chicago mission ♔ the people under your feet are shooting stars in the night

[rationalizes]

♬ Dreamworld - Rilo Kiley

WHO || Gar, Kat, Mark, Dumage, Martha, Myri, Buffy, Sven, Spike, Desmond Descant, ??, ?? [Closed]
WHAT || The Knights infiltrate Nightscape to intercept a deal for the Eternal Jade. And... so does Des. At the same time. Hilarity ensues???
WHERE || Chicago. Nightscape.
WHEN || Friday, March 9th, various tiemes.
HOW || Actionspam; Don't sweat tagging order.

It's been a busy day. Following Gar's discovery of a message that seems to imply a trade for the artifact known as the Eternal Jade will take place at a location called "Nightscape" the next evening, several of the Knights headed out to the area outlined in Hoffman Institute files, only to discover the place was an office building that sold pharmaceuticals. However, as Myrilandel stared at a strange canopied fruit stand attached to the front of the building, she began to notice something, well, quite odd about it. A long line of people waited against the edifice to enter the stand, but none of them looked as if they fit into the commercial sector whatsoever, with their leather, vinyl, spiked hair, glitter, colored hair, etc. In fact, only by staring at the image presented and concentrating could the others recognize there was something wrong with the whole picture - something that caused theirs eyes to rebound off from it and find the entire scene innocuous otherwise. The line of people disappeared into the canopy - but none of the crowd ever came out again, defying any logic about how many people could humanly fit inside the tiny stand at a time.

It was clear that it wasn't just any fruit stand.

It was an entrance. They quickly surmised just what it had to be an entrance to. Myrilandel managed to note a number of guards emerging from the club after hours, dressed in some kind of futuristic looking armor that... looks a lot like Halo armor. She spotted the symbol on the side of the van they climbed into, and the surveillance team took note of it before heading back to the hotel.

Meanwhile, the research team back home (Kat, Buffy, and Sven mostly, since Gar passed out asleep in her chair) threw themselves into finding out what they could about Nightscape: and found rumors about an invite-only underground club, whose location was protected by magic, which seemed to mesh with what the other Knights had seen. The most interesting aspect of the club, however, wasn't just the fact that invitations to it come in the form of pills that implant directions into the subject's unconscious mind, but that supposedly it played havoc with the memories of those who frequent it. Every visit fades from the patron's mind when they leave, in the same way a dream does - they could remember a vague feeling of what it was like, but not any details about what actually occurred - and the more they attempted to remember, the more the memories would elude them.

Today, they've managed to look up that symbol Myri noticed on the side of the van and identify it as belonging to a private security firm that hires out to wealthy patrons in often underhanded deals. Which has allowed a plan of action to be hatched. :O

The Knights will coordinate efforts to plant a fake detour between the security firm and the club, derailing a van full of guards to lead to a stop light that will be controlled by Kat. And allow them to come up through a conveniently placed manhole to plant a device on the underbelly of the truck that will cripple its battery temporarily. At this point, the Knights will assume control of the vehicle, and Kat, Gar, Buffy, and Spike will don the armor of the guards and take their weapons, proceeding to the club as security personnel. Mark and Myrilandel will transport the captured guards to somewhere safe to keep them out of the way and possibly interrogate them. Dumage and Martha will drop off Sven at the club - he'll be attempting to bluff his way through the front door as a patron so that they can have an eye in the crowd as well, and then the ladies will park on the street to sit and wait as a getaway car / backup if necessary.

Obviously, nothing could possibly go wrong. :)

[ooc; subthreads to come!]

Comments

[nothingsodivine]

[Glaaaare] Thank you for your input, Sundance. [Slamming the door now and marching up to his favorite place he doesn't remember EVER.]

[driveangry]

[/smirking to himself forever

Meanwhile, Des knows the score and manages to get himself inside again, I'm sure. IF YOU WANT TO ROLL A CHA CHECK just to... make certain, then go ahead and write all that out. And so into the long dark hallway he goes...]

[nothingsodivine]

[He got a 22, so AWWW YEAH. Breezing right by. They see him rollin', they hatin' and all that shit. Down the hallway he goes, waving to the guards, being generally pimp, fuck yeah, nothing can possibly go wrong as he makes his way towards the throbbing music.

Untz. Untz. Untz.]

[driveangry]

♬ Disturbia - Rihanna

[There's a sense of familiarity to all of this, like revisiting a recurring dream. But at the same time, he gets to experience all of it a-fresh as he emerges from the hallway to take in the intimidatingly vast scene before him. Just as before, the crowd seems to pulse with a dangerous energy, an expectation that's practically contagious. It's just as packed as last time, and the sea of people undulates all the way out of sight to his right and beyond, many of the tables to the left currently occupied as well.]

[nothingsodivine]

[And with only the slightest feeling of deja vu (wis check: 18), Des moves back into the exact same bar stool he picked out the last time and leans across the bar to get the bartender's attention.] Big turn-out. Must be keeping you on your toes.

[driveangry]

[And Sharkface McGee turns to fix him with that same disconcerting smile, eyes flashing over him] Funny. That's just what you said last time too. [Annnd again he laughs. Man, that one never gets old.] You want somethin'?

[nothingsodivine]

Pine float on the rocks. [At least he's not a complete dumbass this time.] No, I'm not being a smartass. [A beat and he breaks into a grin.] Okay, a little. But I still want one.

[driveangry]

Whatever you can dream up, we ain't gonna judge you for. [And he'll get with the mixing. SPOT CHECKS ALL AROUND, DES. And a Wis check while you're at it.]

[nothingsodivine]

[Yeah, bartender. You mix the hell out of that iced water. While he's occupied, Des scopes out the joint, looking for anyone who looks like they might be suspicious or plotting something or maybe looking like they want to get the fuck out of here and go do shady things.]

[driveangry]

[djl;fjaf HE WILL, OKAY. HE WILL GIVE THAT ONE AN UMBRELLA TOO. JUST YOU WAIT.

There's one group of people at a nearby table that just scream out LOOK AT US even amid all the done-up club goers. Maybe because three of the members of their party are in fancy suits, with slicked back hair, wearing sunglasses indoors and glancing around at the surroundings like bodyguards on full alert. Each one is eerily similar in terms of of physique, height, and mannerisms. The other two at the table are a bleach blonde woman with bright red lipstick and a vapid expression, and a man with skin as dark as coal, an intense array of tattoos creeping up on to his jaw from his neck and wrapped down around his arms. His hair is dread locked and gives the terrifying impression of a lion’s mane. Silver piercings spike out of his eyebrows, nose, ears, and other less comfortable positions. His eyes seem half closed, as if in a state of supreme calm, and yet they dart about quickly enough to assure anyone looking that he isn't by any definition out of his wits, but rather, fully alert.

Like everyone here, they appear to be waiting on something, but their eyes aren't riveted towards the stage.]

[nothingsodivine]

[Bingo. Des gives them a cursory glance and, just in case they notice him looking, fakes a wave at someone just to the left of their table. Unfortunately, as he rolled a four on his charisma check, that didn't work... Nearly as well as he wanted it to. Oh well. And back to bartenderchan.]

So when's the show start? Tension's so thick in this place, I could use it to butter toast.

[behindcloseddoors]

[Tattoo guy looks over his shoulder, and then back at Des with an unamused expression on his face. Now he's watching you, boy 8|

Bartenderchan just mostly ignores him, filling up a line of more... mixed water drinks. I guess.] Shouldn't be long now.

[And as if on cue... the lights drop out and that huge wave of deafening screams fills the air...]

[nothingsodivine]

[...And then Des failed his spot check too, so he doesn't even notice he's being watched. He's just gonna... Drink his water and keep his eyes on the stage, like he's the picture of normalcy... Except he keeps shooting surreptitious glances at the tattoo guy's table, like he's expecting them to try and sneak out.]

[behindcloseddoors]

[They really don't seem inclined to go anywhere, actually, and just sit back to watch the show. Which is... quite literally the same song and dance as last time. Not that Des knows that. Which means he should probably make that Will save again while she's up there breaking all the hearts.]

[nothingsodivine]

[Whatevs, man. Will save of 20. Des is still unaffected by her bullshit. He's paying more attention to the people watching her- it's like inception for mindfuck, I guess...

Spot check: 19. And meanwhile, he does keep glancing surreptitiously over at the other table, waiting for the people to make a move.]

[supremacist]

♬ In A Dream - Rockell

And sure 'nuff, Mr. Smugface comes strutting through the tables, decked out in a crisp white suit. He spots Tattoo Guy's table with ease and heads directly that way, casting a rapacious glance at the stage, and the girl finishing up her number. The dark skinned man gives him a slow nod of recognition, and they clasp hands briefly, before the man in the white suit gestures for them to stand.

The guards are on their feet in a second, chairs scraping back, and Des would notice that one of them is wrapping something around his wrist. Which would become apparent as a leash as he yanked the creature out from where it lay curled beneath the table.

At first, it would appear to be a large cat with jet black fur, almost darkly purplish - but for the fact that floating off from its back, attached to its flanks, are two floating tentacles, also purple and fur covered, with vicious looking barbed ends, swishing there like extra tails, or perhaps like rearing serpents. Also the... six legs scream NOT A CAT.*

The guy in the suit nods towards the back of the tables, where the stage curves around to some mysterious hallways, and the group heads that way.]

*but according to his fail INT check, he doesn't have... any idea what the fuck it actually is.

[nothingsodivine]

[Oh, well... That sure is NOT A CAT. And also not something Des has had the experience of seeing before, but wow, that sure is... Not a cat. God, he's going to get mauled by something with tentacles and he's going to punch Liam so hard in the mouth.

Whelp. Nothing to it, but to... Follow after them... With his magical 11 hide check. God, he sucks so fucking hard right now.]

[supremacist]

[It's ok, they're apparently too boss to pay attention and don't turn around. Blondie girl hangs all over Tattoo's arm, while the guards flank them, along with Boo Boo Kitty.

Around the corner are a few hallways, where the music is a much more distant thump, and the lighting is much more standard. At the far end of the hall, where they're headed, is an elevator, though it's an antiquated one, that still supports a caged door. A red vested attendant even waits within it, its golden doors gleaming as much as his teeth do when he smiled at the group in greeting.]

Ah, gentlemen... you're expected.

[nothingsodivine]

[SHIT FUCK. ELEVATOR. Des lurks behind a wall and listens to see if they say anything else... And considers his options, which are pretty much... Knock out the elevator dude and steal his clothes. Fuck.]

[supremacist]

[The white suited man has no smile for the elevator dude, merely a sneer of contempt, but his tattooed companion grins at him ferociously, revealing a row of blackened teeth that cause the operator’s eyes to widen and grin to falter, but he quickly averts his eyes towards the man’s female companion, who glances back and forth between the two of them and then cackles raucously, reaching up to kiss the tattooed fellow on the cheek, with a wink for the elevator operator. The white suited man gave them a look that is sternfully reproachful, and they glance at each other, smirking, but then Des hides behind a wall and can't really see anything else. There's nothing to hear though but the clack-clack of the gate pulling closed, and then the sound of the elevator ascending.]

[nothingsodivine]

[Well. That's that, then. Des steps out of his hiding place and frowns at the elevator, like maybe glaring at it will make it come back. Finally, he gets an idea in his head.

And this idea involves him standing there until the elevator operator comes back down.]

[behindcloseddoors]

♬ Elevator Music

[Waiting ...

waiting...



waiting...











Slow clacking noise of elevator resettling into place.

DING.]

[nothingsodivine]

[Humming. Humming. Tapping his foot a little to the beat. Breaking out a casual whistle.

Oh hey, the door dinged. Des cuts himself off in mid-whistle and clears his throat. Charisma check: 18. Let's see how this works.] Evenin'. You got a problem with your lights on this floor. Need to get up to the next one and drop down and see what the problem is. Can you help a guy out?

[behindcloseddoors]

[The man seems entirely surprised by the question, as if the very notion of repairmen something entirely new to him, and he looks Des over, obviously momentarily flustered.]

But-- wha-- Who called you? [The last part gets asked bluntly, but at least he looks more confused than suspicious]

[nothingsodivine]

[Des arches an eyebrow.] Well, gee, princess. Maybe the guys who want a smooth operation? Am I gonna have to call somebody up and say I can't do shit with the lights because some nancy boy who pushes buttons all day's giving me the third degree? [Bluff check: 21.

Poor, poor elevator dude.]