Banco Un-Populaire


delilah_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif nadal_icon.gif

Scene Title Banco Un-Populaire
Synopsis It's an inside job and a spattering of Brooklyn's visitors and residents, get caught in it.
Date August 7, 2010

Banco Populaire, Brooklyn

Banco Populaire, 166 livingston street Brooklyn New York. Just a little after one, the population of the bank up on people who are doing their lunch time banking in an effort to avoid doing it on the way home has left the cash registers full and people swinging off shift. Windows closed - not literally - but the little signs up that indicate that this teller is unavailable to assist you in your monetary needs but puerhaps you might want to use the atm!

Some people sit, waiting their turns to talk to financial managers, and other needs, all of varying ages. A real potpourri of individuals that make up the city of New York and it's boroughs. Muzak plays in the background, camera's keep their silent sentinel on the lobby and work stations, micro perforated shades on the windows hide the excess light as do the tinted windows and overhead, a halogen light flickers in it's death throes before a janitor will likely change it out tonight.

Sitting at the edge of the waiting area Nadal shifts back and forth in his seat. He constantly checks his watch then secretly cuts his eyes to various cameras. He is dressed in the normal urban outfit of Wall Street. A pair of khaki slacks, a perfectly starched white shirt, and a dark crimson red tie. His sleeves are rolled up signaling being off duty. His left hand finally reaches into his coat that is slung over the chair next to him. He pulls out a manila envelope weighing it in his hand. His attention remains mostly oblivious to the other patrons in the bank.

Delilah usually does her level best to keep cash on hand, but of course sometimes one just forgets. She came to the nearest bank she could pinpoint, aiming to use the ATM. A floral dress, lavender leggings, a colorful cloth shoulderbag- she is bright colors and red locks against the casual drab of the short line of people she is standing behind. Though the young woman is not in any sort of hurry, she does take a peek at the clock on the far wall, then to the few people she is waiting for. There is an old- almost dirt age- woman at the front, pressing buttons slower than a koala in a tree. Sigh.

Saturdays at the bank were always an unusually exciting time for Robyn Quinn - they meant that yesterday was payday, and that in short order she'd once more have a little bit of money to fall back on for the coming week. This trip, however, was extra awesome, as both her paychecks from Tartarus and Barnes and Noble had managed to line up with the arrival of her monthly check form her mother.

In short, she was about to be set enough in the long term that she could really afford to indulge for a bit, maybe even go clothes shopping for for something newer than the faded blue t-shirt and white skirt she wore now, or buy the new instrument she'd had her eyes set on. Of course, that would all depend on her actually getting service sometime in this lifetime. The lines are long, and it looks like the wait's going to be a bit, so she's taken to one of the comfier looking chairs until things thin out, headphones pulled up over her ears in an effort to pass the time more quickly.

Finally Nadal reaches a breaking point and stands up in his spot. He reaches out trying to grab one of the personal bankers attention as she moves past. The click clack of her heels cut his attention as he slides forward to pounce on her with irritability. Then something disuades him after closing the distance by half his eyes cut from one side to another. A security guard moves up towards the counter for an unknown reason and Nadal slinks back to his seat. Under his breath he counters with several arabic curses then returns to checking his watch every thirty seconds or so.

The security guard moving, has it's reason, his reason, some reason.

That which is soon understood, the mustached man glancing around as if taking in the area, the people in it. A glance to Nadal with a raise of eyebrows then just like that, he looks away to other places, other people. His booted feet, shiney enough to make a drill Sargent proud striking on the floor towards the bank doors. Fingers drum on the glass panels, and he flips the lock.

One second later, there's a displacement of air and in the middle of the room there's a group of individuals. Black ski masks pulled down, painter's worksuits on, weapons born that look straight out of a movie and very much the real thing. There's a rip of a bullet loose, striking the roof of the low ceiling and a bellow of one the others who's oh so casually tucking the safety off his own weapon.

"ladies, Gentlemen. I don't need to say it, but I will." Blue eye's look around as the four individuals who came in start to open up duffle bags. "Don't go for a gun, don't go for a phone, co-operate and this'll all go along quickly" The blue eye'd man with the boston accents informs.

It's a robbery.

To be quite frank, this is the last thing that Dee had in mind when she stopped in. No doubt the same for everyone else. She notices the shift in the air a second too late, left flinching in surprise when one gun pops a round into the ceiling. Her hands instinctively cover her head, and she bends slightly at the waist, peering past the lower curve of her arm to get a look at the masked men now occupying the middling space of the bank floor.

"Oh, you've got to be joking…" She mutters in a hush under her breath, fingers pulling her red hair back as she tentatively takes her arms down. Of all things, robberies are not the most harrowing things she's ever been a part of. But they're still a hazard, of course.

Quinn's eyes are closed, she she doesn't even notice anything's happening until the gunshot rings out, more than loud enough to be caught even with her massive headphones. Loud enough cause her to jump in her seat, pulling her head phones down. Her eyes are wide as she looks ahead, a beat passing before she full realises what's going on.

"Oh fuck" she intones quietly, slinking down into her seat, headphones held close to her chest. She's only seen anything like this in the movies she watches - normally they usher inane instructions, but as nothing like that has happened yet, she's content to stay where she sits, pulling her legs up on to the seat and close to her chest.

You know, why can't Magnes actually show up when she needs him to? Wait, no, hr's not supposed to be doing that anymore…

Nadal is barely back in his seat when the robbery comes to fruition. He quickly takes a deep breath to calm himself. Then he leans over to try and slyly return the envelope to his coat pocket without being noticed. His hands then slowly work off his watch, remove his wallet, empty his pants pockets, then put the contents into the hanging coat as well. With a slight hang of his head he begins trying to count the robbers and assess what weaponary each is armed with. Then finally out of nowhere the loud blaring of his cellphone interrupts his collected silence. He does his best to silence it but only ends up dropping it to the floor in front of him.

With little notice at least at this moment Nadal begins to slowly unbutton his dress shirt. Exposing the white undershirt beneath it. His eyes again cut to the crowd he looks for anyone who can possibly control such a situation. His eyes shift first down the row of waiting chairs then into the line of a waiting crowd. The concern and speed with which he unbuttons his shirt speeds with each notice of mother or child. Then slowly he begins to pray under his breath in hushed tones. A prayer begging for guidance and forgivness from Allah for all the sins he can muster to remember.

"Hey Preggo" One of the two who are being given the privilege of dealing with the people in the front, the other two quickly set about to sliding over counters and going about gathering people away from the tills and grab what little cash they can get. "Dump your shit in here and don't you be going and giving birth none, you hear me? How far along are you anyways, oooh lookit, no ring" There's a sneer behind the mask. "Gimme your money alright? Your money, your phones, your PDA's and your Ipods and iphones and all that shit. All of you" The nose of teh AK that they're all each carrying, noses it's way to Quinn but they're distracted by nadal and his phone.

Not to mention his superman act. "Hey, Tango, we got ourselves an ay-rab here"

"Charlie, knock it off. Just get the guys money, get everyone's money and beat it out of here quick like the plan is"

"You heard the man. Gimme your god damned money ay-rab. All of you, toss your shit in the bags. Delta, Echo?"

"It's going good" The guard who had locked the doors stands watch. "You got eight minutes guys, get your fucking asses moving now"

"I left it at home with my three-fifty-seven." Delilah says this with perhaps more brusqueness than is necessary when she senses the sneer in his words. She's somewhat used to it, but this guy has no place saying it. Even the little guy knows it, judging by how her stomach fluttering is above the level of butterflies. Regardless of what she thinks of this mess, Delilah is rooting around in her cloth bag a moment before making an attempt to simply hold it out to take. Just checking to see if there was anything of personal value, it appears. There isn't. Just the usual stuff- a wallet, a phone, a small lined notebook, girly things, et cetera.

Objects can always be replaced.

Quinn, on the other hand looks both incredibly apprehensive, and a little relieved - she hadn't expected to be in here long, all she'd brought in were her checks, her license, her iPhone and headphones, and keys, her messenger bag still tucked where she kept it in the trunk of her scooter. But still, goddamnit, her iPhone.

She's going to be unwilling to part with her checks, but unless they actually check her pockets it's going to be an issue. A glance is given over to "preggo", a look of shock crossing her face when she sees Delilah - though now probably isn't an appropriate time for a wave and a "hi!". Her headphones don't leave her neck, but her phone is reluctantly drawn out and held in hand, shaking a little.

A snort of defiance is followed by a quick smile from Nadal. When Nadal speaks he does so with a slight British accent over an Arabic pronunciation. "As you wish brother…His hands dip down into his pockets then come back out with nothing. Instead he uses his fingertips to dog ear them outward to show that they are empty. "Ahh?it seems I have forgotten my wallet at home you motherless bastard." Nadal quickly begins to rise up from his chair. He then shifts his eyes through the bank robbers. "Well let us see what a man you truly are?" As he awaits the response of the robber, sand begins to pour out around Nadal's shoes. In anticipation of a rebuttal Nadal quickly begins the process of devolving into a pile of coarse desert sand.

"Hey Tangoooooo! One of yours!" As Nadal just fwumps into sand. "Fuck, forgot it, my ass" His foot kicks at the sand before easing away from it. "figures, Ay-rab turns into fucking sand. Do I look like your maid, put it in the fucking bag, don't make me take it, I got my hands full with the fucking gun" This said to Quinn as she just holds the phone out. 'What, you fucked in the brain kid?" He nudges at the bag with his foot, even as the others are hurrying at working.

'Tango' is looking at Delilah, taking the wallet from her with an actual murmured apology even as his partner goes about bellowing, even ending up firing another round into the ceiling to makde Quinn move faster.

Behind the counter, cashes are opened, the green bills inside quickly pulled from them by harried and scared teller's. "Come on guys, hurry your shit up!" The security guard, who either is a really bad security guard or is in cahoots. "Fuck, you said it'd be quicker"

"It is quick you dipshit." Someone calls from the back even as, from Quinn's vantage point, she can see something that won't make things quicker. Little old lady at the counter slumping down, a hand to her chest and lips that gap open and closed like a fish out of water.

Delilah peers at the one called Tango, tilting her head at him when he actually offers an apology. She can't help but murmur something back, inaudible to the other one. "It's okay."

"One of yours?" Though she can guess the answer to that question, from the man turning into sand, Tango to her seems the weak link here; the clutch of fingers that moves to her chest seems to label her with her words muttered to him. Her attention moves increasingly off of Tango as Nadal begins to totally turn. That is- interesting.

There's just too much going on at once for Quinn, getting lost in a rapid succession of surprises and stimuli. First Nadal is turning to - jesus, is that sand? And then one of them is yelling at her - which elicits poorly thought out mumble of "if you feckin' want it…" - and now a gun's being fired again, causing her to jump once more.

But it's the only lady that catches her attention and holds it, Quinn instinctively sitting forward, her phone sliding back into her palm. "Holy shit, is she alright?" she chokes out, a point to accompany the question

The pile of sand that was once Nadal begins to slither slowly under the row of chairs. It moves like a slow tumbleweed rolls through the desert. In short order it stops hidden beneath and empty row of chairs then begins to recollect. The pile forms itself into the shape of an almost human like figure and in doing so begins tossing chairs aside as it takes shape.

The limestone figure jumps to its feet and stays crouched and low to the ground. Then quickly garners a lot more attention by howling in a thunderous tone. The roar is similiar to a dinosaur depicted in popular film. The figure once capturing the attention of the robber begins to slowly stalk forward its howls bouncing off the echoed interior of the bank. Its face has little definition between indented eye sockets and a grainy mouth filled with cragged teeth. If anyone seems to stare or pay close enough attention it almost seems to smile. Its hands drag along the tiled floors like some missing link ancestor. Then with a final howl as it clears the crowded waiting area to stand tall.

It again begins to move after another shrieking howl. Determined to reach its target arms outstretched like a mummy. He starts to charge towards the robber who affectionatley called him 'ahy-rab'. His purpose both simple and calculated, to knock his from his feet. Then wrap his cold, dry, and rock solid hands against the mans throat.

Whatever he was going to say to Delilah, it's lost in first, Quinn's diverting of attention to the old woman in the throes of a coronary, and then by it. The thing that's just come up from nowhere, the sand mummy bearing down on Charlie. "Shit. THAT'S IT WE'RE DONE. COLLAPSE!" Whatever money they have, they have. The guys come vaulting over the counter as Tango descends on Charlie, grabbing a hold of the man and in turn, the others all grab a hold of Tango, bags of money in their arms.

Another displacement of air, a few fluttering bills of money in the air and they're gone, Nadal bearing down on air, and no one yelling at quinn for her phone.

The robbery summarily ended by the ay-rab.

For a moment, Delilah thought she might have made that connection- someone is just less likely to hurt you if you humanize yourself- in some respects. She is left in the wind when he descends on Charlie and the others, money fluttering up into the air. One hand on her own stomach, the other balled into a fist, the redhead immediately casts a look around, only to be distracted by the literal sandman before she sees the person Quinn was on about.

She's not worried about the Arab man- or whoever he is; she's more concerned about that old lady, who she decides to descend on herself, hands reaching to either steady the woman or at least make sure she doesn't crash her way to the floor. A gentle landing is fine, if that's the least Dee can do.

"Someone better be calling this in!" A signal in of itself.

"Eep!" Quinn lets out twice in succession, the first at the re-emergence of the Arab man, and then by the robbers disappearance a suddenly as they appeared. "W-what the fuck!" she intones, still pointing forward. She blinks, rather confused for a moment - a feeling that fades once her eyes follow her own point back to the collapsed lady.

And just like Dee, almost immediately Quinn is back on her feet, a bit of a stumble as she moves forward, entirely less graceful than Dee is as she makes the same woman. She doesn't acknowledge Dee, at least not in a friendly since, only offering a terse "Hey" as she plops to her knees, phone in hand and Quinn dialing 911 - even if the robbery had already been reported, she wasn't going to risk it.

The figure of sand once Nadal howls in frustration as the fast moving robbers flee the bank. It makes its way back towards its clothing grabbing what it can and leaving behind his shoes. His fat kid running pace is then resumed as he barges into the banks restroom. He slinks into a stall and begins to reconstitutes himself as human. After a short couple of minutes he bursts back into the lobby wearing an undershirt and pants. Disheveled he begins moving towards his shoes and jacket. He steps into them turns to the majority of patrons bowing his head. "My apologies." The accent again dances off of his tongue as he speaks. With a quick dutiful expression and a quick glance to check for impediments he bolts towards the door. Nadal runs as fast as his feet can carry him to disappear among the masses.

In his rush out the door the manila envelope he had weighed in his hand now rests on the floor. Its contents still enclosed within a pair of human molars, the address for club Tartarus with the name Nadira scrawled above it, and a key for a bus station locker. These small items wield a great importance to Nadal's personal quest.

Old ladies and heart attacks don't mix. Dee knows that much for sure, helping the old woman to sit back on the floor, taking knees one by one herself. She looks up when Quinn gets closer and sinks down, nodding a greeting and going about becoming nursemaid. "We're calling someone, there'll be a bus here soon." Lilah's manner is probably exactly what she needs, a hand to her hair and a kind downward smile.

The 911 operator picks up almost immediately, Quinn sitting a bit back from Dee and the woman as to not get in Dee's way. "Yes, hello!" she practically shouts into the receiver in, iPhone held close. "Hello, yes! I'm at Banco Populaire, at 166 livingston street! There's been a robbery!" Quinn turns away a bit as she begins to give details, quickly relaying the seemingly critical condition of the woman in front of her and Dee.
[OOC] Nadal says, "In his wrap up I have to do a little thought posing. Just to explain why he was there and what predicament he is stuck in. Is this ok or too out of line for this mush?"

With no impediment Nadal slips into the street and into the city. The concern marked quite notably all over his expression as he turns looks into the bank. It isn't till much later that he discovers the missing envelope. His plans must now change the safe deposit box will have to be retrieved by someone else.

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