Murder! in Paris (Finished)

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    "Well I don't know about all that but maybe when this is all over we'll meet again somewhere, hopefully somewhere innocents aren't being gunned down right in front of us. If you're still alive by the end of this, that is." Jack grinned at her, knowing full well she'd probably make it through this. A couple chumps with guns were nothing to him. The young man had torn through magical horrors straight out of nightmares and legend with less effort.

    They came to a dirt road and the young man turned down it. Shouldn't be far now, Jack figured. If things got as bad as he thought they might, it was possible he'd end up using his powers in a more obvious way that he did outside the store.

    "Ilya," The young man began, figuring he ought to break the news to her now rather than when they were being shot at. "I've got something to tell you. Might not believe it, but it's totally true, mmkay?" Jack paused to make sure she was paying attention.

    "I've got powers. Like, magical powers. I'm a wizard."

[Ilyα Cяσw]

"Mm, meeting after mass murder? Some day, some year." Ilya met his grin with one of her own and raised her gaze forward to where the dirt road was taking them, apprehension molding her smile to something less lighthearted, more rigid. "A road trip to New Orleans -- I dare you," She pitched leisurely, gesturing vaguely over Jack doing far better than her at driving this Americanized piece of machinery. She then reached towards the backseat and lugged a bow, connected to a backpacking sack nearly the size of Ilya herself. She almost slammed Jack in the process, and struggled to fit its immense size in front of her. Thankfully enough, it was a spacious SUV.

"Road-trippin' with a stranger sounds like good fun, aye?" She called out over the sound of bag-rummaging, tucking knives of different designs in her person, hauling a torso-embracing holster holding an antiquated pistol over her small frame, and a grey-green colored parka over that; Ilya boat-tied the string of her quiver around her belt loop and cradled her longbow like a precious gift, tossing the now substantially less immense bag to the back. Throughout this all was when Jack admitted to his abilities -- which only caused Ilya to smile at him like an idiot. Was that fondness in her eyes, or a realization of prospect? 

"Neat -- I mean, that is real neat. I wasn't expecting that today," Ilya replied collectedly, blowing a stray tuft of hair away from her eyes. "I guess that makes me feel a good bit better about not dyin' -- and, ah, I know about supernaturals." She nodded once, curtly, and tied her hair back into a pony-tail in preparation. 

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    "Jesus!" The young man said, nearly swerving off of the road when Ilya almost managed to bash him in the back of the head with her bow. "What are you carrying that thing around four!? Can you actually shoot archaic piece of.. uh, weaponry?" Jack managed to shift his words at the last minute to avoid insult. He didn't know very many people who preferred a bow over a gun. They were more difficult to learn and, in most categories, fairly inferior to guns. But they were pretty silent, so that was cool.

    "Strangers can be pretty unpredictable," He admitted with a small grin. "And surprises can make for some pretty good fun. What are you grinning at?" Jack had never traveled with a stranger before --At least, he hadn't for a long time now.

    Jack was somewhat surprised that she knew about supernaturals but it wasn't entirely unusual. The young man had met humans who were in the know before. They weren't always super nice to him, but it had taught Jack not to make any foolish assumptions. He was interested where she'd learned about supernaturals, though.

    "You do? How'd you figure things out?"

[Ilyα Cяσw]

"I -- uh, well -- my Pops studied them; studied, met, fucked and wrote about, basically," Ilya started, speaking candidly on what was a candid subject, "Supernaturals were sort of his life's work; that and the Gods, really. It was influential. He was this pretentious and determined collector of insight," She muses, admiringly caressing the artistry of her bow. The sudden change of verbiage on her choice in weaponry was duly noted. "Firearms make everything easy; archery is a respectable, hawkish craft, I think. It's unexpected, and I've administered to it for twenty years or so -- so, why should I get conventional now?" She pauses. "It's easier to blight what pierces the body, too -- more internal damage."

Ilya leaned backward and continued to grin. "I'd like to think I am more predictable than the average stranger, thank you very much, Jack," She says in pleasantry, one hand reaching for her quiver to count the arrows she had. She felt eager to put her expertise to use. "What are you grinnin' at?"

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    "Sounds like a busy guy," Jack commented, not offensively. He didn't judge. The young man had found himself attracted to numerous supernaturals that he'd encountered before. He'd actually been to a supernatural strip club once. It was.. A lot like you'd expect, actually. "Was your mom a, uh...?" He let the implication hang in the air, curious. If she didn't want to say, Jack wouldn't press.
    
    Ilya expressed her belief that guns were too easy. Jack didn't necessarily agree, but it didn't seem a point worth arguing. Personally, he felt they were more efficient. More power but they required less effort, something important to someone like him. The young man preferred to save his energy for his earth shattering magicks.

    "Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking how unpredictable it is that I've apparently decided to go on a road trip with a stranger all of a sudden." Jack laughed.

    Figuring they were getting pretty close, Jack turned off all the car's lights, not wanting to be seen as they approached. It was getting pretty dark out now. Just how he liked it.

    "Don't freak out, ok. I don't wanna be seen when we drive up."

[Ilyα Cяσw]

"Was my mom a what? A supernatural, a whore?" Ilya responded, her lips pressing into a thin smile, rather than her big, toothy grin. She huffed out a small peep of laughter. "Neither -- or anything else you'd think of, really. She was a homely, Scottish painter. He tired down at some point in his life, I reckon." She twisted her lips and moved them to and fro and side-eyed Jack for possibly the forty-millionth time throughout the car ride. As he turned the lights off, her body cemented into something stiff with anticipation. 

"I don't freak out, Jack. I never freak out-- unless my plane ride is cut short by proper fools," She cracked quietly, adjusting the holster to not jab at her ribs. Ilya pressed the toes of her boots against the car's carpet and made a quiet sound; something like a 'mmph' or a 'mrf', respectively. Maybe it was the crackpot's eccentric battle cry.

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    "N-not a whore! I wasn't suggesting... I-I just meant, was she a supernatural.." Jack quickly stuttered out, his face flushing fiercely. Luckily, Ilya seemed to merely be teasing him. Or, at least, she wasn't too terribly offended. Though he was fairly integrated into supernatural society and had heard of human offspring as a result of human and supernatural pairings before, Jack had never actually met one before. If he had, the young man hadn't realized it. It probably wasn't something most people cared to advertise.

    "Duly noted," He commented dryly when informed that Ilya never freaked out. "Look, there's the house up there. See how many cars are outside? Shit, this is gonna be one hell of a party."

    Up ahead was a rather large house. There were several cars sitting in it's front yard and the building seemed to be absolutely buzzing with activity. The car that had been used by the men sent to take the father was there, though Jack realized Ilya's eyes might not be good enough to discern it's appearance in the lessening light. He stopped the car and turned the engine off.

    "Let's approach on foot from here."

[Ilyα Cяσw]

Ilya certainly was teasing him -- she wasn't easily offended, and took great delight from making Jack stammer and flush. It just might have been the first clue that he truly felt emotion, and wasn't a roaming robot with a sweet tooth. It caused her to half-smirk and direct her eyes away from him, to the aforementioned house. Unlike any normal human being, Ilya did not feel a hint of fear or regret. She lived for the moment that brought her exhilaration and adrenaline, and those particular occurrences were few and far between these days. She was as apt and ready as she would ever be. 

"You best be the most magical magic-throwin' hobgoblin this world had ever seen, Jack," Ilya piped out with one last satire-filled look his way before carefully and quietly opening the passenger door. She shut it just as quietly, keeping a white knuckled grip on the body of her beloved bow. The mix of gravel and dirt crunched beneath her boots and she began moving forward, her view darting around like a bird experiencing paranoia. 

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    "Oi! I'm no hobgoblin --just a guy," Jack interjected, a little offended by the comparison. He'd met goblins and that was so not a fair comparison. "I' not big on boasting, but I'm probably one of the most powerful wizards to walk the realms since Bishmer himself." It was a pretty hefty boast and it embarrassed Jack just to think it but the fact was that it was actually pretty true. He was normally pretty humble but the young man was becoming increasingly aware of how powerful he was and that power was only continuing to grow every day.

    Of course, it was probably a little premature to compare himself to one of the greatest wizards who'd ever lived, an individual who'd grown so powerful that one day he'd simply transcended his human form. Jack was absolutely obsessed with the tale. It was so... Magical! With that kind of power, the young man couldn't even imagine all that he might accomplish.

    "I've got a plan, too. I was thinking we should sneak up to the house. I can use my magic to give you a boost up to the roof. Then I can create a diversion in the front yard. When people come to investigate, you can pick them off with your bow while I move through the back, doing my thing. With any hope, we'll get most of them before they even realize what's happening. Sound good?"

    Once they'd agreed on a plan, the young man would exit the vehicle, leaving the door open, knowing how far that particular sound could travel. He'd began moving slowly toward the house, glancing at Ilya every so often to make sure she was following. Jack approached from the darkest side with the least activity. Once they reached the side of the house, he'd pause and turn toward Ilya.

[Ilyα Cяσw]

"Okay. You're better lookin' than a hobgoblin, but no one can be compared to Bishmer," Ilya retorted contentedly, about to let out an uneasy snicker before perceiving his words, his plan full and clear. He was going to -- what, toss her at the roof like a hulking behemoth? She strung her bow over her back in one motion and bent her neck to look up at what she could see of the shadowed rooftop. Well, why not? 

"A good plan, yeah -- I mean, as long as you go gentle with getting me to the roof. I'd rather not be hurled like a football." Ilya closed the proximity between her and the house until she stood near the side in a striving crouch. She signaled Jack over with the curl of her forefinger and spared another look upward. She didn't know what to expect, not in the slightest. "Er -- uh, up we go then, yeah?"

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    Jack was tempted to ask her just how much better looking she thought he was but it didn't seem appropriate at the time, considering they were there to, like, totally murder a bunch of people. He could decide whether or not to make awkward attempts at flirtation with the pretty lady later. Right now, it was time for business. As for her comment that no one could be compared to Bishmer, Jack agreed partly. He'd never heard of a wizard being like Bishmer, before or since. But the young man believed he could reach that level one day.

    "Gimme a sec," Jack whispered after they arrived at the house's side. He teleported home really quick and grabbed his sword and a rope he kept prepared with a grappling hook. An instant later, he was back at Ilya's side. The young man offered it to her. "Hold it near the top and I'll fly you up. Secure it once I've set you down, in case you need to make a quick escape. Try not to swing too much, ok?" Once she did that, Jack would use his abilities to lift the rope, and her, by lifting the metal grappling hook. He would raise her high enough to where she could simply step onto the roof. That done, he'd float the grappling hook into her hands.

    Then he circled around until he could see the front of the house and the cars there. Jack summoned up his powers and smashed several of the vehicles together before finishing with discreet bolt of electricity. Nothing too impressive, but just enough to make the gasoline go boom. The young man quickly teleported to the back, intending to not waste a moment of the diversion.

[Ilyα Cяσw]

Ilya opened her mouth to speak, likely something useless and sarcastic, but before she knew it Jack was gone. "Are you fuckin' kid--" And he was back. She shut her trap and took a generous hold of the grappling hook, but her grip was still not anticipating to be supporting her weight as she was taken up by some strange metal-magic; because of this she let out a muffled squeak of disapproval at the surprise, and an array of murmured curses. "Oh, shit -- shit, shit, shit --" Just then, the soles of Ilya's boots had safely landed on the roof. "Neat." 

The gawking was over; Ilya would have a moment of rest later to think over how she got to this situation, specifically upon the roof, once this was all handled. Would it be? What was she even doing, perusing around some killer's abode like a pair of fearless vigilantes? She placed an arrow between each finger until she had three ready. Her bow was knocked and angled strategically to catch the wind of the vehicles' explosion and grace each lug with a neuromuscular-failing condensed coating of hemlock. Ilya was nifty in that sense. 

And she waited -- patiently enough for someone as intently and anxiously focused as her, arrows to fly when a target entered her sight window. She had the rotation of getting the next round of arrows down to a hastened T and it took her little to no time to confidently shoot what she aimed for. With each whistle of a fletching, Ilya let out the smallest breath of air. 

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    Roughly 6 or so guys exited the house to check on the commotion and they came packing heat. Most held handguns but two had shotguns. They began running around, shouting angrily about the destroyed cars and looking for who might've caused the damage. Meanwhile, Jack snuck in through the back of the house, drawing his sword with one hand and the pistol he'd acquired earlier that night with the other. Around him floated a few knives that he could use when there wasn't enough space for his sword.

    Entering into a sort of kitchen area, Jack's first encounter was with a man who happened to have his back to him, luckily. He was rummaging through a rusty refrigerator when the young man's sword nearly cut him in half. Jack left him like that to seek his next victim. The next room seemed to be the dining area and it was empty save for a table and a few empty bottles. Someone in the next room called out a name. Jack figured it was the name of the guy he'd killed a moment ago so he moved quickly to silence whoever was in there.

    The third room had the stairs leading up to the second floor and down to the basement, a long with a couch and a television. From the amount of chairs and plates and bottles lying around, Jack figured that was where most of the men had been, crouched around the television. Some type of sports game was on but he didn't care about that. Of more concern to him was the two men who apparently hadn't bothered to leave the couch, their eyes glued to the screen.

    The man who'd been calling out turned his head and opened his mouth to say something when Jack shoved his sword through the man's mouth and out the other side. For the second, he sent two of the four knives he had ready slamming into the poor souls throat and left eye. Jack calmly locked the front door with his powers before heading upstairs.

[Ilyα Cяσw]

The moment had come that Ilya needed to act on the distraction; three arrows flew from her bow string, two hitting a single man in the throat and lower torso, the other piercing one's skull. It was at this time that her shadowed cover upon the roof was ruined almost entirely -- the other four knew where the arrows had flown from, but exactly where she was, seeing as she had pressed her thin body against the bend of the roof to avoid repercussion. Bullets were shot, some thrillingly missing her body, her face by a foot or less. With a deep and bracing breath, Ilya relocated in a sprint and positioned herself on her knees to take more winning shots.

She knocked a solitary arrow and shot in with agile ease in the nearest man's direction, penetrating his throat like the first; that was her favorite point of entry, after all. Ilya removed the antiquated pistol from its holster and charged four bullets in what appeared to be the most precise shooter of the group; three to the chest and a vanquishing shot to the middle of his forehead. A second of self-pride caused her to be grazed by a bullet at the peak of her shoulder, which she recoiled from with a painfully shouted 'Fuck!' -- giving a window for another bullet to the first layers of skin to her waist; this was nothing close to fatal, not even something dire to be checked on. The two injuries she sustained were like cuts, gashes that she could or could not have stitched, and Ilya thanked the Gods for that. 

She ducked back into the woodwork of the creaking roof and caught her breath. "Two more, Ilya. You can do this," She murmured to herself in quiet praise before rising to her feet and firing two arrows in a heart-seeker of a shot -- if this did not hit both targets she would assuredly be gunned down -- but, her aim rang absolute and her body was graciously saved for another day of living. As much as Ilya wanted to lay on the roof, star-gaze and gain what little composure she had to begin with before this trek, the heavy worry in the core of her stomach for Jack kept her moving. She gracelessly meandered down the rope Jack had gave her and darted for the back door, frantic. 

"Jack?" Ilya called out, looking over the dead body trail in inspection as she traced after his tracks. 

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    Jack could hear shouts and screams issuing from outside. Banging could be heard from the door as some of the more cowardly men attempted to hide from the arrows by heading back inside, only to find the door locked. Ilya seemed to be holding her own fairly well much to his satisfaction, though the following gunshots made him a little concerned. Either way, Jack decided to focus on the task at hand, knowing he'd left the woman an escape route if she needed it.

    Once he'd reached the top floor, Jack came face to face with a disheveled, surprised woman who looked like she'd just climbed out of bed when the whole mess had begun, only having had time to throw on some loose clothes and grab her gun. The lightning he hit her with was so powerful that the reek of her charred flesh would linger in the air for quite some time afterwards. Their were five bedrooms and a bathroom. He intended to clear everyone.

    The young man found the first room empty, though the bed was messed as though someone had recently left. Other clues made him figure this was the room the woman he'd killed on the steps. He left and started for the next room, his hand inches from the handle when the door began to open. Jack thrust his blade through the wood paneling, impaling something squishy on the other side, before stepping out of the way. He heard a body hit the floor and shoved through the door to confirm his kill. Another man. His blood slicked hands clutched at the hole in his chest and Jack hacked at his face before moving on. The next room was apparently empty but he decided to search it anyways.

    While checking the closet, he heard the floor creak behind him in time to see a terrified man fleeing the room. Jack teleported back to the side of the stairs and swung his blade at knee height. The poor soul ran straight into it and went tumbling down the stairs, screaming. The young man sent the remainder of his knives flying at him, where they embedded in his chest.

    All but one of the remaining rooms were empty, so Jack made his way into the 'master' bedroom. His danger sense warned him in time and he teleported back into the hallway just in time to avoid being shot in the chest with a twelve gauge. Clearly, someone had heard him coming. Jack summoned up a particularly large wave of water and flooded the room. A shrill scream and gruff curses could be heard from within and the young man rushed in, intended to take advantage of the opening he'd created.

    Hunched behind the bed was a man holding the shotgun that had nearly taken Jack's head off and with him was some scantily dressed woman. Jack's first move was to send the weapon flying across the room, followed by a blast of superheated steam to the man's face. He fell to the ground, screaming, while the woman fled across the room. Jack raised his sword and began to hack the man apart. If she followed him up the stairs, Ilya would find the young man standing over the mutilated corpse, the terrified woman huddled in a corner as far away as she could get.

    "What's up?"