Black Market Value (open)

Participants: Ripley Ryan /Open
Open/Closed: Open
Location(s): The streets of New York City
Time of Day: Night
Weather: Overcast
Summary: Star has organised her first heist since escaping The Raft in a desperate attempt stabilise her bank balance. Still new to the ways of the villain, she has hired the services of an unknown miscreant to aid her. What could go wrong?

She leaned lazily against the narrow street's stone wall, hands pushed deep into the pockets of her ratty jeans. In the near-distance, drunken shouts of merriment and anger mingled with the rumble of traffic, a late night ambience occasionally interrupted by the blaring of car horns or the wail of sirens. Steam rose from vents and ducts, obscuring the already shadowed maze of back alleys that made up one of New York's rougher districts. If there was a more perfect meeting place for two people about to commit a crime, she couldn't readily think of one.

And that was exactly what Ripley Ryan intended to do.

Nothing monumental, of course – not a statement that risked drawing the ire of New York's populous hero community, just something quick, easy, and most importantly, lucrative. Since escaping her imprisonment in The Raft, Ryan was doing her utmost to lay low, to ensure she didn't end up right back behind bars. However, the issue of money, and earning it, remained a predicament: she couldn't just apply for a job or return to working as a reporter. Thus, she had to look for other ways to pay her way.

Drinking at a few dive bars famous for their less-than-lawful clientele, Ripley had made a handful of contacts – people that knew people, that knew other people, who wanted certain things and were willing to pay for them. Repeatedly mentioned was a shipment of chemicals being made to the Brand Corporation, a subsidiary of Roxxon focused on scientific research and development. Stealing anything from Roxxon was a risk – but that only made their goods double in black market value. Better yet, not a single one of New York's super-powered vigilantes would be quick to retrieve anything for a company so corrupt.

The shipment was the perfect target, and with a little more networking, Ryan learned as much as she could about it: the route it was taking from New York's docklands to the Brand headquarters, the times of travel, and more importantly, how well-guarded the transports were likely to be. All that remained was for her to undertake her heist.

With a little help.

The idea of calling in aid was a last minute addendum to her plot, but Ripley was no evil mastermind. She'd attempted one power-play in her brief villainous career and had been stunningly thwarted; left injured in a maximum-security prison. For obvious reasons, it wasn't an experience she wished to repeat. Asking someone to join her – someone more adept at criminal enterprising, with little more confidence and know-how – it wasn't likely to be a negative thing. Sharing her payday with another wasn't ideal, but with the amount she stood to earn, Ryan had come to the conclusion that she could live with it. Plus, should one of the friendly-neighbourhood-Avenger-Defenders interfere, her help suddenly became her scapegoat.

Her new ally was to meet her in that alley. She'd sent out various communications detailing a meeting time, place and payment information – and though they hadn't replied to any of her messages – Ripley had assumed they were on board.

And if they were, they were late.