Mongol Invasion
|
Date: 06/22/2018 |
Measure 2
|
|
Cast: Storyteller: | |
|
The call came down to Oliver, of course. Apparently, one of Runs-Down's-Past Kin had gotten lost in Measure 2. Why was he in measure 2? YOU'LL HAVE TO ASK HIM WHEN YOU FIND HIM. To be honest, the Lupus was not particularly pleased to be having to ask for help again, but when you hear a relative has 'gone missing in Detroit', it doesn't bode wellf or anybody. Least of all said relative. All they've got is a general location where the 'find my phone' app pinged him. According to Sullies-The-Foe, anyway. His name, apparently, is Bill. Bill Fotopulous. It's Greek, okay? But that's why YOU are deep in measure 2. On a dark street. In the middle of the night. Trying to find this guy's phone. Becasue it says he's here /somewhere/. Sandra's been, perhaps, overtly cautious in her appraisal of the area. Might be the moon, the need to take things one step at a time, or it might be that she doesn't entirely trust that, even at the risk of irritating Runs-Down-Past, Sully isn't apt to turn this into a sideshow for his own amusement. Through one means or another. Or maybe it's just a combination of all of the above, on top of an increasingly foul mood. Either way, once she's parked a fair distance away in a lot she deems to be 'safe,' it leads her to closely surveying the area-- every inch of it, for the immediate moment. Oliver doesn't entirely trust the guy either -- though even if he did, he'd probably be taking it reasonably slowly. Either their quarry's in some kind of trouble or he doesn't want to be found, and either way, better to err on the more cautious side. When he emerges from the car, he pauses there, checking his (new, since the Enticer incident) phone for any clearer indication of where the one they're looking for might be before he slips it into his pocket and moves on to letting his eyes fully adjust as he, too, surveys their surroundings. Any signs of life catch his eye, unsurprisingly, but what look like decent hiding spots get noted as well. With the help of the 'find my phone' app, there's some hunting around in bushes and overgrown shrubbery, but eventually both Oliver and Sandra are able to find the phone in question. The face of it is cracked, violently, but it looks functional. Bill Fotopulous, it has to be him, appears on the home screen. He's got his arms around a lady while doing a passable 'Buddy Christ' imitation at the same time with a double thumbs up. Unfortunately, the phone appears to be locked. That violent crack, though, it does not bode well. Sandra frowns at the look of the phone once they find it, crouching down to get a look at it. She doesn't touch it save to switch on the screen, preferring instead to raise back to her feet, her hand shifting back beneath the shirt tied around her waist to the holster at her hip as if to remind herself that, yes, it's still there. //You should be able to track him by scent if you shift,// she says over the link, taking another look at their surroudings. //I'll keep an eye out for anything that looks like it's intent on being shot at.// There's a sense that she'd prefer to be the one tracking - would *greatly* prefer it, in fact, so much so that there's a thread of genuine beyond-the-standard moon-based irritation in there - but one of them should have range, at the very least. Ouroboros looks quite pleased when they come upon the phone, leaning to get a good look as well -- perhaps a bit less pleased by the fact that it's not coming along with their actual quarry and has an ill-boding crack through it, but at least they probably know what the guy looks like now. And imminently, probably what he smells like as well. //I was thinking one of us should,// he agrees, seeming perfectly happy to be the one, //and that sounds like a plan.// Still, there's a pause first, one with some focus, and then a definitely less perfectly-happy mutter as absolutely nothing happens. Fine, then. He shifts down to his Lupus form, and his nose flares slightly as he scents the phone. It takes a moment. The scent on the phone is, at least, helpful. It's not so long been laying there that the scent of the owner isn't on it. Before long, a direction is found and set out on, moving even deeper into measure 2. Sandra takes a moment to focus, herself, carefully flexing her fingers. It's as Ouroboros shifts - an act that she pointedly refrains from paying attention to, given the aforementioned and rather irrational bout of irritation - that the shadows cast over the ground around the phone seem to waver, though only for a moment. It's not long before they're settled back to where they "should" be. //Got anything?// she says, turning her attention back to him. It's only when she receives an affirmative that she'll move alongside him, careful to keep pace given that he hasn't camouflaged himself this time around. With that in mind, //Should've brought a collar,// is noted dryly. Most people would just see a canid sniffing at things, as they're wont to do. Sandra can see the small increase in his concern about things, the way it shows in a small adjustment of his ears and muzzle. //Blood,// he answers, taking another sniff, and then starting to follow the trail the way it appears to lead. //Faint, as though it's been wiped off. Our quarry's, I think. And another person, leather and oil. Probably whoever wiped it.// Her added comment draws an exhalation almost like a faint laugh, all the same. //All right, but no leash unless you wear the boots,// he responds, perhaps a touch less dry. Some time is gonna pass, you know? It's going to take a while to follow the scent. A good fifteen minutes away is when you start hearing it: music. Heavy metal, you know? And looooooud. Sounds like a party and you're on your way to it. Sandra gives a vague 'mn' over the link, and remains largely silent for the walk as it continues. The sound of the music makes her place slow a touch, and it doesn't take looking at her to know her mood is darkening by the minute. "Oh, for god's sake," she says under her breath. Aloud, this time, and from the sound of it, she would have preferred outright cussing. She keeps moving, though, assuming the scent is pointing them in that general direction, her hand never straying too far from the site of the holster, gaze surveying the area for anyone, or anything, that might be surveying them in return. Preferably before making any final approach. Ouroboros is focused mostly on that scent, but not so much he's blocking out the rest of the world -- and certainly not so much that his ears don't prick up at the sound of music. If nothing else, it clearly means the presence of other people. His ears swivel a bit as he continues, calibrating whether the sound appears to be coming from the same direction as the scent trail is headed, and as they get closer, he slows just a little as well, letting himself get a better impression of the surroundings too. His ears flatten unhappily for a moment, as the various signs become clearer to them, and to his nose. //It's a good-sized do,// he says, //Must be dozens of them there.// //Of course,// comes the irritable reply, the Ahroun slowing her pace to a halt once they get near a cluster of houses that are in varying stages of disrepair, though 'disrepair' seems a kind word for it. She glances between two of them before they're close to any light sources, and says, //Stay close,// drawing her hands up in a motion that seems to peel the shadows off the cracked pavement, //and follow me.// She uses the makeshift cover to move between the two buildings, utilizing whatever blocking is readily available to inch closer, the shadows shifting to maintain the concealment of both herself and her packmate. Never anything too dramatic-- and, apparently, she manages to do a good job of making sure that the unearthly effect doesn't draw attention to itself. ...welp. Here's the bad news. It's a party. There's perhaps thirty or fourty people gathered, having a good time. Drinking copious amounts of beer, cheering, screaming and laughing. Also, doing some drugs. It's a lawless land so they're doing whatever it is they want. Roughly a dozen motorcycles are lined up here, along side a lot of cars, forming a makeshift barrier around the entryway to a parking lot that's being used for said party. There's a burned out husk of a McDonalds nearby, and there's the /center/ of the party. Two men, their shirts off, bare knuckle boxing. Fight club style, you know? Theree's people betting on it loudly. Sandra will immediately recognize from somewhere the tags on the jacket: it's the Mongols... only one of the most dangerous biker gangs in America. Members of them right here. Now for the good news: you found Bill. He's standing right next to one of the Mongols, a guy who has his arm draped around him in a death grip as he talks to him, nodding a lot. Bill looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here as the biker gestures at the ring, in a sort of 'hey, you're up next' kind of way. So, the situation is now obvious: you have a Kin, who is being forced to participate in some kind of fight club dealy. Which has people recording it. With phone cameras. Probably to upload to youtube. And said Kin, well... he looks like he's a lover, not a fighter, judging by those scrawny arms. Great. <<OOC>> Shadi says, "Since you're trying to provoke a certain paranoia, why don't we go with manip+subterfuge? I promise, even if you fail, it'll have an impact, I just wanna gauge how BIG of one." <<DICE>> Sandra rolls manipulation + subterfuge + 2, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> Ouroboros rolls 3 + stealth, difficulty 8 It's on the back porch of the neighboring house that Sandra eventually finds a perch, of sorts, the moon casting a rather helpful shadow from a gnarled, nearby tree that's threatening to overtake the structure. For a moment, it'll appear to her packmate as though she plans on simply spectating-- but then he'll see her hands start to move. Little movements, at first-- an upward swipe of her middle and forefinger; a backwards sweep, like shooing away flies. It's not possible to see *exactly* the kind of manipulations that are being done, but she seems rather focused on it-- and some of it *is* legitimately visible, like a shadow darting across the hand of one of the men that's been obsessively rubbing his nose. To the partygoers that are sweating out their anxieties, they'll be given reason to wonder if the world hasn't turned against them. Tiny flickers in shadow in their peripheral vision; shadows scurring over their hands and seeming to disappear beneath clothing. Shadows converging over the face of the person they're speaking to. It doesn't all happen at once, of course - she doesn't have that kind of dexterity, or concentration - but it happens in sequence, and quickly enough, that not a one of them is left unafflicted. In the best of circumstances to a tweak-fried brain, someone spiked the crackmethoin, or whatever the fuck it is these people are hoovering up tonight. Worst case, the blobs of shadow under their clothes are already starting to burrow under their skin, and they're too haired out to tell. The movements may be small and reasonably new, but they already strike a certain chord with Ouroboros, and as he turns his attention more to the group again, there's a hint of a laugh across the link. //Really must learn to do that,// he says, and for the moment, tries something he's ostensibly learnt long before. This time, it works, and he seems to blend deeper into the shadows surrounding them. A quick assessment of the partiers being tormented, and he starts to slink in that direction, looking for the best angles from which to try adding a more tangible surprise here or there -- a cold wet nose against the small of a bared back, or the brush of some tail fur against the back of a knee. It's going really well. Really, really well, actually. It's going so well that a few of the more suggestible, tweaked out tweakers pulls out a gun and fires it into the shadows, and that provokes a lot of screaming, freaking out. To the eyes of the people in the crowd, it sure looks like nothing is going on except that one of the paranoid bastards on meth just SHOT INTO THE DARKNESS WITH HIS MAGIC MISSILES. OR at least his cheap-ass glock. Needless to say, this sends people diving for cover and taking off, disrupting the fighting and everything /else/. It won't take the Mongols long to recover from this and try to reeestablish order. There's a pot of MONEY, see. Betting. But Bill? Bill is taking advantage to do his level best to get lost. Sandra keeps the manipulations of the shadows up as much as she can, among those people getting the least attention. The more chaos she can create in these moments, the better, especially if it involves tweakers smacking the crap out of the back of some poor onlooker's head. //Route Bill our way,// she says over the link. //The second he sees a wolf, he should know to follow.// Such they can hope! //On it,// Ouroboros replies, curving around the members of the crowd and keeping an eye on Bill. He looks for where the guy's likely to cross a spot where few are paying attention, and aims to meet up with him there, close enough that he can -- he hopes -- attract the guy's attention with a quiet nearby wuff, of a friendly sort, without anyone else near enough to notice. Should let him come into focus to the Kin, he hopes, enough to try to lead him away. <<OOC>> Shadi is gonna roll some things! Bill is definitely fast on his feet. A scrawny guy with a runner's build, he's dashing out of the madness that's building. The tweakers are, well... freaked out. They're being toyed with more and more and thir altered perceptionds and paranoia -- there's really only a handful of them -- is enough to freak them out and cause quite a ruckus. The guy who drew his gun has been tackled by a cople of the bikers, who to their credit, are doing their best to disarm the shit out of him so nobody gets hurt. HEy, it's their show and there's bags of money on the line, apparently. Bill catches sight of the wolf, finally, and begins to run towards it, run, run, run. Unfortuantely, he's been noticed by a couple of the mongols who are yelling and pointing, clearly not wanting him to get away. They apparently have unfinished business. All the same, Bill's sprinting and the chase is now on. Sandra keeps herself hidden as the chaos continues, but it's clear she's doing *something*, at least. As bikers scatter to retrieve their quarry - not that she knows why on earth they're being so damned persistent about it - the two shouting out the man's position will find themselves bumrushed by a massive shadow. For as rudimentary as it looks, the impression of tearing its way out of the ground is clear enough, and those bikers that are getting dangerously close to picking up the trail will find themselves accosted by roughly the same thing. //Keep running,// she says over the link. //Call out your position when you find a cross street. I'll join you as soon as I can.// //I'll stick to Bill,// Ouroboros agrees, casting a quick glance toward the imminent pursuers as he goes. Whatever he's considering, what wins out is an attempt to get a better handle on whether there's more than just 'cranky bikers' involved in all this, and his nostrils flare as he opens up a sense that even his Lupus form has to put effort behind. And then he sneezes. Not a cute little kitten sneeze, one of those little 'choo!' deals, but a wrinkle of the muzzle that moves on into a full shake of his head, hard enough to make him look blurry even if one's already got a focus on him, making the sound even wobblier as the air's expelled. And then there's another. And another. He tries to continue as he was, though it makes him look as wobbly as the sound. A pause, tongue flicking over his nose as he gets a few properly good steps in again, and then anothre sneeze breaks free. When his head's not moving too quickly to make it out, his body language is definitely cursing. <<OOC>> Ouroboros says, "I lament my inability to figure out just how to describe or transcribe the noise I am imagining." Fortunately, the two immeddiate pursuers skid to a halt. One was behind the other, and the front one just saw the shadows open up and try to swallow him whole. He's so confused by this. Did he take some drugs? He doesn't think so, but THAT HAPPENED. The result is he is flown into from behind and the two of them hit the ground with whoofs. Bill dashes towa rds the wolf, but then he just winds up staring at him kind of confused like '...what? What are you trying to tell me, boy? Did Timmy actually fall down a well this time?' He doesn't speak lupus, okay? The pair of bikers who've started their bikes are now staring at the somewhat stymied Bill, while the REST are still subduing the insanity that Sandra's spurred. The pair of bikers can stare all they want. The more they do, the more it appears as though Bill's shadow is stretching out towards them, lancing its way over the pavement towards their positions. It's at the last second that it seems to cast itself over their bikes and skin, reaching up like a tangible force even if there's no actual substance to it. It's fast, striking like a viper and rapidly infesting the gears and mechanisms of the bikes more than the bikers, in the hopes that it'll urge them to, perhaps, abandon their rides. <<OOC>> Shadi says, "You're able to get them under control enough to identify a good avenue of escape through the bushes, better than where Bill was going, and can lead him through. You're going to need to run prety good, because the bikers who were on their bikes are.... actually, flailing and falling off their bikes because WHAT THE HELL? "All right," says one of them, staring, "who the fuck put acid in the beer?" The sneezes are-- improving, at least. Enough to allow a pause that lets Ouroboros get a better look around him, and enough for another that lets him catch Bill's eye and move his head in a very deliberate and weirdly human 'this way' sort of gesture. Then he leads the way toward the spot he's chosen, casting only half an eye back to see what's going on along the way. And still sneezing, though it's at least settling down to lighter ones, with more space in between. Still looks unfortunately silly. Through the bushes, then overgrown as they are. Just a better passage that wouldn't have been quite as thorny or as difficult to wedge through. He dives through the bushes on to the other street, opposite from where Sandra is for the time being, and he's trying to follow the wolf. "Shit, shit shit," says Bill, "Thanks. I wasn't expecting a rescue. Shit, man!" He's looking around wildly, trying to figure out where to go from here. While Sandra has stalled (very well) the response time of the Mongols Bikers, it's just 'creating a considerable head start' at this point. //Keep going,// Sandra says over the link, the shadows that have twisted around the bikes pulsing and fading as her attention shifts towards the tweakers that are more susceptible to the gimmick. //I've bought you some time, so do what you can to stay hidden, or to create as much distance as possible. I'll get the car-- once I do, we'll figure out the best way to do this.// It's back to subtle so far as the shadows go, flickers enough to ratchet back up a state of agitation as the Ahroun gets up to start inching off the porch she's inhabited, the bulk of the Gift put towards concealing her own exit. //Keeping going,// Ouroboros replies, doing so. He looks around for a promising initial route, one that still doesn't look tempting for motorcycles, and that's the way it begins -- aiming to keep line of sight from the McDonald's well-broken, and to make some distance. //I'm inclined, though, to circle around. Possibly try to let them go by. Leave them headed off the wrong direction, anyway, if we can...// He darts down a side street, aiming at an alley between abandoned buildings, trying to get and keep as many buildings, bushes, and other screens between the two of them and any pursuers as he can. The more between them and the ex-McDonald's before the bikers recover, the better. Two gunshots erupt from the parking lot. "ALL RIGHT," yells someone, "THAT'S ENOUGH." He fired in the air, no doubt. "Spread out, FIND THE SON OF A BITCH. Need I remind you THAT FUCKER STOLE MY GIRL?" Bill pauses, offers breathlessly to Ouro, "Well, I mean, to be fair he kinda deserved it. She's way better off. ALSO, if I'd known the meeting was gonna be with him, I'da skipped!" That explains, so, so so much. There's a flicker of irritation over the link. //I'm not the one on the run right now,// the Ahroun says, slipping unseen off the patio to start heading off in the direction of her car, //and I'm sure you've already noticed that they're not nearly as distracted as they were a moment ago, so-- whatever you do, start doing it *now*. Leave deliberation for later.// Ouroboros arches a brow at Bill, another oddly human mannerism, and one that might have some impact on the fact that there's a flicker of irritation in return in the link. //Yes, thank you, I wasn't looking for instructions. I thought you might like to know what I was thinking. While running. Be safe.// He ducks down another alleyway, getting a fair bit to one side of where they'd begun and leading Bill into one of the abandoned buildings. One that looks as though it's likely to have a reasonable selection of spots in which to lie low, and a second way to sneak out if need be. A wash of Rage hits the link, but just when it seems too profound to shake, it's bitten back. Beyond that, there's dead silence, the Ahroun turning her focus to (ungainfully, apparently) making her way towards the car. <<DICE>> Shadi rolls 4 dice, difficulty 6 ...Oliver hears the distant sound of a motorcycle crash. And then two bikers getting into an argument about it. Ouroboros settles very still, listening for signs of pursuers approaching -- or, hopefully, moving well past. And then there's that crash. And the sounds of angry yelling. The barely-audible exhalation through his nose sounds almost like a snicker, and his ears turn like radar dishes for a moment before he lightly nudges Bill and eases them out of the building again. He aims them back toward the general direction of the car, aiming to keep at least a couple or a few blocks between them and the remnants of the party as they go. Quick but quiet is still the plan. <<OOC>> Shadi is going to assume, for the sake of the pose, that Sandra makes it to her car and that Oliver and her coordinate an intercept route. With Oliver's stealth roll, he won't have any problem being a guide. <<OOC>> Ouroboros nods, was going to tell her once they were safely past the party. :) Being able to communicate over a distance makes it easy. Sandra is able to avoid the attention of the Mongols bikers and reach her car, though she can hear their motorcycles in the distance as they're on the hunt for poor Bill Fotopulous. Between her and Oliver, a secondary point is chosen where linkage can be made, and it isn't long before she finds Bill flailing his way down towards her car because Oliver had more or less pointed the way to it. "Oh thank god, oh thank god," he's going to throw himself into the back seat and duck the moment he can. So far, so good. They're still in the area, and Sandra is gonna have to slip out without getting noticewd by any of the bikers in her car, but at least everyone is back together again. "Don't thank anyone yet," Sandra snaps once he's in the car, waiting only as long as it takes for her packmate to get into the passenger seat before putting the car in gear and pulling out of her parking spot. "You'd better have a damn good reason for being out here in a demilitarized zone without letting us know ahead of time," she continues, her tone sharp, pulling away from the direction the bikers are coming from, "and I expect a full explanation, but for now, you're going to lay down, and you're going to shut the hell up." The sidearm is pulled from the holster when she gets a chance to manage it, and practically shoved into Oliver's hands, "Be ready to shoot out their wheels if you have to," she says, only slightly tempering her tone as she begins to navigate the dilapidated roadways with-- rather shocking ease, all things considered, "and I'll hope for *all* our sakes that you're a decent shot." Oliver shifts up and slides into the passenger seat easily enough, with an immediate 'down' gesture toward the kin, for all that it seems less than necessary. He takes the gun easily enough as well -- at the least looking as though he's held one before -- and he rolls down his window, keeping the weapon below that level. "Passable," he says, and keeps an eye out. Though Sandra's expression takes a turn at the response, she tightens her jaw as if to bite back a comment, and makes it a point to keep the bulk of her attention on the road ahead. He looks like, Bill does, like he wants to explain and then he's down instead. Do not disobey Garou. He's smarter than Shadi that way. In any case, he's down. With a window cracked, Sandra can hear the sounds of the motorcycles zipping around in the dsitance and she's able to begin trying to put some space between them and the Mongols, but the reality is that they have a pretty decent advantage on these streets. the, say, husks of burned out cars don't block them quite so easily. So when it sounds like one is coming closer, it definitely has good reason to be gaining on you. Just the one though. To be honest, when the guy comes into view, he's riding on his motorcycle, catches sight of the car, and then loses control of it and crashes outright when he SUDDENLY FINDS HIMSELF MOSTLY BLIND on account of shadows. He wasn't going too fast, but fast enough that he rolls several times before he comes to a stop. That just works! Of course, how much he'll be able to share with the others is a good question. It's a rough ride. Measure 2 Detroit has no maintance, after all. The streets here are crumbling and falling into disrepair. The car, of course, capable of handling it (probably a little more wear and tear than one would want, but it can handle it) but Bill is bounced around the back seat on numerous occasions unhappily. There is a lot of 'ow' and pained grunts. Eventually, you emerge from the measure 2 territory, perhaps having gone a little slower than you'd have liked, and you can't be sure that someone didn't see you. You'd stand out a bit more in that kind of situation, after all. But the good news, Bill Fotopulis is safe. Runs'll owe you one. When you've had the chance to settle down, Bill will (under stern glares from two Garou) explain that he was on the hunt for a particularly modified sniper rifle for an operation for some Garou out towards the midwest. That rifle, in this case, was modified by and in the posession of a man who works with the Mongols club. Now, Bill had had some previous run ins with the Mongols, most of them good, but not all. it's a big gang. Easily thousands of members strong. What were the odds that a guy he last saw in Cleveland, who he conned out of a few thousand dollars, and took his girlfriend, would be the same one he'd wind up dealing with? WHAT ARE THE ODDS, YOU KNOW? HA HA HA HA HA. NERVOUS LAUGHTER. He didn't even get the rifle. Still, there'll be other chances, other rifles, and they won't involve getting pressganged into a fight club to recoup the 'loss' and get the shit kicked out of him for the pleasure of a rather annoyed Mongol. | |
