Open Carnival

[Contessa]

"I'm Ann, by the way," she offered courteously.

"I'm not very familiar with anyone here, but I was truly fascinated by this admirable collection and inevitably came to see it."

"Yes, beautiful isn't it?" Adrianna replied, a slight sparkle in her eyes when she caught glimpse of the golden cuff again.

It was one thing to see an item within catalogues of antiquity and yet an entirely different thing to be inches away. Triple layer shatter proof glass the only thing between her and joy.

"Adrianna Covrenzi," she nodded, "A pleasure to meet you Ann."

Appraising the young woman once again, Contessa tried to decipher her accent. "You mentioned Cairo and San Jose? Am I to believe you are American then?"

 

[Jason West]

"Control, there is extra seat at main table... I do not think it is for one of us."

Jason was confused by the Israeli's query until he looked at the cameras and noticed that an extra seat had just been placed at the table.

He quickly began tapping through the electronic seating chart to find out who the extra seat was for. After searching all of the seating charts, he was unable to find out who the extra seat was for beyond that it was for a guest of honor.

Everything says 'Guest of Honor' Jason quickly replied to the Israeli. We'll just have to wait and see who sits there.

 

[Ivy]

“Moose, checking in.” Euge intoned quietly, and received a hurried acknowledgement.

Ivy Monaghan let her gaze drift from the farmboy in an ill fitting tuxedo to the ACME pilot in a matte silver mask. The two men were of the largest build in ACME's team--which was usually a benefit--though their late entrance now made them seem more like metaphorical bull in a china shop. If they had arrived at the designated meeting time, each would have been paired with an appropriate date like Colleen Slate or Ann Tickwittee to aid in their cover. Thankfully, Chuate's guards seemed too preoccupied to notice.

“Makin friends already, flyboy?” Deric quipped after following ‘Moose’s eyeline.

"You were due here hours ago," She reprimanded, "Is there a reason you two want to screw up this operation or did you have a nice nap and forget to check in with command?"

Behind her, crimson lights began to dim causing secondary strobe beams to cast long shadows from the room's centerpiece of a rather large egg in a cage. This signified that dining guests were to be seated and dancing guests should continue to the adjacent room.

The disguised ACME Commander changed her tone as a hotel staff supervisor passed, "Romantic table for two, sir? Please follow me."

She lead the men into the dining room. Due to ACME's limited reach, their seats weren't in the area where Barbas Chuate and Lee Jordan were, but it did conveniently cover the exit.

"The grub will be served soon," she hinted at Barbas' codename 'grub' and tilted her head towards his seat, "Keep an eye out for it."

 

[Tanya]

A beat alternated across the Copacabana Palace Hotel. Temporary Operational Assets Manager Tatiana Erzin walked with her assigned temporary asset, Dominic Geiser, into the pre-determined dining area.

Somewhat assured after a recent talk, Tanya found calmness in something completely accidental. The banker's suit was a precision cut that met at all the right angles. His clothes and the way he moved in them showed fortitude, and that somehow rekindled her morale.

Mikal was jarred by a tap on his shoulder and the Israeli turned to see @Tanya and a suited man. It took him two seconds to recognize that the second guest was @Chase Devineaux in disguise as Dominic Geiser.

"Very good." Mikal nodded, quickly assuming the role of a bodyguard for the 'Swiss Banker', "This way, sir."

Once she delivered her resource to the mark, and ensured both Mikal and 'Jason Teil' were in place, she moved to the back for security. The fewer contact ACME made with Barbas, the better for the operation.

"Turtle-Dove," she said her mission codename into her communicator, "I have delivered the Dragon."

 

[Chase]

While ACME agents provided a solid backdrop of security, Chase Devineaux was Dominic Geiser. His mindset was money, his accent was Swiss-German, and his life revolved around the preservation of wealth -- primarily his own, but occasionally in the interest of a lucky few. What Barbas knew about him was little, but sufficient. Geiser was the power behind Sicilian Marcus Antonoti’s new life in London, and moved over 300 million US Dollars of hard cash into 220 million of bankable funds in 48 hours for Mexican Boss Hectorio Quiñonez. He was expensive, efficient, and extremely selective.

Geiser marched slightly ahead of Erzin, cut straight through the crowd, and offered a subtle turn in body language that forced Barbas to react. The suspected drug dealer was first to offer a hand, and first to speak, masking the hint of desperation that Devineaux aimed to expose by the end of the night.

"So this, we finally meet," Chuate announced through the smoke of his cigar.

Geiser returned with a solid handshake and an acceptably genial Swiss greeting. The empty chair bothered him -- he showed no sign of this -- but it infinitely bothered him. With a quick glance to his floor-man, the disguised director could tell from the shift in Mikal's expression that this was an unexpected variable.

"You are younger than I thought," Barbas took a quick look at 'Jason Teil' as if to imply disbelief.

"Then we must be the same age," Geiser returned a compliment and triggered a wide grin that featured nearly all of Chuate's molars.

To say something now about the open seat would hint paranoia and roll back the layers of confidence the Swiss banker had stacked in his favor, so he remained shielded. Little did he know that this 'unexpected variable' was about to make his fortress feel like a house of cards.

The curve of a familiar smile in sensual red formed seemingly from thin air.

"My Paloma!" The man with the cigar switched his attention.

For a moment, the man in disguise froze.

Paloma Lucas, Dominic Geiser learned her name as they were introduced. The woman was a Portuguese entrepreneur; she was agonizingly beautiful; she was Carmen Sandiego. Of course, that last fact wasn't as obvious to everyone, especially least noted by Chuate, who represented her as a second business partner.

Infinitely, that bothered Chase Devineaux.

Rio de Janeiro was primarily known for three things: carnival, football, and violence. Barbas Chuate had his hands in the seediest of the three branches, and any 'business partner' was certain to be mixed in with the wrong crowd.

"Mr. Geiser," she was professional in tone, barely hiding the titillating, self-congratulating smile so signature to her persona.

"Dominic."

A formal handshake. No further contact. She nodded.

So they sat before the stage, the Swiss banker, the suspected drug lord, and the international thief. And the show was only starting.

 

[Joe Kerr]

[fieldset=Written With:][with]11[/with][/fieldset]

The Jester admired the elegant mask adorning the woman before him. It had a simple elegance that combined with her red locks to perfectly set off the blue of the dress she had chosen. Her beauty was heightened even more by the lights that haloed the dance floor.

As a young lad, Joseph Kerrigan had been taught by his mentor how to dance because as the elder had put it: ‘It is unthinkable that a proper gentleman be unable to show a beautiful lady the unparalleled pleasure of a dance.’

While those lessons had certainly come in handy tonight, dancing for pleasure was, unfortunately, not on his mind at the moment. Much rather, the Jester had astutely realized that the dance floor was probably the only place he would be able to have a private conversation with the ACME operative without the risk of exposing her.

With calculated ease, the gentle curve they did around the floor seemed divergent to the rambunctious atmosphere around them and the resolution in the eyes of her unexpected partner became very clear to Doctor Sophie Conrad. She waited for him to speak his intentions but for languorous minutes, neither of them seemed agreeable to conversation. At last, she mused, “So, why are you here, then?”

Keeping his voice low so only she could hear him, Joe replied with more than a trace of amusement: “Is it really so hard for you to believe that I'm not on the job today?”

“Always,” she tilted her head slightly, matter-of-fact, “especially when such a gathering of your colleagues are apparent.”

“Ah, sharp eyes and suspicious minds--the classic ACME traits.”

Sophie smiled and generously conceded to the comment.

“You dance rather well.”

“And you, my dear, dance divinely. Your boyfriend really is a lucky man.”

“You make many assumptions," the doctor clarified gently. "He isn't my boyfriend.”

“Ah, of course,” the words were airy. “I forget that, unlike me, you're actually here for business.”

She did not reply and, sensing the continued disbelief, the Jester persisted with frank humour: “Let me assure you that my friends and I are merely here to attend the party of the year.”

“Hm,” her lips curved with the noncommittal sound.

“Anyway, I would have thought that someone in your position would welcome some familiar faces.”

Again, she smiled but did not reply.

They separated briefly for an underarm turn before coming together again.

“If Murphy’s Law decides to rear its head tonight, you should know that there are at least a few friendly faces who could offer some assistance. You’d just have to say the word.”

“Thank you for the ominous assurance.”

At this point, his voice lost all traces of humour. “I'm just being realistic. Men like Barbas do not go down easy--they have many friends on both sides of the law. The fact that he’s a merchant of death also speaks volumes of his stance on killing. You'd do well to remember that.”

“I beg your pardon, Mister Salvatore?” A sliver of ice had entered her voice and her indigo eyes narrowed.

“A word to the wise: The big fish you're after is of a different species from your usual prey. Do not expect him to react the way we would.”

The slightest sound of astonishment echoed from her throat, a laugh. Then, she took all the amusement there was from their charade.

“You claim to be here for pleasure,” her low words bore nothing that could disguise their censure, “and yet, all you have said brings only danger to us both.”

The band had stopped playing, and their steps halted in time with the final note.

Withdrawing, Sophie offered her companion a gracious curtsey. There was a smile on her lips that was not evinced in her glacial eyes, but she remained congenial.

“Thank you--” she began, but the Jester would punctuate:
“No, thank you for the lovely dance.” He retained her hand and bowed, “I will treasure this memory always.”

For a brief moment, the duo did nothing but look at each other--one of appraisal and one of apology. Then, just when he appeared willing to relinquish his partner, Joe pulled Sophie in close again.

“Please try to stay alive,” he leaned in and, lifting his mask just a little, planted a brushing kiss on her cheek as he whispered, “I hope to have the pleasure of dancing with you again under friendlier circumstances.”

“I wish the same to you,” were the parting words he would remember.

 

[Ivy]

What's going on now if you don't have time to re-read the RP: Quite simply, we are in a room full of Chuate's bad guys. Both ACME and V.I.L.E. have begun to realize that they are also amongst their organizational rivals. When suddenly...

[fieldset=Written With:][with]11[/with][/fieldset]
It was a crucial moment as ACME waited for Barbas Chuate to make the deal with Chase Devineaux and allow them to arrest him. Ivy Monaghan lingered within sight, unconsciously biting her bottom lip in readiness for the signal. Out of the corner of her eye, the Commander noticed a familiar figure--Doctor Sophie Conrad had walked into the dining room.

The highly-decorative portion of her mask, its feathers and glass-beaded lace, had been removed, and she retained only the tactical leather-lined layer which hid most of her features and the piezoelectric beta communication devices. Something had happened.

Sophie’s gaze drifted through the audaciously coloured hall to briefly touch that of Ivy's, her body language mimicking a most confused guest, and the Commander gripped her fingers tight around the clipboard in her grasp. Armed with the guest-list and seating-plan, the sharply-dressed staff member of the Copacabana Palace approached, but before she could offer assistance, the doctor spoke.

"Ah, hello Irena," the exclamation poured relief as Sophie took the cue from the nametag on the Commander’s lapel, "I need some help--I have a seat. Allison."

Hearing her own middle name gave Ivy a moment of pause. It was well-known as an emergency cue when codewords or radio chatter would not suffice, “You have a balcony seat, Miss Allison, right this way.”

Selma Elysia, her last name so easily mispronounced for this purpose, was exceedingly grateful for the guidance and followed with much consolation apparent in the way she spoke of how lovely the venue was and how exciting the evening had already been. When they had gone up into the balcony, she took Irena by her hands to undoubtedly thank her with profuse warmth; but when she came within whispering distance, she would confirm every suspicion the Commander held, “Something has happened.”

Making sure their exchange would be safe from any others, Ivy switched off her microphone and turned to Sophie, “We’re off the radio. What is it?”

The Swiss shifted her gaze slightly away. “They are here,” she spoke softly, matter-of-fact, “The Red Parade.”

“How many?”

“Enough,” the response was terse as Sophie turned to her colleague, “What is important, though, is that they know our mark. Have we been compromised?”

Ivy clenched her jaw, “Why is it always V.I.L.E.?”

“I am concerned for the safety of our agents.”

“Carmen wouldn’t hurt them,” Ivy spoke from experience, “But we don’t know if she’s running the show.”

Clicking her microphone to turn it back on, she sent out a broadcast, “V.I.L.E. agents are confirmed in the area. Apprehend on sight.”

Sophie remained silent to allow the Commander to act, but spoke again after a moment. “It is not the threat from V.I.L.E. that concerns me,” she looked beyond the tables and chairs and farther out into the expanse of the dining room. “We have agents among the Grub’s men, and an asset at his very table--”

She would not get to finish her sentence.

A loud electrical snap filled the air and the hall turned pitch-black. Like being blinded by a camera flash, it took Ivy a second to realize that the lights had gone out, and the crowd fell into a collective groan of disappointment. People began fumbling over tipped chairs and reaching for their cell phones. Slowly, the faded blue glow of LCD screens began to fill the hall as patrons complained openly about the blackout, though it was not an uncommon occurrence of the city.

A hand reached out to lightly touch her arm and Ivy turned to see Sophie draw them towards an open passage back into the main dining area. As they moved, she distinguished the yelling of one of Chuate's guards. The noise drew her attention to his shadowed form as he and a companion rushed out of the dining room and into the ballroom.

“Poodle (@Lee), Cobra (@Derrin), keep an eye on the asset," she took up her radio to relay rapidly as Sophie and her hurried from the balcony. "Chickpea (@Molly), Dingo (@Nace Bilby), what's happening in the ballroom?"

As her hands found her own communicator there was the unmistakable sound of gunshots from beyond the dining hall and the piercing sound of shattering glass. This, in turn, started the failsafe alarms and confirmed that the artifacts on display were now in peril. Adding to the danger was a stampede of panicked party guests.

Allowing Sophie to lead the way while she enacted orders, Ivy opened a line to the Junior Suite above: "Control (@Jason West), do you have any visuals on what caused the blackout?"

 

[Jason West]

"Toaster (@Ivy), it appears that the main feed line has been cut from the building. I still have full functionality of all cameras and equipment"

Jason kept a close eye on the monitors while starting a timer for his battery back ups. He hoped that @Zack would arrive to help monitor all the cameras. He quickly checked to make sure the DVR was recording so that he had video evidence of all the happenings during the blackout.

"Bacon (@Zack ), are you on your way up here? Let me know if you need some help navigating your way in through the halls."

 

[Zack]

"Bacon (@Zack ), are you on your way up here? Let me know if you need some help navigating your way in through the halls."

"Imma commin'" Zack yelled out as he stumbled on someone's long dress, "Don't worry about me,"

He wished he hadn't said that right when the words left his lips. Jason needed to keep his eyes on the monitors, but fumbling in the darkness wasn't going to help anyone. It was then that Zack noticed the glowing headdress of the woman he met earlier in the night. The blinking LED lights gave just enough luminosity to let him see his way.

"Sorry lady," the detective yelled as he grabbed the headdress, "Emergência da polícia!"

Using the it as a sort of headlight, he was able to find the fire escape and began the climb to the Junior Suite.

"Yo!" Zack panted as he opened the door, clearly out of breath from the long flights of stairs. Jumping to the left side of where @Jason West sat, he scanned the monitors for anything the agents should flag.

Zack's eyes fell on the basement room which had an unusual amount of activity. Old hotels in Brazil weren't strangers to power outages and often had gasoline generators as a backup. But this machine was being guarded by armed men.

"Dudes, basement one has a backup generator with hostiles in the area. Seems whoever cut the power don't want us turning it back on. The exit down is next to Moose (@Eugene) and Bones (@Sophie)."

 

[Joe Kerr]

Whilst most of the hotel seemed to languish in darkness, the lobby was lit up with the colourful costumes of the Carnival performers, including one Joseph Kerrigan.

To his knowledge, this was not a planned part of the party; this also did not seem like a beneficial move to 'Selma' and her cohorts. If this was neither ACME nor VILE's doing, then business just picked up, and not in a good way.

"Fellow party guests, be warned: Eagles may get twitchy in darkness. Watch your backs."

After sending the message out via VILE Communicator, Joseph turned his attention toward the dining room where the guest of honour supposedly awaited; he needed to position himself to be able to offer some aid.

"Meus Amigos," he turned to the other performers, "I believe we should entertain the diners," he pointed out the steady stream of complaints that was starting to leak from the dining room.

---

Several murmurs of agreement later, the whole troop of colourful, brightly lit Carnival performers was now positioned throughout the dining room, entertaining the diners with glow in the dark juggling, fire breathing, flaming baton twirling, and of course, the joyful sounds of Samba.

 

[Eartha]

“Qué pasa! How ya like me now, muchachos?!”

Eartha Brute continued catapulting phrases at the onlookers as she made her dramatic entrance at the Palace donning an Amazonian warrior costume. Her hasty redirection from Río Hato left her without time to tidy up before the festivities. Yet, the green mess of hair and smudged eye makeup seemed to complement her bikini armor and steel thigh-high sandals.

The crowds parted for the 6’3 bodybuilder as she stomped toward the main hall, taking care not to jab anyone with her spiked shoulder pads. Tumultuousness and stares were positive feedback at her competitions and Eartha felt perfectly calm in the party’s maelstroms. Her sturdy wrist was encircled by a gold bangle sculpted into a wide-eyed spider monkey. She had acquired the ornament in Panama, where the lively creature was historically considered a ‘companion spirit’ to the gods. Due to superstitions, her plan involved leaving the item in place of one of the artifacts tonight.

After viewing several underwhelming pieces, Eartha felt an emergent boredom when the sight of a chic woman (@Contessa) sporting intricate wings caught her attention. Her red cape floated as she marched over. She first glanced affably at the refined blonde in silk and then at the golden band in the display case. Strong fingers grazed the access tool holstered against her spear.

“There’s all this bull about diamonds being a girl’s best friend, but I think gold suits us classy ladies more.”

 

[Eugene]

[fieldset=Written With:][with]3[/with][with]11[/with][/fieldset]


The arc of the electrical outage had Eugene Grovington blinking away spots in his vision for several moments, even as he leapt from his assigned seat and pushed towards an adjacent wall for reference. With one hand pressed against the marigold paint now shadowed in the gloom, he dug into his pocket with his other hand for his cell phone and its improvised flashlight. The sound of gunfire in the Golden Room beyond made him rethink that move and, instead, the astute pilot drew his pistol. Holding it at low-ready, he allowed his eyes to accustom to the scanty light provided by multiple tiny screens. Then, he realized he had unthinkingly neared the exit of the room.

As he watched extravagantly-dressed figures pour out of the Antique Casino, some of them dimly illuminated by the glow of cell phone screens, Eugene’s gaze was caught by a familiar mask and name-tag. He paused, and then gritted his teeth as he made a beeline towards the ACME Commander. Another woman was attached to her, seemingly guiding her as she spoke into her radio and communicator. Wordlessly, he reached out and seized both of them by their arms to remove them from the thickest part of the crowd before it became a stampede.

Ivy’s well-trained muscle memory triggered an instinctual urge to fight against the hand that had been so-suddenly put around her arm and she nearly hit the pilot before realizing who he was. Just in time, he had pulled both her and Sophie out of the way of the charging crowd.

“We need to get the power back on,” she said, taking a breath to recover.

Sophie nodded in agreement, but hesitated to add, “You must stay to lead the agents. I will go with…” There, she paused to recall who the man who had joined them might be, “Moose.”

The comments only barely registered in Eugene’s head as he scanned the room. There were too many unknowns, and plunging back into the crowd was not an option. Finally, his eyes alighted upon a possibility: a small side-stage with a heavy velvet backdrop. Letting go of the pair, he moved towards it quickly. A cursory check showed the area behind to be empty, and the folds of fabric would provide anyone behind them with excellent concealment while offering a clear prospect on the capacious venue. It was only when he was in the darkened backstage did Eugene fully realize who he had manhandled.

Emerging, the pilot hinted towards his discovery. He covered his growing embarrassment with bravado, announcing that he was going to restore power.

Feeling somewhat indignant at being towed into the space by one determined Eugene Grovington, Ivy thought to protest but only ended up with a sharp exhalation of heated breath before she chose to refocus.

“Command,” she took up the radio in hand, “keep your eye on Moose and Bones, they’re headed to the generator.”