Calling Card

Participants:

evran_icon.gif roman_icon.gif

Scene Title Calling Card
Synopsis A pro-SLC-E scavenging business becomes the target of a hate-driven attack.
Date September 19, 2020

Searchlight Salvage


The shik-shik-shik of a shaken can of spraypaint is the only thing that can be heard over the sound of the water.

A sign reading Searchlight Salvage is stationed on the shore, unlit in the dark but seen under the light of the moon. Two slender forms dressed in colors drowned by the night slip past it and onto the gangplank leading down to the floating building that serves as the business' headquarters.

The clack and clatter of the shaken spraypaint bottle stills as the first of the two, a more gangly figure, hops onto the floating platform of the building. He sidesteps to try and peer into the darken windows, confirming to himself no one's there. The bandana covering his face is adjusted regardless. The second figure, still standing on the gangplank, looks back to the shoreline with anxious twitches of his head.

"Hurry up already," Roman Santos hisses, tearing his eyes away from the shore to come down onto the platform himself.

"Don't be such a fucking chicken," Evran Foster replies, giving him a look over the top of his self-made mask. The grin he wears can be heard in his chuckle as Roman glowers in return at him, a spark of something in the other boy arising from the comment.

Then he then turns back to the building, beginning to arc out the outline for a bulb of black clearly meant to look like a flame. He doubles it up on the right with another curve around the side of it that begins to look like a flame as well… save for a circular tuck back into it like an eye-socket, and a sharp angle back out, giving that second slice of shape considerably more angle to it.

The resulting shape still looks like a black flame, overall, though the right portion definitely looks more like some kind of hawk in profile.

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Evran looks pleased with himself, and Roman nods. "Okay, let's bail," the latter tries to encourage him, but the former just tuts and begins to take his time with heavy, thoughtful strides around the side of the platform. The window-side of the shack is a broader canvas, and on this one he doesn't bother with images— he goes straight to broad lettering that covers the outside and right over the window.

SLC < PE
Umano è il Primo

Roman glares in impatience while Evran completes his last flourish, adding an underline of emphasis on the Italian scribing. With a frown, he asks, "Can we go now?" and doesn't look any happier when Evran relents and they head back up the gangplank.

"Can't fucking wait to see the looks on their faces…" Evran says to himself as they hit solid ground again, the can of paint tucked away into his jacket pocket for later reuse. "Next part's all you, Rome."

Jaw setting with determination under gaiter pulled up over the bottom part of his face, Roman nods to signal his agreement. He starts to reach back into the bookbag over his shoulder, but he pauses as an idea hits him. "Actually— let's wait for them to see it, first." He turns to his brother-in-arms with a resolute nod.

With a blink, Evran's head recoils back in surprise. "Really?" Usually he's the one driving, leading him to let out a quiet laugh of amazement at this latest development. He turns to look back down at the white building, at how the black shapes can be seen on it even from this distance in the dark. The corner of his mouth curls back in a grin under his bandana.

"Better not chicken out on me."


Several hours later; after sunrise


"What the…"

Searchlight Salvage almost always has someone onsite to be on the lookout for potential customers, or trouble, but everybody's got to sleep. Seeing what's very clearly graffiti on the front door and wall of the building is a disappointment, because it's exactly the sort of thing that vigilance is meant to guard against.

The shape of the symbol doesn't immediately ring any bells, so when the opening employee draws nearer, she spends a good deal of time peering up at it, trying to figure out if it's supposed to be some kind of gang sign or what. Cause that would be terrible if the business was caught up in some kind of territory spat or something.

She rubs at the paint with her thumb, but it's already well-dried. With a sign, she pulls out her key and opens the front door to head in and call the owner, but seeing inside, she can tell right away it's not just the front that's been defaced. "What…" Swinging the door shut again, she comes around the side of the building to see the full body of the letters she'd seen painted over the window. At first they don't make much sense to her, especially not the ones not in English, but something about the nature of them, about the fact they're tagged on the side of a business like this gives her a sinking feeling in her stomach.

That's when she hears the sound of shattering glass hitting the front of the building, bringing her head to snap in the direction of the noise. She sees when she turns someone standing up on the levee, someone in mostly black with a black mask drawn up their face, and she gives them a quizzical look that quickly turns to something more cautious, more defensive. Something is wrong here.

She smells the smoke before she sees it.

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