Participants:
| Scene Title | Tier-4 Ability - It Exists |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Diogenes is running low on money, so he takes Isis to aid him in playing burglar. Coincidentally, Jay breaks into the exact same apartment, where said duo gets caught up in the ridiculous effects of his ability. NOTE: Contains nudity. |
| Date | September 9, 2009 |
Some luxurious apartment in Upper East Side.
One has to wonder if there is some sort of dress code for burglars. Stereotypically, they wear dark clothes, black gloves, and of course a mask to conceal their identity. All manner of variations exist, some outside the described stereotype, some within it, but most do not deviate from the unspoken, unofficial norm.
Diogenes, however, takes it a notch too far away from what a burglar might appear like. The young man is wearing his expensive suit; in most cultures, the darker the suit is, the grander authority it implies. Yes, well, Diogenes is wearing a pitch black suit, with a glaringly white silk shirt to contrast the dark fabric and stickm out like a sore thumb. He is also wearing gloves. Stylish leather gloves. Hey, if you are going to rob a place, you might as well do it in style, right? In his left hand, he's holding the sort of bag Santa Claus would carry around, should he be goth. A black, spacious bag.
He is standing not too far from the door leading into one of many expensive apartments one can find in this luxurious apartment building; Diogenes has made sure to pick one on the low floor, so that if things can go wrong, they can use the fire escape and flee without too much of a hassle. The owner of the apartment isn't to return for another two hours, or so Diogenes has assured his partner in crime, Isis, who isn't too far from him.
Triumphantly, he's holding a key in his right hand, a smug grin on his lips. "I still have no idea why you've decided to come along", he notes, slipping the key into its… well, keyhole.
"I don't know either," comes Isis's airy, alto tones from behind him. The tall redhead rests back against the wall opposite their target door, her fingers curled and her chin turned down so that she can examine her nails. They're painted are flirty rust-red. Wherever she'd stolen off to for the past week or so, she'd returned a bit more gussied up - she's even wearing heels. Still, she's refused to talk about her 'hiatus'.
She's not dressed the part, personally. Backless black heels, denim skinny jeans, and a black haltertop usually saved for work. She looks up at the sound of the key sliding into the lock, and pops a brow into a subtle arc. "Sometimes you scare me," she comments with a half-smirk, nudging her nose towards the key.
Now, if these two were outdoors, they might be able to tell what's coming. It's heralded by sirens, barking dogs, the blinking red and blue lights surrounding a particular frat house up the block. Amazing how fast this neighborhood went to seed when the frats got their hands on it - the wealthy who remain here, what few there are, are still reeling. In any case, one particular animal's bark rages above the rest: a doberman streaks down the alleyway outside, dragging fifteen feet worth of chain after it and barking up a gleeful storm. Jay's erstwhile running companion takes off; he, meanwhile, hurtles upwards and drags the fire escape up after him, quick, before the cops realize it was down. From there he's quiet; the dog is distracted with the other person, so he doesn't have to worry about that giving him away. He ascends the stairs swiftly.
As luck would have it, there's an open window on the third floor. The apartment beyond is pitch black. Jake's come too far to get caught now, though, so he shoves in, pushing the screen aside.
A word concerning the mode of dress of our troublemaker tonight: he's shirtless, with a great big red letter A painted on his chest, smeared all over by water and sweat. He's got a pair of jeans on, and sneakers, but both are absolutely soaking from the dip he ended up taking - by accident - in the dogs' bathwater. He's got a few fresh scratches from the brambles outside the window of the frat house he originally fell out of; there's even a bruise or two from the insane athleticism he's been managing tonight. And… he's panting. Quietly, but audibly. Hiding would require holding his breath, at the moment, and he's not even aware there's a reason to hide from anyone close by. The only question is whether or not the owner of the apartment will shoot him. Current wish of the moment: don't let it bite me. Which is rapidly transforming into: Please let the owner be gullible.
Despite the radiant smirk that spoke of how pleased he was with himself and his successful efforts in acquiring the key, Diogenes was far from pleased with this particular method of money-grubbing that he's reluctantly chosen. Initially, he had considered blackmailing rich businessman types, the sort that are eager to bribe whatever troubles that arise. However, as you develop a pattern, you also develop a weakness, for it is much easier to fall under the radar of law enforcement if you keep repeating your crimes. But if you adapt and change tactics, you're less likely to be noticed and subsequently caught.
Apparently, the role of a burglar is far riskier, however. It bordered on slinging yourself into the Unknown, which happened to be Tom's least favourite place on Earth. When you're a burglar and research your target only enough to know when he's not home, and when there is an Evolved who makes the least likely outcome the most likely, everything is bound to go wrong. And for these three, it will. The overture of future troubles comes muffled and from quite the distance; the noise pulsates, it rises and falls. Luckily, it masks Jay's panting. The noise can soon be recognised as not only that born of man, but that of inanimate objects; a synchronous orchestra of voices and dull thuds. And should one listen to it any longer, they'll realise that not only the owner is at home, but he's also having the time of his life with someone else. Talk about awkward.
Diogenes cants his head to the side as he strides forth, turning his gaze in the direction of the sounds. And then he looks to Isis with arched brows, wordlessly asking her 'Seriously?'
Isis's expression, which has been rather stoic as of late, brightens with wicked amusement. Curls bob against her back as her attention sweeps towards the noises. Dio's silent question is met with a wide grin and a crude gesture of Isis thrusting her hips at the air before lifting both hands to her lips, caging in a little bought of laughter. She turns away then, beginning to scan the layout of the living room into which they've arrived.
Seriously. Oh god. So Jay staggers in, eyes still adjusting, and stops suddenly, freezing, all but framed in the window. Something just moved, though he can't quite tell what - until his eyes adjust and he sees Dio's white shirt move just a hint again, and can pick out the form of a human frame behind it. Hey, look, more human outlines - there are two of them. Shit. Instinct propels him to fall back and plant himself against the wall beside the curtains. Can't go out, can't stay in… "Don't shoot me." And what the hell is that banging from the other room? His attention strays in that direction almost instinctively, his brows rising.
Diogenes rolls his eyes the moment he notices Isis's lewdly mocking gesture, though it's not long before he fails to subdue his own amusement and a smirk pulls at both corners of his lips. Lightly shaking his head, he ventures forward still, examining the living room, as well, eyeing any and all items that he catches sight of in the dark room, searching for anything of value.
The room is extremely spacious. It could easily be mistaken for an exhibit in a museum, especially when it's so dark. Walls are decorated by paintings of varying size, vases without flowers, some slabs of stones with unrecognisable ancient writing on them. Hell, there's even a display caged with glass with all sorts of jewelry inside; the title underneath reads: Collection of all the gifts I've given to my now ex-wives. Anno 1984. And, judging from the contents, the owner has had an entire harem worth of ex-wives. That's what attracts Diogenes's attention.
Until Jay's plea reaches his ears. Languidly, he tips his chin up, his gaze following suite, looking for the source of sound. He seems rather stoic, for someone actually asked not to be shot, rather than warning Diogenes that he will be shot. And so, Diogenes would dig his hand beneath the jacket and draw a nine-millimetre handgun, duly pointing the barrel of the gun towards Jay once he notices him. Of course, Diogenes has absolutely no skill of handling handguns (no pun intended), but the intimidation technique surely would work on someone who begged not to be shot. "Who are you?", he hisses in a whisper, tossing the empty bag behind him, presumably for Isis to catch it. "Get the jewelry to my right", he instructs in a whisper.
"Ooof." Isis catches the bag with instinct, but without grace. Her focus is upon the figure framed in the window before Diogenes. She cants her head to the side, inspiring a few garnet-gold curls to dance across her face. "Sweety, being shot is the last thing you have to worry about." Her grin is some mischievous blend of devilish intentions and false sweetness. Such was her mood lately.
She glances down to the bag in her hands and scowls at Dio's back. "Aye, aye, sir," she grumbles and turns towards the display case, beginning to shovel things into the pouch. "If your finger slips on that trigger, I'm not cleaning it up."
"Son of a bitch," breathes Jay. It's not an awed whisper at the fact that he's really, truly being held up with a handgun. It's not thoroughly terrified, though there is a note of fear in it. What it is, mostly, is exasperated. This happens way too often to be funny. "Just passing through," he whispers. "Let me out that door and I'll forget I ever saw you." He was going to get a shirt from the bedroom. Not a chance now. From the other room there's a bang and a cry and… his attention sneaks that way again. "Fuck, why me?" Miserable boy. But hey look, there goes Isis right over there towards something shiny; his attention swivels thataway and he blinks, wide-eyed in the dark. Thieves. Somehow, it just figures. Hang on, give him a moment and he'll dredge up the proper fear for his life, or at least the misery of falling adrenaline, to make a wish: don't fire. There are worse things in this world than a gunshot wound, but he'd rather not develop holes in organs he didn't know he had.
"I don't even have the damn safety trigger off, mother!", he exclaims, although his words are still very much contained in a hushed, whispered tone. As if an agitated Italian mobster, he turned his back to Jay to face Isis as he spoke, wagging his hands at the level of chest expressionately, the gun included. It's a miracle the gun doesn't go off, so perhaps Diogenes actually did have the safety on. "Seriously", he murmurs, spinning on his heels to grant Jay his attention once more.
The gun is holstered. And by holstered, that means Diogenes slips it into the inside pocket of his jacket, which is too shallow to house a gun (and it's amazing it's been kept inside this far), and therefore it soon tumbles to the ground, landing right between Diogenes's feet, who has to pretend that nothing odd happened. "Fuck off, okay? Just get out", he mutters angrily.
Another cry, another thud… Masculine voices ring in the distance, and then, in a matter of seconds, automatic lights go on, probably blinding all three. Diogenes is certainly blinded, and he's grimacing, anxiously waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light. And in the midst of this chaos, an elderly voice inquires quite loud: "You want anythin', hun?" The owner receives a reply, uttered by a low manly voice: "You know me, I love apple cider!" The aged, grey-haired but rather healthy man strolls past the trio. One look at his eyes will make it clear - he's blind. However, he memorised his apartment well enough to head straight to the kitchen. Tom's reaction would be a distorted grimace and mouthed words 'What the fuck?'
Like deer in headlights - that's much what the slender, redhead resembles as the lights kick on and her hand is stuck in the cookie jar of ex-wife pretty-shiny-thingies. Blink blink.
And, then their impending doom comes into focus as her hazel eyes, now a vivacious, emerald-green, adjust to the lighting. (Though, one wonders why a blind man turned on his lights. FREAK!
Still, Isis gawks as the man struts on by. She glances from Jay, to Diogenes, and back to the old man, until… She can resist it no longer. She bends her arms at the elbows and pulls her arms back as she thrusts her hips forward as the man stroll past her. Her maturity level is astounding today, no?
She points to the man with a child-like, beaming grim - as if no one else was aware of this ridiculousness. She falls still and quiet again, though smiling, as he slips away into the kitchen.
Naked blind man. Jake's jaw is dropped. He mouths, 'What the FUCK?' and then hurls a look towards the bedroom. Guaranteed the man's lover is going to do something. …Better to not move for now. He just stays right where he is and concentrates on Not Getting Caught. That's all Jay's ever really wanted anyway. Getting caught is such a hassle. He'll even take the gunshot wound if it means he doesn't get caught - though obviously survival is going to get more important pretty quick if that happens. …of course, this entire experience comes with a built-in disruption: Isis. Who gets the gawking stare next - and then Jake facepalms, literally plants his face in one hand. The entire lot of them are doomed. Maybe if he just doesn't move for a minute, until the blind man is out of the area, they'll survive. Somehow.
As it happens, there is no wall to separate the living room from the kitchen, which is in part what has made the living room seem so large and spacious; only a waist-high counter divides these two rooms. The intruders are lucky that there's at least that, that there is actually an object that gets in the way of the old man's nudity. Yes, he was wearing nothing. Small wonders, eh?
Motion sensors register him entering the kitchen, and the lights in the living room die down, instead appearing in the kitchen area of the apartment. Sensors are placed in entrances leading to other areas or rooms, working on the rare 'someone walks in, turn on, someone walks out, turn off' principle. The only reason lights haven't turned themselves on when any of the three slipped inside was because the man disabled the auto-lights at the query of his lover. The author could go into finer detail to describe just how this insanity has come to fruition, but to put it simply - Jay's ability was to blame.
Diogenes has no idea what to do. Petrified, he switches his gaze between Jay and Isis. Eventually, the man lifts his hands up, palms facing the ceiling, and tilts his head back; addressing a divine entity, most likely. "I hate you God", he murmurs underneath his breath nigh inaudibly.
Not that the man is overly concerned with Isis, Jay or Diogenes. Nope, he's preparing the drinks, sticking a digit in each glass and filling them up to a certain point, until he can feel the surface of the beverages tickle his skin. And then the old man lecherously suckles his digit dry, grabs the two drinks, and wanders off back towards the bedroom, wagging his hips to either sides, the momentum doing its job on a certain part of his body; the picture, when caught by Dio's eyes, ensures that there will be even more sleepless nights in the days to come.
There is not doubt, by looking at her, that it is taking every ounce of the spontaneous redhead's efforts not to shout out, laugh, or otherwise give herself away. Her hands are clamped desperately over her mouth at this point, the bag dangling from between then, as she looks from Dio, to Jay, and back to the waving, waggling… Oh god, don't even think the word. Simply just something she could never overcome, even on her most mature day it made her giggle…
Penis!
She snorts over her hand before pinching her nose shut between thumb and index fingers to cut off all air.
Oh hell. Time to move. Jay knows this from sheer experience. He surges off the wall, grabs Isis by the arm, and spreads the other arm to catch Dio and herd the both of them out the damn door. Who cares how much noise it makes now? No fucking way they're getting away with it, he can feel that much. Time to act. Don't-call-the-cops, don't-call-the-cops. How in the hell does he keep ending up being helpful to random criminals? First the drug peddler, now this? It's going to be bad, he can already tell.
"Here comes the Love Train! All aboard!", exclaims the blind man huskily yet loudly as he slips into the bedroom, luckily drowning out Isis's attempts not to laugh that took form as a snort.
The wave of illumination passes on into the bedroom, following the elderly man. Darkness embraces both the kitchen and the living room once more, leaving the unfortunate trio soaked in darkness once again; once again their eyes have to adjust to the change in lighting. Of course, that doesn't stop at least two of them from acting - Diogenes crouches down to quickly grab the gun he's dropped, and Jay apparently rushes to grab Isis's hand and then Dio's, who also happens to harbour similar thoughts of escape. Valuables are forgotten, at least by Diogenes, as he spews forth in a whisper, "Let's get the hell out of here!"
Jay, of course, is glared at when he grabs Diogenes's hand and tries to set his own pace. "Get your hands off me, you stupid prick! I can walk on my own!"
"Oh no-" There is something ominous to the words that play a melody of Isis's airy tones. Murphie's Law. Jay's Law? What can go wrong will - especially when there is an eighteen year old, frat boy running head long head into things.
Isis get only a glimpse of Jay's outstretched hand, the others a quick show of her wide-eyed reaction, before the lights cut out.
The affect it more disorientating than she would have liked. Caught off guard, she keeps herself and the gropey teen within there own bodies - but only just barely. The sensation is like being yanked from the belly button until the consciousness is beating against the material flesh that houses it, only to fall back with the world whirling dizzyingly around.
"Mother fucker," Isis mumbles as she yanks her arm free with a rough gesture, only to whack her head on to open door, and stumble out into the hall where she gracefully jams her shoulder into the opposite wall. She beat herself up, literally.
"Fucking amateurs," Jake hisses back at Dio as he lets go of the man's hand and goes for a shoulder. Should've left the door open, should've… well, doesn't matter now. The guy surely knows. Love train! He's going to cry, when he gets the chance. His brother will never believe this. …And then the sensation of Isis's power impacts him and so much for moving, he's tossed for a loop, swaying in place, grabbing instinctively after the woman as she breaks free. Freedom: thataway. He staggers, heaves upright, tumbles into the hall and barely manages not to slam into Isis. Instead he thumps the opposing wall right next to her. "Fuck!" is hissed. What the hell just happened? Time to run - but finding 'out' is going to require yet more reliance on his power, at least until his head stops spinning. This is not how he expected his frat initiation to go. At least he failed to score mushrooms - that would only make this experience worse.
Diogenes ends up in the hallway, as well, although his voyage there is relatively safer and less chaotic than Jay's or Isis. Amusingly, the sensors work this time, turning the lights on in the living room and leaving them like that. Diogenes honestly couldn't care less; he quietly shuts the door behind himself, and casually wanders over to the bag. Casually? Sure, why not. He's finally out of Hell. It's a pity that they haven't managed to loot the place proper, but judging from those beauties, he has secured a generous sum.
"I should drag you back there and leave you there", he tells Jay, his voice now at the volume level of a low murmur. "Seriously… What are the God damn odds?", he whines, shooting a glance to Isis. "You okay? Come on, let's get out of 'Love Station'. I need copious amounts of vodka to rinse this memory out of my mind. Either or Kaylee." Provided that Isis follows, he'd duly get the hell out of there, ignoring Jay.
Isis grunts as she leans against the wall, holding onto her jammed shoulder. Somehow she's reminded of Brian's girl when she broke her shoulder. "Dear god, it better not be broken, you butthead," she mumbles as she glances aside to the disheveled frat boy. "Hey, buddy, this way." Coming to terms with the disorientation more quickly than her victim - it was part of life for her, after all - she aims to help in some way. She reaches out, pauses shortly as she notes his half-naked state, and grumbles as she hooks a few fingers into the boy's beltloop, beginning to drag him off down the hall.
She looks aside to Diogenes as they make there way out. "You and Blondie have gotten close," she remarks. And that is all. She falls silent. She'd lead Jay out to the sidewalk, at least, from there it was up to him.
"Fucking Christ, vodka won't kill that, you need tequila," Jay grumbles as he's dragged blindly down the hall, hands on his face. "God fucking damn. Fuck. Fucking eyes. I need bleach. Fucking shit!" Finally he manages to clear his vision, and squints at the woman leading him along by the belt loop. "Hey, can I have your number? It would absolutely complete this crazy night." Assuming the cops aren't waiting for him downstairs. "Name's Jake, by the way." The request and introduction are inevitable; ignoring them is every woman's perogative. Jay's perfectly willing to be dragged the rest of the way out - and then to go loping off, if he's got to, in some direction far away from the frat house, the doberman, the drug-peddler, and most especially the Love Station.