Operation: Mutant of the Seas - Log 8

[xp-changeling.livejournal.com]

X-Force is able to gather enough information to launch an operation.



The intel that they had all collected had been assembled into a neat stack of notes and a simple slideshow, which they were working their way through. Each slide opened up a new level on their search to isolate the call for help, each one double checked and confirmed by discussion. Shots of the Emperor of the Seas in dock had been blown up and their window of opportunity confirmed. He’d sail in two days time.

Amanda rubbed her temples and reached for the glass in which two Berocca tablets were happily dissolving. "No more astral plane shenanigans," she complained with a grimace. "It messes with the grey matter too much." She gulped down half of the orange liquid and set the glass down. "All right, it's kind of impossible to stick on a slide and we already went through this before, but Wanda and me managed to mess with the laws of psychic physics and establish the distress call is based in the middle of the ocean. Yay us."

"Well, that figures." Gabriel twisted off the cap of his Diet Coke, aiming it away from him in case it foamed uncontrollably. "And we think it's this boat, right?" He glanced toward Fi for an affirmation of some kind. "I mean, fits the patterns, fits the intel. Crazy amount of hired guys for a luxury cruise liner surrounded by water on all sides."

"Far as we can be, we're certain that this is the one," Jubilee replied, hand on the clicker to bring up the next slide. "We know the ship patterns match the filed plan with various countries along their route and they're a big ship - hard to fake out that kind of trail."

"She is also registered under a flag of convenience, and the named owner is a shell subsidiary of another shell company," North added as the next slide was flashed and he scrolled through the documents on a tablet propped up on his thighs. "Financed by another group of shell company investors, of course."

Wanda's face looked vaguely pinched and pale as she tossed down the last of her water. Mucking around with the Astral Plane never was fun for her and this last round had been rather rough. "Well, at least a cruise ship'll have a bar," she muttered, reaching for her notes. "Every cruise ship I have ever been on has a large number of staff and, from what I heard, it is not unusual for staff to change during a stop in port. While that could be a way in but it all depends on the security." She tipped her head at Dom. "Were you all able to scare up any information on what the ship has for security?"

"Uh, yeah, one sec..." Dom scrolled through her phone screens until she was able to pull up the app she was looking for. "Okay, so there's some sort of proximity sensor installed but the guy we were shaking down didn't know anything about it except that apparently it's completely foolproof. Ten-foot radius around the ship, tested regularly. Without knowing more I wouldn't like our chances of trying to slip past it."

"According to him, the whole 'mutant sensor' that 'The Emperor of the Seas' has on its advertising is bullshit. What they have is a top level bio-metric scanner that they use to check off the passengers and run against some kind of existing database. Again, not a lot of hard details, but our guy said a lot of the names looked Genoshan. It's hardly a smoking gun, but the Genoshan Navy is one of the few that refers to their ships using masculine terms, like the cruise ship."

Looking up from her phone, Felicia's thumbs temporarily stilled. "I got a look at the guest list, and it's basically the Trump campaign phone book. Money, mostly white, all assholes that I won't feel bad about. It's a solid bet," she said, shrugging. "And a bonus on top of the anti-mutant campaign."

"And the funds look like they were channeled in from a Genoshian bank account." North had stuck a tracer on it, and the bug was still working its magic. But so far, all signs pointed to 'yes'. His expression one that was hard to read but the feelings behind it not difficult to guess. "If this is a ship run by Genoshians, whatever their more specific origins may be, then the distress call would be from..."

"One of their mutant citizens?" Kevin said, topping up his coffee from his flask. "Or maybe they picked up some outside talent. Before the fracas a few years ago, we had rumours that the Genoshians were getting involved in mutant trafficking in a big way. Maybe they've got, I don't know, some poor bastard locked up as a pleasure mutant or something?"

"Whatever they are locked up as," said Emma briskly, "they are locked up. And they belong to us. Not them. Because we well understand what it means for Genosha to have a mutant available to them. Mutant. Mutate. Whichever one applies in this case." She tapped the tabletop for a moment. "So. Who's up for a cruise?"