Post by Rae-Star Berii on Nov 4, 2012 4:13:42 GMT -5
America was not her friend. British girls did not do well in foreign worlds. Rae-Star had learnt that on a school exchange trip to France when she was thirteen. It had been something her mother had encouraged her to do; it would better her education in the ‘romantic language’ and would make her a more independent person. Her mother argued it would be good for her to see how other people lived. All Rae had learnt from the experience was that snails belonged in the garden and not on the plate and it didn’t matter how exotic you made it sound; escargot was a delicacy they should only serve in the Tower of London; to the tortured. If snails and salad (a concept that was somewhat amusing in itself) couldn’t get a man to speak nothing would.
The journey at the time had seemed like the greatest darkness in her world. Now Rae knew a different world and it was horribly dark.
She sat alone in a ‘Diner’ as the American’s called it, on the outskirts of town. It was time to leave America. There was no trail here, nothing to be found. As she ordered pancakes from the women in her greasy apron with her scraped back hair and warm, spotted face she was reminded that this place was not her home. That she was here because her father had died, because her Uncle had taken care of their family and that she had been a prisoner of a different sort to the ones they held in the Tower.
America did not settle well in her bones. Everything was too big. Everything was too bright and colourful and the people; well sometimes they appeared too friendly.
She had no money to pay for the pancakes she had ordered. That was an obstacle she would come too eventually and as her stomach rumbled dangerously and reminded her even run-aways had to eat sometimes.
Rae was not well prepared and she did not know the rules of the road. Running away was a concept with a learning curve and a curve she was being pummelled with by large giant fists. This was the fourth Diner she had stopped in as she made her way back to England. This would be the fourth time she had stolen her food and it would be the fourth time she would escape out into the open under the delusion that returning to England would bring her family back.
In her booth she sat, slight, in wet-look black leggings, a bright blue jumper that hung off the pale and slender shoulder and kissed the curve of her bottom. It was thin knit, not made for warmth but made for fashion, but the leather coat that was flung haplessly in the booth beside her was all the warmth she needed for the time being. Her hair, curled back in an artistic knot was streaked with colour. Pink, blue, orange, purple, yellow, red – she was like a painter’s pallet, waiting to be dipped into and spread on a canvas. People looked at her, yes, and some gave her a look of disbelief that a girl could appear so bright and so ‘wacky’, but she had grown to learn that sometimes the best way to survive was to be noticed, to live so people remembered you. Granted, it was limiting for a girl who had broken the law, but if people kept recognising her then maybe; just maybe, when the darkness came to swallow her up someone would realise she was missing.
On the table next to her, as she waited for her pancakes, were a banana milkshake and her laptop. She had hacked into the diner’s network and was currently playing Chess online. She only had one eye on the game, but when the stakes for merely hundreds of dollars and not thousands, she only had to keep one eye there. The game was easy, the bid was low and it was barely keeping her mind amused as her dark chocolate eyes scanned over the other residents of the Diner.
Post by Craig Jamerson on Nov 4, 2012 12:28:32 GMT -5
Splatters of green, dashes of yellow, hues of orange, and bits of red. A lovely arrangement of colors to evaluate, really. Unfortunately, Craig was far from interested in gazing at the vomit in the toilet. Rather, he was trying not to give more of it to the large-mouthed ceramic beast. It wasn't easy, though, as the omelettes he'd been served had been severely undercooked and had churned his stomach in awful ways. "Fucking diner," he managed before he threw up further. This nasty hole was the last place he should've come with food like this and he intended to let the management know. As soon as he finished fondling the toilet frame. He spat mucus from his mouth into the water, breathing raggedly through his mouth. Maybe he was finished puking. He sat for another good minute or two before feeling convinced he could stand up and leave without spewing everywhere. Craig stood shakily, wiped sweat from his brow and spat one more time before flushing the shitty $13.99 meal down the toilet.
He turned and walked out of the stall towards the sinks. He couldn't help but wince when he realized that the hot water was far from and hurried to lather his hands and rinse them. He turned to grab paper towels and found none. Nor was there an air dryer. Fuming, he slammed the bathroom door open and half-stomped to the front counter where two people stood in line. He looked at the two individuals who returned his gaze, no doubt thinking he was about to join the line. Instead, he bulldozed his way to the front, intending to make a scene as he got between the cashier and the man ordering something from the menu. The cashier looked at him as though bewildered and began to protest but Craig interrupted her, loudly protesting the diner's very existence.
"What was that SHIT you just fed me?" He asked loudly. "Those omelets were so undercooked, I just threw up two chickens in the bathroom. Where's your manager!?" The cashier told him to wait and assured him she would be right back with the manager on shift before rushing off towards the rear of the building. Scowling, Craig turned on heel to look at the man he'd butted in front of again. "If you want some advice, go find a dumpster somewhere to eat out of. It's healthier." Just then, the short girl returned with a man dressed differently than the other diner-slaves present. It was to him that Craig spoke. "I'd like to know what the hell is wrong with your cooks that the omelet I just ate gave birth in my stomach." Clearly livid, Craig pushed on, "Plus, you've got no hot water and no paper towels in the bathroom where I made out with your toilet." He was going to get a refund for the hell he'd just paid for, goddamnit.
Post by Rae-Star Berii on Nov 4, 2012 12:59:46 GMT -5
Rae’s eyes followed the man after the bathroom door was slammed and followed by a vulgar string of swear words. The poor girl, he probably made her cry. She looked capable of tears, in that sort of southern sea-monster kind of way. The people here were alien to her, in fact they may have walked right of Route 66 for all she knew. Her eyes, dark and impulsive followed the interaction blatantly. She had no fear in watching him, and his rant was rather amusing. It made her somewhat glad that she had no intention of paying for her pancakes; should they ever arrive.
Her screen dinged and for a moment her attention broke away from the angry customer to her computer. It was finally her move. The person she was playing was American; she knew that from her profile. He was forty two and he was in business. He liked to play online poker- according to his IP address, and he had an online profile for two pornographic sites and one dating website. Rae didn’t believe he was as handsome as the profile pictures led the world to believe, but then her online profile suggested she was also a forty-something man. It was safer.
Today her opponent was also paying off her credit card. Computers had never interested Rae, not really, not until she had found herself using her Uncle’s one day, getting the thrill of getting past the security digits. Into his files…she’d taken the opportunity to get rid of the pictures of her- of other girls. She’d also taken the opportunity to send some of the evidence against him to the police. If only they had come first, before the daemons then perhaps her brother would still be alive. No, computers were a relatively new skill, but something worth the tinkering. Now all she needed was her own bank account…but you needed an address to set that up. Maybe when she got back to London…well it was food for thought.
Rae laughed privately to herself as her ears were dragged back to the angry American and his tonsil tennis with the toilets. It gave an amusing image to her creative mind and momentarily she reached for her pen, finding in the front pocket of her rucksack. Her hands scrawled a biro ink picture on the napkin; using the banana milkshake stain to illustrate the colour of the vomit he had hurled into the heavens she drew a brash and ill-mannered caricature of him. Well, Rae was making memories as she ventured through America after all…
Chuckling to herself she moved the cursor pad with delicate fingers when the computer dinged for a second time. Queen to F1, Checkmate. Smiling, and tucking a stray strand of pink tinted hair behind a well pierced ear, she closed the lid on her laptop and sat back to watch the entertainment. This was better than East Enders.
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Last Edit: Nov 4, 2012 13:00:01 GMT -5 by Rae-Star Berii
Post by Craig Jamerson on Nov 4, 2012 14:10:51 GMT -5
Craig had settled down a bit by the time the conversation had come to a close. Likely because the manager gave him a full refund and even threw in a piece of their "legendary" cherry pie. He accepted the pie and cash, stuffing the bills and change into the left pocket of his black suit-pants before leaving the counter to find somewhere to sit. He looked around and found that there only a handful of tables left unoccupied. One was beside a group of menacing bikers clad in black leather and adorned with chains and metal. No way was he sitting there. Another was at the other end of the diner but a screaming baby and arguing couple warded off any potential guests. A booth was available beside a girl who looked like she'd been working at the Fruity Pebbles factory when it'd exploded in her face. No, thank you. The last was far more promising, being next to a couple of normal-looking folks and quiet chatter. He would sit there. He began making his way to the table when he noticed someone else on the same path. Eyes narrowed in competitive spirit, Craig picked up his pace to a brisk walk and his challenger followed suit. It was going to be close.
A sigh escaped the lips of the tall man. The other fellow had just been too close to beat. The smug bastard shrugged at him and began eating his slop, ignoring Craig's dilemma. The geneticist frowned at the mess the man was making and decided he had only one option now. He turned to his right and walked over to the booth by the fairy-girl on the laptop and palced his pie on the table behind her before seating himself on the opposite side of the same bench she was on. He plucked a fork from the napkin-rolled utensils and shoved it business-end first into the warm pie. It was not, in fact, legendary. In fact, it wasn't even great, he decided. However, it was far better than the taste of stomach acid in his mouth and gratefully masked the flavor of his own bile with the crusted filling.
As he ate, his mind wandered. He couldn't wait to get out of here and back to the lab. After he had met Adelaide back in Canada during a business trip, he'd thought long and hard about healing. Finally coming to the conclusion that increased metabolism and blood count would effectively allow one to heal at least thrice as fast, Craig put his theories to work when he'd gotten back. He had succeeded and found his serum excellent. Unfortunately, as a side effect, he was hungry for what seemed to be ALL the time to him. It was a worthwhile trade-off, of course, since he was now significantly less likely to get himself killed or be in the wrong place at the wrong time enough to die. He would gratefully accept hunger and pies for healing, though. He took another bite of the cherry filling, quietly musing over the events of the last few months. It was hard not to be mind-blown sometimes, but he was doing rather well with it so far, he figured. As long as no one came along and told him that Sasquatch was real, he'd probably be just fine.
Post by Rae-Star Berii on Nov 4, 2012 15:21:32 GMT -5
She had watched him cross the diner and Rae retained her amusement as he practically raced across the place to sit next to the couple. Did she smell of something? The boy was chomping at the bit to not take her bench. Not that she wanted company, regardless. The thought of company was a little intimidating. Rae use to trust people, she use to talk to anyone. Back home she had been a Queen Bee; she had been responsible for the well-being of a group of girls. She decided what clothes they wore, she decided who they could be friends with and who they couldn’t.
Now? Now her world was on its head. Absently, her thumb and forefinger touched to her rose gold locket that sat nestled in the heart shaped dimple between her collar bones. It was a sub-conscious movement and she was barely aware of it.
The world around her was slipping away from her, vanishing under her feet and it more than disgruntled her a little bit.
Her dark eyes followed him, looking up at him through that stray strand of hair that that refused to remain behind her ear. Rae’s eyes were dark, like orbs of chocolate and honey. She wet her ruby lips, running her tongue across them slowly and watched him, silently as he sat. He had no interest in talking to her, and she none to him. It was just another person to notice her before she was gone.
Rae-Star picked up her laptop from the table and placed it in her backpack. Her backpack contained her world; it was all she had in the world; everything she had escaped with just those short months ago. It also contained a few things she needed alone the way. A first aid kit for example and a flash light were good examples. Rae had never realised how dark the world was until she had to learn to travel alone in it. Jostling the bag a little she slipped the silver laptop into the main pocket and readjusted the straps.
As her eyes came back to the table she realised her mistake. The laptop had been hiding the crude drawing she had made of the angry bull-like American when he shouted. Now she had moved the laptop the drawing on the banana milkshake stained napkin was clear for the world- and the victim of her artwork- to see. Her eyes flickered up to his; had he seen?
Post by Craig Jamerson on Nov 4, 2012 16:19:52 GMT -5
Craig chewed his food thoughtfully, minding his own business. The skittle behind him began stirring, packing her things and he glanced behind him to see her slide her laptop into her backpack. I suppose this was a good seat after all. He began to turn his head when he noticed a slip of paper on the table she seemed to be forgetting. It had some sort of design on it or he would've ignored it, thinking it a napkin and he turned his full attention to her and the slip of paper. "Hey, don't forget your notes." He said, smiling at her. It was less a smile of warmth and more a physical manifestation of his glee at her departure. He pointed at the slip and turned his head to it again as he did so. That was when he noticed that they were not, in fact, notes; rather, it was a drawing. A crude sketch of what appeared to be an angry man that--.
Craig's smile vanished and his sharp eyes flickered back to the girl. "Funny," he stated flatly, eyes staying on her. He did not appreciate her artistic interpretation of the situation, frankly. "How about you go eat some undercooked eggs and spend ten minutes barfing up your lungs in the dismal excuse for a bathroom they have here, huh?" He continued glowering at her, pie forgotten in his embarrassed anger. "You have any idea what food poisoning is like, kid?" Craig asked rhetorically. Before she could answer, he continued, "Let me tell you, it's not fun. Think popping 15 aspirin. Yeah, you can relate to that, can't you?" His words were mean and his demeanor betrayed no regret at his words (yet). His glare remained on her as he waited to see what stupid excuse she would have.
Post by Victoria Belmis on Nov 4, 2012 18:47:22 GMT -5
Victoria ran her fingers down the wet glass, feeling the cold drops of water on the tip of her digits. A funny colored liquid filled its inside, a fruit mixture of some sort. She knew better then to ask for food in a place like that, she was aware how carelessly food was handled by humans in this kind of diners. The demoness was only hoping her beverage wasn't poisoned by rat piss or worst. After taking a sip Victoria decided it was probably safe enough.
Her eyes then started to wander off to the humans present, and her eyes fell on a girl a table away from hers, Victoria couldn't see her face as she was facing the opposite direction, but her bright colored hair, quite similar to Victoria's drink, was enough to catch anyone's attention. A grin started to form as she remembered the human she had slaughtered the night before, he too had a painted hair, though she couldn't recall what color he originally had, only that after her sacrifice it was clearly a dark red... The demoness couldn't help to feel proud of her work, it had been a praised worthy sacrifice, The God Solemn was certainly pleased with her. Victoria only chose humans that were corrupted, humans whose soul was rotten, those were the most entertaining to kill. Innocent humans had nothing to offer, nor did they deserve to die despite the meaningless of their little lives.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door behind her being violently slammed open, a human male came out and walked furiously towards the counter ready to yell at the small female behind it. Another victim of the daily negligence that would happen in that kitchen. Poor guy. “ You show'em.” Victoria mumbled to herself with the glass cup in her lips once again. He finally seemed to calm down after shouting endlessly at the manager and getting his refund and a treat. The demoness choose to keep observing him as he made a futile attempt to reach for a empty table but failed miserably, ending up sitting in the table between her and the interesting-haired-girl, with his back turned to her and face to Victoria, allowing her to examine him more carefully. He was pale as ghost and he looked terrible. Jeez. “ Didn't think the food was that bad...” She thought to herself.
The man looked over his shoulder, to the girl behind him. From Victoria perspective it seemed like the man was checking the girl out. When the man's face stiffened up she understood it was not the case, he seemed displease, angry again. He started preaching at her, Victoria couldn't exactly see what he was on about, but by his words she could only guess that the girl said or did something regarding the guy's bad luck. It was not until he made a specially hurtful remark that Victoria raised her brow. “ Rude.” Victoria couldn't help to comment out loud. That wasn't very nice. She was sure whatever the girl did it wasn't deserving of a comment like that. The demoness stood in her seat motionless, she did not plan to interfere, she had nothing to do with human's business, but this was getting rather interesting.
Post by Long Richardson on Nov 5, 2012 0:39:04 GMT -5
Long sighed as his rolled his stiff neck, walking into the Diner's entrance. He had come out here every day for the last week in order to get away from the bodyguard job he had been doing. Today was the end of his contract, and he had decided to head by here on his way out, though he had already learned that the only edible things in the diner where their pies, pancakes, and fried chicken strips. Oh yes, and their curly fries. He loved curly fries; they interested him for some reason. However, it looked like this would not be a peaceful eating as the half-Asian male walked into the establishment.
He had already seen it from outside as he was parking his bike; some tall, pale man was fussing at a younger girl for some unknown reason. 'Yeah, you can relate to that can't you?' was all that Long heard as he walked in, the diner going silent after the man's outburst except for one female in the corner who spoke out the word that was probably on everyone's mind. 'Rude.' Long looked down at the helmet he had tucked in his arm before tossing it at the tall male who seemed to have a temperament against mildly attractive girls with odd hair. "You should probably go back to your pie, sir. It's one of the only things remotely good in this place. In fact, I'll go ahead and buy you a beer to go along with it. A man old enough to yell at a helpless girl is old enough to drink, right?" It was this sort of half-hidden insulting that had often lead him into trouble with people. Although he had a quiet nature, he would not just stand back and watch something like this happen. It would be cowardly.
Long walked casually to the table behind the man and sat opposite the pie, calling for the waitress to come and attend to him. After placing his order of a cherry pie and two Dos Equis, one "with lemon," he noticed the female's distressed face and his tone grew soft with concern, "Have you been crying, Margaret? What happened?" Shad flashed him a quick smile and said a cute "It's nothing, suga'," but as she looked at the man who had been yelling earlier, a mild form of hate filled her eyes... Long had his answer. He smiled to himself, knowing that this guy deserved a beer "with lemon," the Diner's secret code (it was kind of funny to call it a secret code, almost childish) for one of their specially tampered bottles... One of those could down you quicker than the bad eggs that Joe tried to cook.
Samael walked, attempting to conceal his graceful gait with a more clumsy one that seemed better to fit his lanky, adolescent like frame. His head was held low, face hidden in the shadows of his upturned hood, moving slightly as if to the music coming from the earphone cords that ran from the opening of his hood to the left pocket of his hoodie. This acted as a disguise for the darting eyes that kept close watch on Sam's surroundings, ears perked for any warning sounds.
He was meeting a contact here, in an alley. Cliche, yes, but Sam already had 4 routes planned for escape just in case of the chance of a setup.
Sam halted slightly to the side of the designated rendezvous point, pulled out his ipod, and began flicking through it. It was his hope that any who may be watching him would think the obvious; that Sam was just playing with his ipod rather than checking rooftops and the alley he was about to walk down.
Satisfied things were clear, Sam began a casual stroll down the shadowed alley. As he did so he could not help but give a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, thinking that this was the perfect place for an ambush.
Of course it was not though. His reputation seemed to proceed him, as usual, and there was his contact, standing there sweating like he had just come through a car wash.
The middle aged man, Samael's contact, pushed up his glasses and stuttered out the beginning of the pass code which Sam finished. The contact held out an envelope which Sam took. The entire exchange only lasted a good few moments and within seconds, he emerged from the other end of the alley as if nothing had happened.
After returning to his motel room, Sam checked for listening devices, cameras, and any suspicious sort of activity. Satisfied, he sat down on the edge of the ratty motel bed and carefully opened the manila envelope.
Within was a small file detailing the job and a picture of a 31 maybe 34 year old man, inquisitive eyes, and a bored smile. Name was one Craig Jamerson and apparently he had been dipping into the cookie jar. The employer suspected him of cracking, or at least coming close to cracking, the theoretical science of altering, possibly enhancing, ones genetics.
What they intended to do to this 'Craig' was not Sam's problem. What was Sam's problem was that they wanted the man taken. Alive. Samael dealt in death, this would not be your average walk in the park for him. No matter, he had never failed before.
The Diner
Sam slowed his 'borrowed' motorcycle to a crawl and parked it outside the diner. He had followed Craig here and was planning on grabbing him as he left but Sam was growing impatient.
Samael was uncomfortable with this, anxious. He was the quiet knife slipped between one's ribs. Not the hand that carried a live package. Sam had no patience for such matters.
He slipped off the bike and marched to the door of the diner and went inside, keeping as casual as possible in his maroon hoodie, black jeans, and combat boots.
Sam fingered one lock of his dark brown hair, assuming the jaded look that seemed common on most teens these days, as he looked around for a seat. There. His target sat in a booth with one other male and a cherry pie. There were few others in the diner; some waitresses and a girl sitting by herself. The girl temporarily caught his eye, if only because of her rainbow hair.
Walking over to the booth were Craig and his friend sat, Sam grabbed a fork ,plopped down next to the man, and stuck it in the pie, one hand hidden in the pocket of his hoodie and on the hilt of his knife. "Mind sharing, old timer?"
Post by Rae-Star Berii on Nov 5, 2012 13:39:51 GMT -5
The offending napkin was causing something of a stir. Her eyes, pools of chocolate goodness, looked down at the white slip. Her biro, sapphire and sparkling against the dull white, was in circular scrawls across the tip. She’d been thoughtless with the drawing, thoughtless in creating and leaving behind such a silly caricature. In fairness to her, the likeness to him was canny, it was creative and the cartoon toilet seemed to be enjoying the caress of his cartoon lips. If anything, she was sure he should find it something of a compliment; at least Rae was implying he was a good kisser. The thought of his lips brought her eyes momentarily to his mouth. They were thin, drawn out in an angry line.
Rae listened to him, intently. For all her flaws she paid attention to his opinion and let him have his moment to vent. Her mother had once told her that letting a man spout his mouth off allowed them to feel like they were more important. Rae had a memory of this at Christmas. Her parents around the table, her father fighting with an un-snapped cracker and his temper becoming unreasonably fowl. Rae reflected fondly as her mother reached across the table, took the cracker gently, kissed her father on the head and turned to Rae with a knowing look that encouraged Rae to listen closely as she unveiled to her young daughter one of those lessons that would be most useful to her later on in life.
“I’m sorry.” She said, in her soft British tones. It seemed like the right thing to say, after all she had upset him, and she hadn’t meant to upset anyone. Rae wasn’t a cruel person; she was one shot-gun to the head from being a vegetarian. Before she had time to further excuse herself they were interrupted.
Blinking, her eyes laced with charcoal lined make-up, she watched as the second American sat. Well, between the two of them they were providing those missing details to her opinion of American’s. The first, well she could almost understand his rudeness. She was asking for it a little and it had been stupid of her leave behind something that might provide offence. But the second man, she couldn’t decide if he was rude or too friendly.
She’d met many ‘too friendly’ people in the last sixth months. After everything that had happened at home she had spent every penny she had on a one way ticket to America. For sixth months she’d been hiding from the horrors of home and she had been hoping the land where the streets were paved with gold would offer her some support. It was, to her, the most logical thing for a frightened young girl to do. Didn’t everyone run away to America? Now, after some of the strange people here, and their odd un-British ways she was somewhat glad to be going home.
Quickly it got busy around them, and Rae-Star still stood there a little dumbly. She had shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her blood-coloured leather jacket when the first man had interrupted their gentle spat. Now she positively blushed and took a step away from the busy table. Rae reached for her rucksack, and pulled it onto her shoulders. It was needlessly heavy these days; it carried her world after all, and everything she collected found its way into one of the many pockets.
The bag itself was probably the same size as Rae’s slight torso. The eighteen year old was slender, her hip bones were prominent and her bust apple-like. She was, as the American put it, size 2 and in no way searching for absolute size zero. Truthfully, living the gypsy like life she had been frequenting was a wonderful diet strategy.
“I-uh-I” Rae flushed further, her cheeks becoming a softer pink, giving her pale skin something of a beautiful glow. “Keep it.” She said to the lad whose picture she had originally drawn. “Maybe you’ll find the funny side one day.” She offered, in her timid way.
"Excuse me..." Rae gave him a second sorry look, glanced (without interest) at the two men that had joined them and went.
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Last Edit: Nov 6, 2012 12:39:19 GMT -5 by Rae-Star Berii
Post by Craig Jamerson on Nov 5, 2012 17:32:21 GMT -5
Craig looked quizzically at the man who sat across him a he spoke, but it changed to a slight scowl of annoyance. Did this man take him as spineless? He wouldn't accept a gift from someone who insulted him as they handed him a present. He shook his head and silently pushed the drink away. He was not in the mood. Besides, he had to drive home and--
Some young man came along suddenly and pushed him over in the bench, grabbing his fork as he began to chow down on the pie. Craig looked between the two men. His keen intelligence came to play and immediately, Craig knew something was very wrong. For all these people to suddenly diverge on this booth... in such an odd way. This was not a good situation and Craig promptly became uncomfortable, desiring nothing more than to get out of the ratty diner. He remained silent in response to the young man's question, but his head turned to the right at the apology of the young woman. More, she seemed genuinely apologetic. He listened to her words and looked to the other two men at the bench. He quickly developed a plan and set it in motion.
Craig turned his face to the skittle girl and turned into an expression of remorse. "I'm sorry, Maria. I shouldn't get so agry about you poking fun at me. Let's go home now, please, sweetie." As he finished this statement, he made to jump over the back of the booth to walk with the girlout of the diner. Once no one else could see his eyes, he would look at her pleadingly, sure she would recognize that something was very off here.
One thing was for sure; he was never coming back here again.
Post by Victoria Belmis on Nov 5, 2012 18:21:14 GMT -5
Victoria observed the scene sat on her table, sipping occasionally on the fruity drink. The girl apologized for something handing the mad man a napkin. Probably just some funny doodling. Victoria imagined herself in her shoes. Oh, how she would've reacted differently...but the girl was clearly not aggressive and just started gathering her things ready to leave. Two men entered the diner, an asian looking guy and a somehow young man. Both of them approached the initial male in a much casual way...
That was odd. Even for humans. Something wasn't right.
She finished her drink, and stayed quiet. Her thoughts immediately started to wander off, thinking if Solemn would be pleased by one more offer... The young boy seemed like he had some dirt on his back, though this was just a preconceived idea judging by his appearance. Her thoughts were interrupted by something unexpected. In a matter of seconds the offended man changed his behavior drastically. He called the girl maria, leading to think they were a couple. He was scared. He knew something was off, and was hoping he could escape through this hoax. "Clever, clever boy". Victoria slid on her seat so that she could have a better view at his performance, like an audience waiting to see the great actor making his great scene.
Post by Rae-Star Berii on Nov 6, 2012 13:47:01 GMT -5
Rae blinked.
Then, she blinked at him again.
Quickly, Rae regained enough sense to smile at him. Maria? Did she look like a Maria? Wasn’t there a song about Maria; a problem about Maria? The Maria that sprung to her mind was Hispanic, brunette and could sing. Rae couldn’t sing for toffee (not that anyone would ever offer her toffee to sing. In fact, they would offer her many things to stop). She happened to have none of the other two qualities of a Maria either. Rae wet her lips slowly, unsure what was going on with him or the reason for the change of heart. Still, she paused a moment and allowed him to walk out of the diner with her. Diplomatically, she even offered him a gentle friendly smile.
Rae remained for a moment, leaning against the metallic wall of the diner. She fumbled for a smoke in her pocket, and scrabbled for her lighter in the other. Lifting the precious cancer stick to her bow-mouth, she sparked the lighter several times, shaking it angrily before lighting her cigarette.
In one sweet inhale it the nicotine rushed her system, sweeping away her embarrassment and her hunger in one fell-swoop.
Then she offered him the packet, silver foil opened up like the lips of a flower in first bloom. Her eyes paused on him, seeing the lost puppy-dog expression with which he was watching her now. Rae sighed, her shoulders sinking a little bit as she leant back on the shell of the diner. “You’re in some sort of trouble” She observed, making a conscious effort not to glance back through the window to the diner and not give them away. “And I don’t need any sort of trouble.”
Rae kicked up against the side, the heels of her boot sliding to the ground and she straightened. Finishing her smoke, she tossed the bud to the ground and putting her toe onto it stubbed it out. Rae watched the squashed paper and cotton bud for a careful moment, considering best what she should say next.
She shuffled her bag on her back, readjusting it on her shoulder for a moment. Rae started to wander away through the parking lot. There were only four cars here, and a red one caught her eye. She was heading towards New York. It was where she had started her adventure in America; it was the first place she came to when she was trying to escape. In the last four months she had something of an adventure across the cities and states of ‘The Land of the Free’. It seemed poetic for her to end where she started. The car was the next step towards that. While she disagreed with stealing cars, mostly because she had to burn them out when she was done by them and that was a cruel thing to do to someone else’s property, she still had to take them as it was a dog-eat-dog world. In the race for the survival of the fittest, Rae proved she could be a top competitor.
“If I were you…” she started, glancing back at him, though he looked somewhat pitiful., “I’d undo whatever it was that you did.” Her spidey-sense was tingling over all of this; it set off her insides with a nervous uncertainty and made her glad she was not in his shoes. “After all, we live in a dangerous world.”
More dangerous than she ever imagined it could be.
Post by Long Richardson on Nov 6, 2012 23:44:11 GMT -5
Long raised one eyebrow in an almost imperceptible manner as the rainbow-haired female apologized. While that happened, a younger male came into the diner and sat next to the grumpy one from earlier and acted in an overly-casual manner; going so far as to eat a piece of the older man's pie. Long took a bite of his own pie as it was delivered and watched the older male push his offered drink away, a smart move on his part.
Long was silently trying to figure out the meaning of the newcomer's appearance. This diner was the kind of place you would only eat at if you were about to die of starvation in the next four minutes, definitely not a place for rude, chummy teens. But he had used the disguise of being a helpless, unmannerly idiot before, so he should not come to conclusions too soon. And he seemed to be related to this older man somehow with the way he instantly picked him out in the crowd.
Then something unexpected happened. As the elder man looked towards the rainbow-haired girl, Long could see the gears turning smoothly in the other male's mind. He put on a remorseful mask and spoke to the younger female as though they were in a relationship and all that had occurred was simply a lover's dispute. However, there were a few problems.
First off, this male was sitting at a table by himself, and the girl was also at her own booth. They were separated from the beginning, suggesting that either they were not together or that this dispute had existed before coming into the diner. Secondly, the female had a backpack with her and a laptop. A laptop was not an uncommon occurrence nowadays among places that offered both food and internet, especially not in America. However, the thing that was odd here was the backpack. Unless she was in some form of learning institute, a backpack would normally symbolize someone who needed to pack things while away from home; often a frequented luggage among runaways. This suggested that she was by herself on some journey. And the last bit that gave away that the tall man was not with the female was the name he had called her by, Maria. Maria was definitely not a name for her, nowhere near one actually. Maria was a name for one of Hispanic descent, Mary for the less colored, as the female was. Not only that, but the female's accent clearly marked her as one from England, definitely not someone to be confused with a Maria.
However, the girl accepted this name and the male's "apology" and walked out of the diner with him. The action brought a small smile to Long's face as he watched the two actors make their exit. The male should get an applause for playing his role so well, honestly. Now on to the next most interesting thing... Long changed his attention in a nonchalant way towards the younger male who had come in and rudely invaded their table... Since he had been left behind, he most likely had no relation to the taller man, so what was his role in this? Time to see his reaction.
Post by Tyrant Creed on Nov 8, 2012 17:08:20 GMT -5
Tyr hummed along as he worked, occasionally pausing to grimace when he reached to wipe sweat from his face, and managed to rub grease or oil on it. Such labor was beneath him and Tyr found it truly revolting. Working on cars.. Peasant work! He truly felt the work beneath him, but drudged onwards with his task. Even though his father had done his best to instill the spirit of hard work adn capability into him, Tyr had simply been surrounded by too many luxuries. Growing up in a castle with hundreds of servants to boss around and the resources to do just about anything at his fingertips, Tyr had inevitably been a spoiled. Which made him a spoiled brat who just so happened to also be one of the most powerful mortals currently known to live, not to mention his colorful array of skills that ranged from bomb making and poisoning to withstanding torture that would make a trained man break down crying for his mother.
He exhaled and admired his work a moment. The block of c4 had placed upon and perfectly disguised into the side of the muffler with only a dull grey light to show that it was prepared for detonation. Tyr rolled out from under the red car and quickly glanced at the other three which were also rigged to blow. Whistling a merry tune that seemed to have no particular pattern, Tyr walked towards the diner where he would stand and watch the fireworks. As he did so, a human female emerged for a short cigarrette break and was soon followed by a male.
Tyr didnt even bother to cock his head curiously, he knew humans rarely had anything interesting to say. Leaning against the building, he took the detonator from his pocket. The detonator looked like a simple set of car keys save the remote had a red light glowing on it. Grinning, Tyr looked up and pressed the unlock button, turning the light green. The following explosions were.. startling, to say the least. Each car was enveloped in rapidly expanding balls of fire as the c4 went and so did their individual tanks of fuel. His grin twisted into a cruel smirk as he saw the girl who had been walking to the red car, apparently. She was lucky to have been beyond the danger zone and range of whatever shrapnel had followed the explosion, but that was about it. Always a fan of drama, tyr could not help but ask in the most innocent voice he possessed "Going somewhere?"
