Participants:
| Scene Title | Worst Service Plan Ever |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | *Insert Jaws Themes here…* |
| Date | August 3, 2010 |
Anarchy Customs: Garage
This three story building is constructed from old, cracked concrete and cinder blocks, the naturally gray hue is long since caked with the common signs of neglect and vagrancy, filth and graffiti, common on the island. The graffiti here, however, seems notably fresh.
The entrances to the buildings are too wide, large bay garage doors. The words 'Anarchy Customs' are painted in chaotic letters on each. Just inside a large garage is home to various motorcycles and parts in different states of dismantling, repair, reconstruction, or destruction. The walls are cluttered with various tools, mobbed further with stolen street signs and more untamable, fresh graffiti. The smell of oil clings to the air as eagerly as the grease stains spattered on the concrete floor.
Across from the large, bay garage doors, a single black-iron, spiraling staircase is set beside the opposite wall, corking up to the floor overhead.
A full, new day of a renewed life has proven advantageous to the Anarchy Customs garage. The goons have done a good job in dusting off the equipment. The trailer hitched to the old CJ-7 parked outside has been cleared clean - the vacation 'souvenirs' of Mexico are all unpacked on the second floor. The tattooed vixen herself strolls down the spiral staircase and gives the foot of Luther's cot a nudge of her boot. "Squatter, we're out of beer…" She throws a couple of bills on his lap and nudges him toward the door.
Left alone in the silence of her own thoughts, Devi turns to the awaiting van in the hub of her home. "Hello again, sweetheart," she coos at the vehicle. Picking up her screwdriver, she tucks a rag into the back of her studded belt and leans under the hood. "Let's see what you've got under your skirt, huh?"
A friend of a friend had been asked to keep an eye on any activity around the garage, although it took a day or two before Richard Cardinal had the time or opportunity to act on it. A silent shadow glides beneath the bay doors of the garage, a spread of translucent darkness that blends in well with the surroundings. Hearing the talking from the van, it slithers along the floor to head towards it, investigating exactly who's taken up residence.
"You're a tricky one," Devi continues, talking to the car like a lover - well, better than she's ever talked to any lover, in truth. Anywho, the tinkering continue, a few simpler pieces of the internal strangeness being set aside. "What the…" Pause. Pause. After examining the unique contraption, the deadly diva sets her wrench at the heart of the machine. Making it little more than a 45 degree, the van begins to speak. Devi pulls back too quickly, bonking her noggin sharply as she steps back. She stares at the vehicle, rubbing the back of her head, as the pre-recorded message begins to play…
"Hello, my name is Alex. This is a pre-recorded message. I put these into some things I build or modify for people, because I don't like scientists profiting from or taking credit for my work. If you happen to be a beautiful woman, I apologize in advance, but here's a robot spider. It's going to kill everything until it needs someone to wind it up again."
Devi chuckles uneasily and casts a wary glance around the shop. "Yeah right… " But, she doesn't seem so certain - she's seen enough of the vehicle to know… then comes the tick-tick-ticking of something shifting in the beast of a van.
As the recording begins to play from the depths of the engine, the shadow slides along behind the mechanic… and then he hears what, exactly, that voice is saying. "Bloody hell," stirs a sudden, urgent hiss from the darkness, "Devi! Get the hell away from that van, I know who that was on the recording, and he wasn't fucking kidding! …kidding…"
"What?!" Devi wheels around, the swift motion carried out with the same effort to draw her firearm from the back of her belt. She points the sidearm at the blackness, foolish instinct making her more wary of the dark, immediate voice behind her than the presumed gag-threat issued from the vehicle. It's those few moments that all the machine needs - the contraption unfurls itself from within the hull of the mastermind engine. The mechanical spider, polished in black grease and pieced together like a mechanical zombie, leaps up from the center of the van, lurching back up onto its hood with a wild thud that leaves a mighty dent in the hobo's transportation.
"Mother fucker!" Devi wheels back around, unloading a few shots at the monster machine in a sparking display that set it flailing in a wild rampage, heading blindly towards its attacker.
"Don't worry about me, it's the van, the— " Aaaaand there it goes, and as the mechanical spider unfolds itself from within the hull, the shadow ripples up along one of the walls, as if someone was approaching it without actually being there. Then it bulges outwards as Richard Cardinal steps out of it, hand still forming colour and shape as it comes up armed with a heavy pistol, the trigger pulled a few times to fire off some fruitless shots at the grease-covered gears and struts of the nightmare machine in an attempt to get its attention.
"— nobody ever fucking listens. Devi, get the hell out of here unless you've got a fucking bazooka or something stashed in the back," he barks out, even as he tries to distract the result of Warren Ray's insanity.
Devi cringes as the bullets ricochet around the garage. The femme does not need any further encouragement than the leaping hunk of death and Cardinal's shouts - she rolls away, tossing herself under the nearest, metal workbench. The Spider O' Death leaps into the air, coming down in shriek of metal atop the table hidey-spot. The workbench groans and warps under the force while tools become blunt missiles, crashing wildly and taking out windows, decorative street-signs… and an unsuspecting lackey who stroll in with a bag full of munchies. He crumples to the ground without truly knowing what hit him - a socket tray - as the spider wheels around to its new target: Cardinal. THUD, THUD, THUD! It lumbers across the garage at him, destroying a project bike in its one-minded path.
Devi squeezes herself out from under the crumbled table, leaving a harsh gash down her left rib where twisted metal seeks to keep her caged. She scuffles to the door and throws it open, popping up to her feet and waving wildly towards Cardinal. "Come on!"
"What part of get the hell out did you not— " One mechanical leg kicks off the handlebar of the motorcycle and sends it flying past Cardinal's head, which ducks instinctively to one side, "— did you not understand? C'mon, big fella, come to Richard…"
He starts backing up away from the door, one hand coming up, fingers curling towards him a few times in a beckoning motion towards the hulking spider-robot, shouting past it, "I'll be out in a minute!"
"Fine, Hero!" Devi calls out over the clamor. She dips down and grabs her lackey, throwing him up over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "If you die in here, I'm going to kill you," she shouts as another jerky leg shoots a tire rim across the garage in one direction and a shelf of expensive paints and accessories in the other. She scowls at the hurricane that is her beloved garage and slips out the door with muffled cussing. There were plenty of things on the level above that might have taken out the mechanical mess-maker, but not without leaving her garage as bits of rubble. She drops her goon-package on the curb and leans against her Jeep as she stares at the graffiti-covered building, listening to the racket of destruction echoing out and down the streets.
"Yeah, no, try again…" As the mechanical monstrosity barrels on in his direction, Cardinal steps back again, towards the sturdiest looking wall he can find… and fades against the wall into a shadow, features darkening and then vanishing into two-dimensional blackness as he tries to get the lumbering thing to charge into the wall.
Hey. It always worked for Bugs Bunny.
Thud-thud, thudthud. The mad invention picks up speed until. CRACK! The wall groans and splits uncertainly as the mass and inertia of the spider-monster collides with the brick structure. Once can almost see the little birds and stars wobbling around its body-head as it wobbles before rolling over backwards upon itself with a scream of rusting metal.
Stillness. Silence.
EEK! EEK! The legs screech as they give a last, tell-tale death twitch before stilling again.
Outside, Devi stirs up to her full height at the uncertain silence, looking fearfully at the building, muscles twitching with the itch to propel herself back inside. Yes, there is some loyalty among gangster - a weird and warped loyalty, but some nonetheless.
"…huh."
Cardinal steps back out of the shadow beside the hulk of murderous metal and cleaving blades, one hand raising up to scratch under his chin as he looks at the machine for a moment. He kicks one leg. It doesn't move. "I… seriously did not think that was going to work."
His voice raises, then, calling back towards the door, "You can come back inside now!"
Devi's shoulders slump with a sigh of relief. She risks a quick glance at her unconscious lackey, leaving him on the concrete to shuffle back into her garage. She winces, peering at the rubble through squinted, lines brushed with oil, grease and disheveled makeup. "Fuck me…" she mumbles, pulling up her boot from a sticky mess of Ferrari Red paint spewed across the floor. "What was that?!"she asks, her question a mingling of anger and awe. As that monster-piece had turned her livelihood and work into rubble, she had seen the wild skill of the craftsmanship, her ability giving her a blueprint of a mastermind death-creation.
"A giant mechanical spider," Cardinal replies helpfully as he steps away from it, gesturing a hand towards the machine, "Keep up with me here. Where'd you pick up the van from, anyway…? Alex was only in control for a few weeks, so he must've built this damn thing fairly recently."
He frowns back at it, murmuring, "Reminds me of fuckin' Argentina."
Devi frowns as she picks up a wrench split plain in half. She hugs it to her chest like a teddy bear and looks across at Cardinal and the mecha-monster-mess. "Some hobo was here poking around when I got back from Mexico. Wanted gas. I popped the hood and had to dissent the bitch. How the hell…?" She shakes her head and lifts her hand as if she would rather not have any further explanation. "I'm goin' to find the bastard, you know that right?" She looks to the garage door expectantly. "Squatter would be smart not to return from that beer run…"
"Whoever drove this thing isn't the guy who built that fuckin' spider, and I'm already dealing with him, trust me… he's one crazy sonuvabitch. Haven't yet met a mechanical intuitive that wasn't crazy as a god-damn loon," says Cardinal, the last sentence muttered under his breath as he steps back over towards the vehicle - and he pauses, brow furrowing, "Wait a minute. This thing looks familiar… who's the squatter?"
"I want in," Devi interjects, without room for discussion, as Cardinal admits he is already after the mad mastermind, 'Alex'. She gives a shrug as she tucks the half a wrench into the pocket of her jeans and walks over to the dead spider. She looks over the thing in the same way she had the van. "Luther," she replies, without pause. So, she does know his name well enough - she just refuses to use it. But then, at least Cardinal knows how she is with nicknames.
"It's more complicated than that," says Cardinal, one hand lifting to brush over the van's side, "Huh. I wonder… anyway. I wonder why the fuck he's driving one of that crazy bastard's death-traps around. You couldn't fucking pay me to." His hand drops, and he turns to look back to Devi with a crook'd smile, one brow lifting over the edge of his shades, "Good seeing you back in town, by the way, babe."
"Not sure, but I intend to find out…" The tattooed vixen, disheveled and beaten, stares at the door a moment longer before turning to Cardinal. Her lips, painted a royal violet today, turn up in a charming smile. "Miss me?" She winks, only to pause with a quick grimace. She looks down to her side and pulls apart her torn shirt to reveal the slice along her ribcage. With a sigh she nods towards the stores. "I liked this shirt. How about a beer and bandages while you update me on what's new?"
A rather crooked smile is her reply, and although Cardinal starts to say something, his attention is drawn down as she pulls the shirt open - expression twisting in a grimace, he moves to follow. "Sounds good. Find me the bandages and lose the shirt - you have antiseptic on hand? That thing didn't exactly look clean, wouldn't want it getting infected."
Devi gives a taunting waggle of her brows at the instructions, but gives a curt nod. Her boots present an echoing tone up the iron staircase, a hiss passing her lips as she makes to strip of her shirt on the way up, presenting the abstract canvas of her tattooed back - and the split through tattoo of an inverted cross now marred on her left ribs.
Devi groans as she props herself down into one of the leather sofas, setting an old first aid kit beside her. She sets too cold beers down on the table before her and leans back, craning her neck to look at the jagged slice torn down her side. "Damnit," she mumbles, and looks to Cardinal expectantly. "What sort of wack-jobs do you know, hm?"
"Sit your ass down." Cardinal rests one knee on the cushions of the couch, the other leg mostly off it as he opens up the first aid kit, adding, "And get your shirt off so I can get a good look at your cut…" As his gloved fingers search through the plastic box, pulling out a brown bottle of antiseptic, he adds with a faint chuckle, "…you have no idea. I know whack-jobs of every strip and colour. Mortimer Jack, or Alex, or Warren - whatever he's calling himself this week - isn't exactly a friend though."
The biker bitch groans as she moves enough to pull her shirt up over her head - baring a most frilly pink bra spattered with black stars. Yes, she has odd taste. She moves to crack open the beer, pouring down a few heavy gulps in misplaced hopes of dulling the bitter bite of the wound. "When I find that son-of-a…" She yelps a bit as the tension of her anger cause a new blossom of pain. The tattoo upon her rib is most certainly destroyed, making a morbid display of the intricate inverted cross painted in fresh sanguine. "Anyway, what's going on around here, toots?" She turns her dark eyes over to watch his hand trifle through the box of bandages.
At the sight of the pink bra, Cardinal's brows reach for his hairline - a snort of laughter, and then he's busy soaking a pad of gauze in hydrogen peroxide. "Hold the fuck still or I'll tie you down," he states firmly, gripping her shoulder as he reaches out to carefully clean the wound with stinging, foaming antiseptic and gentle little brushes of contact. As much to see how bad it is as to clean it. "…plenty going on, actually. I'm glad you're back in town, as a matter of fact. Your gang still with you?"
"Holy- !!!!" Devi leans forward, bracing her forehead to Cardinal's shoulder and biting the knuckles on the back of her free hand. Her boots give a half-hearted squirming as the wound foams up like a child's science faire volcano. Tetanus anyone? "Yeah, they're here," she manages through her clenched teeth. "Grub is passed out in the street. Fuel is out picking up a bike, he should be back tomorrow." She leans her head back into the plush sofa cushion, fixing Cardinal with a rare, serious look. "You happy to see me because you missed me?" She grins. "Or, you got something else up your sleeve?"
The hand on her shoulder tightens as she leans against Cardinal, reminding her to stay still as he works on cleaning the wound, the reaction of the antiseptic causing him to grimace a bit. "Yeah, this's a fuckin' mess, you should stop and see Constantine," he says quietly, "He's on the mainland these days, but I can probably dig him up from whatever hole he's working in right now…"
A smirk's flashed over, then, "Well, I did have some plans to get your shirt off, but this wasn't the plan…" He winks, then drops the bloodied gauze onto the floor to be picked up in a minute, digging out some needle and thread, "…there's plenty going on, though. How'd you all like to get involved in a criminal syndicate that just moved into town?"
Devi grins. "Any more than the shirt and you're going have to really turn up the charm." She winks. Her frame eases slightly as the mess of gauze is withdrawn. "Constantine?" She offers a groggy nod, as she makes mental note of the name. "If you say so…" She leans back slowly as the little pin and thread come into view. With a resigned sigh she pours down the rest of her beer and takes a steely grip on the sofa's leathers.
"You know how I feel about authority. Working under someone else? Who and what's the gig?"
"The guy's name is Gideon d'Sarthe," Cardinal explains in quiet tones - keeping his voice level and steady, giving her something to focus on besides the pain as the needle bites into her flesh. He's not the best medic in the world, but it'll keep her alive. "He's one of Linderman's rivals, and I'm working with him to deal with ol' Danny boy once and for all. I trust him about as far as I can throw him, though… so I need someone else in his organization, someone that he doesn't know is connected to me."
Devi lofts a brow. This little interesting turn of events is certainly enough to pull her mind from the boiling hatred of her current predicament. She keeps her gaze pointedly focused on Cardinal's silhouette as the nips and tugs of the needle and thread turn a queasiness in her stomach. "Sounds like your crawlin' into bed with a lotta trouble, toots…" She smirks from behind a few tussled coils of ebon locks. "Lucky for you, I wouldn't mind sharing that bed." She chuckles uneasily, the sound hurriedly shut off in favor of keeping still beneath the working stitches. "But, I hope you've got a plan for aligning myself with this newbie?"
A low little chuckle tumbles past Cardinal's lips at the comments she makes, his fingers moving carefully and slowly as he stitches up the jagged wound. "You know me, Devi," he murmurs, "Always getting in bed with the biggest trouble I can find… and I think I can come up with something for you. You all used to deal Refrain and some other drugs down here, right?"
At the mention of Refrain, Devi steals a quick glance to the locked cabinet poised over the bar. She offers a quick, curt nod. "I did," she replies. "Not dealin' the Refrain, really. But, the rest of it is still on the market." With the aid of a sharp pinch of the needle working on her side, she tears her gaze from the cabinet and back to Cardinal. "Supply and demand, ya know? Think it'll be enough bait to hook your big fish?"
"Not just that…" The needle's last hole is made, and he draws the string taut - pulling the wound closed - and works on tying it off, murmuring, "…the Group killed off the Dragons, which is where you were getting your supply from, directly or not. d'Sarthe hates Linderman's guts. Just show up saying that you heard he's the new man in town, Danny-boy killed your old supplier, offer your gang's services."
A sharp hiss burrows through the conversation as the last stretch of medical attention is brought to the wound. Devi shifts enough to look at the stitching with an untrained eye, wrinkling her nose at the gory sight. She bites her tongue, fighting back a few unnecessary, but gnawing questions in a moment of awkward silence, before replying. "Where do I fine him?" Her tonality is a final testament to her agreement of this whole whacky plan as she lifts her dark gaze to Cardinal.
"You remember the Tavern on the Green? Well, Mister Subtlety bought it out and is rebuilding it, calling it d'Sarthe's. You can just walk in and ask for a meeting. I bet he'd you showing that sort've balls…" The needle's taken, the bloodied gauze is taken, and Richard pushes himself off the couch. "Where's your towels? I'll pick one up, soak it down so you can wash off with it."
"Upstairs," Devi replies, making a tired gesture towards the spiraling staircase winding up into the next level. "I know the area. I'll pop in soon. I have a way of grabbing attention." She gives a wiggle of her shoulders with only half its usual 'umph'. She lays her head back then. "I guess we'll have to keep our little affair on the down-low so your Fish doesn't catch wind," she says with a groggy grin. "You know…" She opens a single eye, peering over at Cardinal. "I might like being back…"
"You might like it more," Cardinal points out with a crook'd smile of his own for her, regarding her there on the couch for a moment, "If you weren't likely to pop your stitches if I gave you a proper welcome home…" A rogue's grin, and he turns away to head for the stairs, "I'll be right back. You got some booze up there, too? You can probably use it."
Devi makes a show of fanning herself with a roll of her eyes. "All talk," she taunts with a waggle of her brows before rolling over to lay her length along the sofa. "Fridge for the beer, liquors on the counter." She closes here eyes then, soaking through and through in the inescapable ache of her side. "Fucker," she mumbles, as without conversation her thoughts are brought back to the spider. Her mind starts working over the make of the contraption again with a thoughtful hum as she waits. "Could make a good pet," she muses aloud.