer's outfit approached. Shoot, knocking out a crime lord's murderous gunsels was fine, but some schlub who was toiling for minimum wage and had no direct connection to criminal activity was wrong on every level. He'd try to deflect the guy's interest somehow.

Ranma went with the impression he was authorized to be here and could give orders to the hired help. "Sir, I'm afraid this is a restrict—."

The move was so fast it almost landed clean: a hard fist directed at his throat that would have meant death. Ranma's own battle honed reflexes were second to none, which was why the blow only glanced off the side of his neck. It would still bruise, but nothing broke resulting in asphyxiation.

Due to Ranma putting everything into evading the blow, it left him open for the instant follow up. A savage strike to the side of his head. Subconsciously his mind ranked it and determined it was as hard a punch as any normal strength human had hit him with. The stunning effect prevented him from setting up any kind of a counter before a second blow struck the other side just as viciously. Then a third like the first.

Years of enduring a beating at his father (and numerous others') hands triggered the correct survival instincts. Ranma covered up his head to prevent another blow despite being on the verge of unconsciousness. This was a life and death situation and he was much closer to one side than the other.

His opponent didn't waste time targeting a protected area and instead starting throwing fists into his sides like a boxer would a punching bag, with Ranma offering about the same amount of resistance as one.

The third punch broke a rib, which might have been fortunate as the sharp pain succeeded in focusing Ranma's thoughts where pure willpower had failed. His adrenaline kicked in and with that organic fuel his mind raced faster than it otherwise could. This guy was a striker, possibly a harder one than Ranma. His attack speed was equally fast, and, as the first assault had shown, the man was going for murder not submission. With the number of blows and damage he had already dealt, Ranma was almost certainly going to lose this fight.

Pride gave way to survival, and there was one technique that came to the forefront. It was one of the foundations of the Saotome School of Martial Arts Genma had ingrained into his son despite his intense distaste for it. He hadn't used it in years, and felt guilty about considering it, but things were too serious, and desperate times called for more desperate measures.

And so it was he unleashed the Saotome Secret Technique… and ran away. He went full speed, ignoring the sharp pain coming from the broken rib jamming into his chest cavity, his breathing becoming deep and heavy. There would be far worse if he didn't use every ounce of speed he could muster.

Xxxxxxxx

Elektra felt her body begging for respite as her muscles burned and sweat plastered her uniform. She would have preferred her Hand outfit with less material, and therefore less sweat absorbed cloth sticking to her body. Hell, if she could she would have turned into Tigra, secret identity be damned since she was coming close to losing this fight, and subsequently her life. As Tigra she could defeat Death Dealer with her superior strength and agility, and even if he stabbed her, so long as it wasn't in a vital spot, she'd regenerate. But there was no cold water to be had, and her outfit was waterproofed to prevent that in any case. It wouldn't do to have a bird villain turn into a heroic feline in front of the wrong crowd.

Death Dealer hadn't stabbed her yet, but she'd suffered an exchange of a dozen blows to half that for him. She was only human. Eventually she'd slow down and unless he hit the wall at the same time, she'd take a wound where blood would flow and wear her down even quicker.

The assassin would live up to his name and deal death to her.

So it was time to take the chance and use the trap she'd prepared at the start of the fight. He was so intent on killing her, and knowing he was close, he wouldn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

Unless he had figured it out, then she was dead for certain.

She dodged her body into the right position. He stabbed for the same kidney he struck with a chop earlier, and she evaded, but did so with a full body spin which was uselessly flashy and counterproductive since it burned off precious energy she needed.

Except it allowed her to snatch the razor playing card she had embedded in the wall with her free hand. Continuing her spin, she brought her new weapon down and toward Death Dealer's face.

And still he almost evaded it. The card didn't carve a notch from forehead to chin, as she planned, but it did cut off a good bit of his nose. Blood squirted everywhere instantly.

A wound like that even he couldn't ignore, and in that split-second opening Elektra brought her baton into his head as hard as she could twice. With the second one he went straight down.

She kicked the knife from his hand and brought the baton down on both shoulders, breaking bone and rendering them useless. That was helpless enough as far as she was concerned. He hadn't even twitched. He was down, and going to be out for quite a while.

With the fight over, she took an account of her environment. No other reinforcements had arrived. She took his fallen blade and continued on with her primary goal: getting to the vault.

Xxxx

Ranma hit the turn of one corridor and kept going, delighted in seeing a split at the end of the hall which gave him options for an avenue of escape. He went left and saw it was another long corridor with another turn. His spatial awareness was tuned up high enough he could sense his opponent, who had a late start since he hadn't counted on a full out run in one direction, falling behind. One of the basic tenants his father had taught him was no matter how powerful and skilled you were, you could never knock out a foe who ran faster than you.

When your opponent's objective was your death, that counted as a win in the survivor's column.

But Ranma had better ideas, because when one was focused on killing while pursuing a fleeing foe, their thoughts narrowed and vision tunneled, especially when they were convinced their foe cared only for escape.

Ranma spared a fast glance over his shoulder. He saw the deadly determination in the eyes of a fearless killer, while Ranma made certain the caterer saw the opposite: naked fear from prey that saw the predator still on the trail. It was a mask, for the look was in reality calculation. In that split second Ranma gauged his foe's speed, distance, and height.

He looked forward again and took three steps. However on the third he didn't keep going forward, but rather killed his momentum and reversed it, bringing his elbow backward with all the force he could muster. If his calculations were correct, and his opponent's mental state as it should be, and he wasn't an even better fighter than Ranma thought, and had no super abilities that weren't evident-.

It turned out his lifetime of training and combat was on point as his elbow smashed into his opponent's face. Ranma thought it wasn't quite as impactful as it should have been, probably because his foe had tried to slow down at the last possible second, but it was enough. The caterer had so much forward velocity built up, and Ranma was so sturdy and powerful, that while his head was stopped cold, the lower part of his body kept going. His feet actually left the floor as inertia and gravity had its way, causing him to crash to the tile flat on his back.

Ranma was on him in a flash, smashing him in the face twice and causing the back of his head to bounce into the floor. He had his fist drawn back for a third but stopped as his foe's body went rigid after the second one, a sign indicating unconsciousness. With the deadly part of the conflict over, Ranma took a second to breathe a sigh of pained relief. This guy was probably the hardest striking normal human he had ever encountered, and that included the hero himself.

With someone this dangerous Ranma took no chances. He flipped the guy on his stomach and pulled his pants down to his ankles then pulled the shirt over his head so he could neither move his legs nor see. No one else happened to come by, which was good since this appeared to be a compromising position even he didn't think he could lie his way out of.

There was no resistance as Ranma brought the hands behind the back and tore his opponent's outfit into improvised bonds. He picked the killer caterer up and tossed him into the nearest empty room, the best he could do considering the situation. He hadn't been instructed on how to keep someone relieved of consciousness for hours like Elektra.

As Ranma left the room and straightened up his clothing as best as he could, he made a mental observation.

Caterers were a whole lot more dangerous in America than they were in Japan.

Xxxxxxxx

Elektra heard the sounds of a fight coming up ahead. More wary than ever, she slowly peeked her head around the corner just enough she could observe what was transpiring.

Two big men were duking it out, inhumanly big and inhumanly strong. There was an ugly one she recalled being near Kingpin during the party. It took her a moment to identify the other: Blockbuster, yet another member of the Phantom Troupe.

And with that the mission was officially over. She went back quickly to retrieve Captain Japan, gather Mousse and Ukyou, and get the hell out. Even a worn-down Blockbuster would be impossible to stop. If the others had their weapons and she was Tigra, then yes, four fully armed Avengers could take that living powerhouse down, though it wasn't a sure thing. But without them, not a chance.

But even if they were fully armed she'd have still called it quits. This was now officially the second member of the Phantom Troupe on site, which meant there were almost certainly others. Maybe all of them. In that case it would take a near full complement of Avengers to stop the group. On top of that it was only a matter of time before Kingpin realized his auction had been invaded by thieves, and he would mobilize every resource he had to deal with them.

Everything was about to come down around their ears and they needed to flee before it hit the fan.

Xxxxxxxx

Binary Bug finally came to. With the return of consciousness came reaction. Instantly he rose up and did his best to try and repel any attackers, but discovered a bit of difficulty since his armor's systems were still down. It had redundancies for rebooting if an external force caused a shutdown, yet all of them remained crashed. The armor was damaged but nowhere near enough to cause catastrophic system failure. It must have had something to do with the beam itself. Apparently Disruptor knew his stuff.

Disruptor! Binary Bug surveyed the room and saw the man lying on the floor, unmoving. His upper arm blown off but with little blood. Evidently the energy released from the exploding gun had also cauterized as it destroyed.

No other attackers were in the room. Apparently Disruptor had come alone, but if you wanted only one guy to look in on a situation, it would be a super villain. With no immediate visual threats, Binary Bug assessed how much time had passed. A look toward one of the security cameras showed Blockbuster finishing off his equally gigantic foe. Despite their sizes being similar, their strength was not. While his teammate showed signs of the struggle, he didn't look extremely worn down or wounded.

Man Monster, not so much. It was clear he was on his last legs, and in another three blows he was motionless on the ground. Blockbuster made certain he wouldn't answer a ten count by stomping on the skull and shattering it. Skullcrushing was a favorite of his. Scimitar used to joke about renaming him Skullcrusher, at least before the swordsman's untimely demise.

Next he looked to the cameras where Death Dealer and Shatterfist should be dispatching their foes, only to discover they had been the recipients of dispatching. While he couldn't tell if Death Dealer was alive or dead, it was clear Shatterfist remained alive, since the large bodyguard type had tied him up while carrying his limp form over his shoulder. You didn't tie up corpses' hands and feet. Binary Bug mentally marked the room the big guy tossed him into.

The armored member of the Phantom Troupe activated his team's communications system, which was independent of the armor. "Mission abort. Everyone break off and rendezvous at Building Location 3."

Blockbuster was still wiping his foot on the floor in an effort to get the blood and brains out. "Why? I took care of the pest?"

"Because I just fought off another super villain that was clearly ordered up here, like the big one was sent to look in on the vault. If it was part of a regular guard shift, it would have been regular guards or Bozeman would have informed us. Odds are Kingpin personally handed out the order, and since we have no idea when they were supposed to check in, it's only a matter of time before the fat man will know something is up and sound the alarm."

"We've barely grabbed and copied 60% of the goods," Copycat said.

"60% of something is better than a 100% of dead. Also Death Dealer and Shatterfist got taken down by two folks from the auction. I'm not sure what's going on with them."

All of the team were startled. That was a lot of their muscle, and Phantom Troupe members almost never got 'taken down'. But two of them at the same time in separate fights?

"Are they dead?" Needle asked.

"I can only confirm Shatterfist's survival. He's tucked in a room on our exit route."

"It's a good thing he is alive, or I'd kill every person in this place," Blockbuster promised. Shatterfist went as far back as Scimitar had to the founding of the group.

Binary Bug continued, "Death Dealer, I don't know. It was some bird woman that took him down, and I can see blood around him, a good bit of it, and she didn't bother tying him up. His location is in the opposite direction of the escape route. By my estimation if we go for him, the alarms will be sounding and we'll have to fight our way out. By the way, my armor's down for the count, so all I've got is my electronics overriding, which isn't going to be that useful in a straight up gun fight."

"Then we're down three, and neither Copycat or Vakume are heavyweights," Needle assessed. "We leave now. Death Dealer will have to fend for himself. We can't risk everything for what's probably a corpse."

Blockbuster started toward Shatterfist's location as Copycat and Vakume emerged from the vault. "Tough luck for DD, but he was always a dick. We can replace him."

Binary Bug agreed and headed out of the control room. "Copycat, Vakume, head out first and go to Rendezvous Two since you have the goods. The rest of us will do a rearguard action in case Kingpin sounds the alarm and we need to pull them away from you."

The group moved with the precision professionals like them were capable of.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Elektra rushed toward Ranma and noted his disheveled state, "What happened?"

"Ran into a caterer with an attitude problem."

Great. Another member of the Phantom Troupe confirmed. "We're out of here." She grabbed him by the hand to lead him back to the others.

"Why?" Ranma was tempted to resist, but she *was* leading the operation.

"There's another group of thieves also stealing from this place."

"We can take them." Three Avengers and a capable assassin could take down just about anybody.

Elektra shook her head hard enough the feathered mane brushed against his nose, nearly making him sneeze. "Even if we could, and that's highly doubtful, the battle would alert Kingpin and his forces. And we can't take them on as well and win." She cut off his next protest. "We knew there were risks coming here. We knew we might not be able to pull this off. We needed a number of factors to go in our direction and not enough did. Mousse is not going to want to jeopardize his girlfriend's life over an object, and out of all of us she's the most vulnerable."

Ranma considered her assessment and came to the same conclusion. Mousse was pretty good in hand-to-hand combat, but Ukyou without her bow and trick arrows?

"Yeah, it's the right call." He hated losing with a passion, but it happened. Sometimes the odds were too heavily stacked against you, and he wasn't risking his friends' lives for ego. They weren't saving the world from some costumed lunatic; this was a personal thing, and the stakes were all based on emotion. As long as Mousse was cool with it, they'd head out.

No guards impeded them as they backtracked their path. The lack of security had to be the Phantom Troupe's, doing, Elektra figured. It was the only explanation. At least they had been useful for something.

The pair did their best to straighten out their uniforms and look casual, then emerged into the area outside the auction hall without incident. Likewise no alarms had been set off yet. Despite that she wanted outside the building and in their limousine ten minutes ago. While at this point she thought it was safe so even if security finally realized they'd been compromised, -no one should connect her and Captain Japan's attempted theft with the Troupe's actual one-, getting caught in a crossfire between the homicidal and powerful was not a position she looked forward to.

While most of the gathering were inside the hall where the auction was taking place, there were a number of people milling about outside, mostly conversing with one another. She wagered more than half the people present were here for networking and getting an idea of the lie of the land for future endeavors rather than purchasing anything from the auction. In some ways it wasn't all the different from the super hero soiree she and Captain Japan had attended. For these people it presented a rare neutral ground where enemies and rivals could interact for a brief period of time.

Luck was on her side as she spotted Mousse and Ukyou outside the hall, close to one another. She moved efficiently but not too quickly so as to not draw attention. They made her actions meaningless when they rushed toward her with an urgent step.

"We need seven thousand dollars," Mousse said.

"Why?"

"We got the reliquary and that was what the final bid was."

Considering the life experiences Elektra had gone through- from child of a bombed-out village, to a forced torturous upbringing with the Hand, to furry super hero, not much could rattle her, but this caused a literal jaw drop. "How?"

The pair explained excitedly, "The item before ours was some kind of paint that gave people steel hard skin when it was applied. That went for four hundred and fifty thousand if you can believe that. So when a nice but normal old small building came up next, no one was exactly excited about something that mundane. We were the only bidders. But they won't give it to us until we wire them the cash."

Elektra, still in a daze, pulled out her phone and linked it to one of her bank accounts, then handed the now ready device to Ukyou. The two went to the person they needed to pay to claim the item. They came back moments later with the box the reliquary was in, having already confirmed the contents.

No longer caring if they were seen leaving together, the quartet headed out to have the limousine pick them up.

"Seven thousand dollars?" Elektra softly intoned. "If I had known that was all it would take, I could have come here alone and bought it myself. I paid more for the jet to bring us here. Everything we did, all this work and effort, all for nothing. Such a waste." Her shoulders slumped.

Now in the brightest of spirits for having gotten her boyfriend's tribal artifact, Ukyou tried to uplift the assassin's mood. "It wasn't all wasted. I love my make over."

"And I love Blue Talon's outfit." Mousse held out an arm showing off the garment. "This is the perfect mix of style and comfort, while still being loose enough to use my hidden weapon techniques. I think I'm going to redesign my outfits to mirror this style. No blue dragons or birds on it, though. Maybe fire along the back, or a devil head with horns on it to go with my mask. I'll have to think about it."

"I loved the food here. We should stop by a restaurant before we fly back to Japan," Ranma suggested.

"Sure." Since they would have to register a flight plan back anyway, they'd have the time.

But the positive comments only improved Elektra's mood slightly. So much unnecessary money spent, bruises acquired, and plans made for no reason. She silently vowed if any other of her tribe's artifacts showed up, she was soloing the recovery.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Rendezvous Two was a rented warehouse near the waterfront, located within a half mile of the boat that was to take the Phantom Troupe out of New York and toward North Carolina. There was no lighting in the interior, since they didn't want any passersby to know the building was occupied, but a cloudless sky and full moon allowed sufficient light through the high windows to dimly illuminate the room. Vakume sat on an empty crate, kicking her legs back and forth. Copycat clung to shadows, his cloak drawn around his body so only his head was visible, his hair pulled forward concealing his face in shadow. Only if one looked closely could they see his eyes.

A hole appeared in the middle of Vakume's stomach and a watch shot out. She snagged it out of midair and hit a button on the side to light up the screen. "They should be here in the next ten minutes, if nothing went wrong."

"I think we'd have heard Blockbuster tearing up the place if it came to conflict. I assume they are being cautious to ensure they weren't followed. We'll be at our most vulnerable on the open ocean. Best to deal with any commotion on dry land."

There was a light breeze that stirred through the large area. Copycat's eyes focused in a way no mere human's could. It was the way the iris' contracted.

He said, "Wide air screen three o' clock."

Vakume sent a powerful gust of air covering the area in question in the form of a funnel. A figure that had been moving at super speed was hit and slammed against the wall. He was in a purple and light red skin tight bodysuit. Goggles were over his eyes and sewn into his mask: a common trait for those who usually moved too fast to be seen.

Unless one had eyes that could precisely see everything all the time, and could replay what they had seen in exact detail and adjust their vision accordingly.

The two rose and approached the stunned figure. Copycat pulled a set of throwing knives from within the folds of his cloak. "Speedster. I'll stab him in the legs to keep him still. We'll leave him alive since the others will probably want to interrogate him so he can reveal how he discovered our location."

Just as he drew his arm back to throw, twin whips coiled around his and Vakume's necks from behind. Electrical shocks channeled through the lengths knocking both out.

Blacklash and Whiplash kept the whip handles in their hands and around the fallen Troupe members' necks. Mandarin stood between them while Power Man and Dragon Pink entered the warehouse.

"I'll check on Speed Demon," Pink said in concern. She walked over and helped him into a sitting position.

He gasped as one on the verge of death, "I'm not sure I'm going to make it."

She boldly proclaimed, "I know how to revive you." And buried his face in her gratuitous cleavage.

After three seconds, he shot to his feet and shouted, "I'm alive." And raced around the room as a blur.

"Glad to be of help," she said sincerely.

"I'm feeling a little light headed myself." Power Man swayed on his feet.

"Knock it off!" Mandarin snapped. "Vakume is the one holding the goods. Secure her." He instructed Blacklash, who tied up the hands and legs, then wrapped a set of connected wire discs around her neck. It was an additional measure to keep her from being unruly if she revived. Most people didn't like having their throat crushed by an increasingly intense gravity field.

"What about Creepamundo?" Whiplash asked of her prisoner.

"A useless liability. Dispatch him."

One flick of the wrist resulted in one snapped neck. She retracted the whip into her glove where it disappeared into an impossibly small space.

Power Man hefted the still living and secured Phantom Troupe member over his shoulder.

Mandarin walked toward the exit, a wave of his hand indicating the other members of the Lethal Legion should follow in his wake. "We'll take her back to one of our bases and force her to release all she stole before we dispose of her as well. Do you want to torture her, or let Tarou do it?" he asked of Blacklash.

"Pantyhose is at his best with women. Let him do it," she suggested.

Mandarin nodded in agreement. He would have to thank Power Man again for talking him into keeping the Prime Mover. A simple, "If Dr. Doom made it, it's probably really useful," cleared the Mandarin's vision regarding the game playing robot, so he took it with him. It proved to be an invaluable tool. Among its various uses, it's 'human game scenario' programming allowed it to anticipate someone would hit the Kingpin's auction, most likely the Phantom Troupe. While it had all been guesswork and percentages, they were high enough the Mandarin sent he and his team overseas for the opportunity to make off with already purloined wealth. The other team had covered the other possible extraction point the Troupe would use. It had been pure chance it was this one.

A rare smiled broadened. On this night he had secured a tremendous amount of wealth, while allowing Kingpin to go after the significantly depleted ranks of the Phantom Troupe, since they would take the well-earned blame for robbing him in the first place. Rivals warring with each other only benefitted the Mandarin, and if one eliminated the other, then another opposing piece was removed from the board.

Clearly spending time with Prime Mover was making him think more in game terms, but if it was good enough for Dr. Doom, it was good enough for him.

More plans had fallen into place. One step closer on the path to achieving all his goals. The world would be his.

Someday.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Stick entered Mousse's apartment via the same fourth story window he always exited out of in his Daredevil guise. There was no fire escape, the only way to go in and out was to scale the wall, and she was one of the few that could.

He was out on patrol, which was an increasingly rare event since it cut into his girlfriend time, which Stick approved of. The boy had chartered a course leading straight to a lifetime of isolation and ruin until he joined the Avengers. Then Elektra gave him absolution for sins that existed only in his mind, but that was the only place sin carried any weight to begin with.

But now that Ukyou was in his life, well if you lined up morbid, perpetually gloomy, anti-social Mousse to the current version, you'd have thought an imposter who was terrible at his job had switched places with him.

Violating his personal space in this matter was due to his recent return from New York, and what he'd told Stick he'd obtained. When he informed her of the reliquary, the intention was to update his mentor on what had been happening in his life. He had no idea of the shockwave he'd sent through her with the information. It was a good thing she had control over her emotions, as well as her physical being, or he'd have known something was wrong since nothing more than casual interest should have reigned.

Stick didn't want him to know why. He was at a wonderful place in his life, and she didn't want to disturb that. She'd never informed him that their crossing paths when he was younger was no coincidence, but her design. That in his quest to seek out the exiled village elder known as Cologne, she had found him. Initially it had been because of hatred of her villagers, one and all. She'd been blinded and exiled by the council for 'defiance', meaning she'd tried to do everything in her power to prevent their suicide by challenging the Chinese government. But small-scale politicians could be as blind as the ones that ran entire countries, only in the council's case they couldn't lie about how they weren't responsible for the tragedies that happened when they were in control.

Dead people were pretty much beyond blame shifting.

But upon seeing what had happened to the poor boy, the only survivor since the other girl was almost certainly dead, her heart softened. He hadn't even been alive when Cologne had met her fate and eventually found her way to Japan to take on the identity of Stick. So she brought him under her wing, but left her forged identity in place since she didn't want him perpetually tearing open the wounds that would remain with her until the end of time.

And so it would remain, but with the return of this particular item of grave importance, she had to verify it personally.

She found it easily enough, sitting in the open on a table. Really, the boy should keep it in a secure location, but if it was encased within anything it would be beyond the reach of his senses. Perhaps he needed a connection to his dead home, something Stick had moved beyond. The boy was connection enough for her.

She went over to it. The feeling matched her mind's eye memory of the artifact. That was the problem with primarily observing something solely with sight. Once taken, you had to find ways to compensate for the omission.

Now there were only two things left to do. The first was simple enough, if one knew how. Her hands played over the surface of the artifact until they fell upon a tiny door so detailed one would almost assume it could be opened.

Only it could, and she did so. Her hands then went to pole in the middle of the open area of the building, and bent it in a way that did not break it, showing it had been designed like that. Next it was a building roof twisted a quarter turn, which slid the hidden panel in the bottom open. Now it was the middle of the three buttons she pushed.

And a different door in the building popped open. She reached inside and pulled out the vial. Moving it around produced the sloshing sound of liquid contents still in the state they had been left in, neither evaporated or used.

Confirming the vial's presence, she replaced it, and put everything back in its proper spots. Only the elders knew the true reason the reliquary was considered sacred, and it wasn't for the detailed art. That final dose in the vial was the reason for everything.

She had no interest in it, and not because she had received the honor of the third to last dose. That part of her life was behind her, and she would partake of no fraction of it no matter what the benefits were. At her age perhaps they were more detriment than anything.

Mousse would have to be informed someday. It was his legacy as the sole survivor of the Joketsuzoku, but since there was only one dose left of something many would consider more valuable than all the money in the world, it would only cause stress and conflict his young life did not need. Not when it had finally started aright.

When he was older a decision would have to be made. More maturity would be required.

So Stick turned her back on the final physical testament to her tribe and departed the same way she had entered.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[End chapter]

And with this Act I of Book 2 draws to a close (Sorry I didn't label it Act 1, but I didn't do it in Book 1 so it is consistent). I wanted a little bit of downtime between the climax of Book 1 for the characters, so I dealt mostly with subplots, characterization, some adventures, some familiar faces returning, and a little bit of groundwork for the next Act and beyond.

Yes at some point the Magnificent Ten will show up, so now you know one of them.

But not in Act 2. Hydra is finally going to be more than a background force that occasionally confounds our heroes. The Imperial Hydra has finally recruited a guy she thinks can be the future of the organization. So with new management, they are finally going to make their bid for eventual world domination.

So be there for the simply titled 'Have A Hydra New Year' for Act 2. Like the Animal Farm, and the Hate Monger and the Peacemaker were labeled.

I'm throwing on a new Handbook at the end of the first chapter of the Act to update you on the major players and the end results of Act I. Like Copycat and Vakume being killed, reminders of all the Hydra members we've met so far, Etc.

A No Prize for anyone who can remember off the top of their heads where Raliegh/Disrupter and Man Monster's first appearance was.