"...Who else was here?"
Jun. 26th, 2011 11:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretRina calls for help to take care of a dead vampire. Mouse has suspicions.
Apartment and Studio(#2790RJs)
A short entry foyer (with a coat closet) opens into a large, bright livingroom with very high ceilings. Windows cover the entirety of the opposite wall, stretching from the ceiling to about three feet from the floor. The lower windows, each pane about five feet high by three wide, open like doors with the assitance of cranks; the upper rank of windows do not open. The light wood flooring and white walls keep the whole space bright and airy. To the left, a bit of a corner lounging area holds bookshelves, mainly full of art books and nonfiction, with a few children's books filling one lower shelf.
The place is in upheaval, with canvases and finished works leaning against blank spaces on the walls.
In roughly the middle of the left-hand wall, an open archway leads to the bathroom and bedroom; it's merely an alcove with a door on either side. To the right, a half-height partition helps to define the kitchen and dining area; the plan is open, with only a bit of counter/bar to separate the kitchen from the rest of the room. The apartment's front door leads out onto the third-floor landing.
Contents:
Rina
Halix
You paged Rina with 'It takes a while for her phone to pick up--kind've a regular thing lately--but then there's a click. "Mng. Hello?"'.
Rina's voice is hoarse, unsteady. "I just killed a leech. Need some help. Fast would be good."
Rina's using walkerphone, not a landline or anything.
There's a noticeable pause, but then Mouse sounds much more alert. "Where are you?"
"Old studio." She rattles off the address quickly.
Sounds of rapid movement, cloth, a door slamming, the jangling of keys. "Already on the way. Fill me in."
"I shot him with the fifty," Rina says quietly. "Phosphorous. But hopefully if anybody called the cops they'll take their sweet time gettin' here. It's-- he was--" She can't quite control her voice. "He tried to, to get in my head."
"Are you okay?" Car noises now. An engine turning over, street sounds. She's driving while on the phone, naughty.
"*Fuck* no I'm not okay," Rina answers, roughly, at first without thinking. A breath or two seems to calm her a little, though. "I'm just-- freaked out. Not expected."
"They aren't generally, no," Mouse replies, a little dry, but not much. "I'm putting you on speaker, but I'm not hanging up, okay? Be there in five, tops."
"Okay," Rina says hoarsely. "Okay. You armed?"
She definitely sounds dry this time. "Always."
"Good," comes the answer. "I don't know if someone brought him here, or what. Keep an eye out for a car waitin' outside the building, maybe, or close by. He's the kinda guy would have a driver."
"/Fantastic/."
Rina winces. "I'm sorry."
"Okay." Distant horn honks. "Why are you apologizing?"
Rina's silent for a second or two. Finally she just takes a little breath, and finds a few words. "Because I need to. Don't worry about it."
Mouse's voice sounds a bit distant now, presumably thanks to the speaker-phone. "Didn't know Kavi's habits were contagious. How's it looking? Nearly there."
Rina swallows. "Aright. I'll letcha go and start... bagging this up, or somethin', yeah?"
"Yeah." A beat. "I'll ring you once I've parked. Gonna do a nice pass first, see if he did have a friend out here."
There aren't any cars directly outside the studio that would seem appropriate to Halix, or to any person wealthy enough to have a driver.
"Thanks." Once off the phone, Rina starts wrapping the severed arm, stowing it in one of the trash bags. She uses roughly a roll of paper towels putting some unpleasant, unidentifiable goo into the same bag.
Mouse pulls along the street, slow enough that she can try to scrutinize any cars that may be present, appropriate for the ex-vampire or not, but not so slow as to be immediately suspicious. She turns the corner, and a minute or so later she's circling around and pulling up next to the building.
If Halix had a driver waiting, he isn't within the nearest blocks.
Mouse hops out of her car almost as soon as she's turned off the ignition, wearing her usual coat (presumably the gun she mentioned is under that), and her sunglasses, though the latter have been pushed up onto her forehead. She gives the street a quick scan as she moves for the door.
Ring ring, goes Rina's phone.
"It's you?" Rina answers.
"Right outside," Mouse says. "It /looks/ clear, but let's be fast and unnoticed anyway."
She pushes a button, and the electronic lock lets Mouse open the door downstairs. A moment later, Rina lets her in to the studio, with its absolute chaos.
Mouse slips in as fast as she can, darting looks around the place, eyes narrowed. She spares a much longer look for Rina.
The Kin looks pale and sleepless, and utterly unhinged--but otherwise fine, uninjured at least. She has several trash bags lined up not far from the door, and a big rolling duffle bag.
Mouse stuffs her phone into her pocket. "Anything else we need to get?"
Rina takes a deep breath, blinking a few times. "Idunno. I'm not really thinking straight. I think I almost decided to burn down the fucking building."
"Okay." Mouse purses her lips. "Okay, here." She tosses the kin her keys. "You start taking some of this down, I'll just give the place a once-over, see if there's anything burn worthy left."
Mouse adds, "And if you see /anything/ suspicious you ring me immediately, right?"
Rina catches the keys easily, looking at them for a moment or two before speaking. "His knife," Rina says unsteadily. "It's still in the bedroom. But I think it might have silver in it."
"Liking this guy more and more," Mouse mutters, but she pulls her coat sleeve down over her hand and waves it at Rina.
Rina looks across to the woman for a moment, evidently having lost track--but then she nods, and takes the suitcase to get it out to the car.
Mouse turns and hurries toward the bedroom, coat sleeve still over her hand.
Beyond the framed-up canvas that serves as a divider, the bedroom area is... appalling. Blood--but not much--smears the grey sheets on the futon, and there are spatter-patterns on the wall from the shooting. The smell is not one of normal death, but a reek of burning and decay.
The blade is cast aside on the futon, almost at the edge: a serious weapon. The hilt is wrapped in leather, and the blade looks to have an inlay of silver. It's well crafted, the edge made of steel, while the silver runs through the center from tip to tang. From the design, most people would think the silver a mere decoration.
Mouse steps carefully, her nose wrinkling as she first takes in the smell, and then the weapon. Her lips twitch. After a moment she steps forward, reaching carefully with her coat-wrapped hand to pick the knife up by the hilt, in the same way a squeamish person might pick up a dead rat by the tail. "Fucking /fantastic/," she mutters.
Rina's armed (wearing her jacket) and watchful, as she loads the big bag into the trunk.
The street is nearly empty, typical for this time of night. Those people who are active appear to have their own business to attend to, and do no more than glance in Rina's direction. A car passes at the end of the block, heading on down the cross street.
Mouse keeps the blade held out as far away from her body as possible as she moves out of the bedroom, giving the rest of the studio a careful looking over.
It looks like someone very, very careless has been using the space for some time--stacks of sketches, piles of papers, and a messy bathroom. Oddly enough, there seem to be some clean dishes by the kitchen sink, and a tiny island of counter--the only place that isn't slovenly.
Mouse scrutinizes these little details, and on an apparent whim, she makes a snatch for one of the sketches, though she's turning toward the door even as she looks at it.
Rina tries not to stare at the passing auto, and then locks the car and heads back up for the next bundle of joy. Lifting her head to swipe her card at the door, she catches sight of her reflection and stares for a moment. Something makes her take another deep, careful breath, and then she heads inside.
"Rina," Mouse says slowly, pulling her eyes away from the sketch. "Whose place is this?"
"Mine," she answers, hoarsely. "From a-- a long time ago."
Mouse purses her lips. "Are you the dirty one, or the clean one?"
Rina's brow furrows, and she swallows, looking across to the woman. "I don't understand," she says unsteadily.
Halix pages: Over on a table, not far from where the rest of the bags are waiting to be disposed of, there's a wallet, cell phone, and keys, in a tidy little pile by the rest of the detritus.
Mouse ever so carefully sets the knife aside, as if it were a bomb that might explode if she moved too fast, and then waves the sketch paper at the room. "This place is a ridiculous mess. Except right over there, clean dishes and a tiny spot of clean counter, and /there/, neat little pile of things, wallet, cellphone, keys." She looks at Rina and lowers the sketch. "...Who else was here?"
Rina takes a breath, and her gaze slides away as she tries, visibly, to remember. "Sol came over," she says finally, focusing on the kitchen. "I washed dishes while she was here. That was... yesterday?"
Mouse points. "So whose stuff is that?"
Rina's attention follows the gesture, and something stark comes to her eyes. "His," she answers. "Halix."
Rina | You can't really recognize him from the picture, on account of he's missing most of his head.
"The vampire," Mouse says, in a way that suggests she doesn't really need that obvious question answered. "Rina," and now her tone has gone a little careful, "...Why'd a vampire come into your place and take the time to put all his stuff down all neatly before you blew him away?"
Utterly confused, Rina looks back to Mouse for an instant before shaking her head and lowering her gaze. "I took it outta his clothes. Figured we'd wanna pull the cellphone data, get whatever else we could. I haven't looked." Her dark eyes stay lowered, unfocused.
Mouse narrows both of her own eyes, and for a moment, she's silent, and her expression unreadable. Then, with her expression still like that, she twists away and reaches gingerly for the knife hilt again. "I'll look. Let's get all this stuff out, and then get us out. Is this place under your name?"
"Yeah," Rina answers hoarsely, without looking up. It's clearly mere chemistry that's keeping her on her feet and staving off hysteria. "That would be why I thought about just startin' a fire."
"Let's get us out," Mouse repeats. "I've got a scanner, we can listen and see if anyone sent a call in on our way back. All this stuff, come on."
Halix pages: The knife, pretty obviously, was made to fight Garou (or other silver-sensitive creatures). It's got enough silver on the surface that it would act as a silver weapon, but the edge being steel allows it to be stronger and keep a finer edge. Someone who knew about shifters designed it.
Halix pages: It also seems pretty old.
Rina nods, pulling her clearly fragmented self back together with an effort and moving to get some more bags. She takes this load down, and then the next trip is the last one--including the gun itself, her own clothing, and any other weaponry stored at the studio.
Mouse takes her own load, though she's less useful than she might be, as she can't take any of the heavier bags, even once she's ever so carefully stowed the knife in her trunk. By the time Rina's on the last trip, she's also scooped up the wallet, keys, and phone combination into her coat pocket, and made sure that the phone is powered off.
Rina seems steadier, somehow, when they leave the building. She breathes deeper, as if the air can clean her somehow. "You need me to call any of my guys, to help?" she asks. "Or you wanna keep it just you and me?"
"Just us, for now," Mouse says. She skips ahead a few steps to open the door for the kin, though she doesn't stick around to close it. "Better not call anyone in when we're not sure if someone dialed 911." She moves around to the driver's side, a little more hurriedly now, lips thinning.
Rina slides into the passenger seat, automatically fastening her seatbelt. Her eyes close and she takes deep, steadying breaths.
A patrol car rolls down the block along the cross street behind them. It moves more slowly than typical traffic speed, but doesn't stop.
Rina slides into the passenger seat, automatically fastening her seatbelt. Her eyes close and she takes deep, steadying breaths.
A patrol car rolls down the block along the cross street behind them. It moves more slowly than typical traffic speed, but doesn't stop.
Mouse pulls her glasses down over her eyes and mutters, ever so quietly, "shiiiiiiiit." She slips the key into the ignition and rests her foot over the pedal, though she doesn't move to start it yet. "Keep your eyes closed, Rina. Just sit still."
"I'm okay," Rina murmurs. She sounds wrung out, utterly exhausted. "Need to call..."
The patrol car slows further at the corner, and it's obvious the cops inside are looking around, but it continues on and even picks up speed as it passes out of sight.
.
"No," Mouse says, quietly, but firmly. She waits, silently counting, tapping her foot silently against the gas pedal, and then, several seconds on, she turns the key and starts to pull out.
There's no other sign of police presence, but a couple blocks on, they pass a black sedan heading in the other direction. It's just a sedan, like thousands of others, but the tinted windows set it apart, and the glimpse Rina gets of the driver is enough to strike her.
One moment she's half-tranced, looking numbly out the window--and the next she's turning away from the window sharply, sinking down a little in the seat. "Fuck."
Mouse is entirely on edge, so she notices the somewhat out of place sedan. She's already looking in the rear view mirror for license plate numbers when Rina reacts, and she has to fight down an instinctive jump. "What is it?"
The car continues on, no sign of reaction or change from the driver. It slows, not far from Rina's studio, and pulls over to park soon after.
"Brown Caddy. His driver. If he saw me we're fucked. Or I am, anyway." Her voice is unsteady. "OK. OK. Just keep going. He's there. They'll know."
Mouse gives Rina a sharp look, but then she's turning the wheel, pulling down the nearest side street. "Well, we know where he's going. We--/I/--could go take care of it, right now."
Rina swallows, and her voice ratchets up to meth-addict speed. "If you want to. If he's more than human he'll be strong. I don't know. He might be one of them." She looks over, uncertain. "If you want to I-- I'll back you up. Still got half a clip.
Another sharp look, but she has to keep her eyes on the road. She makes another right, turning around, heading back toward the studio down a different street. "You know me, Rina, normally I'd be all for another gun, but I think maybe, this time, you should stay with the car. You know. The cops are already in the area. Just in case."
Rina nods minutely, closing her eyes. "You want the .50?" she asks hoarsely.
As they approach, they can see the parked car across the way, and see that it is currently empty.
She's already offering the Desert Eagle. "Go. Go go go. Before he calls anyone."
Mouse pulls over and switches off the ignition. "Yeah, quick." She fishes out the wallet, the turned off cellphone, the keys, and dumps them on the seat, then shoves the door open. "Keep your head down, okay? Anything bad, get the hell out of here and...try not to crash. Don't wait for me. /Try/ not to crash." She pops out of the car, tucks Rina's gun into her waistband, and moves off, one hand reaching for the gun that she brought, in her coat pocket.
Rina nods assent, watching her go and then coming around to the driver's seat... just in case.
The street is empty, no sign of the man, but when Mouse reaches the building, it's obvious from the damage to the outer door that he's gone inside.
Mouse closes her fingers around her gun and speeds up, taking the steps two at a time. She's trying to be quiet, but right now speed is more on her mind.
She catches up just as he's trying to break through the door to the studio itself. He's being quiet, which is probably the only thing that's kept him from succeeding so far, but he has shoulder to door, and is putting far more strength into the effort than his 5'10" frame would imply.
A thought crosses her mind, a stupid, /impulsive/ idea. Mouse barely curbs her speed as she steps up behind him, whipping the gun out of her pocket and taking aim as she shouts, in her best possible TV cop voice, "Police! Get your hands in the air where I can see them, right now!"
The young man, dark haired and well dressed, turns from his attempt at breaking through the door to look at Mouse. His eyes narrow, the fury in his features barely controlled. His breathing is ragged and harsh, from physical exertion, emotion, or both. His hands, however, do not rise, but curl into fists at his sides.
Mouse aims right for the center of his head, tensing. "Don't even think about it. Up, /now/. I'm not warning you again."
The man's eyes stay on Mouse, sharply focused, and his harsh and ragged breathing continues. His hands, however, begin to rise.
Mouse eases back a step, keeping her expression rigid, sighting down her gun at him. "Behind your head, turn around and face the wall."
He starts to turn, but his gaze remains on Mouse. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turns his body toward the wall, and his hands rise until his palms touch the brick. But his eyes never turn away, and he barely blinks.
Mouse jerks her chin. "You want to tell me why you're busting in? You're a little well dressed for breaking and entering."
There is no answer from the young man, though his breathing slowly seems to come under control.
"Great," Mouse says, not lowering her gun a millimeter. "I love talkative burglars. Look, buddy, you can answer me here, or we can take a ride with me and my partner down to the station and have a good long talk in an interrogation room, your choice."
And still, no answer is forthcoming.
Mouse's eyebrows bob in unison. "Have it your way. Face forward, look at the wall."
"I can make it worth your while to let me go," the man says, his voice quiet but harsh, his body still tense and his eyes still on Mouse.
"Can you?" Mouse says, in a tone that makes it unclear whether she's humoring him or asking seriously.
"What would it take?" he asks, his body slowly turning back to face her. "I can get you twenty thousand, if you let me leave, now. Forty, if you leave, and forget you saw me."
Mouse gives a low whistle. "You have any idea how that compares to my salary?" She eases back, just a little. "Tell you what, I'll walk you to your car. Big misunderstanding, false alarm, yeah? You drive away, I drive away. You want to come back after, just make sure you're /quieter/ about it. Sound good?"
Some of the tension seems to ease, and the young man pulls one hand from the wall. He studies Mouse's face, wary still, but nods.
Mouse takes a larger step back this time, off to the side, and pulls up her gun. "After you."
Still cautious, the man sidesteps past her, and then heads back to the stairs.
Mouse turns and follows him. She slips her gun back inside her coat pocket once he's turned, though her hand remains in there, finger hovering over the trigger.
He doesn't quite turn his back on the metis, which makes his progress a bit slower than it might be. Still, there's some hurry to his steps and he hits the ground floor soon after.
Mouse moves along at a fair clip after him, keeping a very slight distance, but not too much. She's not particularly willing to take her eyes off of him either.
He pauses at the broken door, taking care to keep watch as he moves through it. "We go our separate ways, now, right?"
"Gonna walk you to your car," Mouse repeats. "In case anyone's looking, got to make sure I'm doing my job, right? Once you're off, I'll call in the false alarm. Say I got here and whoever did the door damage had already taken off. Probably stupid kids."
He nods, eyes once again narrowed, but gestures across the street. "Over there," he says, and heads toward the caddy.
Mouse continues along behind him, still at that slight distance. She glances, briefly, just once, up at the windows of the building, trying to spot in that ridiculously inadequate amount of time whether or not anyone is looking.
There are no lights, if anyone watches, they do so from darkened rooms.
Mouse turns her head front and continues following the man.
There isn't far to go. They reach the car and he reaches into his pocket for the keys.
Mouse carefully holds her breath, but she waits.
He watches her as he slips the key into the lock, but he has to turn away once the door is open, in order to slip inside.
And that, it would seem, is exactly what Mouse was waiting for. As he turns and starts to slip in, she pulls the gun from her pocket, aims for the back of his head, and pulls the trigger.
You paged Halix with 'Burning rage for multiple shots, if she gets them off. x.o That's the Roach Clip gun, so regular old bullets, but agg damage.'.
Halix pages: Any sort of silencer on that baby?
You paged Halix with 'Nope, and she's kicking herself for not bringing hers.'.
Halix pages: Okay! (Oh, is this Mouse's gun, or Rina's with Mouse's clip?)
You paged Halix with 'Mouse's! Rina's is tucked into her waistband.'.
Halix pages: Okay. I thought so, but wanted to check. That makes the difference between Bang! And BAAAAAANG!!!!!
Long distance to Halix: Mouse laughs. Yesss. Rina's gun, LOUD.
BANG! With the rage that fuels her movements, Mouse is able to fire in that moment that his head is turned. It's rage, also that fuels the weapon itself, and after that single shot, there is little enough left to bother shooting again. The man slumps, half falling from the seat, blood and brain matter staining the pavement.
Mouse hisses through her teeth, "Oops, I lied." She shoves the gun away and moves forward, trying to shove him the rest of the way into the car, and into the passenger seat. This is...far easier said than done, when it comes to Mouse. One hand goes fishing for her phone, and the redial button.
Dead weight is, in fact, much harder to manipulate, and Mouse is still struggling to move the man when Rina's phone rings.
"Hey," Rina says. "Wassup?"
"Why do people--" Mouse grates, "--always have to be--so /fucking heavy/--Rina? How are you feeling? How's your head?"
"I'm good," Rina says. I just--there's some stuff I gotta do, after." She sounds antsy.
Mouse tries to kick the man's leg into the car. "What stuff?"
With a bit of effort, Mouse manages to get the man the rest of the way in. It isn't pretty, but it'll do.
There's a catch in her breathing. "Mouse?" Rina says softly. "I gotta go..."
Mouse tries to shove herself in now, fumbling for his keys even as she's still talking. "Go? No, no no, I think, I /really/ think, that you should take my keys and lock the doors and come over here, and we should go in the same car."
Wetting her lips, Rina watches that corner up ahead. Mouse hears the opening and closing of the car door. "You see anybody out there?" she asks, her hands automatically locking the door. She takes several involuntary steps forward. "Where are you, out front?"
Mouse darts a quick glance over the back seat. "Yeah. And no, but keep your head down, move fast. I didn't bring my silencer because I'm an /idiot/. I'm at his car."
Eyes narrowed, Rina walks toward the place where someone stands in the shadows, working her way to a place directly across the street. She strains to feel the presence, her brow furrowing. "Be right there," she answers.
"Rina?" Mouse lifts her head again and pokes out of the car, looking around.
Rina nods to the man, and speaks almost without moving her lips. "Mayday."
Mouse steps out of the car and ever so carefully pushes the door closed, though not all the way. She's very tense now, still breathing heavily from the exertion of moving the driver, and she keeps the phone to her ear as she turns, eyes narrowed, looking.
Rina wets her lips, and catches the lower between her teeth--watching him, but with her face clearly signaling uncertainty.
When Mouse leaves the car to search, she is able to see what Rina sees - a young black man in the shadows, apparently looking at, or watching Rina. When the kin stops moving, he grows still.
Mouse slips her hand back into her pocket and closes her fingers around her gun, though the other hand keeps the phone to her ear. She focuses on the man now--or at least, that's what it looks like she's doing.
You paged Halix with 'Activating cybersenses and stuff. Infrared vision.'.
Halix pages: He has normal human temperature signature. Anything else you wanna know?
You paged Halix with 'That was mostly it! Though obviously she's watching for sudden movements, or friends.'.
Rina takes another cautious step toward him, and glances significantly to the roof above the alley where he stands.
Mouse also glances that way, very briefly. "Rina," she says very quietly into the phone. "If you're still listening, stop."
The younger man may not notice Mouse, his attention so focused on Rina. He beckons again, and takes a single forward step. It brings him to the edge of the shadow cast by the streetlamp, but there he stops again.
Rina wets her lips, and obeys the woman's order, still watching the stranger. She lets the struggle in her expression remain intense, projecting all her energy to him, keeping him engaged in that emotional soliloquy.
Mouse allows herself to exhale, and says, very very quietly, "I'm coming." She shoves the phone into her pocket and moves away from the car, going for a wide circle in an attempt to stay outside his peripheral vision while getting closer, but again it's a matter of stealth versus haste...and she's picking haste again.
He remains still, but his brow furrows when Rina does not come closer. When he catches sight of Mouse, his gaze turns briefly in her direction. He looks back to Rina and gives a slight shake of his head. Then he turns, and darts back into the deeper shadows.
Mouse makes another stupid, impulsive decision. She breaks into a full run after him.
"Fuck," Rina whispers, and takes off at a run. She's fast, terribly fast.
The space between buildings isn't precisely an alley, but it's wide enough for a man to stand with his arms spread. The young man isn't standing, and his arms aren't spread, instead he's running at great speed. Rina has the edge, both in personal agility and proximity to the target, finds herself first into the passage after him. Mouse brings up the rear, no slouch in speed, but no match for the two ahead of her.
Mouse attempts to make up for this with near-silent cursing when Rina gets between her and the man they're chasing. It's creative! But not very effective at increasing her speed.
It's a near thing, between the two in the front, but as Mouse falls farther and farther behind, Rina gets close enough to make her move. The kin makes one last push, and grabs at the man from behind, taking them both to the ground with the larger of the two on the bottom. He just manages to get his hands up in time to keep from landing face first.
"Whose are you?" Rina snarls, a hand in his hair, a knee in his back. "Who sent you?"
Mouse wills herself to move faster with the power of filthy language, darting toward the now downed duo.
The man turns his head to the side, but if he answers, Mouse is too far away to hear. By the time she closes the distance, what comes from his throat are the grunts that accompany his attempts to rise.
Leaning closer, Rina whispers, "I'll go back there tonight." Then she lets him up--and lets him go, even giving him a hand. "Sorry about that, yeah?"
Mouse's eyes narrow sharply, and her fingers close again around the gun in her pocket as she draws level with them.
The man struggles to his feet, but he doesn't take the offered hand. He looks from Rina to Mouse and back. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Whatever."
Giving him a little widening of her eyes that says "scram," Rina turns to look at Mouse. "Sorry about that, I'm so fuckin' freaked and paranoid-- Jesus fuck."
The narrow look to Mouse's features doesn't change. She glances slightly at Rina, but most of her visible attention seems to be settled on the man, and her jaw tenses further. "Yeah." Her voice too, is very tight. "Let's go then."
Once he's on his feet, he gives another glance to Mouse before continuing on through the narrow space. His pace picks up as he moves, and soon he rounds the corner, out of sight.
Rina turns to pace quickly from the alleyway, muttering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," under her breath.
Mouse turns as well, and this time she makes quite an effort to stay level with Rina, maybe even a little uncomfortably close. "Rina," she says quietly, tensely, when she thinks they've gone far enough, "What the /fuck/ is going on?"
"I thought he was one of them," Rina says darkly. "I'm *sorry*, aright? Let's just get the hell outta Dodge. Where d'you want me to drive?"
"What changed your mind?" Mouse asks, still low. And then without waiting for an answer, "Why were these people /here/ in the first place?"
"Explanations later," Rina says unsteadily. "Disposal now?"
It's fairly clear Mouse doesn't like that. Her eyes narrow a little bit more, there's a faint, brief twitch around her mouth, her expression hardens. "Driving now, explanations while we deal with disposal. Are you feeling clear headed enough for driving? We can make two trips."
Rina winces. "Sorry," she says quietly, a genuine apology in the words. "I'm good." Determined, she walks a little faster. "And I c'n drive."
"Don't apologize to me," Mouse says, and that's possibly a little sharper than she intended. "--Just don't lie, Rina. Don't hide things." She reaches back and passes over Rina's firearm. "It feels like you're hiding things tonight. Or maybe I'm the one who's fucking paranoid."
"He was a client," Rina says tersely, her voice still hoarse from screaming. "I painted somethin' for him. So he knew me, he knew where I live, aright?"
Mouse says, rather neutral toned, "Alright."
She re-holsters the gun beneath her jacket, and then flips Mouse's keys in her palm, searching out the right one. "Aright, where we goin'?"
Rina: We can handwave logistics as much as you guys want... let's get to the interrogation part. :)
Halix waves a hand. Logistics schmogistics.
Mouse laughs.
Mouse figures they're going to the good old bunker. Yay, acid.
Rina: We do that stuff mobsters do to get rid of bodies.
Rina: Oh, or there's that-- EWWWWW.
Mouse: And I guess the dude's car will suffer an unfortunate fire in some bad part of town after being searched for usables?
Halix: Not much in the car. It was kept pretty clean. But I'll assume you pull all the papers from the glovebox for looking at, later.
Rina: Sho. Reg, licensed to, blah blah blah. And wearing gloves.
Rina works quiet and fast alongside Mouse, saying nothing.
Rina pages: There's urgency in how she's working.
It's pretty awkward silence on both sides, as Mouse spends a lot of the time not saying anything either. Eventually, however, she speaks up, slow but still tense, "Go over what happened. You said he tried to mess with your head."
"He came to the studio." Her voice is low, damaged. "I don't know how he got past the door downstairs. But I know him, so I let him in and we talked and--" She swallows. "We were just talking. And I was across the room and then he told me to do something and I didn't want to but I--I-- *felt* it, you know?" She presses her lips together, hard, and swallows.
Mouse doesn't look at her when she asks the next question, "What did he tell you to do?"
"Doesn't matter," Rina says. "Turn around and look at him. It wasn't that. Just, when I didn't, he said it again and... *pushed*." She has to turn away from what she's doing, pace away and then come back. "I can't deal with that," she says unsteadily. "People gettin' in my head. Bad experience with it once." A darting glance over to Mouse. "And ever since this vampire shit started, I been keepin' a loaded automatic fulla white-phoz around. And I had it on me and I freaked."
"So," Mouse says very slowly, "You didn't know he was a vampire before you shot him."
Rina winces, her face turning away. "I knew," she whispers. "That's why I didn't want to look at him. Because after he-- drank, I was scared outta my fuckin' mind, and I heard somewhere that if you look them in the eyes they can take you over."
Mouse turns sharply toward her, even as she turns away. "Drank," she repeats. It's one word, but she manages to put a whole lot of emphasis on it.
Rina closes her eyes, and takes a breath. "I thought he was just bein' forward," she says quietly. Her eyes flicker open, downcast, focused on the description. "I was in the kitchen pourin' us drinks, and he came up behind me and-- leaned down, you know, like he was just gonna kiss my cheek or somethin'. And I thought "hey, that's a bit much," so I tried to lean away, but it didn't matter." Her expression twists, mouth pressed into a taut line, and she looks over at the woman, torment in her eyes.
Mouse meets that look. Her expression is, once again, maddeningly unreadable, but her eyes probably give everything away anyway. The look in her eyes is murderous. "We need to take care of this."
Rina returns to her task. "It's taken care of," she says quietly, and there's a tense, heavy-laden silence, something fighting to get free of her body. "D'you know why nobody fights back?" she says quietly. "Why people don't just stop them from-- feeding?"
Mouse starts to say something else, it's clear in her face now, in the way her mouth starts to form the words, but she stops, takes a small breath. "--Why?"
Her features are a shifting mask, fierce discomfort and anger, a profound bitterness. "'Cause it's a better fuckin' high than heroin, while they're doin' it," she says softly.
"We have to take care of this," Mouse repeats, after a few very long seconds. "I want to make sure."
Rina closes her eyes for a moment, and shivers, hands clenching into fists at her side. Then a hand comes up to wipe sweat off her forehead, and she looks dully at the pile of bloodied sheets being slowly consumed. "I don't understand," she says quietly.
Rina: So, what ARE we doing, and have we dissolved the body yet?
Rina: And what *are* we doing with the sheets? Furnace is cheaper than acid, so maybe we're burning the clothes/sheets/etc?
Mouse nods at burning the clothes and stufff.
Rina: Kk. Bodies done yet, or not?
Rina imagines they'd be first and ickiest.
Mouse figures that takes a while, but they're probably done apart from waiting?
Rina: And that's a GOOD reason to be... elsewhere.
Rina: KK.
"Come with me out to the woods," Mouse says, watching her out of the corner of one eye. "Let me check and see if there's anything off."
Rina watches the flames, her brow furrowing as if the thought pains her. "Fuck," she says quietly. "I'm so *tired*." Dropping her head, she takes a deep, careful breath and lets it go. "You'll let me go home, after?"
Mouse asks, "Do you really think that's a good idea?"
Rina closes her eyes again for a second or two. "I need to," she says quietly. "And he--I never compromise the house. Ever. They don't know that address, and there's nothin' attaching it to my name."
"Stay at the Tenement," Mouse says. She phrases it like an offer, but there's still that tension to her, still that heavily controlled expression. "There are plenty of empty rooms. You know they won't get in there unnoticed."
Rina looks across to the woman, pleading in her eyes. "I want to feel safe," she says quietly. "I need it to be safe and quiet and mine. I won't sleep, somewhere else, and I need to sleep..." She wraps both arms around herself, tight.
Mouse breathes slowly and deeply, jaw still very tight. "...Okay. Two conditions. You come with me out to the woods, make sure there's nothing lingering. And you take your phone, and put my number on speed dial, and keep it with you at all times. /Anything/ goes wrong, you call. Okay? Just push the button, and I'll show up with a gun."
Her relief is visible, palpable, a held tension evaporating. "Yeah," she answers. "Aright. Thanks." A swallow tightens her throat, and she says, quietly, "Thanks."
"Anything," Mouse emphasizes, before turning away.
"I will," Rina replies quietly.
Mouse: Yeah, if it's not obvious, Mouse is going to Sense Wyrm. Because I guess that's her default fallback plan, as she doesn't actually know if anything is even likely to show up. XD
Halix: Nothing untoward shows up on Sense Wyrm. We can handwave the rest of that, if you like, or if you want to play it out tomorrow, you know when you can find me. (;
Rina pages: And if she's clean and everything seems hunky-dory, Mouse will set her free despite lingering hunch?
Mouse nods.
Rina hgughughughughug.
You paged Rina with 'Yeah. Terribly Reluctantly, but yeah.'.
From afar, Rina beams.
Apartment and Studio(#2790RJs)
A short entry foyer (with a coat closet) opens into a large, bright livingroom with very high ceilings. Windows cover the entirety of the opposite wall, stretching from the ceiling to about three feet from the floor. The lower windows, each pane about five feet high by three wide, open like doors with the assitance of cranks; the upper rank of windows do not open. The light wood flooring and white walls keep the whole space bright and airy. To the left, a bit of a corner lounging area holds bookshelves, mainly full of art books and nonfiction, with a few children's books filling one lower shelf.
The place is in upheaval, with canvases and finished works leaning against blank spaces on the walls.
In roughly the middle of the left-hand wall, an open archway leads to the bathroom and bedroom; it's merely an alcove with a door on either side. To the right, a half-height partition helps to define the kitchen and dining area; the plan is open, with only a bit of counter/bar to separate the kitchen from the rest of the room. The apartment's front door leads out onto the third-floor landing.
Contents:
Rina
Halix
You paged Rina with 'It takes a while for her phone to pick up--kind've a regular thing lately--but then there's a click. "Mng. Hello?"'.
Rina's voice is hoarse, unsteady. "I just killed a leech. Need some help. Fast would be good."
There's a noticeable pause, but then Mouse sounds much more alert. "Where are you?"
"Old studio." She rattles off the address quickly.
Sounds of rapid movement, cloth, a door slamming, the jangling of keys. "Already on the way. Fill me in."
"I shot him with the fifty," Rina says quietly. "Phosphorous. But hopefully if anybody called the cops they'll take their sweet time gettin' here. It's-- he was--" She can't quite control her voice. "He tried to, to get in my head."
"Are you okay?" Car noises now. An engine turning over, street sounds. She's driving while on the phone, naughty.
"*Fuck* no I'm not okay," Rina answers, roughly, at first without thinking. A breath or two seems to calm her a little, though. "I'm just-- freaked out. Not expected."
"They aren't generally, no," Mouse replies, a little dry, but not much. "I'm putting you on speaker, but I'm not hanging up, okay? Be there in five, tops."
"Okay," Rina says hoarsely. "Okay. You armed?"
She definitely sounds dry this time. "Always."
"Good," comes the answer. "I don't know if someone brought him here, or what. Keep an eye out for a car waitin' outside the building, maybe, or close by. He's the kinda guy would have a driver."
"/Fantastic/."
Rina winces. "I'm sorry."
"Okay." Distant horn honks. "Why are you apologizing?"
Rina's silent for a second or two. Finally she just takes a little breath, and finds a few words. "Because I need to. Don't worry about it."
Mouse's voice sounds a bit distant now, presumably thanks to the speaker-phone. "Didn't know Kavi's habits were contagious. How's it looking? Nearly there."
Rina swallows. "Aright. I'll letcha go and start... bagging this up, or somethin', yeah?"
"Yeah." A beat. "I'll ring you once I've parked. Gonna do a nice pass first, see if he did have a friend out here."
There aren't any cars directly outside the studio that would seem appropriate to Halix, or to any person wealthy enough to have a driver.
"Thanks." Once off the phone, Rina starts wrapping the severed arm, stowing it in one of the trash bags. She uses roughly a roll of paper towels putting some unpleasant, unidentifiable goo into the same bag.
Mouse pulls along the street, slow enough that she can try to scrutinize any cars that may be present, appropriate for the ex-vampire or not, but not so slow as to be immediately suspicious. She turns the corner, and a minute or so later she's circling around and pulling up next to the building.
If Halix had a driver waiting, he isn't within the nearest blocks.
Mouse hops out of her car almost as soon as she's turned off the ignition, wearing her usual coat (presumably the gun she mentioned is under that), and her sunglasses, though the latter have been pushed up onto her forehead. She gives the street a quick scan as she moves for the door.
Ring ring, goes Rina's phone.
"It's you?" Rina answers.
"Right outside," Mouse says. "It /looks/ clear, but let's be fast and unnoticed anyway."
She pushes a button, and the electronic lock lets Mouse open the door downstairs. A moment later, Rina lets her in to the studio, with its absolute chaos.
Mouse slips in as fast as she can, darting looks around the place, eyes narrowed. She spares a much longer look for Rina.
The Kin looks pale and sleepless, and utterly unhinged--but otherwise fine, uninjured at least. She has several trash bags lined up not far from the door, and a big rolling duffle bag.
Mouse stuffs her phone into her pocket. "Anything else we need to get?"
Rina takes a deep breath, blinking a few times. "Idunno. I'm not really thinking straight. I think I almost decided to burn down the fucking building."
"Okay." Mouse purses her lips. "Okay, here." She tosses the kin her keys. "You start taking some of this down, I'll just give the place a once-over, see if there's anything burn worthy left."
Mouse adds, "And if you see /anything/ suspicious you ring me immediately, right?"
Rina catches the keys easily, looking at them for a moment or two before speaking. "His knife," Rina says unsteadily. "It's still in the bedroom. But I think it might have silver in it."
"Liking this guy more and more," Mouse mutters, but she pulls her coat sleeve down over her hand and waves it at Rina.
Rina looks across to the woman for a moment, evidently having lost track--but then she nods, and takes the suitcase to get it out to the car.
Mouse turns and hurries toward the bedroom, coat sleeve still over her hand.
Beyond the framed-up canvas that serves as a divider, the bedroom area is... appalling. Blood--but not much--smears the grey sheets on the futon, and there are spatter-patterns on the wall from the shooting. The smell is not one of normal death, but a reek of burning and decay.
The blade is cast aside on the futon, almost at the edge: a serious weapon. The hilt is wrapped in leather, and the blade looks to have an inlay of silver. It's well crafted, the edge made of steel, while the silver runs through the center from tip to tang. From the design, most people would think the silver a mere decoration.
Mouse steps carefully, her nose wrinkling as she first takes in the smell, and then the weapon. Her lips twitch. After a moment she steps forward, reaching carefully with her coat-wrapped hand to pick the knife up by the hilt, in the same way a squeamish person might pick up a dead rat by the tail. "Fucking /fantastic/," she mutters.
Rina's armed (wearing her jacket) and watchful, as she loads the big bag into the trunk.
The street is nearly empty, typical for this time of night. Those people who are active appear to have their own business to attend to, and do no more than glance in Rina's direction. A car passes at the end of the block, heading on down the cross street.
Mouse keeps the blade held out as far away from her body as possible as she moves out of the bedroom, giving the rest of the studio a careful looking over.
It looks like someone very, very careless has been using the space for some time--stacks of sketches, piles of papers, and a messy bathroom. Oddly enough, there seem to be some clean dishes by the kitchen sink, and a tiny island of counter--the only place that isn't slovenly.
Mouse scrutinizes these little details, and on an apparent whim, she makes a snatch for one of the sketches, though she's turning toward the door even as she looks at it.
Rina tries not to stare at the passing auto, and then locks the car and heads back up for the next bundle of joy. Lifting her head to swipe her card at the door, she catches sight of her reflection and stares for a moment. Something makes her take another deep, careful breath, and then she heads inside.
"Rina," Mouse says slowly, pulling her eyes away from the sketch. "Whose place is this?"
"Mine," she answers, hoarsely. "From a-- a long time ago."
Mouse purses her lips. "Are you the dirty one, or the clean one?"
Rina's brow furrows, and she swallows, looking across to the woman. "I don't understand," she says unsteadily.
Halix pages: Over on a table, not far from where the rest of the bags are waiting to be disposed of, there's a wallet, cell phone, and keys, in a tidy little pile by the rest of the detritus.
Mouse ever so carefully sets the knife aside, as if it were a bomb that might explode if she moved too fast, and then waves the sketch paper at the room. "This place is a ridiculous mess. Except right over there, clean dishes and a tiny spot of clean counter, and /there/, neat little pile of things, wallet, cellphone, keys." She looks at Rina and lowers the sketch. "...Who else was here?"
Rina takes a breath, and her gaze slides away as she tries, visibly, to remember. "Sol came over," she says finally, focusing on the kitchen. "I washed dishes while she was here. That was... yesterday?"
Mouse points. "So whose stuff is that?"
Rina's attention follows the gesture, and something stark comes to her eyes. "His," she answers. "Halix."
"The vampire," Mouse says, in a way that suggests she doesn't really need that obvious question answered. "Rina," and now her tone has gone a little careful, "...Why'd a vampire come into your place and take the time to put all his stuff down all neatly before you blew him away?"
Utterly confused, Rina looks back to Mouse for an instant before shaking her head and lowering her gaze. "I took it outta his clothes. Figured we'd wanna pull the cellphone data, get whatever else we could. I haven't looked." Her dark eyes stay lowered, unfocused.
Mouse narrows both of her own eyes, and for a moment, she's silent, and her expression unreadable. Then, with her expression still like that, she twists away and reaches gingerly for the knife hilt again. "I'll look. Let's get all this stuff out, and then get us out. Is this place under your name?"
"Yeah," Rina answers hoarsely, without looking up. It's clearly mere chemistry that's keeping her on her feet and staving off hysteria. "That would be why I thought about just startin' a fire."
"Let's get us out," Mouse repeats. "I've got a scanner, we can listen and see if anyone sent a call in on our way back. All this stuff, come on."
Halix pages: The knife, pretty obviously, was made to fight Garou (or other silver-sensitive creatures). It's got enough silver on the surface that it would act as a silver weapon, but the edge being steel allows it to be stronger and keep a finer edge. Someone who knew about shifters designed it.
Halix pages: It also seems pretty old.
Rina nods, pulling her clearly fragmented self back together with an effort and moving to get some more bags. She takes this load down, and then the next trip is the last one--including the gun itself, her own clothing, and any other weaponry stored at the studio.
Mouse takes her own load, though she's less useful than she might be, as she can't take any of the heavier bags, even once she's ever so carefully stowed the knife in her trunk. By the time Rina's on the last trip, she's also scooped up the wallet, keys, and phone combination into her coat pocket, and made sure that the phone is powered off.
Rina seems steadier, somehow, when they leave the building. She breathes deeper, as if the air can clean her somehow. "You need me to call any of my guys, to help?" she asks. "Or you wanna keep it just you and me?"
"Just us, for now," Mouse says. She skips ahead a few steps to open the door for the kin, though she doesn't stick around to close it. "Better not call anyone in when we're not sure if someone dialed 911." She moves around to the driver's side, a little more hurriedly now, lips thinning.
Rina slides into the passenger seat, automatically fastening her seatbelt. Her eyes close and she takes deep, steadying breaths.
A patrol car rolls down the block along the cross street behind them. It moves more slowly than typical traffic speed, but doesn't stop.
Rina slides into the passenger seat, automatically fastening her seatbelt. Her eyes close and she takes deep, steadying breaths.
A patrol car rolls down the block along the cross street behind them. It moves more slowly than typical traffic speed, but doesn't stop.
Mouse pulls her glasses down over her eyes and mutters, ever so quietly, "shiiiiiiiit." She slips the key into the ignition and rests her foot over the pedal, though she doesn't move to start it yet. "Keep your eyes closed, Rina. Just sit still."
"I'm okay," Rina murmurs. She sounds wrung out, utterly exhausted. "Need to call..."
The patrol car slows further at the corner, and it's obvious the cops inside are looking around, but it continues on and even picks up speed as it passes out of sight.
.
"No," Mouse says, quietly, but firmly. She waits, silently counting, tapping her foot silently against the gas pedal, and then, several seconds on, she turns the key and starts to pull out.
There's no other sign of police presence, but a couple blocks on, they pass a black sedan heading in the other direction. It's just a sedan, like thousands of others, but the tinted windows set it apart, and the glimpse Rina gets of the driver is enough to strike her.
One moment she's half-tranced, looking numbly out the window--and the next she's turning away from the window sharply, sinking down a little in the seat. "Fuck."
Mouse is entirely on edge, so she notices the somewhat out of place sedan. She's already looking in the rear view mirror for license plate numbers when Rina reacts, and she has to fight down an instinctive jump. "What is it?"
The car continues on, no sign of reaction or change from the driver. It slows, not far from Rina's studio, and pulls over to park soon after.
"Brown Caddy. His driver. If he saw me we're fucked. Or I am, anyway." Her voice is unsteady. "OK. OK. Just keep going. He's there. They'll know."
Mouse gives Rina a sharp look, but then she's turning the wheel, pulling down the nearest side street. "Well, we know where he's going. We--/I/--could go take care of it, right now."
Rina swallows, and her voice ratchets up to meth-addict speed. "If you want to. If he's more than human he'll be strong. I don't know. He might be one of them." She looks over, uncertain. "If you want to I-- I'll back you up. Still got half a clip.
Another sharp look, but she has to keep her eyes on the road. She makes another right, turning around, heading back toward the studio down a different street. "You know me, Rina, normally I'd be all for another gun, but I think maybe, this time, you should stay with the car. You know. The cops are already in the area. Just in case."
Rina nods minutely, closing her eyes. "You want the .50?" she asks hoarsely.
As they approach, they can see the parked car across the way, and see that it is currently empty.
She's already offering the Desert Eagle. "Go. Go go go. Before he calls anyone."
Mouse pulls over and switches off the ignition. "Yeah, quick." She fishes out the wallet, the turned off cellphone, the keys, and dumps them on the seat, then shoves the door open. "Keep your head down, okay? Anything bad, get the hell out of here and...try not to crash. Don't wait for me. /Try/ not to crash." She pops out of the car, tucks Rina's gun into her waistband, and moves off, one hand reaching for the gun that she brought, in her coat pocket.
Rina nods assent, watching her go and then coming around to the driver's seat... just in case.
The street is empty, no sign of the man, but when Mouse reaches the building, it's obvious from the damage to the outer door that he's gone inside.
Mouse closes her fingers around her gun and speeds up, taking the steps two at a time. She's trying to be quiet, but right now speed is more on her mind.
She catches up just as he's trying to break through the door to the studio itself. He's being quiet, which is probably the only thing that's kept him from succeeding so far, but he has shoulder to door, and is putting far more strength into the effort than his 5'10" frame would imply.
A thought crosses her mind, a stupid, /impulsive/ idea. Mouse barely curbs her speed as she steps up behind him, whipping the gun out of her pocket and taking aim as she shouts, in her best possible TV cop voice, "Police! Get your hands in the air where I can see them, right now!"
The young man, dark haired and well dressed, turns from his attempt at breaking through the door to look at Mouse. His eyes narrow, the fury in his features barely controlled. His breathing is ragged and harsh, from physical exertion, emotion, or both. His hands, however, do not rise, but curl into fists at his sides.
Mouse aims right for the center of his head, tensing. "Don't even think about it. Up, /now/. I'm not warning you again."
The man's eyes stay on Mouse, sharply focused, and his harsh and ragged breathing continues. His hands, however, begin to rise.
Mouse eases back a step, keeping her expression rigid, sighting down her gun at him. "Behind your head, turn around and face the wall."
He starts to turn, but his gaze remains on Mouse. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turns his body toward the wall, and his hands rise until his palms touch the brick. But his eyes never turn away, and he barely blinks.
Mouse jerks her chin. "You want to tell me why you're busting in? You're a little well dressed for breaking and entering."
There is no answer from the young man, though his breathing slowly seems to come under control.
"Great," Mouse says, not lowering her gun a millimeter. "I love talkative burglars. Look, buddy, you can answer me here, or we can take a ride with me and my partner down to the station and have a good long talk in an interrogation room, your choice."
And still, no answer is forthcoming.
Mouse's eyebrows bob in unison. "Have it your way. Face forward, look at the wall."
"I can make it worth your while to let me go," the man says, his voice quiet but harsh, his body still tense and his eyes still on Mouse.
"Can you?" Mouse says, in a tone that makes it unclear whether she's humoring him or asking seriously.
"What would it take?" he asks, his body slowly turning back to face her. "I can get you twenty thousand, if you let me leave, now. Forty, if you leave, and forget you saw me."
Mouse gives a low whistle. "You have any idea how that compares to my salary?" She eases back, just a little. "Tell you what, I'll walk you to your car. Big misunderstanding, false alarm, yeah? You drive away, I drive away. You want to come back after, just make sure you're /quieter/ about it. Sound good?"
Some of the tension seems to ease, and the young man pulls one hand from the wall. He studies Mouse's face, wary still, but nods.
Mouse takes a larger step back this time, off to the side, and pulls up her gun. "After you."
Still cautious, the man sidesteps past her, and then heads back to the stairs.
Mouse turns and follows him. She slips her gun back inside her coat pocket once he's turned, though her hand remains in there, finger hovering over the trigger.
He doesn't quite turn his back on the metis, which makes his progress a bit slower than it might be. Still, there's some hurry to his steps and he hits the ground floor soon after.
Mouse moves along at a fair clip after him, keeping a very slight distance, but not too much. She's not particularly willing to take her eyes off of him either.
He pauses at the broken door, taking care to keep watch as he moves through it. "We go our separate ways, now, right?"
"Gonna walk you to your car," Mouse repeats. "In case anyone's looking, got to make sure I'm doing my job, right? Once you're off, I'll call in the false alarm. Say I got here and whoever did the door damage had already taken off. Probably stupid kids."
He nods, eyes once again narrowed, but gestures across the street. "Over there," he says, and heads toward the caddy.
Mouse continues along behind him, still at that slight distance. She glances, briefly, just once, up at the windows of the building, trying to spot in that ridiculously inadequate amount of time whether or not anyone is looking.
There are no lights, if anyone watches, they do so from darkened rooms.
Mouse turns her head front and continues following the man.
There isn't far to go. They reach the car and he reaches into his pocket for the keys.
Mouse carefully holds her breath, but she waits.
He watches her as he slips the key into the lock, but he has to turn away once the door is open, in order to slip inside.
And that, it would seem, is exactly what Mouse was waiting for. As he turns and starts to slip in, she pulls the gun from her pocket, aims for the back of his head, and pulls the trigger.
You paged Halix with 'Burning rage for multiple shots, if she gets them off. x.o That's the Roach Clip gun, so regular old bullets, but agg damage.'.
Halix pages: Any sort of silencer on that baby?
You paged Halix with 'Nope, and she's kicking herself for not bringing hers.'.
Halix pages: Okay! (Oh, is this Mouse's gun, or Rina's with Mouse's clip?)
You paged Halix with 'Mouse's! Rina's is tucked into her waistband.'.
Halix pages: Okay. I thought so, but wanted to check. That makes the difference between Bang! And BAAAAAANG!!!!!
Long distance to Halix: Mouse laughs. Yesss. Rina's gun, LOUD.
BANG! With the rage that fuels her movements, Mouse is able to fire in that moment that his head is turned. It's rage, also that fuels the weapon itself, and after that single shot, there is little enough left to bother shooting again. The man slumps, half falling from the seat, blood and brain matter staining the pavement.
Mouse hisses through her teeth, "Oops, I lied." She shoves the gun away and moves forward, trying to shove him the rest of the way into the car, and into the passenger seat. This is...far easier said than done, when it comes to Mouse. One hand goes fishing for her phone, and the redial button.
Dead weight is, in fact, much harder to manipulate, and Mouse is still struggling to move the man when Rina's phone rings.
"Hey," Rina says. "Wassup?"
"Why do people--" Mouse grates, "--always have to be--so /fucking heavy/--Rina? How are you feeling? How's your head?"
"I'm good," Rina says. I just--there's some stuff I gotta do, after." She sounds antsy.
Mouse tries to kick the man's leg into the car. "What stuff?"
With a bit of effort, Mouse manages to get the man the rest of the way in. It isn't pretty, but it'll do.
There's a catch in her breathing. "Mouse?" Rina says softly. "I gotta go..."
Mouse tries to shove herself in now, fumbling for his keys even as she's still talking. "Go? No, no no, I think, I /really/ think, that you should take my keys and lock the doors and come over here, and we should go in the same car."
Wetting her lips, Rina watches that corner up ahead. Mouse hears the opening and closing of the car door. "You see anybody out there?" she asks, her hands automatically locking the door. She takes several involuntary steps forward. "Where are you, out front?"
Mouse darts a quick glance over the back seat. "Yeah. And no, but keep your head down, move fast. I didn't bring my silencer because I'm an /idiot/. I'm at his car."
Eyes narrowed, Rina walks toward the place where someone stands in the shadows, working her way to a place directly across the street. She strains to feel the presence, her brow furrowing. "Be right there," she answers.
"Rina?" Mouse lifts her head again and pokes out of the car, looking around.
Rina nods to the man, and speaks almost without moving her lips. "Mayday."
Mouse steps out of the car and ever so carefully pushes the door closed, though not all the way. She's very tense now, still breathing heavily from the exertion of moving the driver, and she keeps the phone to her ear as she turns, eyes narrowed, looking.
Rina wets her lips, and catches the lower between her teeth--watching him, but with her face clearly signaling uncertainty.
When Mouse leaves the car to search, she is able to see what Rina sees - a young black man in the shadows, apparently looking at, or watching Rina. When the kin stops moving, he grows still.
Mouse slips her hand back into her pocket and closes her fingers around her gun, though the other hand keeps the phone to her ear. She focuses on the man now--or at least, that's what it looks like she's doing.
You paged Halix with 'Activating cybersenses and stuff. Infrared vision.'.
Halix pages: He has normal human temperature signature. Anything else you wanna know?
You paged Halix with 'That was mostly it! Though obviously she's watching for sudden movements, or friends.'.
Rina takes another cautious step toward him, and glances significantly to the roof above the alley where he stands.
Mouse also glances that way, very briefly. "Rina," she says very quietly into the phone. "If you're still listening, stop."
The younger man may not notice Mouse, his attention so focused on Rina. He beckons again, and takes a single forward step. It brings him to the edge of the shadow cast by the streetlamp, but there he stops again.
Rina wets her lips, and obeys the woman's order, still watching the stranger. She lets the struggle in her expression remain intense, projecting all her energy to him, keeping him engaged in that emotional soliloquy.
Mouse allows herself to exhale, and says, very very quietly, "I'm coming." She shoves the phone into her pocket and moves away from the car, going for a wide circle in an attempt to stay outside his peripheral vision while getting closer, but again it's a matter of stealth versus haste...and she's picking haste again.
He remains still, but his brow furrows when Rina does not come closer. When he catches sight of Mouse, his gaze turns briefly in her direction. He looks back to Rina and gives a slight shake of his head. Then he turns, and darts back into the deeper shadows.
Mouse makes another stupid, impulsive decision. She breaks into a full run after him.
"Fuck," Rina whispers, and takes off at a run. She's fast, terribly fast.
The space between buildings isn't precisely an alley, but it's wide enough for a man to stand with his arms spread. The young man isn't standing, and his arms aren't spread, instead he's running at great speed. Rina has the edge, both in personal agility and proximity to the target, finds herself first into the passage after him. Mouse brings up the rear, no slouch in speed, but no match for the two ahead of her.
Mouse attempts to make up for this with near-silent cursing when Rina gets between her and the man they're chasing. It's creative! But not very effective at increasing her speed.
It's a near thing, between the two in the front, but as Mouse falls farther and farther behind, Rina gets close enough to make her move. The kin makes one last push, and grabs at the man from behind, taking them both to the ground with the larger of the two on the bottom. He just manages to get his hands up in time to keep from landing face first.
"Whose are you?" Rina snarls, a hand in his hair, a knee in his back. "Who sent you?"
Mouse wills herself to move faster with the power of filthy language, darting toward the now downed duo.
The man turns his head to the side, but if he answers, Mouse is too far away to hear. By the time she closes the distance, what comes from his throat are the grunts that accompany his attempts to rise.
Leaning closer, Rina whispers, "I'll go back there tonight." Then she lets him up--and lets him go, even giving him a hand. "Sorry about that, yeah?"
Mouse's eyes narrow sharply, and her fingers close again around the gun in her pocket as she draws level with them.
The man struggles to his feet, but he doesn't take the offered hand. He looks from Rina to Mouse and back. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Whatever."
Giving him a little widening of her eyes that says "scram," Rina turns to look at Mouse. "Sorry about that, I'm so fuckin' freaked and paranoid-- Jesus fuck."
The narrow look to Mouse's features doesn't change. She glances slightly at Rina, but most of her visible attention seems to be settled on the man, and her jaw tenses further. "Yeah." Her voice too, is very tight. "Let's go then."
Once he's on his feet, he gives another glance to Mouse before continuing on through the narrow space. His pace picks up as he moves, and soon he rounds the corner, out of sight.
Rina turns to pace quickly from the alleyway, muttering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," under her breath.
Mouse turns as well, and this time she makes quite an effort to stay level with Rina, maybe even a little uncomfortably close. "Rina," she says quietly, tensely, when she thinks they've gone far enough, "What the /fuck/ is going on?"
"I thought he was one of them," Rina says darkly. "I'm *sorry*, aright? Let's just get the hell outta Dodge. Where d'you want me to drive?"
"What changed your mind?" Mouse asks, still low. And then without waiting for an answer, "Why were these people /here/ in the first place?"
"Explanations later," Rina says unsteadily. "Disposal now?"
It's fairly clear Mouse doesn't like that. Her eyes narrow a little bit more, there's a faint, brief twitch around her mouth, her expression hardens. "Driving now, explanations while we deal with disposal. Are you feeling clear headed enough for driving? We can make two trips."
Rina winces. "Sorry," she says quietly, a genuine apology in the words. "I'm good." Determined, she walks a little faster. "And I c'n drive."
"Don't apologize to me," Mouse says, and that's possibly a little sharper than she intended. "--Just don't lie, Rina. Don't hide things." She reaches back and passes over Rina's firearm. "It feels like you're hiding things tonight. Or maybe I'm the one who's fucking paranoid."
"He was a client," Rina says tersely, her voice still hoarse from screaming. "I painted somethin' for him. So he knew me, he knew where I live, aright?"
Mouse says, rather neutral toned, "Alright."
She re-holsters the gun beneath her jacket, and then flips Mouse's keys in her palm, searching out the right one. "Aright, where we goin'?"
Rina works quiet and fast alongside Mouse, saying nothing.
Rina pages: There's urgency in how she's working.
It's pretty awkward silence on both sides, as Mouse spends a lot of the time not saying anything either. Eventually, however, she speaks up, slow but still tense, "Go over what happened. You said he tried to mess with your head."
"He came to the studio." Her voice is low, damaged. "I don't know how he got past the door downstairs. But I know him, so I let him in and we talked and--" She swallows. "We were just talking. And I was across the room and then he told me to do something and I didn't want to but I--I-- *felt* it, you know?" She presses her lips together, hard, and swallows.
Mouse doesn't look at her when she asks the next question, "What did he tell you to do?"
"Doesn't matter," Rina says. "Turn around and look at him. It wasn't that. Just, when I didn't, he said it again and... *pushed*." She has to turn away from what she's doing, pace away and then come back. "I can't deal with that," she says unsteadily. "People gettin' in my head. Bad experience with it once." A darting glance over to Mouse. "And ever since this vampire shit started, I been keepin' a loaded automatic fulla white-phoz around. And I had it on me and I freaked."
"So," Mouse says very slowly, "You didn't know he was a vampire before you shot him."
Rina winces, her face turning away. "I knew," she whispers. "That's why I didn't want to look at him. Because after he-- drank, I was scared outta my fuckin' mind, and I heard somewhere that if you look them in the eyes they can take you over."
Mouse turns sharply toward her, even as she turns away. "Drank," she repeats. It's one word, but she manages to put a whole lot of emphasis on it.
Rina closes her eyes, and takes a breath. "I thought he was just bein' forward," she says quietly. Her eyes flicker open, downcast, focused on the description. "I was in the kitchen pourin' us drinks, and he came up behind me and-- leaned down, you know, like he was just gonna kiss my cheek or somethin'. And I thought "hey, that's a bit much," so I tried to lean away, but it didn't matter." Her expression twists, mouth pressed into a taut line, and she looks over at the woman, torment in her eyes.
Mouse meets that look. Her expression is, once again, maddeningly unreadable, but her eyes probably give everything away anyway. The look in her eyes is murderous. "We need to take care of this."
Rina returns to her task. "It's taken care of," she says quietly, and there's a tense, heavy-laden silence, something fighting to get free of her body. "D'you know why nobody fights back?" she says quietly. "Why people don't just stop them from-- feeding?"
Mouse starts to say something else, it's clear in her face now, in the way her mouth starts to form the words, but she stops, takes a small breath. "--Why?"
Her features are a shifting mask, fierce discomfort and anger, a profound bitterness. "'Cause it's a better fuckin' high than heroin, while they're doin' it," she says softly.
"We have to take care of this," Mouse repeats, after a few very long seconds. "I want to make sure."
Rina closes her eyes for a moment, and shivers, hands clenching into fists at her side. Then a hand comes up to wipe sweat off her forehead, and she looks dully at the pile of bloodied sheets being slowly consumed. "I don't understand," she says quietly.
"Come with me out to the woods," Mouse says, watching her out of the corner of one eye. "Let me check and see if there's anything off."
Rina watches the flames, her brow furrowing as if the thought pains her. "Fuck," she says quietly. "I'm so *tired*." Dropping her head, she takes a deep, careful breath and lets it go. "You'll let me go home, after?"
Mouse asks, "Do you really think that's a good idea?"
Rina closes her eyes again for a second or two. "I need to," she says quietly. "And he--I never compromise the house. Ever. They don't know that address, and there's nothin' attaching it to my name."
"Stay at the Tenement," Mouse says. She phrases it like an offer, but there's still that tension to her, still that heavily controlled expression. "There are plenty of empty rooms. You know they won't get in there unnoticed."
Rina looks across to the woman, pleading in her eyes. "I want to feel safe," she says quietly. "I need it to be safe and quiet and mine. I won't sleep, somewhere else, and I need to sleep..." She wraps both arms around herself, tight.
Mouse breathes slowly and deeply, jaw still very tight. "...Okay. Two conditions. You come with me out to the woods, make sure there's nothing lingering. And you take your phone, and put my number on speed dial, and keep it with you at all times. /Anything/ goes wrong, you call. Okay? Just push the button, and I'll show up with a gun."
Her relief is visible, palpable, a held tension evaporating. "Yeah," she answers. "Aright. Thanks." A swallow tightens her throat, and she says, quietly, "Thanks."
"Anything," Mouse emphasizes, before turning away.
"I will," Rina replies quietly.
Rina pages: And if she's clean and everything seems hunky-dory, Mouse will set her free despite lingering hunch?
You paged Rina with 'Yeah. Terribly Reluctantly, but yeah.'.
From afar, Rina beams.
