Circus Tricks - Act 1 - Marvel: Earth-USB Saga (Part 25)
Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2025 11:28 am
Hello! While this is not a requirement per say, it’s best you have some knowledge of the previous Marvel storyline.
You also may wanna read Tirepanted’s latest Black Widow story before reading this one:
viewtopic.php?t=11211
Big shout-out and thanks to Tirepanted who helped me with the characters and story.
Character descriptions are in the second post.
Circus Tricks
**************
Act 1
**************
“This is Patrick Kiernan, for NY1. The latest development in William Jefferson’s trial keeps being the talk of the country. Today’s press conference could very well make or break the case. The Justice Department has just made its official announcement. At 9 A.M., Sarah Elizabeth Summers will be transferred from her high-security prison to the Manhattan Courthouse. According to our sources, her testimony will shed light on William Jefferson’s illegal activities back when he was working for the Canadian Government. As I’m speaking, the NYPD is securing the entire building to make sure nothing disturbs this important event. Some people have questioned the value of Sarah Summers’ testimony, as she was a close associate of Taylor Woodward’s pro-mutant terrorist group. However, the Justice Department reminded that she agreed to collaborate with the authorities and actively helped put a stop to…”
The TV begins showing the picture of a blond young woman.
Sarah Summers certainly doesn’t look the part of the pro-mutant terrorist. She just looks worn down and sad.
I feel a little uncomfortable, and prefer to change the channel.
Now, I see William Jefferson dressed in his trademark red business suit. He’s talking in front of a bunch of journalists. Currently, he’s doing what corrupt corporate executives do best. Lying with a straight face.
“These accusations are completely unfounded, and I regret the Justice Department sullied its name by supporting such buffoonery. I mean, are we going to give credence to the words of a convicted terrorist? I’ve reformed Orchis and turned it into a proper law-abiding company. I’m proud of what I accomplished, I’m proud of the ideas we stand for, and I refuse to let freedom of speech be silenced by-”
I turn the TV off. One more word, and I’d have gagged. I mean, I understand dishonesty is a prerequisite for a businessman, but even hypocrisy should have standards...
Besides, it’s time for me to do my job.
I nimbly jump from my hotel bed, and stretch. I go to the bathroom sink, and look at myself in a mirror. Better make sure I look the part for the upcoming press conference…
The outfit I’m wearing is nothing to write about – a white button-up shirt, a black skirt, flesh-colored tights, and black long boots. However, I know the rest of my appearance will raise more than one eyebrow. Complex green tattoos of flowers, birds, and winged women are covering both of my arms from the wrists to the shoulders. Adding to that, my curly armpit-long hair are dyed a dull shade of purple, and my brown eyes are obscured by slightly tinted square-shaped glasses.
Not exactly a look befitting a reporter.
I shrug.
People never invite Verity Willis to a press conference for her looks. People invite Verity Willis for her power. Because people know Verity Willis has the power to see through any lie.
Believe it or not, such ability makes the life of a reporter quite hard sometimes – lying to the press is an art most politicians and company owners practice regularly. However, when someone wants to show their good faith, they usually bring Verity Willis along.
Which is exactly what the Justice Department just did. Sarah Summers is a convict, and was involved in numerous attempts against the life of Robert Kelly, among many other criminal heists – they want a guarantee she’s telling the truth. They want Verity Willis.
On the hotel bed, I grab the key of the room, reporter card, handbag, and – most importantly – the access pass which will allow me to enter the Manhattan Courthouse. I also snatch the light blazer jacket hanging on the coat hanger, in case there’s some wind in the streets.
Before I leave, I look around to make sure everything is in order.
The TV is turned off. So are the lights.
The tap is closed.
I’ve left a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the hotel room’s doorknob.
Oh, and the real Verity Willis is still deeply asleep and well concealed under the bed. The woman’s wrists and ankles are bound, and she’s gagged, with strips of sheet. The unlucky reporter has been robbed of her card press, access pass, clothes, and even of her glasses by yours truly.
She’s left clad in a green push-up bra adorned with red lace roses on the cups, and green hip-hugging panties with a red rose pattern.
She’s one bold woman, if you ask me. One who likes to feel sexy even at work.
The helpless journalist is breathing softly through her nostrils. A sleep dart is embedded in her neck.
I nod to myself. Then I make sure the bed’s blanket reaches down to the floor, fully obscuring the view.
There’s nothing personal. I needed a way to enter the courthouse, and I needed to make sure a living lie detector wouldn’t be in the same building as my team and I. Ambushing Verity before she left her hotel room allows me to kill two birds with one stone.
Her hair was easy to replicate with a wig. Same for the eyes. Good old contact lenses. Both were given to me by Jefferson – a good thing, I don’t exactly have much resources at the moment; that’s even one reason why I agreed to this partnership. For the face, I have this neat gadget – ever heard of photostatic veil? Pretty neat technology. Can replicate someone’s face. How did I get it? I stole it from SHIELD, of course! It’s quite useful, but I must be very careful when I use it. I only have one, and for obvious reasons I can’t ask SHIELD to repair or replace it. The tattoos were a bit trickier – I used body paint, but I had to ask help from some performers of the Circus of Crime.
Speaking of my partners for this heist...
I take my cellphone, and make a call.
“Spider?” a female voice asks.
I wince, but make sure my voice doesn’t reveal how much I hate the nickname they came up for me. Both Tiboldt and Jefferson would’ve liked it too much. I won’t give them this pleasure.
I’m pretty sure Jefferson chose it on purpose...
“Get in position.”
I don’t add anything. My team knows what to do – I’ve spent hours explaining them the whole operation yesterday.
Well, my team…
I wish I didn’t have to associate with small-time crooks such as ‘Madame Tiboldt’ and her crew. These criminals mascarading as a circus think they’re high-class “artists of the heist”, but if you ask me they’re just a bunch of thugs with delusions of grandeur.
Alas I can’t be picky about my allies right now.
This whole mission isn’t pleasing me much. It’s been a long time since my last assassination. And Jefferson is a devious man. One only need one glance at his plan to see it. We have explicit orders to bind and gag the girls because he wants to pin the crimes on the pro-mutant activists who favor this tactic.
But I have a deal with Jefferson, so I’ll follow it.
I lock the door, and leave the hotel. By the time I arrive to the Courthouse, Tiboldt and her crew should be in position.
I need to make sure some of the female journalists are delayed for them.
**************
“I can’t help but feel we’re being useless right now.” Dorothy commented.
Dorothy Gray was a new recruit of the NYPD – recently assigned to Captain Yuriko Watanabe’s police squad. She had brown eyes, boyish short black hair, and a tanned skin. She was a bit shorter than average, and quite young, but eager to learn. And she was understandably disappointed to be stuck on boring patrol duty.
Her four colleagues paused in their search, and glanced at her. They were all women – Yuriko preferred to work with women.
Carlie Cooper was a light-skinned woman with glasses, hazel eyes, and light reddish-brown hair in a loose ponytail. Terri Lee was a dark-skinned woman with brown hair tied back in a stern ponytail. Jean DeWolff was a Native American woman with tanned skin and shoulder-length jet-black hair. Jane LeLoup was a light-skinned woman with shoulder-long auburn hair and blue eyes. Her figure was slim, befitting a well-trained policewoman.
All five police officers were dressed in the standard uniform of the NYPD: dark blue jackets with a radio shoulder over button-up uniform shirts, matching trousers, peaked caps, and black shoes.
Their group of five was currently inspecting the basement area of the Manhattan Courthouse. There were various storage rooms and dimly-lit corridors, and most of them were empty.
Dorothy realized four pairs of eyes were staring at her. She felt a bit awkward, and scratched the back of her head. “Not that I’m questioning the captain’s orders, of course! But…” She looked each woman in the eyes. “Come on! Don’t you think it’s a bit… superfluous.
“On the contrary. If people are trying to sneak into the conference posing as employees, this is the place where they’ve stashed their victims.” Terri explained.
“I get it, but why do we have to be so many?” Dorothy insisted.
“Because teams of infiltrators operate in small numbers. There’s no way one can neutralize all of us at the same time before we can warn someone.” Jean said.
“Captain Watanabe is counting on us.” Carlie added.
“And this is our chance to repair the damage to our reputation. You know. After the… ‘incidents’.” Jane added.
The police officers – save for Gray – all shared an awkward glance. None wanted to discuss the details of the ‘incidents’ which involved them losing their uniforms – and also their reputation.
Dorothy blinked. “I can’t help but feel I’m missing on some context here…”
“There’s nothing!” the other four women exclaimed together.
Dorothy smiled awkwardly. “O-kay?”
“Nothing.” Jane repeated. “And once the captain sees how well we did our job here, that ‘nothing’ won’t matter anymore.”
“Sure…”
“You better not think of taking a step back like we’re crazy, Dorothy!” Jane warned her.
“I wasn’t.” the rookie lied, as she was discreetly trying to do just that.
They were interrupted by the sound of something on wheels being pushed.
A light-skinned black-haired woman of the cleaning crew exited a supply room in which she had fetched some cleaning products.
The janitress looked plain and unassuming, meek even, with her dull green uniform. She was pushing a cleaning cart with a large bin.
The woman froze when she saw uniformed women blocking her way.
“Uh. Is there a problem?”
The police officers deployed to cut her escape route.
“Ma’am. We need to see your security clearance.” Carlie said.
“Oh, of course.” The janitress went to grab something in her cart.
“We also need to know how you went there.” Terri added.
The woman smiled. Suddenly, she was looking a lot less meek. “Now, now, a true performer never reveals her trick.” Instead of her ID, she pulled an odd-looking top hat out of the cart. “Usually I wear the suit, but I couldn’t exactly draw attention on myself.” She put on the hat. “Good day, ladies.”
The policewomen froze, a bit uncertain. They were expecting spies or assassins. Not some strange janitress wearing a top hat. They could sense this woman was a danger – the janitress acted like she was the one in control – but at the same time she was alone and wasn’t holding any weapon.
“What’s that thing?” Terri exclaimed.
“Such a shame my line of work requires anonymity… How I wish people would recognize my talents… But that ‘thing’, as you call it, is what I need to deal with you.”
The threat was clear. The officers all grabbed their handguns.
The fake janitress tapped her top hat.
“There will be no need for weapons.”
Doing so, she activated the hypnotic device embedded in the hat.
The policewomen all froze, guns half-drawn, mesmerized. They opened their eyes widely, mouth slightly agape, but stayed silent.
The fake janitress smiled.
“Much better.”
She took a step forward, and bowed.
“Since I now have a captive audience, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me ‘Madame Tiboldt – or just ‘Madame’ for short – the Ringmistress of the Circus of Crime. Usually, I’m more into robbery. As you can see, with my hypnotic hat, it’s quite easy to convince my rich guests to part with their money. However, today, I’m putting on a bigger show. And you, my dear officers, play a key part in it.”
Tiboldt knocked on the door of a nearby maintenance room. Five women exited.
The first two were twin sisters, Marie and Alice Marcel, who shared the same light skin, green eyes, and light red hair. One had a thick long braid, the other had short shaggy hair. The third one, Molly Mayne, was white-skinned, blue-eyed, and auburn-haired. Her hair were curly and armpit-long. The fourth one, Fifi, had a white skin, short black hair tied up into a small neck bun, and brown eyes. The fifth – who insisted to only use her nickname Gym-Nasty for reasons even Tiboldt couldn’t quite understand – was a black-skinned black-haired brown-eyed athletic-looking woman with a top bun
They were all performers of Tiboldt’s Circus of Crime, though right now it was a bit hard to tell since they weren’t in costume. Quite the contrary, in fact. They were dressed in plain inconspicuous clothes.
The Ringmistress preferred when her heists had more flare, but ‘Spider’ had been crystal clear when planning the mission. No fantasy would be allowed.
Since ‘Spider’ gave Tiboldt all the information she needed to actually perform the heist – from the detailed maps of the building to the name and address of the janitress who’d be working today – the Ringmistress wasn’t going to question her instructions.
Carlie’s radio shoulder came to life.
“Cooper. Do you copy? What’s your situation?”
The Ringmistress raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Captain Watanabe herself is supervising the operation? Interesting. Tell her everything is good, and you’ll do one last check-up of the basements just to be safe. And don’t forget to use all the code words you must.”
Carlie complied.
“Got it. I want your team to check the parking lot next. And finish with the restrooms.” Watanabe stopped the call.
The Ringmistress nodded at Carlie. “Thank you my girl. I’ll take the next calls. Mimicking your voice shouldn’t be too hard. Your captain is smart, but she forgot the employees of the Courthouse don’t live there. With my hat, it’s pretty easy to pay a visit to the janitress before she leaves her home, and convince her to help us get inside discreetly.” She chuckled to herself. “Oops. Looks like I gave away the trick anyway… But I trust you won’t reveal it? And don’t worry about the poor girl. She’s just taking a nap in a closet. Like you all will in a moment.” She tapped her top hat once more, and looked at all the mesmerized policewomen. “But first, you will take off your uniforms quietly and give them to my performers.”
The officers tried to resist the influence, but the hypnotic device was too strong, and overpowered their will.
Slowly, they began removing their uniforms. Their hands were shaking slightly – their bodies were subconsciously trying to fight back the influence – but none managed to break off their hypnotic trance. They were moving like automatons, with mechanical jerky movements. The caps and belts were dropped onto the floor first. Then were the jackets and shirts. Next, the shoes came off. Finally, they slid the trousers down their legs, and walked out of them.
The police officers, now only clad in their skivvies, stood awkwardly – completely still and unresponsive. Carlie was clad in a light blue seamless t-shirt bra and white knickers; Terri, a mango orange camisole top and burgundy bikini panties; Jane, a navvy blue sports bra and black boyshorts; Jean, a white full-cup bra and black hipsters; and Dorothy, a white-and-pink bikini bra with matching tanga panties.
Their faces remained blank – not betraying even a hint of anger or embarrassment at their humiliating predicament, not showing even an ounce of fear.
The Ringmistress’ minions shared awed looks. Even though it wasn’t the first time they witnessed their leader’s hypnotic device, they could never get used to how effective it was.
“What do we do with them now, Madame?” the black-haired performer asked.
“Let’s keep things civil, my dear Fifi.” ‘Madame’ answered. She tapped her hat once more and addressed the officers. “Sit on the ground with your hands behind your back, and let yourselves be tied up.” The Ringmistress was almost purring. She relished being fully in control.
Once again, the policewomen complied.
The performers of the Circus of Crime used zip-ties to restrain the police officers – they wanted to be quick and efficient. One zip-tie to cuff the wrists behind the back. A second one for the ankles. And finally a few strips of tape on the lips to silence the bound women.
The Ringmistress bowed, and tipped her hat. “I thank you for your cooperation. Now, you will all take a nap for a few hours. And by the way, you will forget everything about me. You’ll remember you were mugged by pro-mutant extremists.”
Humans couldn’t fall asleep at will.
But humans under her hypnotic control could – and they just did.
Soon, the five police officers were napping – and would remain blissfully asleep, as if drugged, for one-to-two hours.
The Ringmistress nodded. She gestured towards the door of an empty storage room nearby with a hand. “Stash them here and put their clothes on. Show’s about to begin. We don’t have much time to set the stage up.”
Her performers complied.
Five minutes later, a new group of policewomen were ready to take their posts.
Tiboldt closed the door of the storage room holding the five trussed up real owners of the uniforms, and patted its frame. “Fifi, I’m leaving the rest in your hands.” she said to the black-haired woman.
“Madame! I won’t let you down this time!”
“I hope so. That annoying ‘Girl Hawkeye’ – or whatever her name is – shouldn’t be here to foil our heist this time, but keep your eyes open.”
The mention of All-New-Hawkeye made Fifi’s cheeks redden slightly due to anger and shame, but she simply saluted.
The five fake policewomen left the basements, and deployed in the building.
The Ringmistress stayed behind to supervise everything. She didn’t like much this part of the plan, but it was an explicit order of Jefferson. Her operation had to look like the act of pro-mutant extremists trying to break Sarah Summers out.
Her hypnotic hat would have been perfect to control the whole crowd gathered in the conference room, but she couldn’t risk being caught on the cameras which were filming live. She could hypnotize people into forgetting they saw her, but not recording equipment or footage. Officially, ‘Madame Tiboldt’ was the owner of a perfectly legitimate circus business. She had been very lucky the female Hawkeye hadn’t been able to discover she was the one behind the Circus of Crime when she had run across some of her performers a few weeks ago. Tiboldt couldn’t tempt fate. Sure, her circus, and therefore her face, were not known nationally-wide, but there were still many people who know her. She could anticipate a thorough investigation after the assault on the courthouse. Even her hat was one-of-a-kind – people could recognize it as well.
Too many questions would be asked if Tiboldt was identified – she had no ties with pro-mutants.
Still, the Ringmistress was confident in the talent of her performers.
After all, who could stop them?
**************
Mary-Jane technically wasn’t supposed to be here, in the Manhattan Courthouse – she was a broke freelance photographer and reporter, clearly not important enough to cover such an event.
But she still had come. And no, she hadn’t mugged a colleague for her access pass. Felicia would have – she’d have called it the ‘simple solution’. But MJ wasn’t Felicia – she wouldn’t mug an innocent woman unless it was necessary to save people, and certainly not for her own personal gain!
She was however in disguise. She was wearing a brown wig fashioned into a square-shaped haircut, and brown contact lenses, to conceal her identity.
However, her scruples meant she had had to hide behind the trash dumpsters of the courthouse’s backyard for one hour, before managing to sneak inside through the service entrance during the rotation shift of the guards.
For some reason, the policewomen of the area hadn’t been very responsive. Sure, it had given her a way in, but still… It was a blatant breach of security. MJ expected more of Yuriko.
MJ had several reasons to be here. First, she wouldn’t mind it if she found a scoop. She was late on her rent – again. Second, this conference was the latest development in the trial of William Jefferson. More specifically, this was the moment that could make or break the case against him. Sarah Summers was being transferred from her high-security prison to make a public testimony against him, revealing all the sordid details about how she had been locked and experimented on under his supervision. The goal was clear: to sway public opinion, and make sure the court couldn’t afford leniency in fear of a scandal. Some would say the blow was low – technically legal, but low. Still, against a piece of trash like Jefferson, they shouldn’t afford any mercy.
For obvious reasons however, Mary-Jane didn’t trust the man to play by the rules. She had a hunch he’d try something to make sure Sarah could never testify against him – and what better opportunity than the only time she wasn’t safely locked in a high-security facility?
Therefore, MJ preferred to be in the area. Just in case. She knew Yuriko Watanabe was the one in charge of the security, but one extra pair of hands and eyes wouldn’t hurt, right?
(Besides, she really needed the scoop and the money...)
Mary-Jane checked her wristwatch. Conference was about to begin. Sarah wasn’t here – her transfer was scheduled so that she’d arrive after it had begun, to limit as much as possible her time out of prison.
The journalists were entering the conference room.
The redhead was roaming the corridor next to the restrooms, trying to keep a low profile and to find a way to access the conference that didn’t involve conking an innocent girl for her outfit.
She didn’t find one.
Bah! Worst case scenario, she’d hide in the restrooms and wait until the conference was over to see if she could interview someone. Maybe Yuri would take pity on her?
She was interrupted when she heard a few voices get closer. One of them was familiar.
Oh oh. Christine.
Of course her bad luck would bite her in the ass…
Christine Everhart was a white-skinned buxom blue-eyed blonde, with smooth shoulder-long hair. She was wearing a scarlet red business jacket over a light red button-up shirt, and matching scarlet red business trousers. Her shoes were black. Christine was a journalist at the Daily Bugle. She worked closely with the various freelance photographers employed by the newspaper. In fact, she was the one with whom MJ had the most contacts.
Therefore, Christine may be able to recognize Mary-Jane in spite of the wig and contact lenses – the Mary-Jane who wasn’t supposed to be there, and who would be kicked out of the building if she was found.
Christine was walking with two fellow journalists from other medias whom MJ knew by name – Patricia Tilby and Tiffany Bright. The three women were chatting idly.
Patricia Tilby looked plainer and more professional, with black hair tied up into a tight medium bun. She had a light skin, light brown eyes, and sharp-looking facial features. She was wearing a white beige cardigan, a dull mauvish brown light jacket, grey jeans, and black shoes.
Tiffany Bright had light brown hair fashioned into a square-shaped haircut with a side-swept bang. Her eyes were light blue and her skin was white. She was wearing a light blue button-up shirt and a lavender light jacket, blue jeans, and white shoes.
MJ decided to speed up her “Hiding in the restrooms” contingency plan, and rushed inside a stall. She closed the door but didn’t lock it – she wanted to make it seem like the restrooms weren’t occupied at all.
Unfortunately, the restrooms were actually the three journalists’ destination – they wanted to freshen themselves before the conference.
MJ kept silent. Please don’t use the toilets. Please don’t use the toilets. Please don’t use the toilets.
Christine went to the sink, applied some red lipstick, and watched her reflection. She smiled, satisfied with the result. Patricia secured her bun, checking in the mirror that there wasn’t any loose strand of hair. Tiffany straightened her outfit, and washed her face.
Patricia looked at her wristwatch. “Talking with Verity made us lose a lot of time. I bet we’re the last stragglers. We better hurry. The conference will start soon.”
“Relax.” Christine intervened as she was adjusting her hair. “They’ll go on with the boring technical details for a while before the witness comes.”
“My readers care about the boring technical details.”
“Many of ours don’t.” Christine replied with a smile.
“As sad as it is, most people only care about the juicy twists and emotional appeals.” Tiffany intervened with a shrug. “First rule of mass media. Give the people what they want.”
The three journalists were interrupted when a trio of police officers entered the restrooms.
They looked pretty generic and unremarkable as far as policewomen went – save for the fact two were clearly sisters, most likely even twins.
“Identity check.” one (a black-haired woman with a small bun) announced without so much of an introduction.
“Our identities have already been checked.” Christine objected.
“Can’t be too cautious.”
The officers deployed, each next to one journalist.
Christine didn’t like the woman’s tone, but she also didn’t want any trouble. She complied. So did Tiffany and Patricia. The three policewomen grabbed their access passes.
The officers nodded to themselves. “You’re all supposed to cover the event?”
“Yes.”
The black-haired policewoman smiled derisively. “Perfect.” Without any warning, she grabbed a tazer, jabbed it into Christine’s neck, and knocked her out with a powerful jolt. The blonde barely had the time to grunt.
The cop’s colleague clamped a hand onto Patricia’s mouth, muffling her shriek of fear, and tazed her as well. She crumbled into the policewoman’s arms. The third officer did the same with Tiffany.
Startled by the brusque assault, Mary-Jane bit on her own fist to muffle a shout of alarm.
The fake police officers laid the three limp journalists onto the tiled floor.
Mary-Jane pondered whether she should try to attack them or not. She decided against it, at least for now. It was one-against-three at best – and she suspected accomplices were waiting outside. The redhead clenched her fists. She didn’t stand a chance, even with the element of surprise. She could only stay hidden, and look for an opening. And pray they wouldn’t check the toilet stalls – MJ had after all left the lock of hers on the ‘UNOCCUPIED’ position. These criminals maybe didn’t kill their victims, but MJ didn’t want to play the part of the damsel in distress again. She’d already been left bound to a toilet seat once – not an experience she wished to live through again.
Plus, she had a hunch these women were after Sarah. She was right to suspect Jefferson would try a dirty trick.
Three other women walked into the restrooms. The first was a busty curvy redhead, with luscious long hair, a light skin, and light green eyes. The second one had armpit-long dark auburn hair, a light skin, and brown eyes. Her face was diamond-shaped, with a sharp chin. The third woman had light-orange hair, light blue eyes, a slim sexy figure, and a light skin.
They exchanged congratulations with the fake police officers. “Like clockwork. Madame will be pleased.” one said.
The busty redhead eyed the journalists’ pristine outfits. “We should also grab their clothes.”
“I call dibs on the blonde!” the woman with light orange hair intervened.
Hidden in her stall, MJ was fuming. She hated how powerless she was right now. Christine wasn’t her friend, but she was still an acquaintance. And neither she nor Tiffany and Patricia deserved to be mugged, roughed up, and forcefully stripped.
The redhead also realized she was currently the only one who knew a nefarious plan was at work. Whoever these crooks were, they had already impersonated some of the police officers.
But she couldn’t exactly come out and fight six criminals at once…
“I’m not quite sure I like this job.” the long-haired twin commented. “Things are way simpler when we just rob riches – but this? This ploy is too convoluted.”
“Madame knows what she’s doing.” the black-haired fake policewoman replied.
The light-orange-haired woman stripping Christine snorted. “Madame isn’t here, Fifi. No need to brown-nose her.”
“You better watch your mouth, Wendy. Just because you’re a late addition doesn’t mean the Ringmistress will take kindly to disrespect.” the busty redhead intervened.
Wendy raised her hands to signal she was surrendering, and ending the conversation.
Christine, Tiffany, and Patricia were swiftly divested of their outfits until they were left in their respective sets of lingerie – a lacy red thong and a matching balcony bra for Cristine (MJ felt sorry for her, she’d be found in a particularly humiliating state); navvy blue seamless hip-huggers and a light grey full-cup bra for Tiffany; and white classic briefs and a beige t-shirt bra for Patricia.
One policewoman injected the unconscious women with what MJ assumed was a sleeping drug. The other two zip-tied their ankles, knees, and wrists, and wrap-gagged them with black tape.
At the same time, the three other crooks slipped into their new outfits. They checked themselves in the mirrors, and adjusted the clothes.
“You have your smoke bombs?” Fifi asked.
“Yeah.”
“You know how to use these?”
“Of course.”
“Remember, people have to believe we were trying to break her out, and she died by accident.”
The long-haired twin looked slightly uncomfortable once more. “That too makes this ploy too convoluted for my taste. I understand killing people if a heist goes south. But staging a girl’s accidental death?”
Her sister added: “Besides, it seems like a waste of opportunity. Can you even imagine what we could do if we combined her powers with Madame’s hypnotic hat?”
“Too much of a hassle.” Fifi retorted. “You have an idea of how many people would like to get their hands on her? Might as well paint a target on our backs!”
The argument put an end to the conversation. Fifi pointed at the three unconscious half-naked journalists.
“We put these three inside a stall.”
MJ’s heart missed a beat.
Thankfully, her stall was the farthest, and the muggers couldn’t be bothered to carry their burdens all the way there.
They stashed Christine, Patricia, and Tiffany in the first stall, and locked the door. Once they were satisfied, they headed towards the exit.
Mary-Jane waited, mentally counting the seconds.
Once she was sure they wouldn’t come back, she exited her stall.
The redhead took one deep breath to collect her thoughts, and pondered her options.
She couldn’t use her phone. It was one of the security measures of the building – all frequencies were jammed save for the ones used by the police officers and by the television cameras.
She also couldn’t count on Christine, Patricia, and Tiffany. They were going to stay unconscious for a while, and she couldn’t exactly drag them in the corridors. Plus, she didn’t have something to cut their zip-ties anyway. No. As much as she hated it, it was best to leave them in the stall for now.
She couldn’t try warning a guard, or leading a guard here and showing them the mugged journalists to convince them there was a breach of security. If the criminals were impersonating police officers, she risked coming across a fake one. - and join Christine, Patricia, and Tiffany inside the stall.
Mary-Jane was aware her best course of action was to contact the only woman she could 100% trust. Captain Yuriko Watanabe, the one currently overseeing the security.
Thank Goodness Charlotte was still wreaking zany havoc in Europe, and Mystique was still in a coma! With some luck, her opponents didn’t have a shape-shifter…
Problem was that Yuri was already in the main conference room. The room to which MJ didn’t have access.
“I hate my life sometimes...”
Still, she had to try.
**************
MJ discreetly left the restrooms.
The corridors were empty – Patricia had been right. She, Christine, and Tiffany truly had been the last stragglers.
Maybe there would be a miracle…
She headed to the door of the conference room.
There was, in fact, no miracle.
Two police officers were still watching the entrance. Two women. MJ stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn’t know if these cops were the real deal or other disguised impostors. She couldn’t just ask them to warn Yuriko or check the restrooms.
She also couldn’t play the part of a late-comer to the conference. She didn’t have an access pass.
Mary-Jane retreated before the officers could spot her. She needed to come up with a plan. She returned to the empty corridor leading to the restrooms…
… and suddenly a woman bumped into her, almost making her fall on her butt.
“Sorry! Gosh, so sorry!” the woman exclaimed. “I didn’t see you! It’s just… I’m late for the conference! Are you hurt?”
“No, no, no... It’s okay… I’m okay…”
MJ stared at the newcomer. She was a woman a bit older than her – in her early thirties at most.
“Cadie MacDunnough.” the woman introduced herself. “The correspondent of Tsunami News Magazine.”
Cadie MacDunnough was light-skinned, with armpit-long reddish brown hair and dark brown eyes. Her height and curves were average. She was dressed in a dark purple blazer, dark brown shirt, dark purple sharp-looking business trousers, and black booties.
“Mar… erm…” MJ stopped herself at the last second. She certainly wasn’t going to give her real name when she was here without authorization! “Mary-Felicity H… Harding.”
Cadie raised an eyebrow, but was tactful and didn’t comment on the peculiar name.
“You’re here for the conference too?” she asked.
“Y- Yes. Just.” MJ thought of a plausible excuse. “I need to… go to the restrooms…”
A bit embarrassing, but at least that would explain why she sounded flustered.
The other woman flashed her a sympathetic smile. “I can relate...”
Cadie was wearing her access pass around her neck. And on the wall behind her, MJ noticed the door of a maintenance closet.
The redhead could almost picture a mini-Felicia, complete with cute little devil horns, sit on her shoulder and whisper traitorous thoughts in her ear. You know sometimes one needs to break a few eggs to make an omelet...
Oblivious to MJ’s internal turmoil, Cadie kept talking: “Did it begin? I was sent from L.A. to cover the conference, and my plane was delayed.”
“Oh. So nobody knows your face.” MJ whispered to herself.
“Pardon?”
MJ’s cheeks reddened. “I mean no, it hasn’t begun yet.”
The opportunity is golden. Never question a gift of fate. ‘little devil Felicia’ whispered. MJ wished there was a ‘little angel Gwen’ whispering on her other shoulder, but apparently ‘little devil Felicia’ had trussed her up somewhere in MJ’s subconscious because she didn’t show up.
“Oh perfect. Thanks! See you at the conference then.” Cadie said. She walked past Mary-Jane, exposing her back.
MJ found herself hoping there would be a witness in the corridor, a security camera. Anything to have an excuse to not do what she was tempted to do.
Of course, there were none.
‘Little devil Felicia’ lost patience. “DO IT!”
“Why me?!” MJ complained.
With snake-like speed, she hit a very specific spot of Cadie’s neck – right at the junction with the shoulder – using the edge of her hand.
The other woman let out a faint groan. Her body staggered briefly as her eyes were rolling back. Then she fell backwards, right into MJ’s arms, as limp as a ragdoll. Out like a light in one second.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this AGAIN.” MJ muttered through gritted teeth as she wrapped her arms under Cadie’s shoulders and around her torso.
She hurriedly dragged her burden into the maintenance closet, turned on the light, and kicked the door close. She laid Cadie onto the floor, and snatched her access pass. Thankfully, it didn’t feature a picture.
“So sorry about that. Trust me, it’s because I couldn’t think of an other way.” she said to the unconscious woman.
Too late to have second-thoughts. She now needed to make sure Cadie would stay put the time for her to find Yuriko. She searched the shelves of the maintenance closet, and found a bunch of spare electric cables as well as some black duct tape.
However, she couldn’t help but notice how miserable her cheap second-hand clothes were looking right now. What if the guards got suspicious? She clearly didn’t look like the high-class journalists who had been invited to the conference!
Of course, the ‘little devil Felicia’ had to return at that moment. Cadie’s clothes look fancy enough in my book.
“Shut up!”
Great, now she was talking to an imaginary friend (frien-emy?). Good thing the real Felicia wasn’t around.
“Just the blazer then.”
However, the blazer matched the trousers. And MJ couldn’t wear her faded sneakers with those garments, so the booties had to come off too.
“Dang it.”
At least Cadie could keep her shirt…
MJ unlaced and removed the booties, revealing light pink socks, and pulled the blazer off. Then she loosened the trousers’ belt, and slid them down Cadie’s legs.
“Please don’t wear skimpy panties… please don’t wear a g-string!”
Cadie was wearing plain blue classic briefs with a black waistband strap. Sure, she’d still be found with her legs exposed, but at least it wouldn’t be while wearing an undergarment that showed most of her butt.
MJ bound Cadie’s ankles and wrists with a few coils of cables, and gagged her with strips of tape. She seated her in a corner, trying to leave her in a position that was not too uncomfortable.
She then kicked off her sneakers, took off her jeans, and put on Cadie’s trousers and booties. She wore the blazer over her own shirt, and zipped it shut to hide the second-hand garment. Finally, she wore the access pass around her neck.
When she heard Cadie begin to stir and moan, MJ hurriedly fled the closet before the woman woke up.
“I hate my life so much sometimes…”
**************
Mary-Jane hurried to the door of the conference room. She was doing her best to hide her nervousness, but figured out any journalist late to such an event would look nervous – so she was confident she wouldn’t be outed as an impostor.
One policewoman checked MJ’s access pass. Whether she was the real deal or a fake unwilling to break her cover ultimately didn’t matter.
“And you’re supposed to be…?”
“Cadie MacDunnough. Correspondent at the Tsunami News Magazine.”
“You’re late.”
“I was sent from L.A. Plane got delayed.”
The policewoman shrugged. “Try not making noise. They’ve already begun.”
“Yes ma’am!”
MJ was allowed inside.
**************
The federal attorney was talking behind a podium on a platform. A few officials were sitting behind him. Yuriko Wanatanbe was standing in a corner of the platform.
As anticipated by Christine and her friends, for now the conference was only about the legal details and procedure of Jefferson’s trial. Sarah Summers hadn’t arrived yet. Her transfer was scheduled to arrive at the last moment – the Justice Department didn’t want her to spend one minute more than necessary outside of her high-security prison.
Several rows of chairs were lined up in the middle of the room for the journalists attending to the conference. Near the walls, several cameras were pointed at the podium. A few police officers were watching the conference.
The journalists already gathered didn’t pay her any attention, save for one. A woman with dull purple hair and large green tattoos on the arms, who turned around and stared at her.
A few chairs in the back row were still empty. However, Mary-Jane didn’t sit with the other journalists. She discreetly walked around the seats, hugged the wall outside of the cameras’ lines of sight, and headed to the platform. If only she could catch Yuriko’s attention…
The dull-purple-haired journalist was still glaring at her. MJ even saw her nod towards a policewoman.
Midway, the officer blocked Mary-Jane’s path.
“Last come, last served, ma’am. Go to the back seats.”
MJ recognized a fake policewoman – the one who had tazed Christine. The one they nicknamed Fifi.
She made a decision.
Yuriko was in the room.
No need to be subtle to get her to look her way.
She punched Fifi in the face.
The crook had been expecting a non-combatant, not a martial artist ready for a fight. She was taken by surprise, groaned loudly, and fell on her butt.
Nearby, Wendy, the light-orange-haired woman wearing Christine’s clothes, got up from her chair right next to Mary-Jane. “Why you-”
A kick in the stomach put an end to her bellicose intent. She fall back on her chair, and collided with the journalist sitting next to her.
That one’s for Christine! MJ thought to herself.
Everyone noticed the commotion.
Several officers approached to grab Mary-Jane.
Fifi got up, a furious spark in the eye.
The journalist with dull purple hair also stood up. Mary-Jane was now convinced she was also part of the heist – though thankfully she was at the other side of the room.
MJ knew she had nothing to lose. “They’re fake! They’re fake!” she screamed, as loud and as shrill as she could be.
Fifi let out a small gasp, and grabbed the cross of her gun. “You little snitch...”
But MJ had reached her goal.
Yuriko was looking her way.
And Yuriko knew all her officers by face and name.
Her eyes widened. “Impostor!” She grabbed her shoulder radio. “Transfer canceled! I repeat, transfer canceled! Emergency route! Return to the prison at once!”
“NO!”
Fifi casted a murderous glare at Mary-Jane, and pulled out her gun. The twin sisters were also rushing towards her. Wendy was recovering from the kick.
MJ swatted Fifi’s arm and kneed her in the gut, then disengaged with the speed of an eel.
A siren began to blare in the building. Yuriko was shouting instructions while the attorney and other officials were taking cover behind her. The other police officers deployed. The ones watching the door didn’t come to help – which confirmed MJ’s suspicion that they were, in fact, impostors.
Apparently, there were only three fake cops in the conference room – Fifi and the twins.
Wendy and the two other fake journalists – the ones impersonating Patricia and Tiffany – saw they were outnumbered and their heist was foiled. They threw their smoke bombs in the middle of the crowd to cover their escape.
Then, they shoved their way through the panicking journalists. Fifi and the twins took advantage of the chaos to flee. So did the fake dull-purple-haired journalist.
Mary-Jane figured out it was also her cue to leave.
Sarah would be safe, the scheme was foiled, and she didn’t want to be questioned by the police.
**************
‘Madame’ Tiboldt knew the importance of a bombastic entrance – but she also knew the virtues of a quiet exit. And the moment she heard the alarm siren, she realized the plan had failed.
As a perfectionist, she was beyond furious something came to ruin a finely-crafted operation. Even more because she knew ‘Spider’ and Jefferson would blame the failure on her – and refuse to pay her due.
In the confusion, as everyone was rushing inside the conference room, nobody noticed the meek janitress pushing her cleaning cart and leaving through the service door.
Behind the courthouse, there was a backyard and an alleyway with some dumpsters.
The Ringmistress exited the building with her cart.
“Freeze!” a voice suddenly said in her back.
Tiboldt froze, and made sure her face was in ‘frightened bystander mode’ before she turned.
“Don’t shoot! I’m just the janitress!”
The woman showed a badge. “Elizabeth Kim. NYPD.”
Elizabeth Kim was a no-nonsense woman with a diamond-shaped face, black hair, an armpit-long ponytail, a white skin, and brown eyes. She was wearing a brown trench coat, a light green button-up shirt, a dark grey belt with her police star strapped onto it, blue jeans, and black shoes.
Tiboldt had been a performer before she became a ringleader, so she knew how to put up an act. “Oh thank God! I heard the alarm! I don’t know what’s going on!”
She stepped towards the detective. If her act could fool Elizabeth long enough to put the other woman within her reach…
Elizabeth kept her gun pointed at Tiboldt. “Stop right there! Lie on the ground!”
“Look! This is just one big misunderstanding!”
“I heard of the tricks you disguise-happy crooks use. Lie on the ground, face down and palms up! Then I’ll check your ID!”
The detective grabbed a pair of handcuffs, and kept her handgun aimed at Tiboldt.
The Ringmistress pretended to surrender, playing the part of the meek civilian. “Okay, of course.”
As she was taking a knee, she discreetly shook her right arm. A tiny flash bomb hidden in her sleeve fell into her hand.
Without warning, she threw it onto the ground.
The flash bomb released a blinding light.
Elizabeth groaned in pain, and reflexively covered her eyes.
Tiboldt rushed her. She hit the police detective’s wrist to disarm her, followed with a stomach punch, and finished the officer with a neck-chop.
Elizabeth collapsed onto the ground at her feet, out cold.
Tiboldt adjusted her collar. “Apologies. I abhor brute violence. I prefer my heists to be more classy. But you know the saying. Necessity knows no law.” She eyed the detective’s clothes, police star, and badge. “Speaking of which.”
Getting rid of the janitress uniform would make her life easier.
She dragged Elizabeth behind the dumpster, and peeled off the woman’s clothes. The detective was left clad in a white sports bra, white boyshorts, and black socks.
“Stern and no-nonsense through and through, I see.”
Tiboldt used Elizabeth’s handcuffs to bind the woman’s wrists behind her back. In a pocket of her janitress uniform, there was a half-used roll of tape. (The first half had been used to make sure the real janitress would stay put.) Tiboldt taped the woman’s legs, and gagged her with a cleaning rag and the last few strips of tape. She lifted the unconscious detective’s body, and threw her inside the dumpster to conceal her.
As she closed the lid, Tiboldt shook her head, a bit disappointed with herself. “Such lack of class…”
She took off her janitress uniform, threw it inside the dumpster as well, and slipped into Elizabeth’s outfit. She adjusted the police star strapped onto her belt, to make sure everybody could see it.
She took her top hat under her arm, hid it under Elizabeth’s trench coat, and exited the alleyway behind the courthouse.
As she was leaving the area, Tobold almost bumped into a young woman who was walking fast on the sidewalk.
“Hey! Watch out!”
The girl was apparently in a hurry – she didn’t even notice the woman she almost bumped into was wearing a detective badge.
Tiboldt frowned. Was that girl wearing a wig?
She shrugged. Bah. Just some nobody. Not worth her time. She had more pressing matters.
Like escaping the police, regrouping with her performer, and finding a way to arrange this mess.
‘Spider’ wouldn’t be pleased.
**************
Amateurs. That’s what you get when you work with amateurs.
What even possessed Jefferson to hire those circus freaks?! Are his finances THAT bad?
Then again, as much as it wounds my pride, it’s because of those same financial problems he agreed to work with me in the first place…
Fleeing the Courthouse is quite easy. Most civilians are rushing outside, nobody questions why Verity Willis fears for her life and runs away to avoid the eventual stray bullets.
I don’t know who’s the girl who jeopardized the entire operation. Her face isn’t familiar. She was dressed as a journalist. I bet she’s a civilian who stumbled upon the plan by accident and decided to be a hero. Tiboldt’s morons probably didn’t watch their backs carefully. My guess is she was in the restrooms when they ambushed the three journalists I purposefully delayed for them. Idiots! That’s why you always check all the stalls!
The whole operation is a failure. Sarah Summers is being escorted back into her high-security prison. There’s no way we can assassinate her now.
The circus freaks had the easy part – I basically spoon-fed them. Schedules, names, a way-in, all the steps of the plan, you name it, I gave it… Yet, they found a way to screw up everything!
They didn’t even have to kill the girl. I was supposed to do it.
(I haven’t killed anyone since I went rogue.)
But I know I can still do it.
It’s a moot point anyway. It’s not like the mission can continue now.
I wonder why Jefferson even wants the girl dead. She doesn’t look like a threat – she just looks sad and worn down.
A small part of me actually doesn’t mind the assassination failed.
(That’s the part of me I need to shut up.)
I shake my head.
It is for practical reasons. I’m not an idiot. I know who is Sarah Summers’ friend. Taylor Woodward, I’ve heard of her. And I know if there’s one thing that would convince her to return to the States, it would be Sarah’s murder. Jefferson and Tiboldt aren’t morons. They know that whoever kills Sarah will paint a target on her back.
That’s why they hired me to kill the girl.
Yes, it’s for practical reasons. Nothing else. I have no qualms, no flaws.
I’m the best.
**************
Mary-Jane thought she’d never reach her home. She even used what meager savings she had left to pay for a taxi ride, and get there faster. She rushed inside her apartment, and slammed the door.
Only then did she take the time to catch her breath. She collapsed on her sofa-bed, and tried to calm her heartbeats.
I can’t believe I had to steal the outfit of an innocent woman again…
Minutes passed. One. Two. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Sixty.
How much?
She had dozed off.
Suddenly, she heard loud knocks on her door. The redhead squawked.
Oh dear God, no! The police!
“Mary-Jane Watson!”
Oh dear God, no! It was even worst!
Her landlord knocked again – somehow even louder.
“I know you’re here, Watson! Open the door! Your rent is long overdue!”
MJ took a long breath, threw away her wig and contact lenses, braced herself, and opened the door.
“Hi, Mr-”
“I’m not running a charity, Watson. Where’s my money?”
“Well, you see, this month was a bit difficult-”
“All months are difficult with you, Watson. My sympathy can only go so far. You-”
“Ah! MJ! Glad to see you’re home!” a female voice suddenly interjected behind the landlord.
The newcomer was a tall woman with a slender figure and a white skin, blue eyes, and shoulder-long black hair kept tidy with a black headband. She was wearing casual clothes – a purple shirt and black trousers.
She wasn’t in her costume, but MJ recognized her face – and her color scheme.
“Kate?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” Kate interrupted her before the redhead could blurt out confidential information. “Came to give you the money I owe you.”
“The money-”
“-the money I owe you, yes.” She put a roll of bills in the landlord’s hand. “I believe this will pay this month’s rent. And also the next three’s. But now if you excuse me, I need to speak with my friend.”
She didn’t wait for the startled man’s answer. She took Mary-Jane by the arm, led her inside the apartment, and closed the door.
The redhead shifted nervously on her feet, and awkwardly scratched her left arm because of her embarrassment. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not asking for charity.”
Kate shrugged. “Then consider it your salary.”
“Salary?”
“For the mission I’ll be giving you. I’ve seen footage of the courthouse’s assault. I know who these girls are, I’ve been after them the past few weeks. They call themselves the Circus of Crime. Dangerous robbers. And not quite bad at infiltration either, judging by the stunt they pulled off today. I heard they were planning a big heist – didn’t think it’d be that big though. I want your help to stop them.”
“Why do you want me on the team?”
“Because you did a good job ruining their plan by yourself today.”
MJ gulped. “Did Yuriko… recognize me?”
“Recognized your voice, yes. Don’t worry. She’s not mad you mugged this Cadie girl.” Kate paused. “Well, not too mad. She knows things would’ve been a lot worst had you not interfered. Still, it’s best you lend me a hand. That way I can put in a good word for you, and convince everyone to forget about your involvement.”
“I see. And how are we going to stop them? We’re only two.”
“Who said we’d be only two?” Kate grinned. “Ever wondered what working with Black Widow is like?”
**************
William Jefferson was in a bad mood. Then again, lately, he was always in a bad mood.
“Failures… I’m surrounded by failures…”
Alia Gregor – head scientist of Orchis – fake-coughed in her hand.
Jefferson looked at the silver-blond-haired blue-eyed light-skinned woman sitting in front of him. “Except for you, my dear. Of course. Unfortunately, your talents aren’t of much use to solve the problem at hands.”
“My perspective is only external, but it seems to me the plan itself wasn’t at fault.”
“Yes. ‘Spider’ called me. Some meddling nobody stuck her nose in my business. That’s what angers me the most. I can’t find anything about her! I can only go with ‘young Caucasian woman’! Just an anonymous lowlife lost in New York’s crowd!”
Alia shrugged. “One can never predict all the variables. What’s important is to adapt to the circumstances.”
“I wager you have a suggestion.”
“First things first, make sure the Circus of Crime stays in line. You should send your agent to remind them where their loyalty lies. What’s her name again?”
“Alia, dear. Even to you I won’t reveal this information. I hope you don’t take offense.”
Dr Gregor shrugged. “Why would I? But you can’t blame a scientist for being curious.”
“Touché, my dear. But you’re right.” Jefferson swiftly wrote a message on his laptop, giving Tiboldt and her team a day and an hour of rendezvous. “A little meeting with ‘Spider’ is in order. I’ll give these crooks a warning should they be tempted to back off our agreement or double-cross me. Then, I suppose I’ll ask them to make sure something bad happens to Sarah inside her prison...”
Alia watched him send the message, then got up. “Well. If you don’t need me anymore, I’ll return to my lab.”
“Suit yourself.”
Alia Gregor exited the room, and went to the underground parking area. Her car was parked in a remote corner. She looked around, then opened its trunk.
Inside, a bound-and-gagged Alia Gregor was lying on a rug. The silver-blond-haired scientist was asleep – she had been heavily sedated. Her wrists and ankles were zip-tied. She was gagged with a few strips of tape. An other strip was blindfolding her. Her ears were also plugged. Her body was covered with a tarp, but she was half-naked under it – only clad in a red full-cup bra with a floral pattern, matching high-cut panties, and light pink socks.
Natasha Romanoff – better known as Black Widow – adjusted the photostatic veil replicating Alia’s face and eyes, then did the same with her wig.
Even with a decade of infiltration under her belt, looking at her exact double was an eery experience. Though it was a lot more eery for her victims than for her.
Natasha briefly checked the prisoner’s pulse and bonds. Then she grabbed her cellphone, and used an encrypted frequency to call Maria Hill. “I have the information. I’ll drive to the rendezvous point. You can send a team to meet me there and collect Gregor. Make sure she resurfaces only after I’m done.”
Black Widow closed the trunk. Given that SHIELD wasn’t afraid to get their hands dirty, Alia Gregor would have it easy. She’d be detained in a secret facility – of course never knowing the identity of her kidnappers – until the end of Natasha’s undercover mission. Then she’d be released, hopefully just in time to see her boss put behind bars.
“We could get in trouble.” Maria Hill commented.
“Trouble?” Natasha allowed herself a dry smile. “You’re only in trouble if you get caught.”
You also may wanna read Tirepanted’s latest Black Widow story before reading this one:
viewtopic.php?t=11211
Big shout-out and thanks to Tirepanted who helped me with the characters and story.
Character descriptions are in the second post.
Circus Tricks
**************
Act 1
**************
“This is Patrick Kiernan, for NY1. The latest development in William Jefferson’s trial keeps being the talk of the country. Today’s press conference could very well make or break the case. The Justice Department has just made its official announcement. At 9 A.M., Sarah Elizabeth Summers will be transferred from her high-security prison to the Manhattan Courthouse. According to our sources, her testimony will shed light on William Jefferson’s illegal activities back when he was working for the Canadian Government. As I’m speaking, the NYPD is securing the entire building to make sure nothing disturbs this important event. Some people have questioned the value of Sarah Summers’ testimony, as she was a close associate of Taylor Woodward’s pro-mutant terrorist group. However, the Justice Department reminded that she agreed to collaborate with the authorities and actively helped put a stop to…”
The TV begins showing the picture of a blond young woman.
Sarah Summers certainly doesn’t look the part of the pro-mutant terrorist. She just looks worn down and sad.
I feel a little uncomfortable, and prefer to change the channel.
Now, I see William Jefferson dressed in his trademark red business suit. He’s talking in front of a bunch of journalists. Currently, he’s doing what corrupt corporate executives do best. Lying with a straight face.
“These accusations are completely unfounded, and I regret the Justice Department sullied its name by supporting such buffoonery. I mean, are we going to give credence to the words of a convicted terrorist? I’ve reformed Orchis and turned it into a proper law-abiding company. I’m proud of what I accomplished, I’m proud of the ideas we stand for, and I refuse to let freedom of speech be silenced by-”
I turn the TV off. One more word, and I’d have gagged. I mean, I understand dishonesty is a prerequisite for a businessman, but even hypocrisy should have standards...
Besides, it’s time for me to do my job.
I nimbly jump from my hotel bed, and stretch. I go to the bathroom sink, and look at myself in a mirror. Better make sure I look the part for the upcoming press conference…
The outfit I’m wearing is nothing to write about – a white button-up shirt, a black skirt, flesh-colored tights, and black long boots. However, I know the rest of my appearance will raise more than one eyebrow. Complex green tattoos of flowers, birds, and winged women are covering both of my arms from the wrists to the shoulders. Adding to that, my curly armpit-long hair are dyed a dull shade of purple, and my brown eyes are obscured by slightly tinted square-shaped glasses.
Not exactly a look befitting a reporter.
I shrug.
People never invite Verity Willis to a press conference for her looks. People invite Verity Willis for her power. Because people know Verity Willis has the power to see through any lie.
Believe it or not, such ability makes the life of a reporter quite hard sometimes – lying to the press is an art most politicians and company owners practice regularly. However, when someone wants to show their good faith, they usually bring Verity Willis along.
Which is exactly what the Justice Department just did. Sarah Summers is a convict, and was involved in numerous attempts against the life of Robert Kelly, among many other criminal heists – they want a guarantee she’s telling the truth. They want Verity Willis.
On the hotel bed, I grab the key of the room, reporter card, handbag, and – most importantly – the access pass which will allow me to enter the Manhattan Courthouse. I also snatch the light blazer jacket hanging on the coat hanger, in case there’s some wind in the streets.
Before I leave, I look around to make sure everything is in order.
The TV is turned off. So are the lights.
The tap is closed.
I’ve left a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the hotel room’s doorknob.
Oh, and the real Verity Willis is still deeply asleep and well concealed under the bed. The woman’s wrists and ankles are bound, and she’s gagged, with strips of sheet. The unlucky reporter has been robbed of her card press, access pass, clothes, and even of her glasses by yours truly.
She’s left clad in a green push-up bra adorned with red lace roses on the cups, and green hip-hugging panties with a red rose pattern.
She’s one bold woman, if you ask me. One who likes to feel sexy even at work.
The helpless journalist is breathing softly through her nostrils. A sleep dart is embedded in her neck.
I nod to myself. Then I make sure the bed’s blanket reaches down to the floor, fully obscuring the view.
There’s nothing personal. I needed a way to enter the courthouse, and I needed to make sure a living lie detector wouldn’t be in the same building as my team and I. Ambushing Verity before she left her hotel room allows me to kill two birds with one stone.
Her hair was easy to replicate with a wig. Same for the eyes. Good old contact lenses. Both were given to me by Jefferson – a good thing, I don’t exactly have much resources at the moment; that’s even one reason why I agreed to this partnership. For the face, I have this neat gadget – ever heard of photostatic veil? Pretty neat technology. Can replicate someone’s face. How did I get it? I stole it from SHIELD, of course! It’s quite useful, but I must be very careful when I use it. I only have one, and for obvious reasons I can’t ask SHIELD to repair or replace it. The tattoos were a bit trickier – I used body paint, but I had to ask help from some performers of the Circus of Crime.
Speaking of my partners for this heist...
I take my cellphone, and make a call.
“Spider?” a female voice asks.
I wince, but make sure my voice doesn’t reveal how much I hate the nickname they came up for me. Both Tiboldt and Jefferson would’ve liked it too much. I won’t give them this pleasure.
I’m pretty sure Jefferson chose it on purpose...
“Get in position.”
I don’t add anything. My team knows what to do – I’ve spent hours explaining them the whole operation yesterday.
Well, my team…
I wish I didn’t have to associate with small-time crooks such as ‘Madame Tiboldt’ and her crew. These criminals mascarading as a circus think they’re high-class “artists of the heist”, but if you ask me they’re just a bunch of thugs with delusions of grandeur.
Alas I can’t be picky about my allies right now.
This whole mission isn’t pleasing me much. It’s been a long time since my last assassination. And Jefferson is a devious man. One only need one glance at his plan to see it. We have explicit orders to bind and gag the girls because he wants to pin the crimes on the pro-mutant activists who favor this tactic.
But I have a deal with Jefferson, so I’ll follow it.
I lock the door, and leave the hotel. By the time I arrive to the Courthouse, Tiboldt and her crew should be in position.
I need to make sure some of the female journalists are delayed for them.
**************
“I can’t help but feel we’re being useless right now.” Dorothy commented.
Dorothy Gray was a new recruit of the NYPD – recently assigned to Captain Yuriko Watanabe’s police squad. She had brown eyes, boyish short black hair, and a tanned skin. She was a bit shorter than average, and quite young, but eager to learn. And she was understandably disappointed to be stuck on boring patrol duty.
Her four colleagues paused in their search, and glanced at her. They were all women – Yuriko preferred to work with women.
Carlie Cooper was a light-skinned woman with glasses, hazel eyes, and light reddish-brown hair in a loose ponytail. Terri Lee was a dark-skinned woman with brown hair tied back in a stern ponytail. Jean DeWolff was a Native American woman with tanned skin and shoulder-length jet-black hair. Jane LeLoup was a light-skinned woman with shoulder-long auburn hair and blue eyes. Her figure was slim, befitting a well-trained policewoman.
All five police officers were dressed in the standard uniform of the NYPD: dark blue jackets with a radio shoulder over button-up uniform shirts, matching trousers, peaked caps, and black shoes.
Their group of five was currently inspecting the basement area of the Manhattan Courthouse. There were various storage rooms and dimly-lit corridors, and most of them were empty.
Dorothy realized four pairs of eyes were staring at her. She felt a bit awkward, and scratched the back of her head. “Not that I’m questioning the captain’s orders, of course! But…” She looked each woman in the eyes. “Come on! Don’t you think it’s a bit… superfluous.
“On the contrary. If people are trying to sneak into the conference posing as employees, this is the place where they’ve stashed their victims.” Terri explained.
“I get it, but why do we have to be so many?” Dorothy insisted.
“Because teams of infiltrators operate in small numbers. There’s no way one can neutralize all of us at the same time before we can warn someone.” Jean said.
“Captain Watanabe is counting on us.” Carlie added.
“And this is our chance to repair the damage to our reputation. You know. After the… ‘incidents’.” Jane added.
The police officers – save for Gray – all shared an awkward glance. None wanted to discuss the details of the ‘incidents’ which involved them losing their uniforms – and also their reputation.
Dorothy blinked. “I can’t help but feel I’m missing on some context here…”
“There’s nothing!” the other four women exclaimed together.
Dorothy smiled awkwardly. “O-kay?”
“Nothing.” Jane repeated. “And once the captain sees how well we did our job here, that ‘nothing’ won’t matter anymore.”
“Sure…”
“You better not think of taking a step back like we’re crazy, Dorothy!” Jane warned her.
“I wasn’t.” the rookie lied, as she was discreetly trying to do just that.
They were interrupted by the sound of something on wheels being pushed.
A light-skinned black-haired woman of the cleaning crew exited a supply room in which she had fetched some cleaning products.
The janitress looked plain and unassuming, meek even, with her dull green uniform. She was pushing a cleaning cart with a large bin.
The woman froze when she saw uniformed women blocking her way.
“Uh. Is there a problem?”
The police officers deployed to cut her escape route.
“Ma’am. We need to see your security clearance.” Carlie said.
“Oh, of course.” The janitress went to grab something in her cart.
“We also need to know how you went there.” Terri added.
The woman smiled. Suddenly, she was looking a lot less meek. “Now, now, a true performer never reveals her trick.” Instead of her ID, she pulled an odd-looking top hat out of the cart. “Usually I wear the suit, but I couldn’t exactly draw attention on myself.” She put on the hat. “Good day, ladies.”
The policewomen froze, a bit uncertain. They were expecting spies or assassins. Not some strange janitress wearing a top hat. They could sense this woman was a danger – the janitress acted like she was the one in control – but at the same time she was alone and wasn’t holding any weapon.
“What’s that thing?” Terri exclaimed.
“Such a shame my line of work requires anonymity… How I wish people would recognize my talents… But that ‘thing’, as you call it, is what I need to deal with you.”
The threat was clear. The officers all grabbed their handguns.
The fake janitress tapped her top hat.
“There will be no need for weapons.”
Doing so, she activated the hypnotic device embedded in the hat.
The policewomen all froze, guns half-drawn, mesmerized. They opened their eyes widely, mouth slightly agape, but stayed silent.
The fake janitress smiled.
“Much better.”
She took a step forward, and bowed.
“Since I now have a captive audience, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me ‘Madame Tiboldt – or just ‘Madame’ for short – the Ringmistress of the Circus of Crime. Usually, I’m more into robbery. As you can see, with my hypnotic hat, it’s quite easy to convince my rich guests to part with their money. However, today, I’m putting on a bigger show. And you, my dear officers, play a key part in it.”
Tiboldt knocked on the door of a nearby maintenance room. Five women exited.
The first two were twin sisters, Marie and Alice Marcel, who shared the same light skin, green eyes, and light red hair. One had a thick long braid, the other had short shaggy hair. The third one, Molly Mayne, was white-skinned, blue-eyed, and auburn-haired. Her hair were curly and armpit-long. The fourth one, Fifi, had a white skin, short black hair tied up into a small neck bun, and brown eyes. The fifth – who insisted to only use her nickname Gym-Nasty for reasons even Tiboldt couldn’t quite understand – was a black-skinned black-haired brown-eyed athletic-looking woman with a top bun
They were all performers of Tiboldt’s Circus of Crime, though right now it was a bit hard to tell since they weren’t in costume. Quite the contrary, in fact. They were dressed in plain inconspicuous clothes.
The Ringmistress preferred when her heists had more flare, but ‘Spider’ had been crystal clear when planning the mission. No fantasy would be allowed.
Since ‘Spider’ gave Tiboldt all the information she needed to actually perform the heist – from the detailed maps of the building to the name and address of the janitress who’d be working today – the Ringmistress wasn’t going to question her instructions.
Carlie’s radio shoulder came to life.
“Cooper. Do you copy? What’s your situation?”
The Ringmistress raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Captain Watanabe herself is supervising the operation? Interesting. Tell her everything is good, and you’ll do one last check-up of the basements just to be safe. And don’t forget to use all the code words you must.”
Carlie complied.
“Got it. I want your team to check the parking lot next. And finish with the restrooms.” Watanabe stopped the call.
The Ringmistress nodded at Carlie. “Thank you my girl. I’ll take the next calls. Mimicking your voice shouldn’t be too hard. Your captain is smart, but she forgot the employees of the Courthouse don’t live there. With my hat, it’s pretty easy to pay a visit to the janitress before she leaves her home, and convince her to help us get inside discreetly.” She chuckled to herself. “Oops. Looks like I gave away the trick anyway… But I trust you won’t reveal it? And don’t worry about the poor girl. She’s just taking a nap in a closet. Like you all will in a moment.” She tapped her top hat once more, and looked at all the mesmerized policewomen. “But first, you will take off your uniforms quietly and give them to my performers.”
The officers tried to resist the influence, but the hypnotic device was too strong, and overpowered their will.
Slowly, they began removing their uniforms. Their hands were shaking slightly – their bodies were subconsciously trying to fight back the influence – but none managed to break off their hypnotic trance. They were moving like automatons, with mechanical jerky movements. The caps and belts were dropped onto the floor first. Then were the jackets and shirts. Next, the shoes came off. Finally, they slid the trousers down their legs, and walked out of them.
The police officers, now only clad in their skivvies, stood awkwardly – completely still and unresponsive. Carlie was clad in a light blue seamless t-shirt bra and white knickers; Terri, a mango orange camisole top and burgundy bikini panties; Jane, a navvy blue sports bra and black boyshorts; Jean, a white full-cup bra and black hipsters; and Dorothy, a white-and-pink bikini bra with matching tanga panties.
Their faces remained blank – not betraying even a hint of anger or embarrassment at their humiliating predicament, not showing even an ounce of fear.
The Ringmistress’ minions shared awed looks. Even though it wasn’t the first time they witnessed their leader’s hypnotic device, they could never get used to how effective it was.
“What do we do with them now, Madame?” the black-haired performer asked.
“Let’s keep things civil, my dear Fifi.” ‘Madame’ answered. She tapped her hat once more and addressed the officers. “Sit on the ground with your hands behind your back, and let yourselves be tied up.” The Ringmistress was almost purring. She relished being fully in control.
Once again, the policewomen complied.
The performers of the Circus of Crime used zip-ties to restrain the police officers – they wanted to be quick and efficient. One zip-tie to cuff the wrists behind the back. A second one for the ankles. And finally a few strips of tape on the lips to silence the bound women.
The Ringmistress bowed, and tipped her hat. “I thank you for your cooperation. Now, you will all take a nap for a few hours. And by the way, you will forget everything about me. You’ll remember you were mugged by pro-mutant extremists.”
Humans couldn’t fall asleep at will.
But humans under her hypnotic control could – and they just did.
Soon, the five police officers were napping – and would remain blissfully asleep, as if drugged, for one-to-two hours.
The Ringmistress nodded. She gestured towards the door of an empty storage room nearby with a hand. “Stash them here and put their clothes on. Show’s about to begin. We don’t have much time to set the stage up.”
Her performers complied.
Five minutes later, a new group of policewomen were ready to take their posts.
Tiboldt closed the door of the storage room holding the five trussed up real owners of the uniforms, and patted its frame. “Fifi, I’m leaving the rest in your hands.” she said to the black-haired woman.
“Madame! I won’t let you down this time!”
“I hope so. That annoying ‘Girl Hawkeye’ – or whatever her name is – shouldn’t be here to foil our heist this time, but keep your eyes open.”
The mention of All-New-Hawkeye made Fifi’s cheeks redden slightly due to anger and shame, but she simply saluted.
The five fake policewomen left the basements, and deployed in the building.
The Ringmistress stayed behind to supervise everything. She didn’t like much this part of the plan, but it was an explicit order of Jefferson. Her operation had to look like the act of pro-mutant extremists trying to break Sarah Summers out.
Her hypnotic hat would have been perfect to control the whole crowd gathered in the conference room, but she couldn’t risk being caught on the cameras which were filming live. She could hypnotize people into forgetting they saw her, but not recording equipment or footage. Officially, ‘Madame Tiboldt’ was the owner of a perfectly legitimate circus business. She had been very lucky the female Hawkeye hadn’t been able to discover she was the one behind the Circus of Crime when she had run across some of her performers a few weeks ago. Tiboldt couldn’t tempt fate. Sure, her circus, and therefore her face, were not known nationally-wide, but there were still many people who know her. She could anticipate a thorough investigation after the assault on the courthouse. Even her hat was one-of-a-kind – people could recognize it as well.
Too many questions would be asked if Tiboldt was identified – she had no ties with pro-mutants.
Still, the Ringmistress was confident in the talent of her performers.
After all, who could stop them?
**************
Mary-Jane technically wasn’t supposed to be here, in the Manhattan Courthouse – she was a broke freelance photographer and reporter, clearly not important enough to cover such an event.
But she still had come. And no, she hadn’t mugged a colleague for her access pass. Felicia would have – she’d have called it the ‘simple solution’. But MJ wasn’t Felicia – she wouldn’t mug an innocent woman unless it was necessary to save people, and certainly not for her own personal gain!
She was however in disguise. She was wearing a brown wig fashioned into a square-shaped haircut, and brown contact lenses, to conceal her identity.
However, her scruples meant she had had to hide behind the trash dumpsters of the courthouse’s backyard for one hour, before managing to sneak inside through the service entrance during the rotation shift of the guards.
For some reason, the policewomen of the area hadn’t been very responsive. Sure, it had given her a way in, but still… It was a blatant breach of security. MJ expected more of Yuriko.
MJ had several reasons to be here. First, she wouldn’t mind it if she found a scoop. She was late on her rent – again. Second, this conference was the latest development in the trial of William Jefferson. More specifically, this was the moment that could make or break the case against him. Sarah Summers was being transferred from her high-security prison to make a public testimony against him, revealing all the sordid details about how she had been locked and experimented on under his supervision. The goal was clear: to sway public opinion, and make sure the court couldn’t afford leniency in fear of a scandal. Some would say the blow was low – technically legal, but low. Still, against a piece of trash like Jefferson, they shouldn’t afford any mercy.
For obvious reasons however, Mary-Jane didn’t trust the man to play by the rules. She had a hunch he’d try something to make sure Sarah could never testify against him – and what better opportunity than the only time she wasn’t safely locked in a high-security facility?
Therefore, MJ preferred to be in the area. Just in case. She knew Yuriko Watanabe was the one in charge of the security, but one extra pair of hands and eyes wouldn’t hurt, right?
(Besides, she really needed the scoop and the money...)
Mary-Jane checked her wristwatch. Conference was about to begin. Sarah wasn’t here – her transfer was scheduled so that she’d arrive after it had begun, to limit as much as possible her time out of prison.
The journalists were entering the conference room.
The redhead was roaming the corridor next to the restrooms, trying to keep a low profile and to find a way to access the conference that didn’t involve conking an innocent girl for her outfit.
She didn’t find one.
Bah! Worst case scenario, she’d hide in the restrooms and wait until the conference was over to see if she could interview someone. Maybe Yuri would take pity on her?
She was interrupted when she heard a few voices get closer. One of them was familiar.
Oh oh. Christine.
Of course her bad luck would bite her in the ass…
Christine Everhart was a white-skinned buxom blue-eyed blonde, with smooth shoulder-long hair. She was wearing a scarlet red business jacket over a light red button-up shirt, and matching scarlet red business trousers. Her shoes were black. Christine was a journalist at the Daily Bugle. She worked closely with the various freelance photographers employed by the newspaper. In fact, she was the one with whom MJ had the most contacts.
Therefore, Christine may be able to recognize Mary-Jane in spite of the wig and contact lenses – the Mary-Jane who wasn’t supposed to be there, and who would be kicked out of the building if she was found.
Christine was walking with two fellow journalists from other medias whom MJ knew by name – Patricia Tilby and Tiffany Bright. The three women were chatting idly.
Patricia Tilby looked plainer and more professional, with black hair tied up into a tight medium bun. She had a light skin, light brown eyes, and sharp-looking facial features. She was wearing a white beige cardigan, a dull mauvish brown light jacket, grey jeans, and black shoes.
Tiffany Bright had light brown hair fashioned into a square-shaped haircut with a side-swept bang. Her eyes were light blue and her skin was white. She was wearing a light blue button-up shirt and a lavender light jacket, blue jeans, and white shoes.
MJ decided to speed up her “Hiding in the restrooms” contingency plan, and rushed inside a stall. She closed the door but didn’t lock it – she wanted to make it seem like the restrooms weren’t occupied at all.
Unfortunately, the restrooms were actually the three journalists’ destination – they wanted to freshen themselves before the conference.
MJ kept silent. Please don’t use the toilets. Please don’t use the toilets. Please don’t use the toilets.
Christine went to the sink, applied some red lipstick, and watched her reflection. She smiled, satisfied with the result. Patricia secured her bun, checking in the mirror that there wasn’t any loose strand of hair. Tiffany straightened her outfit, and washed her face.
Patricia looked at her wristwatch. “Talking with Verity made us lose a lot of time. I bet we’re the last stragglers. We better hurry. The conference will start soon.”
“Relax.” Christine intervened as she was adjusting her hair. “They’ll go on with the boring technical details for a while before the witness comes.”
“My readers care about the boring technical details.”
“Many of ours don’t.” Christine replied with a smile.
“As sad as it is, most people only care about the juicy twists and emotional appeals.” Tiffany intervened with a shrug. “First rule of mass media. Give the people what they want.”
The three journalists were interrupted when a trio of police officers entered the restrooms.
They looked pretty generic and unremarkable as far as policewomen went – save for the fact two were clearly sisters, most likely even twins.
“Identity check.” one (a black-haired woman with a small bun) announced without so much of an introduction.
“Our identities have already been checked.” Christine objected.
“Can’t be too cautious.”
The officers deployed, each next to one journalist.
Christine didn’t like the woman’s tone, but she also didn’t want any trouble. She complied. So did Tiffany and Patricia. The three policewomen grabbed their access passes.
The officers nodded to themselves. “You’re all supposed to cover the event?”
“Yes.”
The black-haired policewoman smiled derisively. “Perfect.” Without any warning, she grabbed a tazer, jabbed it into Christine’s neck, and knocked her out with a powerful jolt. The blonde barely had the time to grunt.
The cop’s colleague clamped a hand onto Patricia’s mouth, muffling her shriek of fear, and tazed her as well. She crumbled into the policewoman’s arms. The third officer did the same with Tiffany.
Startled by the brusque assault, Mary-Jane bit on her own fist to muffle a shout of alarm.
The fake police officers laid the three limp journalists onto the tiled floor.
Mary-Jane pondered whether she should try to attack them or not. She decided against it, at least for now. It was one-against-three at best – and she suspected accomplices were waiting outside. The redhead clenched her fists. She didn’t stand a chance, even with the element of surprise. She could only stay hidden, and look for an opening. And pray they wouldn’t check the toilet stalls – MJ had after all left the lock of hers on the ‘UNOCCUPIED’ position. These criminals maybe didn’t kill their victims, but MJ didn’t want to play the part of the damsel in distress again. She’d already been left bound to a toilet seat once – not an experience she wished to live through again.
Plus, she had a hunch these women were after Sarah. She was right to suspect Jefferson would try a dirty trick.
Three other women walked into the restrooms. The first was a busty curvy redhead, with luscious long hair, a light skin, and light green eyes. The second one had armpit-long dark auburn hair, a light skin, and brown eyes. Her face was diamond-shaped, with a sharp chin. The third woman had light-orange hair, light blue eyes, a slim sexy figure, and a light skin.
They exchanged congratulations with the fake police officers. “Like clockwork. Madame will be pleased.” one said.
The busty redhead eyed the journalists’ pristine outfits. “We should also grab their clothes.”
“I call dibs on the blonde!” the woman with light orange hair intervened.
Hidden in her stall, MJ was fuming. She hated how powerless she was right now. Christine wasn’t her friend, but she was still an acquaintance. And neither she nor Tiffany and Patricia deserved to be mugged, roughed up, and forcefully stripped.
The redhead also realized she was currently the only one who knew a nefarious plan was at work. Whoever these crooks were, they had already impersonated some of the police officers.
But she couldn’t exactly come out and fight six criminals at once…
“I’m not quite sure I like this job.” the long-haired twin commented. “Things are way simpler when we just rob riches – but this? This ploy is too convoluted.”
“Madame knows what she’s doing.” the black-haired fake policewoman replied.
The light-orange-haired woman stripping Christine snorted. “Madame isn’t here, Fifi. No need to brown-nose her.”
“You better watch your mouth, Wendy. Just because you’re a late addition doesn’t mean the Ringmistress will take kindly to disrespect.” the busty redhead intervened.
Wendy raised her hands to signal she was surrendering, and ending the conversation.
Christine, Tiffany, and Patricia were swiftly divested of their outfits until they were left in their respective sets of lingerie – a lacy red thong and a matching balcony bra for Cristine (MJ felt sorry for her, she’d be found in a particularly humiliating state); navvy blue seamless hip-huggers and a light grey full-cup bra for Tiffany; and white classic briefs and a beige t-shirt bra for Patricia.
One policewoman injected the unconscious women with what MJ assumed was a sleeping drug. The other two zip-tied their ankles, knees, and wrists, and wrap-gagged them with black tape.
At the same time, the three other crooks slipped into their new outfits. They checked themselves in the mirrors, and adjusted the clothes.
“You have your smoke bombs?” Fifi asked.
“Yeah.”
“You know how to use these?”
“Of course.”
“Remember, people have to believe we were trying to break her out, and she died by accident.”
The long-haired twin looked slightly uncomfortable once more. “That too makes this ploy too convoluted for my taste. I understand killing people if a heist goes south. But staging a girl’s accidental death?”
Her sister added: “Besides, it seems like a waste of opportunity. Can you even imagine what we could do if we combined her powers with Madame’s hypnotic hat?”
“Too much of a hassle.” Fifi retorted. “You have an idea of how many people would like to get their hands on her? Might as well paint a target on our backs!”
The argument put an end to the conversation. Fifi pointed at the three unconscious half-naked journalists.
“We put these three inside a stall.”
MJ’s heart missed a beat.
Thankfully, her stall was the farthest, and the muggers couldn’t be bothered to carry their burdens all the way there.
They stashed Christine, Patricia, and Tiffany in the first stall, and locked the door. Once they were satisfied, they headed towards the exit.
Mary-Jane waited, mentally counting the seconds.
Once she was sure they wouldn’t come back, she exited her stall.
The redhead took one deep breath to collect her thoughts, and pondered her options.
She couldn’t use her phone. It was one of the security measures of the building – all frequencies were jammed save for the ones used by the police officers and by the television cameras.
She also couldn’t count on Christine, Patricia, and Tiffany. They were going to stay unconscious for a while, and she couldn’t exactly drag them in the corridors. Plus, she didn’t have something to cut their zip-ties anyway. No. As much as she hated it, it was best to leave them in the stall for now.
She couldn’t try warning a guard, or leading a guard here and showing them the mugged journalists to convince them there was a breach of security. If the criminals were impersonating police officers, she risked coming across a fake one. - and join Christine, Patricia, and Tiffany inside the stall.
Mary-Jane was aware her best course of action was to contact the only woman she could 100% trust. Captain Yuriko Watanabe, the one currently overseeing the security.
Thank Goodness Charlotte was still wreaking zany havoc in Europe, and Mystique was still in a coma! With some luck, her opponents didn’t have a shape-shifter…
Problem was that Yuri was already in the main conference room. The room to which MJ didn’t have access.
“I hate my life sometimes...”
Still, she had to try.
**************
MJ discreetly left the restrooms.
The corridors were empty – Patricia had been right. She, Christine, and Tiffany truly had been the last stragglers.
Maybe there would be a miracle…
She headed to the door of the conference room.
There was, in fact, no miracle.
Two police officers were still watching the entrance. Two women. MJ stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn’t know if these cops were the real deal or other disguised impostors. She couldn’t just ask them to warn Yuriko or check the restrooms.
She also couldn’t play the part of a late-comer to the conference. She didn’t have an access pass.
Mary-Jane retreated before the officers could spot her. She needed to come up with a plan. She returned to the empty corridor leading to the restrooms…
… and suddenly a woman bumped into her, almost making her fall on her butt.
“Sorry! Gosh, so sorry!” the woman exclaimed. “I didn’t see you! It’s just… I’m late for the conference! Are you hurt?”
“No, no, no... It’s okay… I’m okay…”
MJ stared at the newcomer. She was a woman a bit older than her – in her early thirties at most.
“Cadie MacDunnough.” the woman introduced herself. “The correspondent of Tsunami News Magazine.”
Cadie MacDunnough was light-skinned, with armpit-long reddish brown hair and dark brown eyes. Her height and curves were average. She was dressed in a dark purple blazer, dark brown shirt, dark purple sharp-looking business trousers, and black booties.
“Mar… erm…” MJ stopped herself at the last second. She certainly wasn’t going to give her real name when she was here without authorization! “Mary-Felicity H… Harding.”
Cadie raised an eyebrow, but was tactful and didn’t comment on the peculiar name.
“You’re here for the conference too?” she asked.
“Y- Yes. Just.” MJ thought of a plausible excuse. “I need to… go to the restrooms…”
A bit embarrassing, but at least that would explain why she sounded flustered.
The other woman flashed her a sympathetic smile. “I can relate...”
Cadie was wearing her access pass around her neck. And on the wall behind her, MJ noticed the door of a maintenance closet.
The redhead could almost picture a mini-Felicia, complete with cute little devil horns, sit on her shoulder and whisper traitorous thoughts in her ear. You know sometimes one needs to break a few eggs to make an omelet...
Oblivious to MJ’s internal turmoil, Cadie kept talking: “Did it begin? I was sent from L.A. to cover the conference, and my plane was delayed.”
“Oh. So nobody knows your face.” MJ whispered to herself.
“Pardon?”
MJ’s cheeks reddened. “I mean no, it hasn’t begun yet.”
The opportunity is golden. Never question a gift of fate. ‘little devil Felicia’ whispered. MJ wished there was a ‘little angel Gwen’ whispering on her other shoulder, but apparently ‘little devil Felicia’ had trussed her up somewhere in MJ’s subconscious because she didn’t show up.
“Oh perfect. Thanks! See you at the conference then.” Cadie said. She walked past Mary-Jane, exposing her back.
MJ found herself hoping there would be a witness in the corridor, a security camera. Anything to have an excuse to not do what she was tempted to do.
Of course, there were none.
‘Little devil Felicia’ lost patience. “DO IT!”
“Why me?!” MJ complained.
With snake-like speed, she hit a very specific spot of Cadie’s neck – right at the junction with the shoulder – using the edge of her hand.
The other woman let out a faint groan. Her body staggered briefly as her eyes were rolling back. Then she fell backwards, right into MJ’s arms, as limp as a ragdoll. Out like a light in one second.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this AGAIN.” MJ muttered through gritted teeth as she wrapped her arms under Cadie’s shoulders and around her torso.
She hurriedly dragged her burden into the maintenance closet, turned on the light, and kicked the door close. She laid Cadie onto the floor, and snatched her access pass. Thankfully, it didn’t feature a picture.
“So sorry about that. Trust me, it’s because I couldn’t think of an other way.” she said to the unconscious woman.
Too late to have second-thoughts. She now needed to make sure Cadie would stay put the time for her to find Yuriko. She searched the shelves of the maintenance closet, and found a bunch of spare electric cables as well as some black duct tape.
However, she couldn’t help but notice how miserable her cheap second-hand clothes were looking right now. What if the guards got suspicious? She clearly didn’t look like the high-class journalists who had been invited to the conference!
Of course, the ‘little devil Felicia’ had to return at that moment. Cadie’s clothes look fancy enough in my book.
“Shut up!”
Great, now she was talking to an imaginary friend (frien-emy?). Good thing the real Felicia wasn’t around.
“Just the blazer then.”
However, the blazer matched the trousers. And MJ couldn’t wear her faded sneakers with those garments, so the booties had to come off too.
“Dang it.”
At least Cadie could keep her shirt…
MJ unlaced and removed the booties, revealing light pink socks, and pulled the blazer off. Then she loosened the trousers’ belt, and slid them down Cadie’s legs.
“Please don’t wear skimpy panties… please don’t wear a g-string!”
Cadie was wearing plain blue classic briefs with a black waistband strap. Sure, she’d still be found with her legs exposed, but at least it wouldn’t be while wearing an undergarment that showed most of her butt.
MJ bound Cadie’s ankles and wrists with a few coils of cables, and gagged her with strips of tape. She seated her in a corner, trying to leave her in a position that was not too uncomfortable.
She then kicked off her sneakers, took off her jeans, and put on Cadie’s trousers and booties. She wore the blazer over her own shirt, and zipped it shut to hide the second-hand garment. Finally, she wore the access pass around her neck.
When she heard Cadie begin to stir and moan, MJ hurriedly fled the closet before the woman woke up.
“I hate my life so much sometimes…”
**************
Mary-Jane hurried to the door of the conference room. She was doing her best to hide her nervousness, but figured out any journalist late to such an event would look nervous – so she was confident she wouldn’t be outed as an impostor.
One policewoman checked MJ’s access pass. Whether she was the real deal or a fake unwilling to break her cover ultimately didn’t matter.
“And you’re supposed to be…?”
“Cadie MacDunnough. Correspondent at the Tsunami News Magazine.”
“You’re late.”
“I was sent from L.A. Plane got delayed.”
The policewoman shrugged. “Try not making noise. They’ve already begun.”
“Yes ma’am!”
MJ was allowed inside.
**************
The federal attorney was talking behind a podium on a platform. A few officials were sitting behind him. Yuriko Wanatanbe was standing in a corner of the platform.
As anticipated by Christine and her friends, for now the conference was only about the legal details and procedure of Jefferson’s trial. Sarah Summers hadn’t arrived yet. Her transfer was scheduled to arrive at the last moment – the Justice Department didn’t want her to spend one minute more than necessary outside of her high-security prison.
Several rows of chairs were lined up in the middle of the room for the journalists attending to the conference. Near the walls, several cameras were pointed at the podium. A few police officers were watching the conference.
The journalists already gathered didn’t pay her any attention, save for one. A woman with dull purple hair and large green tattoos on the arms, who turned around and stared at her.
A few chairs in the back row were still empty. However, Mary-Jane didn’t sit with the other journalists. She discreetly walked around the seats, hugged the wall outside of the cameras’ lines of sight, and headed to the platform. If only she could catch Yuriko’s attention…
The dull-purple-haired journalist was still glaring at her. MJ even saw her nod towards a policewoman.
Midway, the officer blocked Mary-Jane’s path.
“Last come, last served, ma’am. Go to the back seats.”
MJ recognized a fake policewoman – the one who had tazed Christine. The one they nicknamed Fifi.
She made a decision.
Yuriko was in the room.
No need to be subtle to get her to look her way.
She punched Fifi in the face.
The crook had been expecting a non-combatant, not a martial artist ready for a fight. She was taken by surprise, groaned loudly, and fell on her butt.
Nearby, Wendy, the light-orange-haired woman wearing Christine’s clothes, got up from her chair right next to Mary-Jane. “Why you-”
A kick in the stomach put an end to her bellicose intent. She fall back on her chair, and collided with the journalist sitting next to her.
That one’s for Christine! MJ thought to herself.
Everyone noticed the commotion.
Several officers approached to grab Mary-Jane.
Fifi got up, a furious spark in the eye.
The journalist with dull purple hair also stood up. Mary-Jane was now convinced she was also part of the heist – though thankfully she was at the other side of the room.
MJ knew she had nothing to lose. “They’re fake! They’re fake!” she screamed, as loud and as shrill as she could be.
Fifi let out a small gasp, and grabbed the cross of her gun. “You little snitch...”
But MJ had reached her goal.
Yuriko was looking her way.
And Yuriko knew all her officers by face and name.
Her eyes widened. “Impostor!” She grabbed her shoulder radio. “Transfer canceled! I repeat, transfer canceled! Emergency route! Return to the prison at once!”
“NO!”
Fifi casted a murderous glare at Mary-Jane, and pulled out her gun. The twin sisters were also rushing towards her. Wendy was recovering from the kick.
MJ swatted Fifi’s arm and kneed her in the gut, then disengaged with the speed of an eel.
A siren began to blare in the building. Yuriko was shouting instructions while the attorney and other officials were taking cover behind her. The other police officers deployed. The ones watching the door didn’t come to help – which confirmed MJ’s suspicion that they were, in fact, impostors.
Apparently, there were only three fake cops in the conference room – Fifi and the twins.
Wendy and the two other fake journalists – the ones impersonating Patricia and Tiffany – saw they were outnumbered and their heist was foiled. They threw their smoke bombs in the middle of the crowd to cover their escape.
Then, they shoved their way through the panicking journalists. Fifi and the twins took advantage of the chaos to flee. So did the fake dull-purple-haired journalist.
Mary-Jane figured out it was also her cue to leave.
Sarah would be safe, the scheme was foiled, and she didn’t want to be questioned by the police.
**************
‘Madame’ Tiboldt knew the importance of a bombastic entrance – but she also knew the virtues of a quiet exit. And the moment she heard the alarm siren, she realized the plan had failed.
As a perfectionist, she was beyond furious something came to ruin a finely-crafted operation. Even more because she knew ‘Spider’ and Jefferson would blame the failure on her – and refuse to pay her due.
In the confusion, as everyone was rushing inside the conference room, nobody noticed the meek janitress pushing her cleaning cart and leaving through the service door.
Behind the courthouse, there was a backyard and an alleyway with some dumpsters.
The Ringmistress exited the building with her cart.
“Freeze!” a voice suddenly said in her back.
Tiboldt froze, and made sure her face was in ‘frightened bystander mode’ before she turned.
“Don’t shoot! I’m just the janitress!”
The woman showed a badge. “Elizabeth Kim. NYPD.”
Elizabeth Kim was a no-nonsense woman with a diamond-shaped face, black hair, an armpit-long ponytail, a white skin, and brown eyes. She was wearing a brown trench coat, a light green button-up shirt, a dark grey belt with her police star strapped onto it, blue jeans, and black shoes.
Tiboldt had been a performer before she became a ringleader, so she knew how to put up an act. “Oh thank God! I heard the alarm! I don’t know what’s going on!”
She stepped towards the detective. If her act could fool Elizabeth long enough to put the other woman within her reach…
Elizabeth kept her gun pointed at Tiboldt. “Stop right there! Lie on the ground!”
“Look! This is just one big misunderstanding!”
“I heard of the tricks you disguise-happy crooks use. Lie on the ground, face down and palms up! Then I’ll check your ID!”
The detective grabbed a pair of handcuffs, and kept her handgun aimed at Tiboldt.
The Ringmistress pretended to surrender, playing the part of the meek civilian. “Okay, of course.”
As she was taking a knee, she discreetly shook her right arm. A tiny flash bomb hidden in her sleeve fell into her hand.
Without warning, she threw it onto the ground.
The flash bomb released a blinding light.
Elizabeth groaned in pain, and reflexively covered her eyes.
Tiboldt rushed her. She hit the police detective’s wrist to disarm her, followed with a stomach punch, and finished the officer with a neck-chop.
Elizabeth collapsed onto the ground at her feet, out cold.
Tiboldt adjusted her collar. “Apologies. I abhor brute violence. I prefer my heists to be more classy. But you know the saying. Necessity knows no law.” She eyed the detective’s clothes, police star, and badge. “Speaking of which.”
Getting rid of the janitress uniform would make her life easier.
She dragged Elizabeth behind the dumpster, and peeled off the woman’s clothes. The detective was left clad in a white sports bra, white boyshorts, and black socks.
“Stern and no-nonsense through and through, I see.”
Tiboldt used Elizabeth’s handcuffs to bind the woman’s wrists behind her back. In a pocket of her janitress uniform, there was a half-used roll of tape. (The first half had been used to make sure the real janitress would stay put.) Tiboldt taped the woman’s legs, and gagged her with a cleaning rag and the last few strips of tape. She lifted the unconscious detective’s body, and threw her inside the dumpster to conceal her.
As she closed the lid, Tiboldt shook her head, a bit disappointed with herself. “Such lack of class…”
She took off her janitress uniform, threw it inside the dumpster as well, and slipped into Elizabeth’s outfit. She adjusted the police star strapped onto her belt, to make sure everybody could see it.
She took her top hat under her arm, hid it under Elizabeth’s trench coat, and exited the alleyway behind the courthouse.
As she was leaving the area, Tobold almost bumped into a young woman who was walking fast on the sidewalk.
“Hey! Watch out!”
The girl was apparently in a hurry – she didn’t even notice the woman she almost bumped into was wearing a detective badge.
Tiboldt frowned. Was that girl wearing a wig?
She shrugged. Bah. Just some nobody. Not worth her time. She had more pressing matters.
Like escaping the police, regrouping with her performer, and finding a way to arrange this mess.
‘Spider’ wouldn’t be pleased.
**************
Amateurs. That’s what you get when you work with amateurs.
What even possessed Jefferson to hire those circus freaks?! Are his finances THAT bad?
Then again, as much as it wounds my pride, it’s because of those same financial problems he agreed to work with me in the first place…
Fleeing the Courthouse is quite easy. Most civilians are rushing outside, nobody questions why Verity Willis fears for her life and runs away to avoid the eventual stray bullets.
I don’t know who’s the girl who jeopardized the entire operation. Her face isn’t familiar. She was dressed as a journalist. I bet she’s a civilian who stumbled upon the plan by accident and decided to be a hero. Tiboldt’s morons probably didn’t watch their backs carefully. My guess is she was in the restrooms when they ambushed the three journalists I purposefully delayed for them. Idiots! That’s why you always check all the stalls!
The whole operation is a failure. Sarah Summers is being escorted back into her high-security prison. There’s no way we can assassinate her now.
The circus freaks had the easy part – I basically spoon-fed them. Schedules, names, a way-in, all the steps of the plan, you name it, I gave it… Yet, they found a way to screw up everything!
They didn’t even have to kill the girl. I was supposed to do it.
(I haven’t killed anyone since I went rogue.)
But I know I can still do it.
It’s a moot point anyway. It’s not like the mission can continue now.
I wonder why Jefferson even wants the girl dead. She doesn’t look like a threat – she just looks sad and worn down.
A small part of me actually doesn’t mind the assassination failed.
(That’s the part of me I need to shut up.)
I shake my head.
It is for practical reasons. I’m not an idiot. I know who is Sarah Summers’ friend. Taylor Woodward, I’ve heard of her. And I know if there’s one thing that would convince her to return to the States, it would be Sarah’s murder. Jefferson and Tiboldt aren’t morons. They know that whoever kills Sarah will paint a target on her back.
That’s why they hired me to kill the girl.
Yes, it’s for practical reasons. Nothing else. I have no qualms, no flaws.
I’m the best.
**************
Mary-Jane thought she’d never reach her home. She even used what meager savings she had left to pay for a taxi ride, and get there faster. She rushed inside her apartment, and slammed the door.
Only then did she take the time to catch her breath. She collapsed on her sofa-bed, and tried to calm her heartbeats.
I can’t believe I had to steal the outfit of an innocent woman again…
Minutes passed. One. Two. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Sixty.
How much?
She had dozed off.
Suddenly, she heard loud knocks on her door. The redhead squawked.
Oh dear God, no! The police!
“Mary-Jane Watson!”
Oh dear God, no! It was even worst!
Her landlord knocked again – somehow even louder.
“I know you’re here, Watson! Open the door! Your rent is long overdue!”
MJ took a long breath, threw away her wig and contact lenses, braced herself, and opened the door.
“Hi, Mr-”
“I’m not running a charity, Watson. Where’s my money?”
“Well, you see, this month was a bit difficult-”
“All months are difficult with you, Watson. My sympathy can only go so far. You-”
“Ah! MJ! Glad to see you’re home!” a female voice suddenly interjected behind the landlord.
The newcomer was a tall woman with a slender figure and a white skin, blue eyes, and shoulder-long black hair kept tidy with a black headband. She was wearing casual clothes – a purple shirt and black trousers.
She wasn’t in her costume, but MJ recognized her face – and her color scheme.
“Kate?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” Kate interrupted her before the redhead could blurt out confidential information. “Came to give you the money I owe you.”
“The money-”
“-the money I owe you, yes.” She put a roll of bills in the landlord’s hand. “I believe this will pay this month’s rent. And also the next three’s. But now if you excuse me, I need to speak with my friend.”
She didn’t wait for the startled man’s answer. She took Mary-Jane by the arm, led her inside the apartment, and closed the door.
The redhead shifted nervously on her feet, and awkwardly scratched her left arm because of her embarrassment. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not asking for charity.”
Kate shrugged. “Then consider it your salary.”
“Salary?”
“For the mission I’ll be giving you. I’ve seen footage of the courthouse’s assault. I know who these girls are, I’ve been after them the past few weeks. They call themselves the Circus of Crime. Dangerous robbers. And not quite bad at infiltration either, judging by the stunt they pulled off today. I heard they were planning a big heist – didn’t think it’d be that big though. I want your help to stop them.”
“Why do you want me on the team?”
“Because you did a good job ruining their plan by yourself today.”
MJ gulped. “Did Yuriko… recognize me?”
“Recognized your voice, yes. Don’t worry. She’s not mad you mugged this Cadie girl.” Kate paused. “Well, not too mad. She knows things would’ve been a lot worst had you not interfered. Still, it’s best you lend me a hand. That way I can put in a good word for you, and convince everyone to forget about your involvement.”
“I see. And how are we going to stop them? We’re only two.”
“Who said we’d be only two?” Kate grinned. “Ever wondered what working with Black Widow is like?”
**************
William Jefferson was in a bad mood. Then again, lately, he was always in a bad mood.
“Failures… I’m surrounded by failures…”
Alia Gregor – head scientist of Orchis – fake-coughed in her hand.
Jefferson looked at the silver-blond-haired blue-eyed light-skinned woman sitting in front of him. “Except for you, my dear. Of course. Unfortunately, your talents aren’t of much use to solve the problem at hands.”
“My perspective is only external, but it seems to me the plan itself wasn’t at fault.”
“Yes. ‘Spider’ called me. Some meddling nobody stuck her nose in my business. That’s what angers me the most. I can’t find anything about her! I can only go with ‘young Caucasian woman’! Just an anonymous lowlife lost in New York’s crowd!”
Alia shrugged. “One can never predict all the variables. What’s important is to adapt to the circumstances.”
“I wager you have a suggestion.”
“First things first, make sure the Circus of Crime stays in line. You should send your agent to remind them where their loyalty lies. What’s her name again?”
“Alia, dear. Even to you I won’t reveal this information. I hope you don’t take offense.”
Dr Gregor shrugged. “Why would I? But you can’t blame a scientist for being curious.”
“Touché, my dear. But you’re right.” Jefferson swiftly wrote a message on his laptop, giving Tiboldt and her team a day and an hour of rendezvous. “A little meeting with ‘Spider’ is in order. I’ll give these crooks a warning should they be tempted to back off our agreement or double-cross me. Then, I suppose I’ll ask them to make sure something bad happens to Sarah inside her prison...”
Alia watched him send the message, then got up. “Well. If you don’t need me anymore, I’ll return to my lab.”
“Suit yourself.”
Alia Gregor exited the room, and went to the underground parking area. Her car was parked in a remote corner. She looked around, then opened its trunk.
Inside, a bound-and-gagged Alia Gregor was lying on a rug. The silver-blond-haired scientist was asleep – she had been heavily sedated. Her wrists and ankles were zip-tied. She was gagged with a few strips of tape. An other strip was blindfolding her. Her ears were also plugged. Her body was covered with a tarp, but she was half-naked under it – only clad in a red full-cup bra with a floral pattern, matching high-cut panties, and light pink socks.
Natasha Romanoff – better known as Black Widow – adjusted the photostatic veil replicating Alia’s face and eyes, then did the same with her wig.
Even with a decade of infiltration under her belt, looking at her exact double was an eery experience. Though it was a lot more eery for her victims than for her.
Natasha briefly checked the prisoner’s pulse and bonds. Then she grabbed her cellphone, and used an encrypted frequency to call Maria Hill. “I have the information. I’ll drive to the rendezvous point. You can send a team to meet me there and collect Gregor. Make sure she resurfaces only after I’m done.”
Black Widow closed the trunk. Given that SHIELD wasn’t afraid to get their hands dirty, Alia Gregor would have it easy. She’d be detained in a secret facility – of course never knowing the identity of her kidnappers – until the end of Natasha’s undercover mission. Then she’d be released, hopefully just in time to see her boss put behind bars.
“We could get in trouble.” Maria Hill commented.
“Trouble?” Natasha allowed herself a dry smile. “You’re only in trouble if you get caught.”
(That makes me wonder: Is MJ imagining Felicia's voice in her head, or did Felicia somehow steal the Wasp suit again, shrink down, and is secretly whispering advice into MJ's ear? Either explanation seems plausible in the Marvel world...)
