|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Nov 2, 2016 17:01:34 GMT
(Open rp! Just please make sure you participate in the OOC thread for this because I actually for once have a plot! Bringing back an ooooold character (his first intro was from 2008!), and his hilarious introduction )
“It’s so funny to think that such a cliché name is permeating the news networks… but really, ‘Blackout Artist’? What kind of a name is that anyway?”
In most circumstances, it would have been an interesting start to a possibly strange conversation about the nature of the media and strange names given to otherwise anonymous figures. As it was, such philosophical musing seemed rather out of place given what he was doing, where he was doing it, and how he was dressed to do it.
It was the middle of the night, a cool windless moon offering only the slightest light, contrasted to the glow of the city below. Even in this dingy street, the flashlight provided only more direct light to the task at hand. Which was a large control box that was connected to the power grid, an old fashioned way to allow electricians the ability to see what they were working on. This was not the most important piece of the puzzle, but it was the most exposed. Moving the flashlight from his shoulder to his mouth, he quickly worked with the wire cutters and pliers, wriggling out the desired wires.
The name that he was musing over was the “title” of a thief who was driving the authorities crazy; in the past three months, he had managed to rob six banks. There were theories, of course, that there were just several copycat thieves, but all utilized the weakness of the fancy electric locks. The rest proved it was a clever thief, impressively quick and slick in execution.
The only way to tell when the thief would hit again was the one drawback to the scheme. To take out the power in a bank, it was usually required to take out the surrounding blocks, the most spectacular so far being a twelve block radius. That had also followed the pattern of being increasingly larger banks, leaving only one possible target in the area. It was in fact the power to that bank that the man was attacking now, softly humming to himself as if to keep him amused. As if making an embarrassment out of the police for the last three months wasn’t exciting enough. It always cracked him up, thinking about how the police were probably yelling and being yelled at for their ineptitude in catching a common criminal.
Or not-so-common criminal.
So-common criminal?
“It sounds like the name of the enemy of Light-bulb Man,” continued the mutter, clearly put out of joint at this inadequate title. The flashlight no longer needed as he pulled the desired wires into the light of the nearby street lamp, he was able to talk freely, letting his mind wander. “And his sidekick, Switch! Filament? No…” he went on, adding voices as he went. “So Light-bulb Man and Switch. The title would read, ‘in the dark of the night.’ Doey Dame is captured by Blackout Artist, and only Light-bulb Man can save her!”
Here he paused and coughed hard, vowing never to try such a high falsetto voice ever again.
“I mean – hmm! – the only reason anyone would want to use that name – cuh! – would be some deranged maniac. Why not make up something more reasonable for a real thief, like… like…” Unable to come up with anything that didn’t sound just as or even more ridiculous than the one he was given, he decided there and then that witty or quirky titles were best left to comic book characters.
One quick check around the street showed that no one was aware that someone dressed entirely in black was messing with the electric box, nor heard as he gently but casually dropped a few tools to the ground. He wasn’t going to need them after this job, after all. No point in dragging their heavy weight around. Then, the wire cutters came out to play.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he softly announced, the characteristic grin smugly in place, “Welcome to the show!”
One snip, and the lights went out in a twenty block radius. The grand bank had started out being visible even from this distance, but went out brilliantly moments before being lit up with red and blue lights. Leaning back, the thief had to bite his lip to stop from laughing, knowing just how excited the police would be. They had him! They’d catch him for sure this time!
Nevermind they had been aimed at the wrong bank.
Picking up the crowbar, he merrily walked in the other direction, the moonlight now able to illuminate the outlines of the street. Finally the ski mask was pulled down properly over his face, hiding the brown and blonde hair, pale blue eyes still cheeky as they peered out through the holes. His real target was a small bank in the – now literally – darker end of town, near the edge of the safe zone he had just created. Its security would only be marginally affected by the power out, unlike the others whose backup generators had to be dealt with before he could do anything. The last job he pulled had gotten him over his goal for leaving. He just wanted padding to his plan. And what better way than to train the police so the last job would be the least risky?
Well, perhaps not the least risky. But far less than that last scrape, nearly breaking a leg in the escape.
Besides, he just had to go for lucky number seven. It wasn’t asking for much, right? Seven banks in three months? Even so, how lucky had he been so far, still an enigma even at the end of his reign as a devil-may-care, rogue, talented, handsome, sly, crafty, untouchable, uncatchable, undefeated king of thieves?
Not that he was vain or anything, of course.
Just… a little overly self-impressed at times.
Even so, he took his time getting to the bank, knowing that in ten minutes another power outage would hit near the large bank, just as he had set it up that afternoon as a “repairman.” Messing with something that ticked down in such a dastardly manner was fun. And it would completely throw the police off track when it happened. Then he’d be as safe as he could possibly plan for.
Despite his previous success, he was leery of depending upon luck alone to save him. Seth Connors wouldn’t be the last to admit he could be a real idiot sometimes. He’d be near the bottom of the list, but at least not the bottom. But even he wasn’t that stupid. That was why the last bank of this talented thief’s scheme was a tiny little thing, close to being shut down due to low funds. As he climbed up to the second floor of the bank and began working on the window, he could hear sirens on the main streets blocks away as backup came screaming in just as the second blackout let loose on time. To think, the entire police force of the city were all searching for the man who, for all his brilliance, seemed totally inept for a moment, being unable to open a simple, stupid, piece-of-crap lock on a stupid, son of a-!
“Hah! FINALLY,” he hissed as the bolt on the window finally shifted, letting him inside an office. His curse of the window lock and its ancestors was dropped as he slipped inside, but not forgotten as he shot a look at it as he slipped his flashlight out again. “Ok, so you put up a good fight,” he whispered, putting on his supervillain accent again. “But you’re not gonna stop me, you welp, I’m the Blackout Artist!”
His imagination was momentarily traitorous by creating an image of him in a kilt with a bagpipe weapon, making him immediately regret using a Scottish accent for the line.
It was possibly this sudden recoil from his own unwanted commentary that got him to be careless, or it was the tight feeling that was building in his chest as it had in the past, or it could simply have been the fact that everything was so wonderfully quiet and perfect right now. He was in a quiet little area, with mostly abandoned office buildings that wouldn’t even notice a power outage. To think, this little bank had managed to catch the attention of a thief of his current renown and skill!
Oh yeah, we’re a big enough bank to attract the attention of the Blackout Artist! he thought before he could stop himself, sighing. “God I hate that name,” he muttered, his tone finally matching his words, everything else having been playful banter.
Moments after pushing the traitorous thought out of his mind, he walked into the chair behind the desk, which spun and bounced into the desk with a loud crash.
It wouldn’t even be something to notice in a normal situation. It wasn’t even all that loud. But in the dead silence, Seth found himself cringing as he waited to see if anything reacted. The crash echoed for several moments in his ego-shattered ears, but eventually he let out a held breath. No sounds of life. Thank god.
God damn it.
The rest of his movements in the room were as if any piece of furniture might jump out and bite him, only his smooth moves keeping him from tripping over his own feet as he went. Fortunately, there were no further incidents, probably because his pride had been dropped at the crash. His little flashlight in hand, he snuck through the hallway in the upstairs rooms, edgy enough now to wonder if he shouldn’t have gotten night-vision goggles instead. In a larger bank this would be just embarrassing; nothing said “amateur” better than trotting down the hallway of a bank with its own personal legion of police officers with a ruddy flashlight. At least this place couldn’t afford a night guard.
Passing the manager’s door, Seth considered looking inside out of curiosity, but something told him not to. One quick survey told him why; while the electricity was out, there was no telling what powered the alarm system that was wired into the door. Seth continued on without attempting to sneak inside, glad that the little voices in his head had matured enough to not tempt him to test everything he came across. Quite frankly, that was the only reason he kept getting caught before he was old enough to go to regular jail. Seven years of experience now, and he still had to remind himself how curiosity killed the cat burglar.
Resisting all urges to speed up even as he approached the door to the safe, he indulged in twisting fast in the hop over the counter and to the back door, undoing the lock on the first door with his usual ease. Then came the second, more complicated but defeated just as easily. Then he opened the last door, at last face to face with the vault. This view caused him to let out a low, slow groan.
Of course. Illuminated by his flashlight, the old fashioned combination lock mocking the heavy gadget in his bag to work its magic on computer-based locks. He knew the power would be knocked out for the building, but not the vault. Apparently, there was a different reason than usual for the door to be unaffected by the power out. And everything had been going so well.
With a sigh he couldn’t help, he once more held the flashlight between his teeth as he slid the bag off his shoulder, the weight of his equipment landing with a soft thud. Leaning his head against the metal, Seth began to fiddle with the lock, knowing he’d hear a combination before he’d ever find a reference to it. It was almost anticlimactic, doing this the old fashioned way when everything else had been more and more of a challenge. But it was also in a way more of a challenge than the others. Those he could still keep an eye out to protect himself. Here? He had to focus his attention on the sounds of the lock. As satisfied as he was that the police were all focused on the target he had painted for them, there was always that concern about not being careful enough. He was, after all, adding padding to his plan…
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 14, 2016 3:07:33 GMT
Saturday night, takeaway food, superhero DVDs. The very definition of a perfect evening for the occupant of the house.
"The very definition, of the perfect evening for a misanthropist." She announced cheerfully to her companion, voicing her thoughts aloud. Said companion merely looked at her with orb-like yellow eyes, and offered a bored, slow blink. Nima knew exactly what the creature wanted, so she speared a piece of chicken with her fork and offered it to the cat. The feline took the morsel without hesitation, and feasted happily for a few moments. He emitted a gentle purr as his owner continued to stroke him with her free hand, her chocolate-coloured eyes fixed on the TV, and a look of concentration on her face. She was wearing pajamas, and curled up on the sofa with her legs crossed and a plate of food in her lap. The large room was dim, occasionally lit up by a blue glow as the TV flickered from dark scenes to light. In the background, the refrigerator hummed gently in the other room, and she could just about hear the general hubbub of traffic far below from her open window. From up here, she had a great view of the city, with all its lights and activity. It was part of the reason she had bought this apartment in the first place…
It was not long before she spoke again, lifting her now unladen utensil to jab towards the TV accusingly. "Now, that's not right! How come Abe can sense the past through an object when his gloves are still on his hands? Nope, nope. I call bullshit on that one." Hellboy was one of her favourite movies, she always did like the superhero films, especially those with problematic main characters. Deadpool was another long-term favourite of hers... Whilst she would likely spear someone who dared talk through her movies, she did find herself rather hypocritically narrating them to her numerous animals. All cats, of course. At the moment, there were three joining her on the sofa, either curled up in a tight ball, or sat up, looking at Nima's plate longingly. The other two would be undoubtedly stretched out on her bed, enjoying a rare moment of being able to have the King-size utterly to themselves.
It was a spacious apartment, situated on the 15th floor of a skyscraper in the heart of the city. The windows were huge (her favourite part of her home) and the furniture was plush and comfortable, the best she could afford... Which, with her current ‘profession’, was a lot. Her most recent purchase was a flat-screen TV, which she has gleefully had mounted onto her wall. It had been the object of her attention for a few days now, in fact, she hadn't even cooked properly, preferring to order a takeout so that she could get back in front of it as soon as possible.
It was not all free time, and stress-free relaxation. In her life, she had very few moments like this, which was why she so indulged and welcomed it gleefully.
It was not to last for long, though, of course. It never did.
It began with her TV abruptly shutting off.
She sat for a few moments in the dark, staring at the blank screen. Then she had suddenly leapt to her feet, narrowly avoiding tipping her plate all over the floor, and raced to the window. The cats, disturbed by her sudden movement, were now all alert, staring after her with wide eyes, just as wide as her own as she stared out over the city.
And watched the lights all about her shut off in one, great wave of darkness.
A moment later, a rattle of car keys and the harsh bang of a slammed door, the cats were left in the darkness to feast on the meal so kindly left behind by their human…
*
“Shit… shit!”
She hit the steering wheel angrily with her closed fist, and glared at the stationary car in front. The blackout had caused people to panic, or else get excited, at a chance of seeing the so-called ‘Blackout Artist’ at work. So, with heading to the nearest bank… it seemed as if half the neighbourhood had the same idea. After a few moments of drumming her fingers on the wheel, trying to calm herself, she finally gave up, and drove the car onto the curb. Skirting up the path, she turned sharply back onto the road and into an alleyway, and abandoned the car, parking it haphazardly. Locking it, she stuffed the keys into her jacket pocket as she began to run up the street.
When she arrived at the bank she suspected to be the target, she saw that the boys in blue were already there, and armed to the teeth. Instinctually, she raised her hood, and passed by quickly. Once out of earshot of their running feet and obnoxious shouts to one another, she tried to concentrate.
Okay… breathe deeply. A quick glance around to check that no-one was looking, not that anyone would know what she was doing anyway... and she placed her hand on the cool surface of a nearby street lamp.
Hm. Nope.
She walked further up the street, and tried again.
Again, nope.
After a few tries, and changing directions, she turned a corner, and touched another.
Aha!
She now knew what direction.
She began down the street, a sense of purpose in her stride, now. It wasn’t long before she found the victim.
The electrical grid box looked untampered to the naked eye, but as she pressed her hand to the surface, she knew immediately, it was not so. Excitement surged through her at the information she received. This was not muddled like the street lamps, a confusion of memories of dogs and indiscernible people brushing by, but a stark, clear picture of the hands that had tugged at the wires, and finally, snipped through the copper, causing the blackout. That’s where things got… misty. What had been the Blackout Artist’s intention? Was he, right at the moment, robbing the large bank back where the police were?
Or…
She concentrated, but it was difficult. There were so many wires, so many connections… it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. She tried to listen to what the electrics were telling her, somewhere, in the residue of the past, there was the answer, just waiting for her to uncover it… What was his intention? Where… where?
Her head began to ache with the effort, and her hand, a moment ago so steady, now shook. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing, as she delved deeper into the memory until…
She pulled away, gasping for breath.
She felt something wet run down onto her lip, and was astonished to find that her nose had begun to bleed. Alarmed, she wiped it away quickly, glancing up the street to double-check that she was still alone. Then… the anger seeped in. This was impossible! There were too many houses and street lamps and machines linked to the powergrid, and although she had found she could sometimes read a little of the perpetrators intentions when using her ability, with so many variables like this, the message got muddled. If only she had some idea of…
Wait…
She almost slapped herself, but instead, she wisely placed her hand back onto the electric box.
She had been complicating things. She had been trying so hard to read the person’s intentions from their lingering touch on the wires, she hadn’t stopped to consider what she already knew about their antics. They robbed banks, and sometimes, large, expensive stores. So, in theory, she could ignore all the street lamps and wires that led to the power in houses, and just concentrate on banks… right?
Immediately, she was rewarded for her efforts. In her mind’s eye, she saw the large bank she had just passed, and two others. There were only three banks in the district that the circuits connected to, and she felt that familiar feeling in her gut that meant she had pinpointed the right one. It’s the little one.
Her eyes snapped open, and she began to run down the street.
He was going for the little one. He had a choice, and he was going for the one that was the most inconspicuous, the larger, more prestigious one had been a decoy… Clever! Not that she’d admit this to him when she finally found him, of course.
A few blocks away, she began to slow as she approached. As anticipated, the street was silent, as most people had headed towards where they believed the events were unfolding. From here, the bank stared back at her innocently, and she could see no movement as of yet… but she believed in her instincts, so she pushed forward confidently.
She found a comfortable spot from which she could watch, bathed by shadows… and waited. He would come out to her; she just had to be patient. And now she was so close, after weeks of waiting for him to strike again… She had all the patience in the world.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 15, 2016 5:02:22 GMT
Anti-climatic was right; Seth was almost disappointed when he got the safe open at last, one more look around him revealing… no one.
What? No chase? No police just around the corner? No nearly being caught?
… how boring.
These thoughts only slowed him for a moment, remembering at last to be grateful that this one was easy. It was the last time, after all.
Ever.
His bag was soon filled with what cash he could pry out of the boxes lining the walls of the vault, his attention solely on what was easily replaceable. This was made clear when he passed over several pieces of jewelry looked old and exquisitely expensive, knowing there were valuables to everyone, and then there were valuables to certain people. The fact that he had always done this had escaped the media’s attention, but who knew what government agencies were making of that fact. Not that Seth wanted to know, particularly… if they had any idea, then he was a lot closer to being caught than he was comfortable with, despite his ego.
While the thought of bursting out of the front doors pretending he was Robert Redford escaping as the Sundance Kid was quite an appealing idea, he resisted. Subtlety was the name of the game here, which didn’t mean be sneaky until the spectacular end. He’d laugh and be that sort of spectacular when he had retired. For now, his bag comfortably heavy across his back, he went to the least obvious spot to watch from a distance…
The very same window he had gone in through.
Still acting as if the furniture was going to bite him unless he studied every piece intently as he moved about, Seth finally made it to the window, slipping through silently and down the stairwell. Here, he did the unusual thing of taking the bag off his back, but by the time he did finally appear alongside the bank to walk down the street it was facing, his pause made perfect sense.
Without a second thought, the ski mask and gloves were pitched into a dumpster already nearly full and waiting to be picked up before dawn, the jacket coming off before being quickly reversed, revealing a bright green that now brought attention to him. Which, of course, was perfect; who would think a thief would be walking by so casually the very place he had just robbed wearing anything but pure black?
Probably no one, at least no one that was likely to think anything of it.
Before he had reached the street, his free hand had already fixed his hair, just tame enough to show a carefree look, his expression a perfect mask of calm. Seth even paused as he looked up at the bank, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket to look at it, swiping at the screen with his thumb; turning to compare the phone to the streets next to him, he seemed to finally locate the direction he was supposed to go, pocketing the phone before striding off. The entire performance had been just that, a show for anyone who might be watching. He knew how to look like a wanted criminal. He also knew how to look like he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 18, 2016 22:51:17 GMT
As serendipitous chance would have it, it seemed she had happened to pick the right angle to observe from, as soon, she saw the black-clad figure appear at a window of the bank. She watched as he began to clamber out, unaware of her presence for now, so shrouded by darkness as she was. He too, was well hidden, a spontaneous passer-by would have found it difficult to spot him carefully and soundlessly moving down the stairwell on the wall of the bank, it was only because she was looking for them that she was rewarded for her effort. Patience soon paid off, as she was witness to him removing his ski-mask, and revealing… a surprisingly young face. One she would recognise, and should make tracking him down easier than before.
Quickly, she whipped out her phone, taking care to make sure it was on silent, zoomed in and snapped a few shots. They were a little grainy and the lighting was not good, but hopefully it would be evidence enough. She watched as he flipped his jacket inside-out, and was shocked for a moment by his brazenness. But it made sense, of course. He was literally hiding in plain sight… it would not do to have him strutting down the street in pitch-black clothing after having just robbed a bank…
He strolled as one might across a park, without a care in the world and with all the confidence of an innocent civilian, whom just happened to be out for a walk at this time of night. She watched him pass into the next street before she stepped out of her hiding place, and quietly, began to follow.
She mulled in her mind how to approach him. Until now, she hadn’t thought this far ahead… so preoccupied with the task of actually locating him to have time to think of what she would say when she finally found him. Maybe… she should have asked for backup. Not that she was afraid, in fact, she was more than confident in her ability to protect herself should things turn ugly-she had had plenty of practice, after all. But she was more concerned if he decided to run. She did not want to go through all that again, stalking across the city, very much at random, hoping to catch a glimpse of him within the billions of items and people he may have influenced. Now she had finally found him, she was determined to see this through. If she had asked for backup, she could have had them waiting round the corner to grab him as soon as he tried, but hindsight is a wonderful thing, albeit useless.
Oh well, she was here now, and she wasn’t about to let him slip away before she at least managed to introduce herself. “Hey.” He wasn’t far enough in front to miss the sound of her voice, but she had been just about far enough behind not to arouse suspicion, until now, of course. “Nice weather for a midnight stroll.”
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 19, 2016 17:24:49 GMT
(serendipitous… riiiiight lol)
Despite how easily he had slid into the guise of a civilian, it was a move that could easily be practiced. Rehearsed, set up to perfection. So to have someone go off-script and sneak up behind them… well, it was clear what the expected reaction would be.
Surprise, maybe even fear would light their eyes and make them pause, the guilty look flashing before the mask would be returned. There would be an attempt to defend themselves, to regain the lost ground, desperate enough perhaps to flee at that very moment. The entire time, they would be readjusting the bag over their shoulder, trying to hide it from view, trying to keep it from being noticed.
Seth was not the type to give the expected reaction.
He kept walking after the voice spoke up behind him, as if he didn’t realize there was someone behind him. Turning, ready to address the stranger behind him, his eyes began to widen in surprise – only to half close as he started laughing, a hand half covering his mouth out of respect for the quiet of the area around them.
Aha! one might think, seeing surprise turn into what could only be nervous laughter, surely. His words would stop this line of thinking cold.
“Oh, yeah,” Seth finally managed as he gained control over his laugh, folding his arms in a humorous mocking of a careful study of her. “I mean, sure it’s nice for a stroll… but I dunno about sleepwalking. Or are those things fur-lined underneath?”
He was, of course, talking about her pajamas.
“Yeah, those are purr-fectly lovely duds for you, kid,” he went on, his still-laughing tone managing to not be patronizing at all – just rather overly and quite possibly annoyingly amused at the mix of trying to be serious in such an accidental get-up. There was none of the expected response; no guilt, no hiding, no shame.
The only reason he even touched the bag on his back was in his laughing and mocking, it had swung down, and so the move to readjust it was in fact genuine. “Yes, either sleepwalking or you were in too much of a rush to come get a look, eh?” he went on, adding a flirty wink to his charming smile. “The lone, handsome traveler gets off a bus, but misses his stop… a lovely young lady senses his distress, and rushes to his aid with no thought to her own reputation as she runs headlong into the night…” A romantic sigh and a dramatic hand to his heart followed before looking back at her, the teasing as obvious as the flirting. “It’s a classic in the making.”
So much for catching him off guard.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 20, 2016 16:17:22 GMT
She paused as he spoke, but realisation of the meaning of his words dawned on her quickly. Oh... In her haste not to lose him, she had chucked on her jacket... But underneath, she was still wearing her pyjamas.
She didn't need to glance down to know that they were the cat-print ones, of course, hence his joke. If you are going to be caught in your night-clothes, it's never going to be just a plain black or grey... But to her credit, she didn't even blush. Apart from being mildly annoyed at figuratively being caught with her pants down, she was not one to be made embarrassed easily. "Well, I'm glad you appreciate them." She merely replied in response to his first comment, before continuing, "Either you have an overly optimistic view of yourself, or you are speaking of two entirely different people. I think what you meant to say, was; the lone, mediocre at best, thief... clambers out of a bank window, only to be caught by a woman, whom, luckily for him, is not here to call the police, but in fact... to offer a proposition." Straight to the point, she should have started with that in her opening line...
She had purposely lifted her hood before she had stepped out, confident of the way it held her face in it's shadows. Not through shame, no, she had made a promise to herself years ago that she would no longer hide what others may refer to as 'imperfections', and she was ready to fight, fiercely, the slightest sign of adversity towards her looks. But rather, it was so that if he did run, he would not know what she looked like, and it would be easier for her to catch him off guard. It was not ideal to have such a recognisable face when one needs to go incognito...
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 20, 2016 19:25:11 GMT
She was confident, Seth had to admit, and not too difficult to admit either. He could still hear that edge of annoyance in her initial tone, switching to what started to sound rather smug. He was surprised, of course, to hear her talk about his leaving by the bank’s back window, but it was hardly a murmur of guilt that ran through him at the thought of having been seen. He was a professional in this, if nothing else.
This was a challenge.
“Ooooh… the plot thickens!” he replied to her apparent threat as easily as if he was brushing off some offhanded remark, his eyes brightening. “Interesting setting for the scene,” he commented thoughtfully, beginning to circle around her with no intention of escape even in his pace. “So a thief escapes, pretends to be lost to handle a lady who’s randomly approached him… or has she?” Suddenly he twisted on his heel, gently grabbing her waist and leaning in over her shoulder before she could pull away. “Ah! It’s a lady of mystery… someone who has as much to hide as our thief! Her proposition? Could it be… an assignment? Shall she change it to a joint one now that she’s been charmed by this thieving cad? Clad in naught but her naughty negligee… I can already see the awards lining up for a story like that!”
Rather than pull away, he slid to the front, one finger expertly flicking the hood back just enough to let light fall on her lips. This seemed to counteract what might have been expected, to reveal her face in full. His expression never changed from the still charming if smug smirk, ignoring any sense of personal space as one hand was still on her waist.
“But alas!” he lamented, leaning back with one hand thrown to his forehead while his other arm caught her – caught, because his leg had somehow snuck in between hers and with the twist to the side, he neatly knocked her legs out from under her. “The two star-crossed lovers ne’er shall meet again! So one last, passionate moment is shared…”
At this, he bent down to his captive audience and planted a solid kiss – obviously, he had had a lot of practice since it was top-notch despite being closed-mouthed – and he went up again, still dramatic as ever with her hanging by one arm.
“And then, good night, sweet princess,” he said, expertly spinning her back up to a standing position and catching her before she could fall over again. “Long shall it be before I forget our time together, my sweet,” he ended, pulling up a hand to kiss it before turning and leaving, still walking if at a slightly faster pace than before. But not before he offered a little smirk in addition to the theatrical expression.
By the time he was done with her, her hood was down and she was as brightly lit up as he was.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 21, 2016 1:33:00 GMT
There was something about him… perhaps it was the way that he managed to so throw her off-guard, completely ignoring the waves of hostility that were usually enough to stop people from crossing her, nevermind actually initiating contact... that meant that he actually got away with any of this. Contact, that was hard to break from, due to her being so exasperated by the turn of events. She found herself merely going along the motions, being swung around like a puppet, his actions too quick for her to pull away, as no sooner were they in one position, they were in another. When he effectively tripped her, breaking her fall, her hands had instinctively flown up to grasp the front of his shirt, so that her attempt to stop herself from falling appearing to be a desperate attempt to hold him close, just as he had orchestrated.
Not even a word of complaint as he drew down her hood, her defensive walls almost raising before he quickly pressed his lips to hers, stealing a kiss. Dizzy with confusion and… perhaps, a hint of desire… she found herself speechless when he finally released her, kissing her hand before beginning to saunter away…
And she pulled her hood up quickly; annoyed at the turn of events, annoyed at the way he had manhandled her (nevermind the fact that she had let him bewitch her…), and annoyed that he was about to walk away without her having been able to say what she had come here to say in the first place.
Rather than chase after him, she merely spoke before he managed to disappear from sight. “Run, then. But I will find you again. And next time, I wont be alone.” The warning was clear in her voice. “You will discover that the people who sent me are not so easily ignored... and they hate waiting.”
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 21, 2016 3:32:43 GMT
It might have been of interest for the young woman to know that it was precisely because he had a method for approach that he had gotten away with anything at all. It was how he had gotten away with anything his entire life. A charm he could play off of so easily, a confidence that simply swept up whoever was near enough to feel the tide. He was a charismatic character, the figure to be often spoken of… until that inevitable time, at least.
Her threat was not idly taken, but that was indeed how it seemed as he spun on his heel again, walking backwards as he called out to her. “Oh, you want a threesome next time, love? I’m game, but if there’s to be a gent involved, better make sure he’s a beauty. I prefer being the most handsome of the lot!” The humor in his subsequent laugh and cheeky grin made it hard to tell how truthful he was being, so totally at ease with himself it was hard to decide how to respond.
Not that he gave her the chance. With that last remark, he took one last jog beyond, taking a corner and vanishing from sight.
---
“Okay… not much longer you stupid git, so settle down and let me do this…”
The words were spoken quite softly, and to anyone who was familiar with the man, the tone would seem the most out of place, angry and afraid. A hard swallow, and he tried to resume his usual attitude, despite having been forced to do something a little embarrassing, given all of his planning and preparations.
Passports, he had decided about three days ago when he first double checked it, should have much longer expiration dates. This was from when he was still a teenager, living with his mother… true, he’d been abroad without hardly ever using the thing, but he wanted to play it like he was legit at the end. Make things easier. So he had gone to an old friend, emphasis on old, to get a new passport “made up.”
His face had been seen now; who knew who that cat lady was, but he certainly wasn’t about to go in for a background check and flag himself in bright flashing crimson. As it was, his friend was one of the best in the business, and Seth’s pocket now comfortably held the thin booklet that would get him to his new home. His last home.
Now to get to his temporary lodgings, collect the expertly hidden stashes, cash them in for something with less bulk – from another friend of a friend – and he’d be set. One plane ticket to Jamaica, and he could just relax the rest of his life.
Despite having a steady, positive step, he half stumbled as a hand went to his chest, the other hand rising quickly to brace himself against the wall. “Just a little longer…” he begged the unseen force, panting for a few moments before he could regain his composure. It seemed to comply, as he was able to resume his pace, even looking as if his burden had left him. This ease settled into every movement as was usual for him, from getting the bus pass to picking a spot near the front, climbing the stairs to the second deck and the cool night air above. Taking his seat amongst the few brazen individuals who wanted to avoid the confines of the interior below, Seth fiddled with the ank about his neck, to all the world a mere tourist.
Tourist… a tourist to life, it felt like sometimes. Especially nowadays.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 27, 2016 23:11:44 GMT
“The arsehole! The…. puff… puffy-sleeved prick!” There were not enough insults in the world to utter at that moment, and with that failure of a last one that didn’t even make sense… it seemed she was beginning to run out.
In her anger, Nima near-threw the bacon onto the pan, which began to simmer madly, spurting hot oil onto the side. But she didn’t notice, she was too busy pacing across the kitchen. All five cats watched her patiently from the table-top, heads turning to follow her as she went, tails flicking lazily in synchronization and eyes wide as they ‘listened’- or, perhaps more likely, waited to see if they would be treated to some bacon. “Ugh!” She growled, spinning on her heel to see to the bacon, giving the pan a little shake before pausing to have another go in front of her patient audience. “I mean, who does he think he is? Treating me like that? Does he think he’s funny?” Her rant continued as she picked up a fork, spearing the meat and flipping it to brown the other side. The cat’s eyes widened further in interest.
It had been merely an hour before, when he had turned the corner, and she, seething from his comment, had stepped forward- intending to race after him. But, when she turned the corner she had abruptly skidded to a halt as she became aware of the steadily growing sirens, and glimpsed the red and blue flashing lights reflecting in the windows at the end of the street. Dammit... And she had had no choice but to turn away, find her car, and return home...
Her mobile chimed out suddenly, making her jump. “Jesus…” She muttered, wondering when she had become so jumpy, and grabbed the phone, accepting the call and balancing it on her shoulder pressed against her ear as she stooped down to grab a plate. “What?” She paused suddenly at the answer to her snap, mid-crouch, then very slowly stood up, placing the plate on the side. After a pause, she replied, sounding much calmer. “I see. Well put him on then.” She sounded resigned, and she rubbed her forehead as she waited to be passed over… her eyes strayed to the window in the living room, where she could see the glare of the city lights and the tall sky-scrapers. “Hello.” Another pause before she spoke again. “Yes, well, I literally just got home. Well, I would have done, but I left my mobile at home. Well, I didn’t really have chance to stop, I saw the blackout and I left… yes, yes I know. It won’t happen again. Look, do you want to know what happened, or not?” As she spoke, she turned off the stove, spearing the bacon slices onto her plate. The cats began to mew excitedly, standing up to leap down to the floor, milling around her feet. As she stepped over them she reached for the bread cupboard, and began to butter bread as she spoke, still balancing the phone as she had many times before.
“…Yeah, well you could say that. He’s not at all what I imagined. He’s slippery, but he shouldn’t be a problem. Mhm. Yep. Yes… I’ll take it next time. No… I lost him. The Blue were there. No, no trouble. Yes, I should be able to find him again. Okay, alright, bye.” With the call over, she paused, and looked down at the bacon sandwich she had just made. With a sigh, she walked out of the kitchen to the living room, propped herself onto the back of the sofa, swung up her legs and slipped down onto the other side and into her seat with the ease and balance of one whom had done it many times before. The cats, ever-present, followed her eagerly, and as they joined her, she slipped them small bits of bacon as she began to eat.
What a night… And she had a feeling she was going to be very busy in the next days to come…
*
She had not been wrong.
She had planned ahead in case things got awry, insisting that one of her employee’s goons look after her cats whilst she was gone. The one she trusted, for all his bravado and tattoos… he had a soft spot for animals. She had already spoken to him about her ‘boys’ earlier that day, which had gone something like this…
Nima: “…And they get fed twice a day, morning and evening, and not just when they ask. Okay?” Goon: “Okay. Question. Tuna’s not poisonous for cats, right?” Nima: “No… why would you even ask that?” Goon: “Well they polished off three tins earlier but now the fat one is just lying on his back in the middle of the floor with his stomach gurgling.” Nima: “Three tins? In one sitting? The large tins in the cupboard? Are you serious?” Goon: “They were giving me the eyes. I thought that’s what they ate.” Nima: a sigh... From now on… please… just feed them the cat food. That’s the stuff in the tins beneath the sink.” Goon: “Got it.” Nima: “The small tins. One each, no more.” Goon: “That doesn’t seem like a lot.” Nima: “I swear, if I come back and those cats are all fat…” Goon: “Ok, ok, no problem. Second question. The one that spends all it’s time glaring at me from the other room. Is he gonna be a problem?”
And so on.
Jamaica… she glanced down at the passport in her hand, the one that had been provided, with her photo but with a different name, not one linked to all her prior criminal convictions. It was just in case he slipped away before she managed to grab him. She hoped it wouldn’t get to that point, she had always been a winter sort-of-person, the hot sun did not agree with her… never mind the damage it did to her vulnerable skin. She had already called her other employee, to notify them that she knew where he was, and ask for backup to accompany her. They were here now, and she saw their familiar faces as they boarded the bus, or waited around outside, talking to others and appearing for all the world to be tourists, just like everyone else... waiting for her to approach their wanted man.
She was pleased to see that she had indeed caught him in time, glimpsing him just as he stepped onto the bus. She took her time, not wanting to catch his eye just yet, entering the bus via the door at the back, climbing up the stairs. She could see the back of his head, he was near the front. Casually, she walked up the aisle, and sat down behind him. She was quite smug, at the moment. He obviously had no idea, and she was looking forward to shattering his illusion of safety.
With a loud sigh, she leant forward, folding her arms and planting them on the back of his seat casually as she spoke. “You will not believe the day I’ve had!” She announced, as if talking to an old friend.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 28, 2016 2:54:33 GMT
With his mind focused on the now steady pace of his heart, Seth wasn’t even aware that anyone had come up to join him at the front of the bus. Hearing the voice surprised him, his usual jovial mask gone, a blank one turning to see who it was who spoke. As their eyes connected, he stilled, but he didn’t offer the likely desired fear or shock. Instead, his reaction was quite the unusual one.
He settled back into his seat facing forward, letting out a very strange laugh that sounded as resigned as darkly amused. “Figures,” he said softly to himself and shook his head ever so slightly as if in entertained disbelief, as if the universe had just played a joke on him.
Despite the woman’s intentions, he seemed to be taking the joke exceptionally well.
“Couldn’t get enough of the ‘mediocre at best’ thief, eh?” he asked, mimicking not only her words but tone when she had first approached him. The charisma was back as he flashed a smirk at her, only to suddenly vacate his seat. For a moment, it seemed as if he was running for it, but instead he had spun on his heel - a talent that favored him in life as well as dance - and was now counting behind the lady.
“Five, six, seven… wow, more than just a simple threesome, huh?” he said with a very satisfied grin and mock astonishment, glancing back at her with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. His move had been simply to spook the people chasing after him, several of them sheepish or angrily looking away at having been caught so easily by their quarry. Leaning back so he was sitting on the hand rail surrounding the top of the double-decker, Seth folded his arms across his chest, regarding the woman more carefully than before.
“So. I’m assuming you’re here because of a plane ticket, am I right?” he asked, laughing before an answer could be given. “That’s the problem with buying things online… too many hackers can sneak in there.” Another study, this one with his head tilted.
“Too bad this didn’t happen later, though, on some tropical beach. I’d love to see the rest of the pattern in a two-piece. All-white bikini, string on the bottom, paired with strapless… maybe halter. Gold embellishments,” he went on with a smile rather than a smirk, holding his hands out as if framing the woman in a picture, suddenly making it clear what ‘pattern’ he was referring to. Again, his tone and expression kept his words from being condescending, his response being one of a compliment and attraction to, rather than critique of her skin. How he chose to give her that compliment was questionable, however, which kept his roguish air perfectly secure.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 28, 2016 3:50:33 GMT
His reaction to her had been pleasing, at least at first. He did not seem surprised to see her, which she supposed was a sort of compliment. At his words, the bus shuddered to a start, something she was not concerned about. It would take a while to get to the airport, and they had enough men. They could stop the bus at any time and take him in. She wanted to talk, get in what she had wanted to say before, but had not had chance to. Though, of course, she could not say much in regards to whom her employee was, with so many witnesses. Either way, he was trapped, she knew it, and he knew it… she had won, and this filled her with smugness. So she let it play out, and she let him speak.
He noticed very quickly that he was pretty much surrounded by her men, and as he stood, she responded by sitting back, resting her hands on the back of her head casually. “I’m impressed, you can count.” She responded with a smirk. As he mentioned ‘hackers’, she merely raised an eyebrow. Oh, how little he knew…
At his unabashed mention of her body, there wasn’t even the hint of a blush… but there was a slight pursing of the lips. For she had been ready for him this time, she had met him once and weighed him up, so she felt almost practiced in the way she did not respond to his comment quite so readily as before. However… his remark confused her. He seemed almost… paying her a compliment? A thought that she quickly pushed away as she realised what was more likely. He was mocking her, obviously. “You would be lucky to have a body like this, but funnily enough, you wont. Not where you’re going.” She replied, calmly, yet evidently annoyed, the light-heartedness gone from her demeanor. It was evident how she had taken his comment- as making fun of her rather than as a compliment with the aim to tease.
Of course, she had made it out more sinister than it was… In truth, the man was wanted for his skills. But he had annoyed her, and with nowhere for him to run, she didn’t see the harm in stretching the truth a little in an attempt to wipe the smugness off his face, despite the fact that her own had had that very look only moments ago.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 28, 2016 4:47:41 GMT
This time she was ready for him, which was almost as entertaining as when she wasn’t. She didn’t let his antics ruffle her feathers, which made it all the more tempting to really try.
It would probably surprise her to know he hadn’t been trying to push any buttons last time. She didn’t know what that looked like yet.
Her “calm” response to his suggestive description earned a suddenly wolfish smirk, he leaning back a little as well. “Oooh, yes… I’d be very lucky to have a body… like… yours… right… here.” His words were punctuated by the gestures his hands made, recreating her in front of him, before he pulled her in by an imaginary waist with the last word. His hands went to his heart next, as if staggered. “Oh, pretty lady… it’s a good thing you don’t wear anything more fitting to your form, or my poor ol’ heart just couldn’t take it!”
Now he was getting a few confused looks from the others who were with the woman; what was he doing, flirting like this when he was cornered? He didn’t really think flattering the woman would get him out of this?
Truthfully… it would.
While he took to the bus like a tourist, he knew the route rather well. Yes, it eventually wound its way to the airport, but it also dropped by one of the two small apartments he was leasing. This one was on the other side of the city, and between here and there was a very high bridge over the river that snaked its way through the city’s heart. And he had nothing left to lose. What he needed was time.
Seth knew how to make time.
“So where exactly am I supposed to be going?” he asked, then - per usual - proceeded to answer the question himself. “Oh, so many possibilities… you could be wishing me upwards or downwards,” he went on, his eyes following his fingers as they flicked up towards the sky and down through the bus. “You could be wishing me on a lonely isle… out of your hair, outta sight, outta mind. Or-“
Here he pushed forward, somehow making the move to practically being in her lap a smooth one. Hands on the arm rests, he brought his face close to hers, not at all concerned about getting too close when cornered. “Might you be a little disappointed in not having a body like mine nearby?” he teased, fully aware that his own selection of clothing rarely didn’t fit to his figure - especially shirts, such as the one he wore now. “I’m plain old vanilla compared to you, but classics are always good when paired,” Seth added before placing an almost corny chaste kiss on the tip of her nose, lingering for a few more moments.
“But I’m not spending my last few days a prisoner.”
It was at this point that he stopped being predictable. That he’d try his luck again in a kiss was not overly expected, but given his attitude so far, it was at least unsurprising afterwards. Playing at being in control was also not totally unusual, probably waiting for his chance to run. Another bus coming by? At the airport? No… no, they were already crossing over the river when he had slid in close to the woman. His push away was perfectly timed, but he’d planned for this. Hoped he didn’t have to go through with it, but planned for it.
He pushed away from her with his usual speed and grace, but knowing the bus was in the lane closest to the edge, he took his moment to jump. Somehow, it was far enough. Somehow, he missed the cables holding the bridge steady. Somehow, there was nothing below to hinder the fall.
Somehow, he survived. Straight into the water and disappearing from sight.
The angle at which he fell and the speed of the bus protected him from being seen as he came up for breath, gasping and clawing at the water for a few panicked moments. His heart had felt like it had stopped - and not because of lingering reasons. “Never again!” he coughed even as he made for the shore, shaking with the cold of the water and the impact of landing as if into ice.
There was only one thought running through his mind now, all others pushed aside in favor of it. He wasn’t going to die in a cell. He had to find a way out. Even if it meant sacrificing all of his hard work over the last few months…
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 28, 2016 9:03:29 GMT
As with anything with him, it had all happened so fast. One minute he had been standing with his back to the rails, moments later he was in her face, and the next…
She had leapt up as soon as she had realized what he was about to do, but was too late to grab him, even as she threw her upper body over the side in her attempt. Her men had stood up abruptly in synchronization, and a woman had screamed as the bus-load watched the man plummet. Nima cursed loudly, turning from the railing and pounding down the stairs. She banged on the plastic screen separating the driver from his passengers, yelling at him to stop the bus, which, with one look at her… he did very quickly indeed and without question. As soon as the electric doors opened she was out, racing to the railing, grabbing on to it and leaning over as she searched far down in the waters below. No… how had he managed to do this… again?
The men trailed after her, much less urgent than she, and she spun to turn on them. “Right, you lot, check downtown. The rest of you come with me to the other side.” Even as she barked the orders she could see a few of them exchange glances. She folded her arms, and glared at them with a look that could melt steel. “What?” She demanded, when no one jumped immediately to attention. “Well…” began one man hesitantly, growing in confidence as he realized he had the support of his comrades. “There’s no way he survived that jump. I don’t think there’s any point in looking for him, unless we’re looking for a body- and that falls outside our jurisdiction.” There was a muted murmur of agreement. Nima stared at him, then looked slowly from one man to another. “So, that’s it? Oops, sorry but he fell to his death? You’re not even going to check?” The men looked sideways at one another. Nima threw up her hands in despair. “Unbelievable!”
*
“Of all the useless…” She growled to herself, stalking along the embankment, where the sand stretched down to the sea, beneath the bridge. Well, there was a 50% chance that he had washed up here, wasn’t there? Or maybe less, if you take into account that he could very well have died upon impact… or drowned before he reached the shore. “Classics are always good when paired” She mocked, in her impression of his voice as she went along. “Oh, please. He has such a lot to say, I swear he just loves the sound of his own voice…” Realising that she was rather hypocritically muttering to herself as she walked, she abruptly closed her mouth. She kicked away a stone angrily, strolling down the beach. Every now and again she picked up a rock to read its story, only to throw it over his shoulder with disappointment. “Stupid man.” She growled. He still did not realise that she had come for him with a business proposition! True, he didn’t really have a choice whether he accepted or not, but the rewards were great if he just complied…
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 28, 2016 20:02:04 GMT
While walking along the bank, it would have become obvious where the thief had finally pulled himself out. The dirt was soaked into mud, the trail moving off back up into the city.
But it proved he was alive.
It was his confidence that made it work. Shirt removed and tucked so it hung out of a back pocket, a pair of cheap sunglasses set low on his nose, and the proper uneven step coupled with the dumb smile made it seem he was merely wandering home from a party – one with a pool, from the look of it.
The truth? He was gritting his teeth with each sloppy smile at passerby, every inch of him aching from the landing. It was beginning to show on his arms and shoulders, which had taken the brunt of the crash, landing onto what had felt more like soft concrete than flowing water. Finally, he was reaching quieter streets, where businesses were long done with the day and stood dimly lit for security purposes. He wandered into an alleyway, the disguise dropping for a moment as he caught his breath.
“Ok… ok, just… just a little longer, ok?” he pleaded with no one visible, a hand on his still jittery heart. Once he felt okay, he continued on, putting on the proper lost and confused look of a drunk man wandering about for any who might be near enough to see. As he went, he saw a building that was half taken down to recreate it, the roof gone as well as a few of the interior floors. A good place to hide, it looked like… The careful study was made slowly, as his gaze never lingered for more than a moment like anything else, but his pace slowly started to shift towards it, still shuffling along.
|
|