ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜs ᴍᴀɴ ( ᴊᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ ᴀɴᴋʟᴇs ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
righteously) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-09-22 12:47 am
righteously) wrote in entrancelogs2013-09-22 12:47 am
And Death Follows Him (Except for when everyone gets away and he's a failure)
Who: Dean & Meg / Dean & Allison
Where: The Bank / The Rooftops
When: The second night of the event
Rating: PG13
Summary: There's a convenient robbery murder combo and then some suspiciousness that follows.
The Story:
Meg
Dean's objective is simple. He's to kill the man who runs the bank. He's pretty sure the bank's mafia sided anyway, and eliminating the man who does the dealing will make their funds run dry. He's not sure who's got beef with the mob, he doesn't particularly care. He's never been much of a details guy, he just really likes getting paid.
Evidently he's not the only one with a mark on this particular bank tonight, though, because when the banker's body drops to the ground, it reveals a figure not far behind him.
...Damn. He's not a fan of company, and a second body isn't part of the contract. It was a very fucking specific contract.
Allison
Getting away from Meg had been a bitch, but he managed it. Granted, it was with tears knitted into his clothes, blood smeared along biceps, all in all not a very incognito picture did he paint. He moves along the rooftops darkly, eyes narrowed to slits, a slight limp in his walk, attracting the attention with anyone with a sharp eye.
(And maybe a bow.)
There's nothing to specifically give away the fact that he's a villain, but the fact that he wears a mask over the lower half of his face covering his mouth probably means he's something worth investigating.
Where: The Bank / The Rooftops
When: The second night of the event
Rating: PG13
Summary: There's a convenient robbery murder combo and then some suspiciousness that follows.
The Story:
Meg
Dean's objective is simple. He's to kill the man who runs the bank. He's pretty sure the bank's mafia sided anyway, and eliminating the man who does the dealing will make their funds run dry. He's not sure who's got beef with the mob, he doesn't particularly care. He's never been much of a details guy, he just really likes getting paid.
Evidently he's not the only one with a mark on this particular bank tonight, though, because when the banker's body drops to the ground, it reveals a figure not far behind him.
...Damn. He's not a fan of company, and a second body isn't part of the contract. It was a very fucking specific contract.
Allison
Getting away from Meg had been a bitch, but he managed it. Granted, it was with tears knitted into his clothes, blood smeared along biceps, all in all not a very incognito picture did he paint. He moves along the rooftops darkly, eyes narrowed to slits, a slight limp in his walk, attracting the attention with anyone with a sharp eye.
(And maybe a bow.)
There's nothing to specifically give away the fact that he's a villain, but the fact that he wears a mask over the lower half of his face covering his mouth probably means he's something worth investigating.
no subject
He can feel her eyes, he can feel her faltering behind him, a quick glance behind him confirms this, and he can see ahead of him the glowing lights of main street, the lamps and chatter, the open bars in a neat line for crawls. He can hear the pumping bass of techno music, of clubs so exclusive they've got bouncers.
Witnesses.
So viciously pleased with himself about this whole thing, he actually has the audacity to slow to a stop just a few yards short of the passing crowds and bodies to turn back and face her.
And elegantly raise his hand in a one-fingered salute.
For the second time tonight, it's going to have to express everything he can't put into words, and you know what? It feels pretty damn accurate.
no subject
But she tries anyway, follows him up until she sees him stop and turn back to her. Allison's heart is in her chest as the Archeress slows to a stop, realizing a moment later that if he hadn't stopped her, she probably would have followed him right into the crowd. Something she can't do.
For half a moment, she wonders if he stopped for a good reason. Maybe he actually wanted to talk (there were villains who did that, who wanted to spill their plans. It was stupid but it happened). So she stops, fifty feet from him and the crowd of the main street, hand poised out over a smaller one of her bows. Just in case he wanted to try something.
But what she gets is his finger, and the anger she feels in response to it temporarily clouds her vision. He's mocking me is all she remembers thinking before she starts off in a sprint again, having completely forgotten the rule.
She'll regret this decision, later, but for now she plans on catching him. Just to prove a point.
no subject
Which is all well and good, and he thinks he's beat the system, and he'll go out for beer and strippers or something, until she starts running again.
The look that passes over his face is impossible to miss, it's the most blatant and clear Oh Shit look that has ever crossed a human being's face in the history of Oh Shit.
And then they're off again, and he's hauling ass into the crowd with most of his lead lost to his hesitation and his smartassery, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get it back. He slams through bodies and into crowds, dips and dodges around people who spare him confused and disbelieving glances. Considering the Ninja outfit isn't exactly the most inconspicuous garb, it's not hard to figure out the source of their distress.
As he runs, he tears his mask off. Piece by piece, his outfit gets disassembled into something that blends a little better with society, never stopping long enough to be picked out by a security camera, an iPhone, anything that might catch his face in this outfit. Nobody that would be able to place him, because he's too much of a blurr by the time they notice him.
Nobody but her, who- if she's lucky, might catch a clear shot of his mug, a clear view of his face, between the moving bodies and turning corners and the chase.
no subject
The angry part of her that spurred on the sprint in the first place revels in his expression. She caught those wide eyes, that oh shit, and it has her grinning a little. Yeah, you better run. And she'll just keep running right after him, having gained a lot of ground due to the few seconds it took for him to react. It's not close enough to catch him, but it's close enough to keep up with him, considering how thick the crowds are in this area of the city. Allison does her best to dodge through the people, to follow the stream the Reaper leaves behind him when he shoves through the bodies of the crowd.
It's mostly because of the people that she doesn't know what he's doing at first- just keeping her attention on keeping up and not losing him in the crowd. It's not until there's a certain break in the crowd that she sees him tear off another piece of his clothing, turning his head enough that she sees his mask gone, sees the cut of his jaw, his eyes, the whole thing. Just a flash, sure, but she's been trained since birth to recognize a man with less. That? Right there? Signed his arrest warrant.
She doesn't recognize him, but that doesn't mean she won't be able to find him, later. But then, like the crowd is making up for that brief opening shot, it thickens between them and she momentarily loses sight of him- needing to take a moment too long to push through the throngs of people and come out on the other side.
no subject
Before her, the crowd thickens, converges. Dean strips himself of the rest of his costume and blends seamlessly into the flow of the crowd, an average and forgetable face in average and forgetable clothes.
Before her, he disappears. When the crowd thins again, he's nowhere to be found, leaving no trace of himself but the memory of his face.
For now