xp_logs | The Medical Center Raid

Cypher, Jewel and Heat Wave take the tradesmen’s entrance…

Each of the three 'delivery people' carried largeish packages, and only someone looking very closely would notice that they were all held in such a way that they could be dropped and cleared away in a hurry if things got dicey. Once they were out of easy view, Doug flipped his empty cardboard box into a corner of the alleyway and broke out a set of lockpicks. "Watch the alleyway," he instructed Alex as he took a closer look at the back door to the building.

"Yessir," Alex said, tossing his box off with Doug's and adjusting the hat on his head and making a face as he kept an eye out, ears peeled. Not that it mattered - everything was silent.

Jessica pulled her own hat down a notch, her long brown hair sticking out the back in a sleek ponytail. She too set her box aside before she pressed herself past Alex and behind Doug. She reached down at patted him on the shoulder.

"Um, Ramsey? You know I could break this thing open with my little finger, right?" She asked patiently, her arms crossed over her chest which, in the clothes she was wearing, appeared even more modest than usual.

"Yep. I figured the idea was leave as little trace of our being here as possible," Doug replied to her as he examined the lock. "I mean, surfer boy could probably melt the door off its hinges if it came down to it, but it'd be pretty obvious something was wrong to an outside observer." And the door didn't look like much more than a basic deadbolt. "You're plan B, though." Brute force would look less suspicious than a melted doorframe, certainly.

A rather suspicious-looking rat ran by, and Alex eyed it for a moment before declaring it harmless and going back to examining the alley proper. Lookout duty was boring, but someone had to do it.

Doug gave himself an internal clock, against which he was mentally tracking the estimated position of the other teams. After two minutes, he allowed himself a small frustrated noise. He'd learned the basics, but lockpicking wasn't his strongest suit of the 'gray' skills X-Force tended to use. "Plan B it is," he told Jessica. "Try and make it look like a junkie took a crowbar to it." That way, even if and when the break-in was discovered, their true purpose was obscured.

"Alright, alright. Ruin my fun." She answered before she stepped beside the man and cracked her knuckles. She brought her arm back, the fingers of her hand straight out in front of her. She thrust it forward with incredible force toward the place where the door met its frame. Her hand easily pressed the two metal objects away from each other and, with a swift jerk of her arm, she wrenched the door open. "There. Crowbar-y enough for ya?" She asked.

Doug grinned. "Works for me." He turned to make sure Alex was with them as they went up the back stairwell. "Fourth floor," he murmured as they hustled their way upward. When they reached their destination, they eased the door open and snuck out. Nearby was a locked glass fronted cabinet with some painkillers and the like in it. He smashed his elbow through the glass and grabbed a few bottles at random to stash in his coveralls. "To cover the whole 'junkie B&E' angle," he explained to the raised eyebrows of Alex and Jessica.

He smirked. "Besides, this way I don't have to expense restocking our first aid kit."

...While Tarot, Lucky Streak and the Invisible Girl use the front door.

Marie-Ange - or, by the newly created driver's license and insurance card in her pocket, Ms. Shannon Anne Kirby-Johnson, of Glen Cove, New York got out of the nice little Zipcar that Arthur had parked in the perfect spot, and adjusted her coat and sweater and scarf, and put on a nervous little smile before opening the back door to get her purse and paused to look up at Arthur. "I suppose this is it then." The light french accent had been replaced with a neutral east coast one.

She waited for a moment, shook her head and then bent to get the purse. "Shall we? You are right, we would make very cute babies."

Sue took this opportunity to roll past Marie-Ange and drop silently onto the ground using her force field to cushion her fall and dampen the sound as she hit the ground. Pushing herself to her feet the blonde stepped into Marie-Ange's shadow. people were less likely to spot any distortions in a place where the red-head would draw all the attention.

Arthur, looking very crisp in his blazer and slacks without any need for adjustment, was waiting with an open, mittened hand for his darling wife. His other hand held an umbrella -- just in case it snowed -- not because it was practical, but because someone had assured him that they were those kind of people. He was, of course, smiling.

"We do have an appointment," he answered, and his own accent slipped naturally into congress with Marie-Ange's, "We wouldn't want to be late."

The building was built in the same repeated plans as hundreds of other medical offices across the world. A small lobby with a directory sign and a pair of elevators, a stairwell off to the side, and high-quality fake plants. Marie-Ange's hand twitched against Arthur's a few times as they double and triple checked the directory against the printout of the appointment for the Kirby-Johnsons, and then she straightened her back and strode over to stab at the elevator button.

It dinged before her finger had time to touch, and she had to smile at the luck. "Handy, that."

Sue takes a detour…

… As Marie-Ange and Arthur had made their way to the elevator nobody noted the faintest shimmer in the air that signaled Sue's departure, the only sign of her passing was the door to that slowly swung open and just as silently swung shut behind her. The others had their own parts to play on a different floor, for now Sue had her own target, the security office. Her teammates couldn't do what they needed to with the threat of the cameras watching them all the time, and taking them out one at a time was horribly inefficient. Besides it was too easy to miss one, Sue knew that from experience. So here she was, paused outside the security office waiting for an opportunity to get inside. The lock's on the door weren't anything too difficult, but if she had to pick them there was too much opportunity for someone to notice her or get suspicious that the locked door was swinging open. Luckily there were plenty of ways around that, there were stink bombs to drive someone out, messing with the air con or...the blonde blinked as the door swung open. Or it wasn't even locked and she hadn't even thought to try it, way to over think things Storm Sue chided herself as she rushed forward slipping inside before the door swung shut again.

Of course, now she was inside there was the whole matter of actually dealing with the cameras without anyone noticing. She could cut the wires, but that would be to obvious that someone had been messing with it and would cause too many questions. What she needed was something that could be seen as completely natural but would have the same effect. Slipping behind the computers Sue let her forcefield drop as she left the security guards' line of sight to ponder the problem. If she could get into the computer that would do the trick, but she couldn't risk that with people still inside, the reasoned as she idly threaded a wire through her fingers...A wire that lead to a powersocket on the wall...providing power to the server that ran the cameras. A malicious grin lit up Sue's face as she took hold of her the cable and pressed her finger against it, this would be tricky, she would have to be sure that her forcefield didn't leave any visible marks. Slowly, so carefully, Sue slowly expanded a forcefield just a 1/2 a centimeter from her skin, gradually expanding inside the powerlead. It pushed against the rubber sides of the lead severing the cable inside and forcing the copper strands apart. The blonde grinned in triumph as she heard the puzzled exclamations of the security team as the screens shut off and the computer stuttered to a stop. The blonde wrapped herself in a forcefield and slipped out of the office behind a very puzzled guard.

...And Mrs. Kirby-Johnson has a nasty habit.

The waiting room was as boringly standard as the building had been. Magazines, some even within a few months of the date, a television turned to House Hunters, a sign saying not to eat, drink or use cell phones, and a few chairs in a neutral but still ugly design. The faux-couple were, of course, right on time, and only had to sit through a few minutes of another couple on the television looking at two houses they would never buy, and the third that they already had, and besides, Marie-Ange had seen the episode already, and had helped create the fake identities and histories, so she killed time filling out the paperwork.

Shannon Anne Kirby-Johnson, and Stan Kirby-Johnson. Shannon, an architect and Stan, the Vice President of Public Relations for an exercise equipment company. Both well-traveled, both independently well-off due to their jobs and except for that pesky problem of not being able to get pregnant, healthy as horses. Well, if you ignored the crumpled cigarette package in "Shannon's" purse.

Marie-Ange had stolen it from her cousin. He needed to quit anyway, and of him and Amanda, he was the less dangerous option.

She tapped the pen against the paper nervously, and then handed the clipboard to Arthur. "One last time, and then I promise I'll quit! For the baby!" She handed him her purse -- almost seemingly faster than he could react, and scampered out with the cigarettes in her hands.

Arthur sat there, stunned -- mainly by the judgmental look on the receptionist's face. Their met eyes and her judgement deepened into reproach, and that was enough to get "Stan" moving. He fidgeted, playing the part, before scurrying out, clipboard still clutched, in an effort to chase down "Shannon's" bad habits.

Yet instead of heading outside, Arthur ditched the clipboard behind a potted plant and made his way to the stairwell. He headed up.