Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 14 March 2005 ("No Dinero " Plot Event) |
| Who: | Ellen, Gascogne, Genevieve, Kacela, Maharai, MP, Nicodemus, Pan, Thor, Uzal, Willard |
| What: | Club-goers at the punk venue No Dinero get a shock as a double murder - including soul-killing - of two celestials takes place right outside the building! |
East - Austin
There are 'problem areas,' and then there are 'urban wastelands.' Much of the East Side of Austin fits into the latter category. It runs from the Capitol all the way to the eastern city limits, walled in by the University and the Colorado River in the south and an invisible line known only to the street-smart in the north. A reasonably comfortable buffer zone in the east-central and around the highways keeps the worst part of the city from mingling with the best and most important, and it is there that Austin has its most ambitious revitalization projects. The further east one goes, however, the faster the city seems to take an ungraceful dive into vice and decay. The exact opposite of the West Side, much of the East is a true barrio. The streets are unabashedly dirty, littered with both material trash and people, sitting or standing or walking aimlessly by the wayside.
MP takes a step back as Willard moves closer. He raises his hands defensively "Whoa, hey, man. Do I look like a real estate agent? If you want a rundown of the crime stats, go ask the freakin' business bureau. If you want to come on in and make some noise, though, c'mon in."
Tor is sitting on a nearby bench. His eyes are closed and he seems to be sleeping, mumbling vague monosyllabic 'words' under his breath that don't seem to go together at all.
Scampering along the sidewalk, Genevieve hmmms to herself, and looks towards the noisy area outside the doorway of No Dinero. Her eyes shine with curiosity, and she saunters up, sizing up the rest of those present, as if gauging them for artsiness.
Willard bites his lower lip, moving his head affirmativelly..."You know? You're right..." He looses his hair and desarranges it with his hands, takes off the suit and throws it on the ground, and unties the knot of his tie. "So" He points to the inside of No Dinero "Who or what they have today?"
Maharai walks quickly down the sidewalk, regularly looking over his shoulder as he strides down the street. His dark eyes glitter with purpose, and after crisply speaking in Catonese in the phone, he snaps it shut, ending the conversation. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his light longcoat. Squinting some, he looks once, looks twice, at the open door way to No Dinero. "What a dump, why hasn't the City Council done anything about this dump? And why are you dressed like a filthy beast?" is directed to Willard once he begins stripping down. "Take back up your more respectable garments!"
MP grins fiercely. "Everybody worth having, man, and nothing but." As Marharai approaches, the punk groans. "Awwww, you gotta be kidding me. Oi!" He raises his voice to shout at Maharai, "Don't you have something better to do?"
Genevieve skids to a halt, and smirks slightly at the corner of her lips as she peers over Willard quizzically. "Wow, talk about ready-ro-wear!" She breaks into a laugh and then spins on her heels, arms outstretched some to cause the glitter on her fingernails to shine in the steetlight. "Yeah, what -IS- going on in there, anyway?" She tries to stand on tip-toes, gaze dancing over the largish man lounging on the bench.
Maharai snaps back, "I've got nothing better to do than see to it that this eyesore is torn down!" He waggles his folded cell phone imperiously towards MP's sass. "This is a prime example of urban blight, the lease has been expired for over three years now."
Gascogne watches Maharai quietly from her little spot on the bench, sitting nice and relaxed, legs crossed, arms up on the back of the seat. She has absolutely nothing invested in this building. No, today she's here strictly for people watching.
MP moves around Willard to stride over to Maharai. "Blight, my ass. You want blight, you put another yuppie strip mall, and maybe a few of those cookie-cutter houses for people with more dough than brains. This is where the city cuts loose, man! Have a little fun...not that I expect a bloated old windbag like you to know anything about fun..."
Maharai blusters out, "Fun? FUN? Oh, so you call drug dealing and killing people for gambling debts fun? You call gang murders fun? You call gunshots in the middle of the night fun? These kind of run down buildings breed crime! We are seeking urban renewal for this place!" He stands his ground, although he shifts his weight some. "Don't come here, I'm not trying to get into your moldly door!"
Genevieve does a double-take at Willard as the volume of hair he possesses catches her eye. She darts over, and oohs quietly to herself. "Can I braid it?" She flashes a grin, before hmmming. "Why'd you come? I'm here to meet some art people. I think they're metal heads and paint with too much red and black, but other than that, they're pretty great!"
MP makes a sound of low disgust. "Aw, man. I ain't gonna touch you. I can't imagine anybody every wanting to do /that/, anyway." He shakes his head. "Guys like you are just sad. Wouldn't know a good time if it kicked you in the head."
Maharai huffs out, "That's right you won't. I would have you in jail for it!" The phone is waggled again, before it rings. With a scowl, he slinks away several dozen yards to take the call, trying to cup the mouthpiece to drown out the noise from the doorway.
Willard looks lost with everything going on since he just got on this neighborhood and tried to get along. He looks at Genevieve and smiles, very very embarrassed "Well...okay"
MP tugs on his beard in aggravation, and calls after the Asian man, "Get bent! Go charge some kid for rent on his treehouse or something!" With another disgusted shake of his head, he turns and starts to stomp back towards the door of the club, muttering under his breath.
Genevieve squeaks out in delight at the taller man agrees, and snatches out hands to yank on a few locks. She's having to stand on tip toes, being no more than five foot two. After the initial shock, the light tugs are in fact pretty calming as she weaves three sections together. As she looks towards the returning MP, she waves a hand, and chirps out, "Hi!!" She uses both hands to wave, thusly causing most of the partially finished braid to fly out once again to its former state.
Willard bends to make it easier for Genevieve, ans says while she is behind him. "So, I'm from NY..."
MP pulls up at the chirrupy greeting, and visibly pushes his irritation aside. "Hey there. Good to see you here...hope you're ready to punk out," he says, with a flash of a grin. He casts a look back over his shoulder towards the Asian man, and the grin slips back into a scowl.
Maharai pouts out his lower lip as he makes eye contact with MP one last time, and waves the hand clutching the briefcase at him dismissively. "You just watch, soon your sins will come back to haunt you!" He does, however, keep his distance. "Yes,yes, I want someone to schedule a meeting to have this place looked at -- in daylight -- soon. The people are disreputable," he says with finality, although most of the phone conversation is lost to those immediately next to the door. He takes out his frustrations on the seated man, mmmphing to himself. "Why didn't they put you in a home, anyway? Just another example of this area's dysfunction!"
Genevieve drops her mouth at the Asian guy, "Wow, he's going to get his ass kicked if he's not careful. So much for playing it cool!" She laughs out some, and then perks up as Williard shifts weight. "Yeah, I should have brought my riot grrrrrl stuff, plaid school girl outfit, the whole nine yards!" she shimmies some. "I DO have a photo album of all the drawings I've been doing on the sidewalks, though."
MP makes a simple and yet eloquent gesture towards Maharai, one involving an upraised fist and a single finger. To Genevieve and Willard, he says, "Man's a ghoul. Sucks the joy out of whatever he touches. Try not to mind him."
Willard says to MP "He's always around? Some kind of fanatic church member?
Willard sweeps his eyes around, looking at all the people around the place
Maharai scowls impotently at the rude gesture, and then continues to chatter into his cell phone about demanding that new motions be made with the Equality Corporation involving land acquisition. "This place is filth! It must be made cleaner!" He repeats into the cell phone. "I want that meeting expedited! Well, you didn't see what they just did to me!"
MP snorts. "Worse. He's /corporate/. Wants to knock this beautiful bastard of a building down and put up a strip mall. Maybe a /coffeeshop/." He says that latter as if 'Starbucks' is synonymous with 'cesspit'.
Genevieve seems pleased to have another go at the modest length of Williard's hair. A bit belatedly, she tilts her head to the side, brow furrowing slightly.
"Hey, what's your name?" she squeaks out. "And I can't do this all in one braid, it's too short." Nevermind that she just invited herself up. "Do you do anything art-wise? Drawing? Singing? Guitar?"
Gascogne is busy minding her own damn business. She recrosses her legs, a distant smile tugging at her lips.
MP hehs at the woman, and gives Willard a wink. "You guys have fun. C'mon inside and get a little crazy while you're at it." With a smile he starts to move away, through the crowd, greeting the ones he knows with enthusiastic shouts and claps on the shoulders.
Willard says "I'm Will,not from William, and I won't tell you more" He chuckles. "Well...art..if you consider "alchemy" and art"
Tor looks up and peers this way and that. He stands up, coughs softly, and sways unsteadily on his feet for several seconds before lowering his head and stumbling over to No Dinero, apparently intending on getting inside, no matter how broke he looks.
Heads on the street are already turning before a black Lincoln Navigator pulls on to the street and makes for No Dinero. Perhaps some rich tourist has strayed from the downtown area and the driver sees potential directions in the people congregated outside. Not a chance. The back doors kick open and Nicholas Lyman emerges, his eyes squinting at the bar in a look that says, "You've must be kidding me. This place?" Whatever Lyman has to say about his surroundings, he keeps it to himself. Straightening up on the pavement, he twists his neck around, cracking it, "Two of you with me. The other two, stay with the car." These are likely instructions to the particularly large men that follow out of the vehicle.
MP looks like he's about to say something, and then abruptly closes his mouth. Diplomatic, yeah. "Never met the woman," he starts, and then, "/Shit/." as gunfire goes off. He starts running towards the back of the club.
Maharai, having spied Nicodemus's arrival and entry into the club, appears emboldened. Returning back to the doorway, he peers in, and blinks his eyes. "Gunshots? See?! I told you this was a cesspool!" He doesn't make any move to help those in danger.
Genevieve snaps to attention. "I didn't do it! I swear!" She then huhs at MP as he bolts for the door. "Hey, aren't people supposed to run *away* from shootings?!" However, she vaults over the table, leaving Williard with the miraculous glass of water, as she clatters down the stairs, and speeds after MP to see what's shaking. She skids to a halt, mouth popped open at the level of disturbance. With a determined grunt, she resumes her pace, eyes wide. "Oh please oh please don't let it be either of 'em," she breathes out.
Willard goes from "dazed" by the glass to REALLY dazed by the disturbance, He waits for his acquaintances to leave, and then slowly sneaks out the club.
Tor's eyes widen tremendously at the sudden 'disturbance'. He's clearly reacting. He clutches at his head and stumbles around, bumping into someone on the dance floor and knocking them over.
"Hey! Watch it!" The guy complains.
Tor mutters, "Sorry," quickly before dropping his hands, looking a little lost again before gazing at everybody in the room suspiciously, turning in circles as if searching for something.
Kacela doesn't have much time to change outfits from her prior location, and stands out like a sore thumb in the sheathe dress. The black woman saunters in, placing one hand on her hip as she looks down at the chaos below. She shakes her head, drawing lips thin. "Oh, this is just rich," she laughs to herself. She carefully watches the direction that the others go, and withdrawing slightly, opts to go around the building to the alleyway.
MP runs towards the back hallway, fumbling his cell phone out of a pocket of the leather jacket. Whatever poor 911 operator has been chosen by fate to answer this call recieves a litany of profanity before the man finally settles down and starts answering her questions sensibly, albeit at a high volume.
Lyman concludes his negotiations with the young fellow and produces a ball of crudely folded bills from his jacket pocket. The metal studded punk snatches at the money twice, but each time it withdraws, a cruel smile coming from the industrialist. Finally, the young man gives up, his shoulders slouching in futility, only to get the bills lightly tossed into his chest. Afterward, Lyman raises a correcting finger, as if to give some fatherly advice. However, he is interrupted by the chaos that ensues, and his gaze instantly shoots to the rear of the bar.
Pan however, steps inside, wearing a t-shirt with a skull on it. She looks ready to ROCK OUT! PUNKIN'! YEAH!
Willard sneaks by, avoiding the people running away from the shooting, trying to remain unseen as he goes towards the incident.
In the hallway, two people lay on the ground dead. One being one of the 'executive board' of No Dinero, one of MP's associates, Alexius West. Her body's 'sitting' on the ground head propped forward with her chest and face both bloodied and torn up from bullet holes. The other is sure to get a much stronger reaction, as it's an Austin Police Lieutenant by the name of Nathaniel Carter. He's splayed near Alexius on the ground with his hands crossed over his chest and a small pentagram painted on a cleaned up spot on his forehead, the rest of his face and chest (and the floor around him) covered in blood. There's nothing else around save a small rat near the propped open door.
Maharai bobs and weaves through the rockers trying to make their get away, a shout when one gets too close ripping from his throat. He stares down at the younger Asian girl, incoherent rage building up within. "Is no child safe from these... these animals?!" He exclaims. He turns around to go the long way, making a point to stay behind a few others.
MP stops dead as he sees Alexius. His eyes widen and the operator on the other end of the phone gets nothing but a harsh silence in return to her questions.
Kacela sweeps around the corner, heels clapping against the sidewalk. The hem of her long dress sweeps around her feet, and she looks to be having a time of it keeping her balance and maintaining the cleanliness of the items. Her gaze is immediately drawn towards the two deceased, interest at the pentagram on her face. "Psh, and people wonder why we can't ever get ahead. Upstairs has an entire following, and we get weekend Satanists." Her chiseled features warp into a scowl as she notices Maharai weaving towards her. "Shut up," she says to him simply.
"Around back," Lyman states flatly to the goons that look to him for direction. Jerking his head in the general direction, he starts off in a purposeful trot that hopes to be unsuspecting. With his men closing in behind him, the industrialist must go the long way around as well. On his way, he catches sight of a vaguely familiar face. "Mr. Kui," he begins pleasantly, as if the two were not just meeting for the first time in some dirty bar with frantic kids all around, "Urban restoration, yes? I've heard of your work."
Tor sees a whole lot of movement. Nobody seems interested in -him- yet, though, so Tor decides to get while the going is good and darts for the exit...calmly. Something keeps him from running out like a panicked animal, but he still moves quickly. -Away- from the disturbance.
Pan looks over to Maharai, "Huh?" She says, looking confused, "What're you talking about?" She wiggles a finger in her ear, "Kinda hard to he-...hey wait!" Being filled with RIGHTEOUS FURY, she stomps after Maharai.
Genevieve urghs. "That's nasty," she says, looking towards the bodies. She skids right up to MP, saying, "Talk about a shocker. Do you come out for every shooting?" She stammers out, still looking a bit shaken. "Not Bree, not Tyrr," she murmurs to herself, although she begins to look around for any possible clues.
Detecting a familiar voice raised beyond its usual tone, Lyman immediately rips his gaze from Maharai and looks to Kacela. "We just keep running into each other, don't we?" he muses, shaking his head thoughtfully, "Always in the thick of it, us two." A firm gaze from Lyman seeks to meet the woman's as he gestures with a nod to the bodies. His body language begs the question, "Did you know them?"
Willard takes a look at the scene, and after realizing the danger is probably gone, he approaches the silent MP by his left side and says "Hey...you're fine? Give me that phone?" He attempts to take the phone to answer the operator, if he's still on the other side.
MP shrugs out of his leather jacket, handing the phone absently to Willard, and moves forward to drape it over Alexius' form, his voice soft. "Alexius, chica, you didn't deserve this..." And then he stumbles away from the bodies. To Geneveive, he snaps, "Stay away from them!"
Kacela twists around to peer at Nicodemus as he makes another one of his world renowned connections. With a faintly tired sigh, she drums fingers upon her upper arm, eyes half lidded as she waits for people to find the answers for her, with as little staining to the outfit as possible.
Willard walks away a bit, and answers calmly the operators questions, looking at the crime scene and to the present people actions.
Ellen pokes her head in the door, managing to slip through before police keep people out. She peers around cautiously. Uh oh, dead people. She moves inconspiciously through the crowd, trying to get a look at what's going on.
Maharai is practically abuzz in a panic. "You see this here? This is the very reason why this city needs to be cleaned up! Deaths, murders! This place should be razed!" Most of the speech is indeed directed to Lyman, "You're a business owner, you understand the need for order and organization in a city!" And then he points to Pan. "See this child? Likely a street waif, no doubt! Certainly not of age to be in such a sinful establishment."
Genevieve practically cheeps and recoils from the anger in MP's voice. Her eyes go wide, and she snaps up hands, as if she herself had a gun held on her. "Hey, be cool, I'm not going to snatch their wallets or anything like that! You knew her? Was she important to this place? To you?" Her voice softens a bit, her earlier teasing of Willard lost in the unfolding chaos.
Uzal slips in too, looking less worried than just curious. He cuts his way easily through the crowd, quite used to going against the current. His eyebrows lift as he catches the buzzing about deaths and murders.
MP shoots Genevieve a look of pure venom. "No," he says, drawing the syllable out sarcastically, "I'm just upset about the laundry bills." His voice spirals up, "Of course she was important to me!" He sucks in a deep breath and then glares at everyone around the bodies. "What the hell are you vultures doing here anyway? Go on, beat it!"
"I just got here," Kacela says, "And I think you can tell from the way I'm dressed that I wasn't planning on doing any... 'skanking' on the dancefloor," she says with some distaste in regards to one of the dance styles these kind of people preferred. She stifles a derisive laugh at the Asian business man's furor. "Okay, okay, we get the message..." However, she leans in, and snatches out a hand to squeeze Nicodemus's, flipping the hem of her dress to evade the bloodstains as she scoots closer. "That kind of noise wasn't just a regular mortal killing," she hsssts out to him. "And trust me, I know about 'loud' around here..." After delivering that piece of news, she withdraws serenely, eyes glinting in victory at the futile rage of MP.
Genevieve practically falls on her ass at the yelling, and whimpers out, holding up hands, "I was just worried!!!" she whines out, eyes apologetic to MP.
Willard finishes the emergency call and walks in between Genevieve and MP, With a serious look on his face. He talks to MP. "Here's your phone, we know it's done, they won't help much coming here. But your rage wont too."
Pan blinks at Maharai, "Ack! Pointing!" He looks over to Lyman and says, "I'm a punk, yeah! Look at me! Grr!" She throws her arms up into the air. Before adding softly, "Uh, that's kinda crazy, don't you think? I mean, it's not like I was -abandoned- or anything. They're just dead, okay?"
Forcing a smile down, Lyman looks between Maharai and Kacela. "Yes, organization," he replies, his voice soothing while his focus is the urban planner, and pointed, even playful, when it settles on Kacela. Leaning into the woman's grasp, Lyman nods, assuring Kacela he suspected the same. "Stay sharp," he rasps, patting something under his jacket pocket. Perhaps, he would say more, but MP's grief begs a reply. "Please, my boy. Calm yourself," he states coldly, "You're doing your friend no good here. Clear the place out now if you want to preserve any evidence." It is good advice, though its manner is not terribly...nice. Apparently, Lyman knows a thing or two about crime scenes.
MP takes the phone with a curt nod at Willard, and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans. Although it seems that Lyman's advice, at least, penetrates, as he says, "Show's over, people. Get out, go crawl back under your rocks." He turns away from Genevieve without even acknowledging her, and looks down at the dead bodies, his face bleak and pale.
Willard turns to Genevieve, saiyng with a sigh. "Well,,,hope to see ya in a better time"
Maharai shakes his head. "We can talk in the morning. I want nothing to do with this, other than to end it." With that, he stalks off, making a point to stay WELL WITHIN the lighted areas of the sidewalk.
Genevieve sulks at the treatment from MP. "Hey, I've lost someone important to me, too," she objects, but there's nothing to be done. "I need to go tell them," she says weakly, before standing, and give a dazed nod towards Willard. "Yeah," and then she turns, jogging past the trio off the overdressed and their younger counterpart. "Hey, Pan, we should beat it..."
Measuring MP's address to the crowd, Lyman bows his head and intones, "Allow me." By that, of course, he means, allow my goons. With a snap of Lyman's fingers, the two men spread out, pushing the crowd like bulls, their heads down and their shoulders out. With a glance to Pan, Lyman points, "This one first."
Kacela side-steps, and then casts a thoughtful look towards the group as they begin to 'clean up', as it were. She looks over her shoulder, memorizing the features of those who chose to depart more abruptly than normal. She stolidly stands her ground, as if the pavement directly beneath her heels was her sole property.
MP doesn't even look up as he says, "I meant you and your sacks of beef, too, man." There's not a lot of force in the words, though, as MP heads slowly towards the blissful land of shock.
Willard arranges his glasses and shakes his head with a dumb look. "Yeah" he says to himself, before following back into the club, and walking to the front door, leaving the scene.
The words of Lyman ring true, as the keen of sirens begins to fill the air, the clarion notes of police cruisers punctuated by the sharper, clearer, but ultimately futile wail of an ambulance. There will be, shortly, yellow crime scene tape festooning the alleyway, cordoning off even the door to No Dinero itself. Those who don't make themselves scarce will have a lot to answer for, and if not careful, likely to have guns pointed at them once the force realizes that one of their own has fallen in a ritualized slaying.
MP doesn't leave, of course. As President, he's probably supposed to hang around and answer the questions of the nice men with the guns. He stands by the bodies, looking at the jacket-covered form of his friend until disturbed.
Lyman follows the dramatic exit of Maharai with a shake of his head and a faint smile. Quite the character that Mr. Kui. Genevieve is the next to feel the weight of Lyman's gaze, as he tunes in the moment the girl addresses Pan. One of them, Lyman instantly suspects. However, his appraisal of their relationship is interrupted as MP speaks. "Merely trying to help," Lyman says, bowing his head politely, "We will be leaving shortly." Lyman's goons continue their work as if they got their start bouncing and clearing out a club is routine. One backtracks to hassle Pan. But oddly enough, neither of them even glance in Kacela's direction.
Genevieve bites her lower lip, and bounces on her heels slightly, as she nervously eyes the approaching pieces of man meat. "C'mon, kiddo, they're looking pretty ser-i-ous..." To herself, she murmurs, "It won't hurt, it won't hurt, they've gotta catch you, first..."
Pan looks over to Genevieve. "Huh?" She looks confused, glancing about, "Oh, sure! Sorry." She grabs Genevieve's arm, "Let's run as fast as we can!" She suggests to the coolest person ever. "Ready? One... Two...Go!"
Genevieve perks up at Pan's suggestion, perhaps keying in to the challenge, or perhaps channeling some vague, subconscious desire to help. She smirks, and nods, saying, "Sure thing. I'll get you into Fado's no hassle, how about that? Bet THAT'S worth running for, huh?" She tousels Pan's hair, before bolting down the sidewalk.
Ellen didn't see anything. She didn't hear anything that she could helpfully describe. She lets herself be herded out, acting as innocent as she actually is.
Pan eeks as her hair is tossled. It distracts her for half a second, but it's enough to give Genevieve the lead as Pan chases after her! "That'd be awesome!" Pan brightens, loving the very idea.
When the police arrive, it's in droves. And you can bet there will be even more once they find out one of their own is down. Questions are indeed asked, and you can bet that MP is the one that gets the brunt of their questioning. The information is sketchy at best, and the scene eventually is sealed off, likely news worthy. At the very least, names are taken for later questioning.
Genevieve smirks, and zips away!
When the girls flee the club, Lyman is satisfied. He seems to be on his way out, shuffling after his sizable associates, but he quickly turns back, his features twisted inquisitively. "Just one thing," Lyman begins softly, "My condolences. But, if you don't mind my asking, who was she? Your friend." At the flood of police officers, Lyman raises his hands passively, a playful smirk rising at the first officer that raises his voice. "Just doing my civil duty," he remarks, "Just offerring my assistance to a fellow business..." His searching glances goes back to MP, "Owner?"
Kacela gives a cool glance towards those who are shoving people out the door. However, the flash of blue and red lights fills her gaze, and with a vaguely resigned sigh, she withdraws. "Just attracted by the sounds. I was concerned citizen, and no, I didn't see anything. What do you mean why am I dressed like this?!"
Kacela exchanges a few words, mostly chastisement from the officer, before rolling her eyes and beginning to stalk away.
Previous: Logs