Participants:
| Scene Title | Of Hugs and Car Jackings |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Minutes after receiving a call for help, Elvis drops Deckard off to collect Abby, then leaves to pwn the perp. She returns shortly thereafter and seems to think GTFOing is a priority, so Deckard does the noble thing and car jacks the mess out of some poor soul so that they don't all die piled onto the back of Elvis's bike while she swerves in and out of oncoming traffic at 100mph. |
| Date | December 7, 2008 |
Chelsea and Staten Island
So Elvis was called, unknowing that she had company. Meester meester someone tried to attack your seeester, something like that. The phone kept close as Teo instructed, Owen off to play with miles and see if it's sylar or just some poor sap who's about to learn the error of his ways about approaching the freelance healer like he did. She's behind a garbage dump, and then there's about three crates, two cans, and some slats all around her like a little fort. Cuase if they go flying, well… she'll know who that was.
The snarling chudchudchudchud of a motorcycle engine blasting down the street at a highly irresponsible street announces the arrival of backup. Or, at least, the arrival of Elvis and Deckard, who are people who, at times, might be capable of carrying out the occasional favor in a satisfactory…manner. Weak kneed and bloodless, Flint stumbles off of the bike's rear to gasp for what seems like the first breath he doesn't think is his last in several minutes. No helmet, just sunglasses and the black of his overcoat between him and the promise of becoming a red stain on the asphalt.
"Jesus." A few more cloudy breaths later, once the roar of Jolly Roger has softened into a purr, he gets his hands up off his knees. Human again. Probably not going to pass out or die of a heart attack.
A tall figure with a familiar shadow, it takes him about two seconds to zero in on Abby's position. X-ray vision and all that. The scuff of his dress shoes over concrete and the hoarse wheeze of his breath against the cold air announces his approach.
"I got a GUN AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!" When she can hear someone approaching. Abby moves, poised and ready to bolt, her heart hammering away in her chest.
"Good to know. As long as you don't plan on pointing it at me." The rough of Deckard's voice is familiar where his face isn't, necessarily, stripped of coarse beardage and scruffy hair. The fact that he's windblown from having just been booted off the back of a crotch rocket might help with recognition, particularly given that he goes ahead and stops several feet away at the threat. Getting shot, not on his agenda.
"Flint?" Whack a mole. Up from her little fort Abby pops up, just her head. Deckard can easily see the threat of a gun is a lie. 'What's the name of the bike that dropped you off?" She poised to bolt still, and the whack a mole's head pops back down. Missed!
"…It has a name?" Missing the significance of the question, Deckard's head swings back around to where the bike dropped him off. Skeptical. His brows level over the black of his glasses, and he works gloved hands at his side, thinking. "Killer?"
A smushed can, devoid of it's former contents comes from behind the dumpster and hurling it's way at Deckard. 'What did I do for you last time I met you!" It's a little higher voice and she fumbles for the phone, poised to call teo again.
Clunk. The can bounces harmlessly off of the breast of Deckard's coat and clatters back to the ground again. It's enough to get him looking back at her, now even more skeptical than he already was. Empty cans? Really? "You ironed my shirts."
Abby halts before she can press the third digit when he answers. "Oh thank you Lord Jesus" There's a shuffle, move of the crates and she comes out from behind the group, looking behind Deckard. Then, just as quickly the woman is peeling towards him to thump bodily against the man and hold him tight. Lucky for him, Abby's not very much of a crier. Usually. "Oh thank you lord jesus. I thought he was Sylar. He was one man, but then he wasn't, and he came after me but then he stopped"
Oh no. Hugs. Deckard half-lifts his arms away from the contact, but there's really no avoiding the rest of it. First things first, he looks over his shoulder to make sure there's nobody…you know. Who might see. Or something. And tell people.
He's warm, at least, past the thin layer of cold that clings to his coat's exterior, and the usual stink of booze about him is reduced to coffee and tequila on his breath. What to do with his hands, meanwhile? There's one obvious option while her ass is in easy reach, but it's one that might get him slapped, so he restrains himself. "Okay," he thinks to say, finally. He opens his mouth to say something else, thinks better of it, and doesn't. He'll leave off on 'okay' for now.
Right, touching. Something she's not one to do and he's not one to do. even at this moment, there's a line there she's crossed and the bible thumping woman steps back as quick as she tackled him, sliding her arms around herself instead. "Teo tell you where to take me? Are we taking a cab somewhere?" She's expecting him to have the magic answers. "I'm not supposed to go back to the bar, I can't, in case it's him."
"I haven't talked to Teo. I was with Elvis when she got the call." Deckard's arms are slow to lower back to his sides once Abby has extracted herself. Nothing on the subject of hugs. He just eyes her, double checking for broken bones, lacerations, and whatever else. "I can hail a cab to get us out of here and close enough to one of the places that we can walk."
Elvis comes sprinting back with a pant, her boots skittering as she skids to a stop. "Fuck!"she exclaims finally as she puts gloves to knees. "Deckard, jack us a car. We need to get the fuck out of here -now-, he wasn't alone. I went to tango and there was a buddy of his!"she hunches up a touch, closing her eyes as she tries desperately to relax. She needed to chill out. Her form visibly steaming in the chill air, fighting to get herself under control.
Abby bobble heads up and down, digging into her purse for her wallet. "Lets go. Teo said wireless can keep track of us with the phone, that I can't loose the pho…" Then Elvis is yelling and it's flustering the brunette who runs to Elvis when the woman double over to catch her breath. There's already a prayer rolling off her tongue and stripping the gloves off her hand, wallet shoved in her purse.
Deckard just nods to Abby. It's cold, weird shit is happening, he didn't exactly intend to spend the night scrabbling around Chelsea hiding from Sylar. Par for the course. …Until Elvis is back, and apparently things are worse than they initially seemed. "Why would you just assume I know how to do that?" demanded with just a hint of resentment, he follows it up with a sigh and turns his attention back out of the alley and onto the street.
Elvis swallows dryly as she wavers. "Because, your the one with the gun."she rises slowly, entirely flush and looking just a little dazed. "I ain't leaving nobody here, but the bike only takes one."she looks between the pair. "I ain't leaving nobody, nowhere, for no goddamn reason. "
She can't get rid of the adrenaline in Elvis's body but she can deal with what it's doing to her body. Abby looks to Deckard as he goes to the street, her hand sliding to taking Elvis's in hers, let the touch transfer what it does, try and get Elvis back to a functional state instead of high as a kite off her gift. 'Taxi?"
There's a stop light some forty or fifty feet down the block, and another one on the block after that. And so on and so forth. Lacking the delicate expertise necessary to hot wire most newer models of motor vehicles, he is fairly familiar with the process of shoving a gun in someone's face. He hastens forth, past the first and second lights at a jog. At the third, there's an oldsmobile waiting for the light to change with a few seconds to spare.
Seconds pass. … There is shouting.
Elvis reels back, more out've surprise than anything at the touch. Her skin immediately going blush, before she begins to shake and shiver. She wasn't weak, she wasn't hurt. She was coming down."Thank you, now go with Deckard. I know a place within walking distance of the garden where we can dump the car. Remember that place you and Teo saw me at, when I threatened to kill him? The alley?"
Abby nods, the few minutes that it takes for Deckard to go and do his business, has helped her to do his business. Abby takes a moment to close her eyes, touch the back of her head and grimace. "Tylenol when we get there, screw it" Prayer slips from her lips again and the bruise and bump on the back of her head starts to dissipate. "Be safe Elvis. God watch over you" WIth that, she's winding the scarf around her lower face, pulling her hat down further and popping out to catch up with Deckard.
Deckard is busy. Busy with a guy half his age who's trying to do some wacky kung fu shit with his left arm and leg now that he's had his ass dragged out of the car, which is still running with the driver's side door open. The scuffle that ensues doesn't last for very long, which is fortunate, because there isn't really anything elegant about it. The butt of Flint's gun cracks down hard against the guy's temple, and he drops into the middle of the street like a muppet whose just lost the hand up its rear. A well-directed stamp of Deckard's heel takes out the dude's cell phone for when he eventually wakes up, and he's in the car with the reverse lights on, screeching backwards for the alley before he's got the door fully closed.
God strike her with lightning. Abby gasps at Deckard's action. But then self preservation kicks in. 'Sorrrrrry!' bellowed out to the guy and the moment the car is near her, Abby's got gloves on and is getting in the car. even she knows about fingerprints. "Staten island" Directed to Deckard.
Elvis takes firm, confident strides as her brain sort've catches up with the rest of her. She snags her helmet, peering either direction before mounting up and twisting the Triumph to life. She eyes where Abby is, and where Deckard is and then in an incredible feat of self control. She stays put for a moment, then once she's sure Abby is away she follows. She'll keep back a few car lengths, pacing Deckard and fighting tooth and nail the urge to -run-. If the heat came, she needed to be close.
If it's yours, drive it like it's stolen. If it's stolen, drive it like it's yours. Deckard rolls down the window to adjust the mirror outside before he fixes the rear view. The radio is turned off. He takes off his sunglasses. He goes the speed limit, stops at stop lights, and uses the blinker. Something he doesn't do is talk very much. When he does, it's after they've already made it through several intersections. "He'll be okay. Didn't fracture the skull."
Abby's turned around in the seat till the downed man is out of view, hands curled into fists. Everyone who knows her knows the desire and urge, and need to go back and take care of the man. She's the source, indirect, to his wounds. But she turns around, Deckard's words little comfort. "Just get us there. Teo will be upset if I'm not safe"
She stays back, sometimes she's in sight sometimes she isnt but she is always there. Sometimes taking side streets and racing ahead, only to appear again behind again as she looks out for any tails. After more than just a couple blocks, she picks up enough pace to come alongside and offer a definite thumbs up. Then she slips back into position, and goes back to trying to be invisible.
Mouth thinned into a slant at that, Deckard reaches to turn up the heat a notch or two. He looks like someone's dad more than he does the kind of guy that would pistol whip someone into unconsciousness. The dissonance even makes him frown a little when he catches his own eye in the mirror while checking after Elvis. It's strange.
When the biker chick pulls up alongside, he acknowledges her with a glance and little else. Onward.
Because it's all about making Teo happy. "Thanks" When the heat is turned on, the air starting to cool a bit. it is winter. Elvis gets a nod when the biker comes up along side but Abby's back to watching forward. 'Thanks for coming Deckard. With Elvis"
The alleyway in question, is where Elvis stole all those cigarettes and then got caught by Abby and Teo like a Raccoon in the garbage. Its a nasty, mean, ugly alley in a rough area to begin with. There aren't any working streetlights working anymore, and the moment the car pulls in one might feel envious eyes immediately upon it. Elvis comes to a stop too, knocking the bike in Neutral and killing the motor to wait. She could push her bike a few blocks, if it meant everyone was all the safer.
A shoulder lifted into a shrug for Abby's thanks, Deckard spends most of the rest of the ride in silence. The radio stays off, limiting listening material to the rumble of the engine pretty much all the way to the alley. Familiar with such places, if not this exact place, he pulls in without hesitation, left hand on the wheel while the right puts the car in park and lifts the gun out of his lap. "Don't talk to anyone. Regardless of how fucked up they are," muttered in an aside to current company, the glance he sends her way while he reaches over to let himself out is eerily back lit.
'Keep my mouth shut. Understood. That include talking to myself?" Abby shuts her mouth the moment the words have left. She's out of the door, careful to take all her stuff with her. She shuts the door behind her, a wary look around. She's got no scooter to ride off with Teo on board behind her. It's gonna be a walk to the garden, she assumes the garden, from here. "Elvis" The younger of the trio holds her purse very very close.
Elvis walks her bike in silence a bit before glancing over. "Yaknow, we did pretty good considering. We mixed it up with Sylar and friend, and we all got home without cops or anyone else getting in the way."she nods softly, digging out a cigarette with her gloved hand and offering the pack to Deckard before lighting up(and him if he wants). "Deckard, your a very handy guy. I'm glad you got on the back of my triple."
Deckard does want. He has to pry a finger down into the pack a little awkwardly to get one out one-handed, but he manages it and leans over to accept the offered light with a muffled, "Thanks." The lighter's flame cancels out the light from his eyes as long as it's there, with his sunglasses lifted up to muffle out the blaze of them after that. "I smashed his phone, but they'll be looking for the car as soon as he gets his hands on another one."
Abby's not a smoker, the woman's just opting to remain quiet while they take care of their nicotine fixes. 'Owen?" Comes her voice in the darkness
There's a blink,"who the fuck is Owen?"as she walks the pair onward, indicating towards a liquor store that does an excellent impression of a fort. "Hey Deckard, I'm gonna take her home. Then, I'll pop back here to take you home? I'll like, ride sensibly and everything. That sound cool with you man?"Elvis, was feelin pretty ok despite how utterly fucking tired she felt. She wanted, badly to just sit down and curl up and sleep right now.
Meanwhile, their stolen car roars off into the night.
"Define 'sensibly.' Because if you thought the ride over there was 'sensible' I'm calling a cab." Too deadpan to be kidding, Deckard flinches a little at the car blasting off down the alley behind them and starts for the liquor store. "Night, Abigail." Fortunately for the odds of the owner not calling the cops, he's managed to tuck his gun safely back out of sight before he vanishes in through the door.
Abby stares at Elvis, a horrifying though once more, yet again rippling through her mind. She's had far too many this night. SHe describes Owen, the speedster who took off the moment he saw Elvis and Deckard come ala roger. "Please tell me you didn't… " There's a hand, pointer finger extended and making a slicing motion across her neck. but then their discussing and she falls silent again till the older man speaks his farewells. "Good night. good morning Flint" There's a pause. "I'm sure you look even better in daylight" not spoken with a drop of sarcasm, honesty instead. Then she looks to Elvis. "Garden?"
She shakes her head"I dint kill anyone, I never connected. Its all a little blurry right now though, I need to sort've sleep to unscramble my brain."She waves Deckard off"Be back in a bit."she hops up onto the seat and sets her boots down. "C'mon, I'll ride you to the Garden."
Abby nods, watching the now proper looking flint Deckard, not hte scruffy looking flint Deckard amble off before she turns, hops up on the bike with Elvis and wraps her arms around the woman's midriff. "Home please."
At the time Elvis received her call from Abby, Deckard had just arrived to meet with her and discuss business things.
 December 7th: Price of Blood |
 December 7th: Worst Recruiter Ever |