X-Men Mission: Fin Fang Foom!!!

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

The X-Men begin to scout the casino that the Mandarin owns, under the direction of Christian Kane.



It was raining hard on the city, but that barely seemed to lighten the crowds of people moving purposefully up and down the streets. Shoppers of all races followed the sides of the elegant Portuguese style prada, ignoring the downpour in favour of the shopping experience at one of the great Asian crossroads. It seemed to be a disconnected world, where modern skyscrapers in steel and glass shared space with more traditional Chinese buildings, and old manor homes of an obvious European design.

The Longtouhuan Casino was one of the newer constructions, a spire of dark glass rising from a typically garish facade of neon and glitz. While quieter mid-day, the casino still drew in a respectable business, which in turn provided acceptable cover for Christian Kane, and his operatives. The crowds were ample enough to allow the X-Men to spread out and observe the different aspects of the building, with little fear of discovery despite their relative lack of surveillance experience.

From his own 'perch', a comfortable bar booth on the second floor of an elegant tea house across the street, Kane pushed the earbud receiver in and touched a button on his laptop. "Status report, if you'd all be so kind."

Shiro stood in line to a nightclub a few buildings down, wearing an exasperated expression that was barely even fake anymore. The line was huge and moving slowly, so it made a good vantage point, but he was growing restless. "I have not seen any trouble yet," he said, reaching up to tap the Blutooth-like earpiece, a reassurance to remind him of its presence. "Visitors are going in and out fairly consistently, from what I see."

From his position next to Jennie, Jim didn't have the advantage of electronic communication, but the request was heard nonetheless. #We're inside,# he sent, #Visual coming.# It wasn't the easiest link. There was an unfamiliar mind in the net, and at the moment Jan's required a particular degree of adjustment, but the connection was holding steady -- and as irritating as the lack of electronic communication within the casino was, the restriction came with certain advantages. The telepath ignored the clang and babble to let his gaze sweep the busy floor. It was nothing more than a flick of the eyes to the casual observer, but leaked across a psi-link it was as good as video surveillance.

The main floor of the Longtouhuan casino was a cavernous space, bordered in rich red hangings, and set with polished black tables running a variety of different games. Unlike an American casino, slot machines did not dominate, instead the throngs of mostly Chinese clustered around traditional Chinese gaming tables, offering sic bo and fan-tan and more Western games like blackjack, roulette and boule. The Queen of the Macau casino was still baccarat, as the high rollers were watched with the same obsessiveness that Americans followed poker, screaming as the three cards were revealed.
Moving unobtrusively through the floor were the security, in their dark brown jackets and earpieces, circulating between the tables. Less noticeable were the men in uniformly black suits and sunglasses; rougher and less purposeful, moving with a sense of restrained menace at the very edges of the crowds; obviously Triad and certainly armed.

For Jennie, it was almost like coming home. The lights, the ringing of the slot machines, even the electronic bells, it was so familiar she had to pinch herself to remind her where they were. Even if she didn't miss all the signs in both English, Portuguese and Cantonese. The dark-haired girl took hold of Haller's arm as they walked further into the casino. "See anything you like in here, Jess?" she said cheerily. "They have all sorts of games in here," Jennie added as she checked off the positions of all the gaming tables. Under her breath she muttered to the girl tucked under the hair brushing her collar, "And would you stop squirming? It tickles."

#I am not squirming!# Jan protested over the mindlink. #I'm just keeping myself from getting squished. I wonder what would happen if I got squished right now. Would you know? What would happen to the mindlink?#

#The equivalent of hanging up the phone.# Garrison's own perch was at the bar, where he switched between chatting with the people around him and engaging in friendly games of mah-jong. All the while, the Canadian had been watching the security move and the ceiling. It had been unexpected to the people on the mission with his fluency in both Mandarin and Cantonese, until he'd finally explained that his mother had been a Far East specialist, good enough to work as a translator for the UN.

#The bad is that this place has a tight security system. I can't get close enough, but there's a closed circuit camera system on the ceiling, likely 'eye in the sky' plus general coverage, and that includes the non-hotel access doors. It's keycard access, and I haven't seen them move the guard from the panel yet, so he could be dedicated.# Kane relayed. #And your first plan is a no-go, Dad. The venting is all front end meshed. If you want to sneak Jan into the venting, you'll have to blow the cover off one, and I'll bet it's wired to either security or the building environmental monitors. Either way, they'll know something is up.#

#That's why we have to be artful, boy.# Christian cut over to his monitor again, tapping away at the keys. "Mister Sefton. Are you on the roof yet?"

"Affirmative#, came from Kurt. #Ready and waiting."

"I don't know what half these things are," Jim told Jennie, the response requiring little subterfuge. His familiarity with gambling was mostly theoretical, which was good as most of his brain was too preoccupied to maintain elaborate smalltalk. At least Jennie's hand on his arm meant he didn't need to devote as much attention to not absent-mindedly walking into things. #Don't worry, Jan. If it gets to that point of squish it's officially no longer your problem. Anyway. If the vents are out of the question, where should she go?#

#Too soon to say yet.# Kane toggled the laptop. "Mister Sefton. Have you determined whether or not you can teleport directly into the fourth floor chambers?"

"No", Kurt said, scowling. "I have not been able to get a good look at the rooms, and without that... it is too much of a risk."

"That will complicate things." Christian switched back to the telepathic connection Haller was maintaining, so each of the members of the team could hear him clearly. #Ladies and gentlemen. I'm pleased to report that our target is both intelligent and well protected. The casino has a multi-layer surveillance system which extends past the casino floor and into the halls. The venting system is sealed, and the combination of the HVAC filtering system and what looks like a gas suppression system from my blueprints here eliminates the possibility of sneaking either Miss Van Dyne through the system, or snaking a tube camera to give Mister Sefton a clear teleportation route. It's busy, and also well staffed with overt security and less obvious Chinese gangsters. Finally, they don't seem to distract easily, and if I haven't lost my keen eye, they are armed with fairly heavy sidearms. A worthy target. It reminds me of the Russian Science City 571, and the high energy--#

#For god sakes, dad! We don't need the story!#

Unseen by his son, Christian smiled. #Meet back at the hotel. I think I may have a plan in mind.#

The X-Men land in Japan, to meet the captain of the ship that's been targeting, and try and figure out a plan.



The cacaphony of noise at the Ishinomaki harbour was almost deafening, as the industral sounds of cranes and transport trucks fought for dominance with warning alarms and the voices of thousands of Japanese workers, who scuttled purposefully through the seemingly random and choatic environment. They had been met at the gates by a tall Irish man, who introduced himself as Lt. Royce, and led them through the loading docks and to up the edge of the massive hull of the Bonaventure. The ship was stacked with huge steel containers, most of them painted bright orange and each the size of a railway car.

Royce led them up a long gangplank, steel plates clanking under their feet, until they reached the massive crew and command tower at the stern of the ship. Royce ushered them through a complex warden of passages until they emerged into a sizable crew room and into the presence of the Captain. Unlike Royce, Captain Andrew Hollinger was short and wiry, his grey hair cropped close to his head. He waved them further into the room with a single, sharp motion.

The port itself was overwhelming with the motion and the noise and the smell. Oil and smog and brine and fish, combined together in one seriously overpowering package. But, as sprawlingly large as the port was, the ship itself was baffelingly large, rather the way a skyscraper is. Jean could see all of it, could take it in, could run a telekinetic sense all the way around it, but couldn't quite come to grips with quite how all that steel had ended up in one place together. And, unlike a building, this floated.

Cain paced around. Normally he hated boats - not having solid ground under his feet often made him a bit of a liability - but this ship was as stable as a city block under him. Biting back an immediate comment about civilian sailors being worse than Navy pukes, he turned his head and just laughed. "Does anyone feel like we're bait on a hook here?"

"If we're the bait, then Ah'm thinkin' we're settin' the hook for a mighty big fish," Sam answered Cain with a chuckle. The scent of diesel and heavy machinery brought back a mixed bag of emotions in Sam, happy memories of his father, but also the back-breaking labor of the mines. He rolled his shoulders and fought an instinctive urge to stare up at the ceiling.

"Captain," Scott said briefly, greeting Hollinger. "I'll introduce everyone if you'd like, but we'd probably be better off hearing anything you need to tell us before we get underway."

Andrew Hollinger shook his head. "Kane sent me your... professional names, I guess is the best term. Makes some of you kind of easy to guess." His accent was rough; the English muddied with bits picked up from years of traveling the world. He motioned for them to sit, taking his own seat at the head of the table. "The big one, Juggernaut, I'd wager, is right. We're the bleedin' bait and I don't even have a say about it. I'll assume that you've been told about the situation here, but there's a few more details Sir Christian doesn't know. The Japanese now think the route is cursed."

He held up his hand to forestall any comments. "Yes, I know it sounds like a bloody silly issue, with Russia, China, and North Korea all looking for an excuse, and the fact that the sea itself seems to be eating ships bigger than buildings without leaving anything behind. But any good seaman is superstitious, and anyone who knows anything about shipping knows that. Someone is spreading this deliberately, which means at the very least, there's a who behind the mystery. Sir Christian says you're the type of people that can protect my ship, because not sailing isn't an option. So what do you need from me to do it?"

"Not too much," Scott said. "I'm going to set my people on watch at various spots on the boat - we'll keep out of the way of necessary operations as much as possible, of course. I'll have our aircraft accompanying us, to give us an extra set of eyes. If we're attacked," he went on, tactfully not opting for the word 'when', "we'll need your people to take cover, or do as directed. We'll do our best to protect your sailors, as well as the ship."

Hollinger nodded. "Because of the cargo, we've got twenty security units aboard. I've got them working with Royce as a backup fire crew as well, incase whoever is involved is using some heavy ordanance. One thing you'll need to know is that this ship is in part balanced by the cargo. If those cars start shifting for any reason, I'll have to send the linecrews out there. Your people aren't trained on how the balance needs to work. Too many shift at the wrong time, and we can be swamped before we know it."

Scott managed to make note of the news about the cargo and of the large number of additional security personnel aboard without batting an eye, although the latter had him muttering unhappily to himself in the near-privacy of his own head. We're going to be tripping over them, I just know it, he sent to Jean down their link, and then nodded to the captain, turning to his team.

"Keep all that in mind," he told them, his voice quiet, "and remember what we talked about when we were drawing up the plan. Blink, Skin, if the fighting starts, make sure you stay mobile - I'm depending on you two to keep track of the sailors, especially if any of them wind up overboard." It was hard to know if that would happen, given that they didn't know precisely what they were facing, but the teleporter and the guy who didn't need to have an actual rope to throw someone a line would be invaluable, and Scott supposed they could assume that if whatever it was had its way the ship would be heading to the bottom.

"Phoenix," he went on, "you need to try and stay at your station, so that you've got a view of as much of the ship as possible." He'd deliberately assigned Jean to one of the highest points on the ship; it could only help her respond as quickly as possible with her telekinesis. "Juggernaut..." Scott smiled wryly. "If something looks hostile, hit it. Cannonball, you're in the Blackbird. And you - " He gave Kyle a very hard look. " - are on coms, on the plane. Don't forget what we talked about in terms of coms discipline, and keep your mind open to Phoenix, for the switchboard."

Hollinger stood up. "We sail in less than an hour. Royce will show you to some quarters we've set aside for your use. In ten hours we'll be directly in the middle of the zone. If we can't be ready by then, this is going to be a very short trip."