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| Scene Title | Hook |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | When a Refrain raid goes down, chaos ensues. For the police, it's all in a day's work. |
| Date | November 15, 2009 |
Hook is called as such, rather uncreatively, for the neighbourhood in which it runs. Larger Brooklyn spreads out from this one little backwater neighbourhood Red Hook, known sometimes as Little Staten Island for the fact that so much flotsam and jetsam from New York's forgotten borough washes up on its shores. For a fee, one can safely navigate between it and the mainland and evade all threat of piracy - because you happen to be running with the pirates themselves.
Like an infection, crime spreads onto the land as well, not just the filthy waters between Staten Island's shores and the docks of Red Hook. Gun and drug trade and transport are frequent enough, and gang territory, cut-throats, prostitution. You only need to scratch the surface to find it.
But Hook is also named for the building in which it resides. The meat packing plant has many of the things hanging from chains, from the walls and ceiling, of when it was a proper run business and not home to dead conveyor belts and empty cattle cages. The warehouse itself is empty of anything, though upon one wall, it's nighttime name is scrawled in graffiti red, and a daring arrow splashed across brick wall to lead those who know what they're looking for down, down, down.
Last but not least, Hook is named for its function. Junkies and party-goers alike mill under the ground, with music muffled to the outside world by cement and brick. Down here, cheap lights of red and blue, mocking police colours, light up the alcoves. The air is hazy with cigarette smoke, and there is a certain joylessness to those that cluster around. Booths, tables, and there's even a bar set up, but alcohol isn't what's come for. There's heroin, coke, but more or less on the menu are the blue vials traded around, injected on the spot for the desperate, moving as fast as the money that flows.
Logan knows this place would be so much prettier, if it were in the Rookery.
People celebrate their own depravity, across the river, rather than skulk around beneath dirty factories. If he had it his way, there would be more lights, more music, more women and just generally more of everything. Still, this isn't his operation - maybe one day, if he makes nice effectively with the owner of this particular den. She sits across from him, an Asian half-breed just like Toru, he can't help but muse. He has money in his pocket already and on the table between them, lies Wendy's prior stash - a token gift as he spins his silver about what the Linderman Group can do for you.
Life isn't bad. Which means it can always get worse.
The blue vials have a kind of temptation factor to them, but even if the vials cause a mild craving she'd hoped she would be over, Gillian isn't giving into it. The only reason she approaches the lines is to look and see who's standing there for them. There's people of many ages, sizes and shapes, but only one that matches what she's looking for. Fifteen, dark reddish hair, dark eyes, pale skin, freckles. She's not among the line waiting, but that doesn't mean she can't find her.
The ones that inject on the spot don't tend to make it very far away. There's a huddle spot near the wall, where some of them lay back, some of them sit. It's not the most comfortable pile, but it allows them to experience their "vision". Their memories.
This particular corner smells of homemade apple pies, for some reason.
It's the smell that makes Gillian move closer, bending down to push aside a young greasy man that's leaning there, to reveal the red head she came looking for. The girl isn't seeing anything in front of her, muttering under her breath. Talking in her memories, most likely.
"Fuck… Had to come all the way out here to get a fix, didn't you…" Not that the girl can hear her, but. She pulls on her arm. It's going to be difficult getting her out to the car. But the good news is the older Lighthouse orphan can't really fight as long as she's still stuck in a Refrain memory.
Aude's been in on many a bust, but this is the first time that she's been on the inside of one and not outside. Clothing appropriate for someone who's drifting around the edges, no makeup save for what might help give that run down, need a fix, gimme a fix right now kinda look. She's sporting a gun but it's some place that's not easily seen in the army surplus jacket.
Place is filled with evolveds. SHe can feel it, it crawls all over her skin and makes her shiver. Fucking genetic freaks, congregating in one place. What she wouldn't give for someone to come down and blow the fucking shit out of this place. But they're not here to do that, instead they're here to bust it up and get some dealers cuffed and seeing the inside of a prison. Possibly dropping some soap on accident. Yuuuuup. Gillian and her attempts to gather up someone is noted, careful not to look around too much lest that be a tip off. "Aww come on chica" Going for the brooklyn accent she grew up in. "Let the girl be, she's just having a bit a fun. Maybe you should try this shit out too, then you wouldn't look so uptight" Comes from the petite black woman.
Huddled in the corner of a crappy couch, shifting rather uncomfortably, is rather rough looking figure. His face covered in several day stubble, eyes looking out from under lanky hair that looks like it needs to be cut and washed. There are dark circles under his blood shot eyes, testimony to how little sleep he's been getting. His clothes look just as wonderful. The white t-shirt he is wearing looks stained, it peeks out from under a ratty plaid flannel shirt. His jeans are dirty, and filled with holes, but his sneakers still look decent. This wreck of a man, is Detective Thomas Cooper.
When he was approached to do this, Cooper had been surprised… since well, it's not technically his job, but he's done this sort of thing for years. He's been spending the last few days in the depth of this place watching, acting like all the others. He doesn't even look at Aude, instead he leans to the side and reaches under him to pull out a beer can, which is tossed to the floor.
In contrast, Logan is resplendent in Dolce & Gabbana, from his suit to his shoes, with tinted sunglasses— of all things— perched at the end of his nose so that he might better peer over them. Green eyes cut over towards Cooper with all the care of someone noting furniture, skip over towards the line and young things groping around on the floor, and those more fortunate to have found chairs and sofas. It provides the erstwhile pimp the twin sensations of his skin crawling in disdain, and utter intrigue.
"Can I get you a drink, Mr. Logan?"
His attention steers back towards his hostess, offering her a smile as he leans back in his chair. "That would be lovely." A doubtful glance cuts towards the bar, or what counts for it, and generously, he adds, "Whatever you've got, thank you." It's then that his phone rings out, which he hastily takes from his pocket and, without glancing at the number, hangs up. "Sorry about that."
Outside, Lewis— driver, bone breaker, well paid— curses as the man who's hired him for the last few weeks now doesn't respond to his frantic call. Fuck it. He's not this well paid. The police don't pay attention to the sleek sports car parked a block or so away abruptly pulling out of its station and cruising in the opposite direction of what is promising to be a quick and violent drug bust.
Any minute now, according to the coordinated watches on Cooper and Aude's wrists, seconds pressing closer.
Uptight. That's certainly not what she expects to be called, but in this situation, considering she looks as if she's going to be dragging a younger girl from a drug den while she can barely function as a person… Then maybe she is uptight. But Gillian still gives a muttered, "Mind your own fucking business," under her breath. Shifting the girl's weight as best she can, she tries to get her shoulder under her, so she can begin the long move of carrying her out. If only she would have made it here sooner… Timing is not on her side.
That strange apple-pie-like smell seems to grow stronger suddenly, moving out around the girl in all directions, like someone just pulled the oven open to let the smell out into the kitchen. It certainly smells better than the unwashed masses, the beer, the sweat. But it's also unnatural.
Refrain can make some people lose control of their abilities, especially when abilities are tied to memory— and scent memory happens to be one of the strongest of all.
And with everything else going on, she thinks her biggest worry is getting the girl outside and into the car. If only…
Oh Cooper notices alright, as soon as he sees someone approaching the hostess, he pushes himself up to his feet. A glance Aude's way, he hope she sees what he's doing. There is a bit of a stumble over a pair of bodies on the floor, done on purpose really, before he angles his path to happen to converge with the hostess, putting himself right in her path. "Hey.. hey.." He gives her a sly smile to the woman, "Beautiful.. I need another fix." He holds up a vial, giving it a little shake the little tiny drop of Refrain is splattered inside the vial. He had cringed at the idea of using it the first time, but since there were no effects to him.. and it's not hard to look comatose… well…. He's just praying he doesn't get brain cancer from it. Course, it's better then some of the stuff he's had to do in the past. "Come on.. Help a poor guy out?" He only needed her to stay a few more moments.
Aude notices, drink in hand that's been little by little switched out for someone else's glass who's drinking the same. She opts to scowl for Gillian and her charge. Oh yes, keeping an eye on that one. "Whatever chica. She looks heavy, let me help you" Least she'll have one guaranteed bag in this whole thing, possibly two if she does. "Taking a good trip at least. Envy her ass. Maybe you can spare some change to help a girl out and get a fix of her own?" She's on the other side of the languid red head, making sure her gun arm isn't occupied and helping Gillian.
Despite her man's urging, the hostess stops at the sound of the junkie's pleas, elegant features contorting in veiled distaste at the sight of him, although there's recognition too - he's been around before, and she's likely even sold him some of the blue-gold itself. Her teeth are bright in her Cheshire smile as he puts a hand on his arm. "Baby, ain't no one gonna help you now," she states, though crooks a finger towards where Logan is lounging. "If you're illin', go talk to him. Otherwise, I'm getting my ass outta here, and you should— "
She waited too long, instinct lazy with drink and smoke, because there's suddenly a slam of doors being kicked inwards, one burly security man in a suit making quick work of pushing his way through the stoner crowd and away from the—
"This is the NYPD!"
…that.
They come down the stairs, the men in blue, two, then three, and from the back where the den mother was making her run, there's a similar door slam and a distant command. Logan is already surging to his feet, though indecision has him still as to where to go, even as those sober enough abruptly scatter, the line disintegrating.
"I can handle it," Gillian grumbles, trying to pull the girl closer to her, even if she really is too heavy for her to carry on her own. It's all about being stubborn and not wanting help from someone who just called her uptight— but there's other reasons. Mostly not wanting to trust anyone in this place. Of course she thinks it's cause they're all drug dealers and drug addicts, not…
NYPD.
The sudden sound and yell makes her jump, losing her grip on the girl and letting her slide toward the floor while she's still enjoying her drug induced memories of old. Likely something to do with her family, the one that she'd lost. Parents, siblings, the smell of apple pie in the morning. That sort of thing. Being able to alter scent seems so perfectly harmless.
Unless someone's trying to hide drugs from drug dogs, but that's the last thing on the young Evolved's mind, most likely.
"Fuck, fuck," Gillian curses under her breath, trying to pull on the girl again and try to drag her out of the way. With people scattering in every which way, there's threats of them getting trampled if they can't stay on their feet. Course this opens her up to "help" a little more than before.
As soon as the sound of the door crunching inward is heard, Cooper is in motion, a hand grabs the woman's arm, twisting it painfully behind her back and push her up against the wall. "Yeah… your ass isn't going to go anywhere, honey.' He purrs the words as he extracts a thin chain with his flat badge from where is was hidden under the crappy shirt, better safe then sorry. Cause then he produces a pair of handcuffs from the small of his back, to secure her.
He's standing in a bad place he knows it.. He's blocking the escape of others, he watches the approach making sure the woman is between him and everyone else. Can you say living meat shield? As soon as the cuffs are on her, a nice pretty Sig is produced from the small of his back and pointed at anyone trying to escape his way. "NYPD.. Stop where you are! Hands on your head and to your knees!"
Not so fast there Gillian. AS the cry out of NYPD comes through the doors and the dark navy blue of the suits, Aude's drawing her own weapon, something else too. The chain around her neck that looked like a necklace was actually her own little badge and it's popped out the same time as her gun is. It's pointed at the augmentor and her charge. "NYPD, I advise you to stay down, it'll go easier for you and your friend"
Even as the petite woman is moving towards logan, wary of any move he might make. Big man with the Refrain, she's going to bust his ass down. "NYPD! Put your hands on your head, stay where you are!" Eye's peeled for weapons of the normal variety as opposed to the evolved variety.
Refrain, what Refr— oh that Refrain. The Refrain on the table just next to him. Logan's hands fly up as if he could claim ignorance of the drug, catching his hip against the corner of the seat he had been formerly seated at, his eyes glowing their bright green although if it has any affect on anyone is hard to say, or his own ability is leaking thanks to that particular field Gillian has thrown up around her.
Which means Logan isn't the only one who gets a taste of it. Gillian will feel it first, a small tug at her power, before suddenly the air ripples cone shaped. It hits both augmentor and police woman, a flash of light as the kinetic blast, or whatever it is, expelled from the gaping maw of a felled Evolved junkie, slams through the air. Knocking both Aude and Gillian off their feet, it passes through them and shatters the glass at the bar, sending shards flying.
The den owner cries out, shrinking into Cooper, cuffs and all, even as a few hapless buyers haltingly follow his orders. Water, however, starts to ripple over the cuffed dealers skin, through her hair, as she slowly starts to turn translucent.
Blue vials bounce and spray over the ground when the table is felled. No one is quite out of their minds enough to try and grope for the spilled Refrain, and Logan gives it not a thought as his expensive shoes crunch through the glass and glistening drug. Gillian will abruptly find her arm gripped in a strong grab, as she's pulled to her feet by the pimp. Its enough to take even his breath away, but let alone Gillian as adrenaline suddenly slams through her system, panicky instincts pounding through her blood stream as instantly as he's ever done it before.
Cooper's not the only one after a meat shield of some kind, as Logan is about ready to shove her in Aude's direction, and go.
Oh hell. Gillian can't help but glare with betrayal at the surprise police officer, a leak of energy coming out of her due to the sudden rise of panic. Of all the times her life has been in danger, it rarely came with police so close by. There's never been someone she'd taken upon herself to try and rescue from a place. There's a kid, one who made a huge mistake, but still a kid. And there's very little that she can do, because running isn't an option.
And there's something tugging on her ability. There's a lot of something tugging on her ability. The knots came loose in her own panic, but it's the sudden explosion that knocks her away from Juniper and Aude that really begins the trauma.
Any semblance of restraint shatters when she's grabbed off the floor, energy pouring out in full all around her. A Refrain-den, this makes her ability even more dangerous than usual. Her eyes start to glow violet, widening as adrenaline slams into her system, overloading, pushing her past the edge. Breathing becomes suddenly irregular, as if she's hyperventilating. As if she's trying to avoid drowning. Sweat already starts to bead from her forehead.
"Son of a…." Is all Cooper can murmurs as the woman starts to ripple. They did not cover water babes in his training, so he's somewhat flustered. What the fuck is he suppose to do with her? There is only one thought and hopefully it won't come to bite him on the ass later. The hand holding up his weapon is lifted quickly. Then he brings the butt of his sidearm to the back of her head hard with the intention of knocking her ass out cold before she melts. So busy with this one he doesn't notice what's happening with Aude just yet.
Rinse and repeat, for all cops. Glowing violet eyes tends to mean that there's the bad end of something going on and it's coming towards her in the shape of Gillian after the black woman's picked herself up from the shockwave. Coopers got the right of it, one glock, to the head with no compunction whatsoever to maybe it's gonna hit gillian a little harder than it should, but it'll hopefully work, stun the woman, or knock her out as the force of weapon to back of head directs the brunette elsewhere and she can pursue Logan. Mine! Mine, mine, mine, mine!
Logan is already moving by the time the woman has troubled herself with knocking Gillian flat. There are more dealers and junkies than cops and perhaps, perhaps, if there's a chance in hell he could just— slip through— the cracks—
The hydromimic dealer jerks as Cooper connects gun to skull, water absorbing back into her form which slumps solid in his grasp, on its fast way down to the ground as gravity drags the unconscious woman to the black painted cement, the scattered glass and even a couple of Refrain vials that have been kicked and bounced all that way.
It's that Cooper looks like everyone else— furniture— that Logan is headed in his direction, green eyes on the exit. Between a chasing Aude and Cooper standing guard, it's more of a rock and a hard place that the strip club manager counts on. To his credit, he isn't pulling a weapon - he doesn't even have one, save for his own ability, eyes brightly shining their stunning green.
The impact hits her head hard. Hard enough to draw blood even before Gillian falls to the floor. Juniper lays unattended on the ground, still experiencing her drug-enduced vision of the past, while the woman who tried to rescue her from this place ends up laying down next to her. For a few seconds the glow continues, shuddering, dimming, and then goes out entirely as consciousness fails.
And that's where she'll likely stay, bleeding from a cut on the side of her head, unconscious on the floor. But at least the energy's no longer leaking out all around her.
Almost jerked down with her, Cooper works to lower her nicely to the floor even quickly kicking a bit of crushed bottle out of her way. "Thank god.." He huffs out in relief, having not expect that and just glad it worked. He leans on the door frame for a moment until there is movement out of the corner of his eye. He puts himself in Logan's way, the service pistol coming up to aim right at Logan's chest. "Hold up there, Fancy pants, you're not going anywhere. Hands on your head. Now." Cooper's face is serious even with the smudges on his face and greasy hair. A hand moves to cock the slide, and he arches a brow at the man.. Do you feel lucky punk? Do ya?
THank god that detective is there, Audea's bodychecking people as she goes, the not cop people who are trying to flee as she slips cuffs from somewhere - don't ask where - as she attempts to come up behind Logan while he's got cooper to distract him in front and get one of those metal bracelets around a wrist of the fancy pants dealer. She's uanware of glowing eyes, and what they signify, just that Gillians down and the bust so far is without casualties.
Expensive shoes slide and skid against the ground, and it takes sheer willpower for Logan to not fall on his ass as shock crosses his features when "furniture" pulls out a weapon. He's wise enough to show his empty hands, although hesitates to completely comply with that command. In the Rookery, you can talk your way out of anything. "Me? I wasn't going any— "
Snap. Stray dog instinct takes over as Logan's body twists in alarm when that metal hoop is sealed around his wrist, bright green eyes— going back to dull iciness because he does, in the end, know better. His arm is rigid muscle against the bite of the cuff, but ultimately slackens, resigning himself.
"Alright, alright, steady on."
Once the cuffs go on Logan's hand, "Good man." Cooper murmurs as the man doesn't fight having expected just that. He flashes Aude a grin, letting his weapon lower "Good work, Officer Castalides. You got this one alright?" But even as he asks that his eyes go to the scene beyond them, checking to make sure everything is under control. This was almost too easy too him, but still thankful for it at the same time.
"I got em Detective Cooper" Snap goes the other one, Logan's hands deftly moved behind him. Yes, this is gonna be a good bust. No deaths, thankfully, hopefully. Good one in her books. Maybe an evo or two will OD on something in here, make it an even better day. "Come on you, get moving" Logan's prodded towards the doors so they can start filtering people out and get em booked.
"Oh, since you asked so nicely," is sibilantly snarked over one pin-stripe clad shoulder, but Logan is moving as asked. A glance up and down to Cooper— and despite his predicament, a good helping of slyness is in that look as much as it was in his voice for Aude— before he's being marched out from the den. He's steered around where a medic is kneeling next to Gillian along with a police officer, the two talking quietly before the cop is on his feet, nodding to Aude as she goes.
When the augmenter is lifted up onto the gurney, her slender wrist, too, is sealed in a silver bracelet, connecting to metal. In her drifting consciousness, it sounds a lot like the entire world shutting closed.