Participants:
| Scene Title | Squeeze III |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lawson Finney makes another run on the Renner family and finds out that what he see's, is not quite what he wanted. |
| Date | August 27, 2010 |
Renner Household, Queens
For two days, the residents of an apartment building in Queens have been keeping things close. After the attack on their family, it was no surprise. Donald and his wife, their two children returned from the hospital and the police station, their daughter's arm stitched.
From all outward appearances, all was fine, this was just a scare. Police parked in front of the apartment building but come nightfall the second day, it was decided that they would fall back. Finney hadn't attacked right?
Inside, things were not as they seemed. Flora was doing most of the work, but when she needed to sleep, another illusionist in the company was tossed in to keep up the ruse. Donald Renner wasn't Donald Renner but was actually Agent Benjamin Ryans. His wife was Elle Bishop, the son was actually Flora and the daughter was another company agent who was about the right height as the young girl. In truth, this was all a trap.
But as night falls and darkness settles and the individual agents in their disguise settle in for the night, and someone else in an apartment across the way watches the street, dinner is served up for the 'Family' in the form of chinese that's sold a block down.
"So dad, how was work" Asked in such a way as that it surely is a joke and the fake sneer across the pimply faced teenagers face with voice to match, can only belong to Flora. "I have to say, this is the best that I have ever done, I'm quite proud of myself really!"
No matter the illusion, Donald Renner gives the teenage a look that only Benjamin Ryans could give. It's flat and seemingly unimpressed, "I'll be more impressed when it works." It can never be said that the Assistant-Director is the life of the party. How he got roped into this after returning from vacation is beyond him.
Feeling a bit out of touch with the case, Ryans was only able to nod his head and go along for the ride. Under his shirt he has one of his guns as well as the issued tazer. His shoulders are tense as he waits patiently.
Elle, as Donald's lovely wife, is quite contentedly eating her chinese carry-out, looking rather leisurely. "Ditto." A hand is held up to attest to this statement. She's not really sure how to act like a wife…but that's what the illusions are for, aren't they? "This is weird." She wags a pair of chopsticks to 'Donald', a small grin on her face. "That looks suits you quite well, you know."
radio's sqwuak. Twice. This interrupts the meal only somewhat. It's the indication across the way that someone who seems like it might be Finney's been seen. the sullen teenager looks over to the little girl with the gauzed up arm then to the others. "So dad.. that baseball game…"
Ryans is more of a football fan, so the question about baseball stumps him for a moment. "Good game." He offers forcing a bit of a smile on his face, trying to look like a normal person. He moves around some sweet and sour chicken on his plate, not really having an appetite. "But I'm more interested in how school is going." The chopsticks are pointed at the teen across the table from him, as Ryans falls into the part.
Even as he speaks, his head turns just a bit for the people at the table, a sure sign to them that he's listening for anything unusual.
Elle doesn't seem to notice the squawk of the radio, tilting her head toward Ryans as she munches on the takeout. Not really one for parenting, she simply turns a delightful smile to the sullen teen, before glancing to the little girl with the gauzed up arm. "Is your arm doing alright, honey?" It's the best she can do, trying to act like a mom. Really not her thing.
"School" There's a shrug of teenage shoulders, rising, falling. "It's school, thinking of going out for football" Not that he looks like he should even think of football. Maybe chess club. "It hurts" The supposed little girl confesses, unable to master chopsticks or at least pretending to. "Should it hurt this bad mommy? Maybe we should go to the bathroom, look at it" The little girl murmurs, a glance to 'Donald'. From in the back, in one of the bedrooms oh so subtly, the sound of something scraped against wood.
There is real tell tale signs that Ryans heard anything, except for the people at the table, 'Donald's' eyes shift a little in that direction as he nods. "I think that's a good idea. Your mom can get a look at it and decide if we need to hit up the ER and see what's up." He reaches over and ruffles the girls hair, his eyes flicker in the direction of the bedrooms. "Probably, nothing."
He tries his best not to seem tense, chopsticks picking up a bit of cooled food and bringing it to his mouth. See. 'Donald' is none the wiser to what's going on.
Elle's eyes turn toward the back, before turning a soft gaze to the little girl, smiling. "Oh, honey. Let's go to the bathroom and look at it. Mommy will clean it up and put a new bandage on it, okay?" She stands, reaching for the supposed child's hand. "It probably just needs a new bandage and a little bit more bactine spray." This is said in a calm, gentle voice. As calm as she can manage.
"OKay" best pouty voice ever, pulling away from the table and taking Elle's hand as the two walk away from the dining room area and towards the hall that Elle's familiar with. Bathroom all the way down at the end of the hall and the company agent imitating the littel girl doing her best to look nervous. Guns hidden beneath the illusion that Flora set up. Should remain in place unless the woman wills it otherwise or looses consciousness.
"Try not to cry little baby!" the pimply faced teenager manages to belt out with a snicker, playing the part as well. The sound disappears from the back room, no longer heard and everyone is left to listen for and strain to hear if it was just something against the window or whether Finney's made his way in. Surely any sensible person wouldn't make a run on an already failed attempt?
Chopsticks continue to shovel food into 'Donald's' mouth, "Don't be mean to your, sister." He chides the teenage boy, without looking up. He doesn't need too, the tone of his voice should do enough. "Any homework left?" He asks, setting down his chopsticks on an empty plate.
He relaxed back in his chair, attempting to look content, Ryans' head turns towards the hall that Elle and the other agent took.
Holding the hand of the 'little girl', Elle makes her way to the bathroom with her in tow, her eyes roaming the hallway. "Don't worry, honey. Your arm will be just fine. And just think, when it's all healed up, you'll have a really cool story to tell all of the kids at school about your scar, won't you?" Her ears are open, listening for the smallest sound. To the teenager, she calls back, "Don't make fun of your little sister! She's a very brave girl!"
There, something in the space between apartments, up in the roof. Flora's eye's flick up, then over to a vent in the main room, hole for A/C to come out of. A glance to Ryans and then crane her head down the hall. "But it's so fun to bug her!" The question of homework left dragging in the breeze as the minute sounds continue.
There is a small nod of Ryans' head. "That might be, but you don't like it when others tease you." He points out as he stands, hands reaching to pick up the plate he was using, intent on putting it in the sink. "You done there, kiddo." He asks, glancing over to the boy, head nodding to the plate in front of him.
"And you still haven't told me about that homework." His eyes glance with a quick flick at the vent. Ryans does remember that from the reports, the blood in the vents. "I better not see bad grades from report cards." He'll keep this up till the guy shows himself.
Elle's eyes are searching every room as they walk past them, before finally arriving in the bathroom with the 'little girl'. "Okay honey, let's get that bandage off and get you cleaned up." But her eyes are elsewhere, trailing over the vents. "Listen to your father, boy. There'd better not be bad grades." This is called into the main room of the house.
out of the corner of his eye, Elle can see it too but not Flora given where she's sitting, fingers slide through the vent, elongating and much like stretch armstrong, the fingers lope along the frame like some sort of alien opposable bodypart, searching for the hook that keeps the main vent hooked up. "Aw come on Mom, your such a drag. You're so uptight, you got a stick up your butt or something" Flora yells in a masculine voice, hoping to lull Finney in with complacency and make the guy think that the lot of them are focused on the teen and not on the vent in the corner.
"Don't talk like that to your mother." 'Donald' snaps at his 'son', his eyes going to the boy and his fingers resting along the plate, makes a motion in the direction of the vent in question. Ryans face falls into something serious, even as he turns to head towards the kitchen.
Pausing to call down the hall, "How does it look?" He asks, "ER time?" Ryans doesn't sound happy about it. "Or am I going to be able to relax and watch some TV?"
Elle's eyes focus on that vent in the corner, narrowing slightly; this could just as easily be mistaken for her narrowing her eyes at the teen, thankfully. Her first instinct is to zap, but she's too far away, and it would probably be best to let him get into the room first before blowing their cover. "Young man, you had better take back those words right now. You might be a teenager now, but you're not too old to get your ass spanked for talking back to your mother." She can do pissed off mother fairly well, at least.
"I think you should be able to relax and watch some TV, Donald." This is said as she scowls into the living room.
Clap goes the vent, and from it falls a mess of flesh, unspooled and in a pile, one can imagine that he might very well get himself tied up in a knot. But in a few blinks of an eye, Lawson Finney has managed to manipulate his body into a semblance of normalacy and is running towards the closest person which is Flora. Unknowing that the people aren't who they seem to be.
Dusty, greasy haired, lankey, gaunt, circles under eyes. He's everything his casefile picture showed him to be and in his hand is a knife wicked long and serrated, aimed at Flora's back.
As soon as the body starts to form, Ryans is reaching under his plaid shirt he wore to try and look more like Donald. The plate is thrown away as the gun comes out, point at the figure rushing Flora. "Stop!" The word is snapped out, finger on the trigger ready and waiting.
If he doesn't stop, the Assistant-Director will fire at the suspect, rather then let one of his agents fall. 'Donald's' expression says that he is serious.
It's as the vent cover drops open that Elle is beginning to make her way back toward the hall with a quick, angry stride. At first, one might believe that she's simply coming to make good on her threat to her son. But as that knife is aimed toward Flora's back, Elle is making good use of the sharpshooting skills her father insisted she develop, a jolt of electricity flying toward his knife hand from one finger, to knock the weapon free; her other hand comes up, aiming a much stronger jolt at the man's torso, though she's still set to stun.
The force of the yell, the production of weapons by people who he's been watching for a few weeks now is a surprise which causes the crazed man to hesitate, flicker in his intent and fingers loosen around the blade he wields in surprise. But he keeps moving forward, the desire and need so paramount in his splintered mind, forging forward even as Flora moves. Down goes the teenager, the illusion shattering all around them as the company agents one minute are the Renner's and the next, dissolve into the respective agents. Flora sweeps to the side, going for her own weapon even as Elle's pointed focus of electricity comes barreling down the hall and Ryan's gun is fired. Both hit, the evolved ability used causing him to seize up, arm held midway through a downward swing where Flora had been. A bullet punches through his chest entry and then exit, leaving a shocked look on Finney's face.
The gun doesn't lower even as the bullets find their target, Benjamin Ryans only watches the man over the top of the barrel. Eyes narrow, but he doesn't move any closer, not til he knows the guy is down. "Flora?" Illusionist or not, the Agent takes a moment to make sure she is okay.
Elle cautiously approaches the now injured Finney, electricity crackling over her fingers as she glares at him. She allows Ryans to check on Flora, while she stalks closer to their target. This is more her cup of tea. Hunting. Bringing down a target. She comes to a halt near Flora, her hands held up, ready to fire off another jolt at the man, should the situation call for it.
Flora's gun is pointed at Finney, ready to fire it if he so much as twitches in her direction. "I'm fine, he didn't get me" Up she goes, even as the body manipulator goes down, knife dropped and his hands scrabbling at chest as he works to breath. Lung shot, by Ryans it seems. Finney is down, and doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
Inching forward, weapon still trained on the man on the floor, Ryans dips his hand in his pocket and pulls out a plastic glove. "Watch him." He moves to kick the knife out of the man's immediate reach and follows it, tucking his gun away. The old man trusts his agents to finish the job if something happens.
The glove is snapped on and a bag produced, so he can put it in something that won't contaminate it. "And weapon in hand." He rumbles moving to pick up the weapon with a gloved hand. Brows furrow in thought as he works, eyes on the knife.
Elle remains hovering over Finney, the ominous crackle of her electricity still filling the apartment. Blue eyes watch as he scrabbles at his chest, a frown on her face. "Just lay right there, Stretch Armstrong. Keep focused on breathing…I don't think you'll like the results of any other course of action."
Maybe it's the pain, the panic of being unable to get a breath, it's a gunshot to the chest and the sucking sound can be heard easily. Maybe as well, it's Elle and her threat, the visual of her ability and utter anger that once again they screwed up everything. No one can say he was right in the head, he's shown that and finney moves fast, stretching an arm with surprising speed to clasp a hand around Elle's ankle and yank her back.
"Elle!" The name is shouted as Ryans turns back, bagged knife in still in hand, just in time to see Finney reach for her. However, he only takes a few steps, hand going to the gun under his jacket. He doesn't draw just yet, the sucking sound is loud enough and he knows Elle can take care of herself.
Besides, Benjamin doesn't want to be touching the guy, if she does her thing.
As his hand stretches out and clasps his hand around her ankle, Elle sneers. The man has a death wish. She doesn't move back as he lunges, allowing him to get a hold of her ankle. What follows is Elle unleashing a strong current of electricity directly into his hand from her ankle. The little balls of electricity fizzle out from her hands as she does her best to knock the man unconscious with her ankle. All the while, the little blonde lets out a nice, steady stream of curse words.
Seriously, don't grab the walking electricity generator. It's like grabbing a fallen power line or sticking a fork into an electrical socket. You just don't do it.
Like touching a live wire, Flora's backing up and knows exactly what is happening, what will happen. Ryans in his infinite wisdom does as well and while Flora is yelling into a radio for an ambulance to be sent, Finney writhes and jerks, unable to let go of Elle thanks to the current.
Eventually though, it stops, not intended to keep it up to the point where he dies. The company, and it's agents it seems, have managed to do something successfully, without screwing up. A family protected from a killer, hell bent on removing them from the face of the earth and hopefully, saved many more within that family tree.